by Havok, Rayne
“Oh, Sian! I’m so happy you called, how are things? I’ve been meaning to get in touch, but you know how it is with the kids and Ben. It’s really almost impossible to even use the bathroom without interruption.” She giggles her meek and oh-so-her signature embarrassed-to-be-so-happy chuckle before I even get to the reason for my call.
“I’m ok, I’ve been at the shop, mom’s shop, for a couple days.” I wait to hear what she’ll say about that without my leading her in any specific direction.
“Oh?” she pauses for a minute and I can almost see her wringing her hands.
“Yea.”
“How’s it going? Is it hard to be there without her?”
“No, not really, I was actually just wondering if you believed in all the stuff in there,” I say, trying to sound as blasé as possible.
“Well, I don’t know that I believe it for myself, but your mama swore by it- her and your grandma both. I never really went into depth with either one of them as to what exactly they had. But I know it was something.”
“Oh,” I’m kind of let down that I can’t get a grasp of what might have happened with Brandon the other night.
She must hear that I’m let down and jumps into one of her run-on stories, conspiratorially lowering her voice to get into gossip-mode. “I do know that once she told me not to hang out with this girl in third grade, she didn’t tell me why. But I almost always did as she asked me. You know she was always so smart, and I just looked up to her. Anyway, it wasn’t until 6th grade that I even remembered her saying anything about it. But that girl had a besties slumber party and some madman broke into her house through the open window and killed everyone. It was a bloodbath- eight little 6th grade girls lying in a heap. The parents slept through the whole thing. It was crazy. Carmen, your mama, she was crying and hugging me so hard, thanking me for never becoming friends with her back in 3rd grade, even though I had been so eager to try.” Her voice starts to have a tremble in it. “I’d forgotten until then. But after that, I couldn’t shake it off. And I couldn’t ask or bring it up. Ever. It was all too much.”
“Damn. That’s heavy, Farrah. Did they ever catch the guy?”
“No. So we moved soon after that, your grandma never said a word, just one day all our things were packed and she said we were moving. So we did. Never looked back. But when there’s a child killer out there, no one really wonders enough to ask it allowed.”
I shake my head, this is a lot to hear, but I really am more curious than ever now. And she’s the only one left in my family, so I don’t think I’m ever going to know it all.
“What town was that?” I ask innocently enough so as not to trigger her suspicion.
“Sun Ville. It was such a good place,” she goes off topic, “You know it only takes a beat to learn your life is momentary and fleeting. You have to make sure you live yours to the fullest. Your mama was too young.” She sniffs back the tears that always come when she talks about her sister being dead.
“Sorry aunt Farrah, I know you loved her so much. I won’t squander anything. I promise.”
“Good for you Sian. Your mom had always been so proud of you. You’re going to do such good things in your life, I just know it. Hopefully you can make something of that shop in your own image. Put your signature on it. I don’t want to get too sappy, but you and your mom always looked like you made such a good team there.”
I smile at my memories there with her; realizing quite a few are my favorites. My angsty teenage years kept me out of there altogether eventually, but she never let on that it bothered her, even though I could assume it had. She just let me be me for the most part.
I suppose if I’d known this shit with Brandon would happen, I would have asked more or wondered more. But most people thought the whole thing was bullshit and I couldn’t overlook that then.
“Thank you for reminding me of the good times there, Farrah. Will you send my love to the kids and Ben?”
“Of course, my sweet girl. Take care, honey.”
“You too.” I end the call and instantly google Sun Ville murders.
Chapter
4
Ok, so from what I’ve gathered, Sun Ville had one hell of a time as a community after that incident. Those eight little girls died the night a man broke in through a window that the girls had left open in the first-floor bedroom. The girls had been slaughtered- stabbed and completely brutalized, all while the parents of the girl had been asleep. The little brother went to the room in the morning to gather them all for breakfast and found the girls.
There is a ten-year update, a story of him retelling how he’d found them and that it had been so shocking he’s never recovered.
The man has never been caught and yet the town never had another killing like it. It baffled many involved with the case, such a heinous crime is usually just one of many. It was thought the maniac was caught for another crime, or dead.
I have to believe that my mother had obviously seen a vision of what had happened which is what inevitably saved my aunt.
She never used the orbuculum, so I don’t think she saw it in the ball like I had, maybe the cards told her. Maybe she just had a paranoid dream that she couldn’t overlook. I can’t know, and I will never know.
That’s annoying.
What I do know is this shit is real, really real. And I guess by the look of it, I could probably have changed what happened to Brandon if I had spoken up. I suppose I should feel guilty for not doing so, but I couldn’t have had an idea it was real. From everything I knew about my mother, she was ‘sensitive’ (her word) to the world, I never got the impression that there were visions or any truth behind her ‘sensitivity’.
I don’t even know if I’m clear whether it is the same as my mom. And if I could have even done something, is it even my responsibility to inform them? Should a person even know that they’re going to die, or how? Is it all mapped out and maybe there are consequences for stopping such a plan simply to alleviate one’s burden of conscience? I don’t know.
What I do know, is I have something inside of me now to know exactly what the fuck is going on with death beforehand. I need to know if I could have changed this, and, if so, what would the outcome have been?
It doesn’t seem like my aunt has had any life altering consequences happen to her for escaping her death. But then, my mom had to put a stop to it before the possibility ever happened. What could I have stopped for Brandon to not go the store that night? What led to that? It’s impossible to guess.
Somehow, my mom figured out that never being friends with that girl in the first place was what it took. If my aunt had become friends with her and simply not gone to that slumber party, would it all have happened another time, a different way? Possibly.
So, in order to test these ideas, I need to get to work, but first, I need to get a reason to go to work. I quickly make a post advertising that I have some fantastic powers and not only that but, surprisingly, I have openings.
“Come see me see you.”
After communicating with a few potential people online, I actually get someone in the door. She is younger lady, cute pixie cut blonde with big blue eyes, eager to hear all I know about her.
We sit at the table, my crystal ball in the center, making it my focal point. I don’t shuffle the tarot deck; I don’t do anything else. I just start asking her questions.
She answers them without hesitation. She has a boyfriend, they are happy; she wants to know if he’s faithful. I get nothing from the ball, but I tell her he’s faithful because she looks too meek to handle if I told her something else.
She wants to know if she will be rich –I tell her she will be comfortable. I ask her what her boyfriend David does for a living and she tells me he’s in finance, whatever that means.
“Will we live a long life together?”
A flash, there it is.
“Tell me what David looks like.”
She describes a tall, dark haired man. The description wor
ks for who I see. And it’s actually clearer than my first vision. It lasts a few moments. From what I can tell, her boyfriend is definitely not a keeper.
He pulls her back with a fist full of her hair, slams her onto her back- blood pooling quickly around her head. She’s still alive though and scrambles to get up- making it a few feet on her hands and knees before he gets to her again. He pounces on her back as if he’s riding a horse and she collapses. Driving his fist into her head over and over until finally grinding her face into the carpet of her stylish living room. The last thing that I get is the refreshing sound of him opening a beer and leaning against the counter with blood-covered hands.
My arms are full of goosebumps, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. It’s strange to see such a thing. I’d never seen anyone die before, even Brandon was somehow less brutal than this because of the visceral effect I’m having knowing she will absolutely be dead soon.
I keep quiet for too long; I can’t really speak yet.
I do want to warn her, which is the least I can do. If I want to figure out if I can stop things from happening, I need to calmly ask her to avoid him, and hope she listens. Then, I’ll have some definitive information to go on.
“So, has David done anything that would make you believe he was abusive?”
Her face changes a little, “well, like sometimes he gets stressed out, his work is really hard, long hours…” she seems to lose her steam. “Yea, I guess you could say that,” she says bluntly.
“Why are you with him?” I ask, because seriously, what the fuck.
“He’s really good at apologizing.” I can tell she is upset with herself for accepting his behavior even though she knows he’s manipulating her.
“You want me to sugar coat this? I can, if you want.”
“Just tell me, did you see something?”
I nod.
“Tell me.”
“He’s going to kill you. And like not in a quick way either. He fucking murders you.”
Her hands shake as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a tissue. She wipes under her eyes and it reveals a black eye she had covered with makeup. “I was hoping he had changed this time. That’s really why I’m here, I needed to know if he had. I don’t know how you knew, or even if it is true, but it’s enough for me to follow through with my contingency plan. I’m not staying with him. I’m leaving.”
I feel relief, and I little stressed, I hope I haven’t done anything wrong by telling her. But I need to do this in order to know what I’m capable of controlling and if I am able to change the outcome of what could be destiny.
“I hope you do. It doesn’t look good for you if you stay.”
“Do you have a restroom I can use?”
I point her to the small powder room and she sneaks off.
She’s making a phone call, but I can’t discern anything other than murmurs.
She comes out and thanks me for helping her, hands me a wad of cash I don’t count, but do thank her for, and then takes a deep breath, hesitating with her hand on the exit door. “It gets that bad, huh?”
“It gets worse than you could imagine. He’s a horrible person.”
She leaves with a nod but not another word. I go to the door and lock it, taking a few minutes to myself on the couch, knowing last time sleep rushed in.
I close my eyes.
Shelby’s living room is dark, I cannot make anything out but somehow, I know I’m with her, maybe the smell--it’s her perfume. She walks in the door, wearing the outfit from today, I remember because the blouse is full of vivid flowers, and a pair of black jeans.
The door closes behind her just as she hits the light switch. The brightness is instant. She walks right passed me and into the kitchen without a word. Setting the bags on the counter, she begins putting them away. The front door creeks open and I turn to see who has entered but the hood from his sweater is covering too much of his face. He walks confidently into the kitchen and I’m left standing in the doorway watching.
He slides open a drawer, Shelby still hasn’t acknowledged him, she doesn’t even notice when he pulls large knife out. I hold my breath as he lifts the blade high over his head and brings it down into her shoulder. Only then does Shelby seem to notice something is amiss.
Her shirt quickly takes on a red hue and she collapses to the floor.
Now we are all in her bedroom, she is strapped to the large bed, naked and squirming. I’m standing in the doorway, although I didn’t get here on my own, and when I try to move my feet I’m unable to lift them, they weigh too much.
The hooded man, steps toward the bed and Shelby screams, pulling hard at her restraints, I can see the damage they are doing to her wrists and ankles. I wince.
He pounces on top of her, blade in his hand and quickly makes slices across her skin. I hear the unreal and exaggerated movie sounds of the knife moving.
Shing shing
He jumps off the mattress and reaches for the top of her head, pulling hard at her hair until I hear the wet sound of him pulling her face off. The breath hitches in my lungs, unable to breathe the entire time he’s pulling at her. Yanking it down her chest. Her belly. Her legs. Until she is skinless and little beads of blood droplets begin trickling.
The snapping sound as he pulls the rest of her skin passed her feet sets me into a frenzy, jumpstarting my heart, it thunders inside my chest, filling my ears with the rush of blood. My legs wobble but don’t move. My vision blurs and mouth dries.
He turns his attention to me now with his head cast down and his face hidden behind the hood. He raises it slowly and meets my stare. The stranger’s dark eyes are a richer color black than I’ve ever seen, a color that doesn’t exist beyond those hollow holes.
He smiles, pulling his lips to expose his teeth, further than is possible, his cheeks tear and still the smile grows, ripping his face, blood pools in his mouth, turning his teeth a bloody crimson, it dribbles down his chin, his long tongue slithers out and laps it up. His eyes glued to mine; I see a hunger inside them that terrifies me.
And then he winks.
And I scream.
Chapter
5
My entire body is shaking when I wake up on the couch, my lungs aching to breathe.
With trembling hands, I run my fingers through my hair, sweat dampened the strands making it sticky and a little painful.
My mouth feels dry as the desert and I can’t swallow, although it feels like it would help the lump in my throat. I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, and try to get my head level again.
It sounds weird as fuck but I know that monster in my dream saw me. I felt him see me. It was as if he saw inside of me. Those hollow dark eyes felt as though they could read my every thought.
I get up and grab a bottle of water, dribbles fall down the front of my shirt as I try to moisten my throat. I nearly choke but catch myself before I do.
With barely enough time to comprehend what the fuck that was, I see a brief movement in the ball, just a flicker, but it was enough to catch my eye.
I walk over to it and pick it up. There he is, his wide smile growing from my attention but this time it doesn’t rip, instead he begins to speak.
It’s hushed and I have to concentrate hard to hear him as it’s not really spoken allowed. It doesn’t feel as though someone in the room with me would be able to hear it. His words are only for me, I feel them rather than hear them, vibrating my bones, and tickling the hairs on my body.
“I thought I’d show you the kind of alternative fun Shelby should have had. You took David’s kill from him. I wanted to show you it could have been much worse. Don’t try and stop it. The demons of the world will have their fun.”
He licks his lips slowly, top and then bottom, capturing it with his teeth, a cocky half grin and raised eyebrow the villains of the entertainment world always use to be sexy, completing his exhibition. And although I’m terrified, confused, and shocked, I’m also wildly turned on and the dryness i
n my throat has more to do with lust this time.
***
Something wakes me. A sensation more than anything, but it felt like someone had been touching me. My eyes are still closed, unable to move, I’m paralyzed--spine straight and tense.
I can swear there is someone in here. Someone who knows I am awake now and who’s refusing to show them self to me. It smells like something unfamiliar.
I control my breathing, slowly in and out although every part of me begs to move.
Then, I feel it, the same touch that woke me, the fingers on my flesh, just the gentleness of fingernails smoothing over me. My skin reacts; goosebumps erupt.
My throat squeaks, a simple reactionary response to the strange sensation. I could swear I hear a chuckle, but my heart is beating too fast now to hear anything for sure. Even the tickle on my leg could be a figment happening only in a nightmare I simply thought I’d woken up from. But when I feel the warmth of the full palm on my calf, I know there is no chance this is imagination at work.
It’s warm, warmer than me, who is chilled from fright. A gentle squeeze from the fingers is nothing short of confusing. But before I have time to analyze it, the hand is on the move, traveling higher up my leg and between them. I want to close them, but fear won’t allow me to move.
Isn’t it supposed to be fight or flight? I guess they forgot the one where you could literally lose all control and probably die from immobility.
I’m on my tummy, like always, both hands tucked under my pillow with my face pointed toward the wall, a thin sheet covering some, but not all of me, and an oversized t-shirt doing me zero favors now as this stranger inches higher still, brushing lightly across the soft skin of my pussy.
You would think that that should trigger movement, but it doesn’t, still nothing. I can’t even swallow the lump in my throat.
Preparing for what might come next, I mentally tell myself that it should be over soon, he’s only come here for sex and then he’ll go, it will be over soon.
It will be over soon.