by Sonya Jesus
If she saw all this and ran, then the police will be showing up here anytime.
Unless she’s hiding in the large chest where I keep Amelia’s stuff- the things I get for her soon to be home. She's slender enough to fit in it if she was scared.
I flip up the top. No Lacey! Just the cheer uniform I got Amelia, CDs, some sexy underwear in her size, her favorite movies, the wallpaper I got her, a bunch of other things and ten bottles of her perfume. I bought another ten and put them into an aerosol, so it automatically sprays the room every fifteen minutes.
This room smells like Amelia. This is where I prepare for her and I don’t like the idea that someone invaded this space. I pull the curtains back and lift the blinds, wondering if she could be outside. I’m an idiot. I should have locked the door. She’s probably halfway to the police by now. I take a duffle bag from the closet and swipe my hands down the walls, pulling pictures along with it. I grab them and stuff them in the bag. I have to get rid of all the evidence.
“What the fuck!” Lacey’s screech brings me to a halt.
She stands in the center of the room, right below Amelia’s underwear, wearing my sweatpants and hoodie. She’s holding a cup of coffee in her hand, sporting a horrified expression on her face. I don’t move and she isn’t smart enough to run.
“What the fuck is this?” She approaches me, leaning down to pick up one of the photos I just tore down.
I take a step towards the door, giving her space and simultaneously blocking her exit in case she runs. She studies the picture. The Breaker coffee cup emblem catches my attention. I curse myself. She must have stepped out. The way she is looking at Amelia’s picture tells me she never even dreamed of this room.
I did lock the fucking door. Even if I wanted to, sparing her life is impossible now that she’s in on my little secret
“Hawk?” she says, squatting on the floor, clutching different pictures.
Faking is no longer necessary. Whatever I tell her, she will take to the grave.
She grabs some of the quotes I had written out; things Amelia says. “What the hell? What is all this?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I state the obvious, “Those are pictures of Amelia. The ones you are reading are some of the things she says. I keep my favorites.”
She stands up, looks up at the underwear hanging from the light fixture. “That’s my newest acquisition.”
Revulsion takes over her features, angering me. There is nothing repulsive in here.
“Hawk, this is demented.” As if on cue, the aerosol spray squirts out. She looks at it and whiffs. “Is that her perfume?”
I nod. “Nice touch isn’t it?”
“You’re sick!” she shrieks, going over to the closet. I can hear her teeth clattering from here. She trembles at the sight of my shelves. Out of all the contents: syringes, needles, handcuffs, plastic tarps, industrial bleach, acid and the gun, she chooses one of the small benzodiazepine vials.
“Those are very hard to come by.” I purchased them illegally to sedate Amelia in case she has a difficult time transitioning.
“Why do you have all of this?” she holds the vial between her thumb and index finger
I use her distraction to lock the door. The smell of fear in the air mixed with Amelia’s scent thrills me.
“You’re obsessed with Lia.” She isn’t questioning it; the answer is very apparent.
“I’m not obsessed. I’m in love with her. She completes me.” My saccharine words throw her off. She places the vial back in the closet and glances at the window, her only other exit.
“She doesn’t even know you.” Her eyes are darting all around the room, looking for an escape, but there isn’t one. Trapped and frantic, she goes on the offense. “Look at this! You have to create a room just so you can know her. Are you planning on kidnapping her? Killing her if she doesn’t do what you say?”
“I would never kill Amelia,” I say, pointing to the closet. “I might sedate her, but not kill her.”
“Then why do you have a gun?”
“Just in case. You never know when it may come in handy.”
“You’re fucking crazy. I don’t want anything to do with you. I just want to go.” The baleful gleam in my eyes responds for me. She isn’t going anywhere alive.
She realizes my intentions. The room already reeks of death. “Let me go. I won’t even mention it to anyone.”
I shake my head no.
“You don’t have to hurt me. I swear! I’ll leave the country. Disappear. No one will miss me.” The tears in her eyes weaken my resolve.
Conflicting sentiments keep my killer at bay. It’s been years since I killed a woman. I don’t exactly take pleasure in it, but women are naturally curious. They always get in the way. I could let Lacey go and avoid all the trouble of killing her and disposing of her body. I can even put her on the plane myself. No, there is no guarantee that she won’t call the police or Amelia once she gets there. “You and I both know I can’t do that Lacey.”
“Just let me go. I hate Amelia. I don’t care what happens to her. I only care what happens to me.”
“You know too much.”
“No! I’ll keep it a secret.”
A secret she will take to the grave. I launch myself at her; she dodges me, throwing the coffee in my direction. Some splashes land on my skin, scorching it. When I look up, she’s pointing the gun at me, removing the safety.
“Stand back!” she demands.
I underestimated her. I do as she says, swiping a shirt from the floor to wipe down my face.
Gaining confidence, she spells it out for me. “So this is how it’s going to go: I’m going to get the fuck out of here, go to the airport and leave. What you do in the next few minutes will decide whether I tell the cops or not.”
I hold my hands in the air. “Okay, what do you want me to do?”
She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Throw your phone down on the ground and kick it to me.” I take it out of my pocket, place it on the ground and slide it to her. “Empty out the rest of your pockets and put it in the trunk. Then lock it.”
I do as she says, throwing my only weapon in there. I lock the trunk and throw her the key. She didn’t ask for it, but I figure the demand was coming.
She kicks it underneath the dresser. “Now, are you going to let me go?” I don’t say anything. The path is clear. She moves towards the door, passing me and I reach for her hand. She screams. Recovering quickly, she maneuvers herself away and points the gun at my head, confident she has all the power. All the sentimentalities holding my killer back vanish the moment I feel the cold metal against my temple.
“Of all the things in that closet, you grab the one that can’t kill me,” I laugh malevolently. “It’s not loaded.”
Her hand trembles. I lift my hand and grasp the shaking gun, prying it from her hands. She lunges for the door. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back into my chest with one hand. I bring the gun up to her eye level. “I would have chosen the needle. Inject a little air and you could kill me. The most obvious weapon isn’t always the best one, Lacey.”
“Please,” she says blubbering. The tears flow freely from her eyes. “Please don’t kill me. Maybe I can take her place.”
The thought repulses me. I grab a fistful of her hair and shake her head violently. She howls in pain. “You desecrate her purity just by saying that. You are nothing more than a whore. Worthless, and forgettable. Someone as despicable as you will never come close to someone like her.”
I push her down to the ground by her hair. She tugs at me, scratching my hands, drawing blood. “What? You don’t like me calling you names, Lacey? You think that you haven’t been called that before? You think Aiden thinks of you differently?” I laugh derisively. “If he had, then maybe we could have avoided all this. As you said, no one will miss you. You’re disposable. You were to your parents, weren’t you? That’s why you grew up in foster care. No one wanted you. Why would that ever change
?”
The fight leaves. Her muscles relax.
I continue, “Your life is hollow. You fell for me because I gave you a little bit of attention and was nice to you. You spread your legs for attention—”
“Stop,” she whimpers.
I stand over her, straddling her. Taking a knee, I wrap my hands around her throat. She gets another bout of energy and tries to pry my hands off. I lower my weight onto her, pinning her down.
“She’ll see right through you,” she chokes out.
Easing my grip, I needed one last thing from her. “Answer me something. Are you stalking Amelia?” I had to rule her out. If Lacey is the prankster, Amelia would be safe. Jealousy makes women wild. I wouldn’t put scaring my Queen passed her.
She stops crying. “Someone else is stalking that bitch?” Resolve comes across her face. Lashing out, she claws at my face, trying to get at my eyes. I seize her head in my hands, smacking it into the floor — hard.
She screeches, clutching her head. “She will never love someone like you.”
She’s so wrong. “Trying to rattle me won’t work, Lacey.” I squeeze tighter.
She makes a croaking noise, scraping my hands with her nails.
“No one is going to save you.” I watch as her eyes flutter shut momentarily. A little more squeezing, and we’d be done. But where’s the fun in that? I ease my grip slightly when she tries to say something. “Any parting words?”
She coughs, trying to inhale as much air as she can. “You’re a sick motherfucker.”
I squeeze until I crush her trachea. I watch as she gasps and tries to remain conscious. “You should have never come in here.” I tighten more as her chest stills. “This is the only way you can keep my secret." I crush harder and watch Lacey Pierce die.
I’m not sorry. Justified kills never leave remorse.
She’ll take this to the grave, a very deep grave. But first I have to wipe her clean with bleach, fastidiously, then plant some sleeping pills in her room and get rid of her. No one will think twice about a runaway, especially not where I am going to put her: Lovers’ Well.
It’s over 150 feet deep, built during the castles construction. I know for a fact campus doesn’t have any cameras there, or anywhere near there. Students have been having sex there for years, that’s why it’s really called Lovers’ Well.
I guess the fact that this place used to be a funeral home is going to make this a lot easier.
I take her upstairs to one of the rooms to be demolished and set her up on one of the old metal slabs. Taking an old how to book from the bookshelf, I turn to the “Prepping a Body” section and follow the instructions, packing all the body cavities first before stuffing her mouth full of cotton. I bypass wiring her jaw shut since I don’t have the appropriate material, and tape her mouth. Taking two cannulas, I jab them into her carotid and jugular artery and bleed her dry, aspirating the blood with a vintage machine. Then, I pump her full of embalming fluids and for good measure, I wipe her down with bleach again. Not that it is going to matter with what I have planned.
If I dump her body in the well, there might still be water, and the sulfuric acid won’t do what I need. However, there’s fluorite on the premises. The mixture of fluorite, sulfuric acid and heat will make hydrofluoric acid. The flesh-eating acid.
Granted, it will be a fire, but at that profundity, it won’t hurt anything. Plus, with the embalming fluid there will be no smell, maybe a little burnt in the air, and I can throw in all the blood. Lower it down in the middle of the night in the glasses. They will shatter with the heat. Yes, I like my plan.
I lock up everything and begin. Lacey always did say we had chemistry.
Chapter 21: Lovers’ Well
Lia
Needing some time alone, I decide to go for a walk and enjoy the quiet of the night. I roam around campus until I come across the little bridge that leads to Lovers’ Well. I duck under it, following along to the edge of campus where the old cemetery begins. I cut right towards the well. I love the seclusion of this place. I lay on the bench, listening to the silence on this side of the campus. If I poke my head to the side, the lack of lights provides a nice view of the starry sky. Watching the universe makes me feel small, reminding me there is more to life than just me and my crazy relationships.
Here, this instant, is just one second, of one minute, of one hour, of one day, in one of the months of the many years of the rest of my life. As overwhelming as it seems right now, it is just a moment. At this precise time, I wouldn’t mind being forgotten, like I was before. Things were simpler then. No kissing Aiden. No weird feelings for Robins. No open relationship with Connor.
Talking about Connor. Things didn’t go well this morning. He showed up bearing food, which should have been a perfect start, but he saw Aiden’s name and number sharpied into my desk when he made space for the food and walked away. Didn’t even say a word as he turned his back on me and shut the door behind him. Guess we’re still working out the terms of this open relationship.
If that wasn’t enough, Harper told me she caught Robins hooking up with someone in the bathroom. The full-on, pants down, connecting parts kind of hook up. I didn’t ask who. The fact that it wasn’t me was enough proof to confirm that Robins and I were not possible.
Considering my lips were kind of busy last night, I shouldn’t judge.
A noise startles me. What was that? I sit up, trying to pinpoint where it comes from and see nothing. No movement. I lay back down, attempting to relax again but can’t shake the weird feeling. Goosebumps take over my skin, and I get up again, pulling out my phone to use the light. I scan the lit areas. Maybe I should go. The gnawing feeling in my gut tells me to get out of here, and the faint smell of smoke in the air isn’t helping.
My phone rings. So, now Connor’s talking to me?
“Lia?” The apprehension in his voice warns me. “Babe, where did you get those water bottles?”
“Which water bottles?” I sit up straight.
“The ones from the Frisbee game?”
“The ones I gave you?” He mumbles again. I hear him yell at Jaime, and tell her she’s out of her mind. Then he tells them all to fuck off. “Connor, what happened?”
“Fuck, Lia. Do you use contacts?”
“No, twenty-twenty vision,” I joke. “Well, unless I’m drunk then it’s forty-forty.” He’s not amused at any of this. “Why do you need to know if I use contacts?”
“What about Visine or eye drops?” he asks, not answering me. I get up suddenly. Something is wrong. The hair on my necking stands. My heart palpitates quickly. I answer no, and ask again why it matters. Connor tells someone ‘I told you’, then comes back to our conversation. “Austin’s attack was caused by tetrahydrozoline poisoning, it was ingested. The only thing Austin had that day was coffee, lemonade, and water. The water you gave us.”
“Oh my God.” My hand flies to my heart. “But no one else was sick. I drank that water and I am not sick.”
“The doctor said some people get nauseous or feel a little under the weather.” He pauses. “Their vision is affected, mood, shortness of breath. Some people get seizures and fall into comas. I don’t know what happened, but without the water bottles, there is nothing to go by. Where did you buy them?”
“I don’t know… the grocery store, maybe the Breaker?”
“They already tested the water bottles at the Breaker, and it’s not them. They are looking into the possibility that it could be from the distributor.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him. “He could have died?”
“Yes.”
“I’m just glad he’s okay,” I add.
“Me too. Where are you? Are you at your place? Can I pass by?”
“I’m at Lovers’ Well.”
“Are you alone?” I don’t have time to answer. “Why do you always do that? Give me two minutes. Someone will be right there.”
I rest my elbows on the side of the well, my mind reeling fro
m what Connor just said. What kind of sick mind does something like that? They could have killed someone! It could have been any of us. I could have drank it, Connor could have… anyone.
Guilt tugs at my heartstrings. Someone almost died because of me. My stomach starts to turn, and I lean into the well, ready to puke, but I don’t. The smell of smoke is stronger in my nostrils now. I lean back and check my messages.
The phone chimes with a text message, “Behind you.”
I don’t have time to think. I feel a blow to the back of my head. My vision fades; I lean over the well.
My body goes limp.
And I fall.
Chapter 22: The Hunt Begins
Hawk
I’m heading towards campus when I hear a car screech to a stop next to me. Christopher puts it in park and runs towards Lovers’ Well, ignoring me completely. I doubt people will notice Lacey’s final resting place, but since the grave site is still fresh (well, as fresh as ashes can be) I silently follow Robins, cloaking myself with the unkempt shrubbery and keeping a safe distance.
He shouts, “Amelia!” The terror in his voice gets my legs moving.
A ruckus in the bushes catches my attention. Someone or something is in here with me. I disregard the extra presence and move forward when Christopher cries out for help.
“Lia!” The fright in Christopher’s voice pricks every bone in my spine. Swallowing down the ball forming in the back of my throat, I cast away the fear and sprint the rest of the distance, paying little attention to the leaves biting at my face and scratching my shirtless arms.
My heart beats awkwardly and my limbs tremble. Being scared is not an emotion I am accustomed to; I’m normally the one inflicting it. Now, my blood is spiked with fear. My brain runs through every possible scenario, never once focusing on a positive outcome.
A terrible thought pops into my head: Amelia’s dead.
When I arrive, Christopher is holding Amelia in his arms. The white of his t-shirt is stained with her blood. As he props my Queen’s limp body against his chest, my eyes burn with the unfamiliar strain of unforced tears. Holding them back, I force my feet to move, but they don’t listen. My heart races. It’s a rapid, painful, sweat inducing pace. It hurts so much I go numb from my feet to my neck.