The Butcher Box Set

by Sian B. Claven

  When Tatum got out of the car with her mother and sisters she was fine. Walking through the graveyard, she distracted herself by focusing on reading the various names on unkempt graves. When they reached Jacqui’s final resting place she finally looked up to meet Jacqui’s mother’s eyes.

  It was then that her heart fell to pieces.

  Arabelle was seated right in front of the gaping hole in the ground and was being comforted by what looked like a brother or cousin. They seemed related. Arabelle stared at the ground that was about to swallow her only child.

  She looked up at Tatum and both of them let their hearts fall into the grave at the same time.

  The funeral service at the church had been beautiful. Photos of Jacqui flashed across the projector screen as her favourite Beatles song played loudly, photos of her as a babe in her mother's arm, as a toddler, as a child, and as a teen. Most of those photos had been of her or her with Tatum, but a few included her other friends. It had made Tatum’s heart clench to see how happy they had been, and it reminded her how it had all crumbled in the last few days.

  With heavy hearts, her father and her boyfriend Darren, with two other male family members, had carried her best friend in her coffin towards the hearse and to her final resting place. They had followed to watch Jacqui laid to rest, lingering after the dirt covered her coffin and the crowd of loved ones left to go to the wake at Arabelle’s house.

  Luell and her two youngest daughters waited by the car as Tatum knelt, touching the freshly turned dirt,

  “I’m so sorry, Jacqui, I should have tried harder to save you,” Tatum confessed, her voice cracking, as she finally allowed herself to cry again. She thought she had no more tears, but apparently her body knew she needed a few more to fall on her best friend’s grave.

  “Tatum.”

  She jumped, tripping over a wreath of white lilies from the fright that Darren gave her. He stood with his hands in his pockets. She hadn’t seen him cry at the funeral, but his eyes and nose were red with the tell-tale sign that tears had happened.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, after helping her steady herself. “And this probably isn’t the right place, but I need to know …” He paused, as though searching for what the best way was to phrase his question. “Did you really see someone in Jacqui’s room that day?”

  She hugged herself; she hadn’t spoken about what she saw since the police officers left her house and now Darren put her on the spot.

  “Yes, I did see someone.” Her voice was soft.

  Darren crossed his arms. “And you didn’t call the police?” The accusation in his tone was clear.

  “I tried to, but Jacqui had called them to say I was attacking her.”

  “I know, the police told me as much and asked me if you would.”

  She was shocked. They hadn’t alluded to anything like that with her. They had asked her about what she had seen and hadn’t given her any information about Jacqui’s murder.

  “I didn’t attack her, Darren,” she pleaded. “I saw someone in her room.”

  “Someone who wasn’t there when you went in?” His tone was increasingly aggressive.

  “No! There wasn’t. I looked everywhere.”

  “I know you did! She called me to tell me how you had freaked her out.”

  “And did she tell you I had left?” Was she begging? She felt like she was. Begging to be recognised as innocent.

  “First Roger and now Jacqui. You haven’t been right since Roger died, Tat, and it makes everyone wonder.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets.

  “Who’s everyone, Darren? You? Her Family? Everyone at school? She was my best friend!” Tears were starting to form even though she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he had gotten to her.

  To him, however, the tears were just another sign that she knew something more than what she was telling. She had had enough though, and clumped past him.

  “Everyone has questions, Tat, even your own family,” he called.

  She turned to say something back, tears flooding her face, but he was ambling away from her deeper into the graveyard. She plodded her way to where her family waited by their car, got into the front seat, buckled in and didn’t say another word.

  Arabelle was seated in the living room when Tatum approached her. She stood up quickly. “Oh, Tat,” she cried and pulled her into a tight embrace.

  The poor woman sobbed her heart out into her neck, rocking her from side to side to comfort herself. Tatum didn’t know what to do, so she simply wrapped her arms around her and let Arabelle rock her.

  When she was free, she looked up into Arabelle’s eyes, noticing for the first time how remarkably like her mother Jacqui had looked. They had the same eyes and nose, and their faces radiated kindness.

  Tatum hugged her again, shaking slightly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “My dear child, I should be apologising to you.” Arabelle waited until Tatum had let her go before she cupped the young girl’s face in her hands. “You saw that person in her room and tried so hard to warn Jacqui. We should have listened.”

  All Tatum could do was swallow hard. She still wasn’t sure if the skeleton girl was real, but it all seemed to fit somehow.

  Luell came forward at that point to offer her condolences, Kalli and Syla in tow, and Tatum was freed from the attention she was receiving, and retreated to the emptiest part of the room. She found a small chair to sit on and got comfortable, not really in the mood to talk to anyone.

  People had already started to leave when Darren finally made an appearance. For a moment he stood in the room and stared at Tatum, as though he wanted to walk over to her and continue their previous conversation, but he clearly thought better of it and went to stand with Noel, Jacqui’s father.

  “Decapitated, that’s what I heard, that’s why the casket wasn’t open. Her mother found her like that.”

  Of all the things that could happen, hearing those words were the worst for Tatum. She slowly set her feet down and moved her head to catch a glimpse of Jacqui’s nosey neighbours standing behind her.

  “God awful thing to happen to such a pretty young thing. But what do you expect when she runs with such a rough lad.”

  Tatum inclined her head, wondering if they were talking about Darren. It could only be Darren.

  “Comes from the wrong side of the tracks, that one,” one of the elderly ladies said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him that did it.”

  Her stomach knotted at the thought and she looked up to where Darren stood, wondering if he was capable of hurting someone as sweet and kind as Jacqui.

  She had seen the two of them fight before, but it was nothing new. Jacqui would always tell her that she loved him, that he got a raw deal having the abusive family that he had, that she could heal him with her love. She was like that, or rather, had been like that.

  “His father went away not so long ago for killing that chap at the pub. Like father like son it seems. No doubt we’re safer without him coming around all the time.”

  Tatum couldn’t help the shivers that darted up her spine. Darren’s father was a murderer? Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation at the cemetery, to how aggressive he had been, and she realised she may have been in danger. No, she had been out with Jacqui and Darren before and, yes, she conceded that he may be rough around the edges, but she had never seen him be physical with anyone.

  She had to get away from the morbid conversation, so she stood up and went to find her mother out in the backyard with some of the other guests. She stood one side, for it seemed they too had picked a gloomy conversation.

  “Seems like death is just hanging around lately,” Mr Genson was saying. He was their Algebra teacher and lived on the same street as Tatum. “First Barker’s father, then Roger and now this. One would think the police should start issuing warnings soon.”

  Tatum inched a little closer, curious as to what he was implying.

  Her moth
er was standing nearby. “Mr Wild had a stroke, he wasn’t murdered. As for poor Roger, the dear kid, my daughter was so fond of him, but he really shouldn’t have been driving on that stretch of road that night. What on Earth possessed him to take such a secluded and long route home?” Her mother sipped from the cup of tea she held in her hand.

  “I’m telling you,” Mr Genson continued, “that we have a psychopath on the loose. Two kids murdered less than a month apart.”

  “It’s happened before, hasn’t it?” Mr Wild - Barker - their Geography teacher, had joined the conversation.

  “What do you mean it’s happened before?” Luell asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  “I forget that you didn’t live in the area when I was in college,” Barker smiled at her. “But when my brother was in high school a few of his schoolmates were also found dead. Decapitated like Roger and Jacqui, with the same MO. They were strung up by their wrists before their heads were removed.”

  The adults shuddered in unison, and a few minutes passed before Mr Genson spoke again.

  “It was only three then and the police never caught who did it. Do you think it’s a serial killer then, Barker?”

  Barker shook his head. “Whatever it is, it is a right tragedy and if the police aren’t going to issue a warning, then at the very least the school should.” There were murmurs of agreement before he continued, “I’ll chat to the headmaster about it tomorrow, but parents should probably keep their kids close and check in on them regularly. Doors should be locked. Just until the police figure out who is behind these gruesome murders.”

  Tatum had heard enough. She turned and walked back into the house, feeling worse than when she had walked out. She went to sit on the stairs to wait for her mother.

  Before they left though, she made a point to give Arabelle a hug goodbye and to reassure her that she would still pop over to visit.

  Chapter Seven

  The nightmare had changed.

  She was still in the same house, the house that was similar to hers. She was standing downstairs, near the entrance. She thought she knew what to expect - after all, it was always the same. Only this time, when the door opened and the man walked in, she recognised him.

  It was Mr Wild, her Geography teacher, and he was wearing a suit, the same suit he had worn on the day of Jacqui’s funeral. She knew he wasn’t the man she always had the nightmare about, he just wasn’t the right size or height, but for whatever reason her subconscious deemed necessary, he was now part of her nightmare.

  He set down his backpack by the door with a sigh before he shuffled towards the staircase.

  Tatum followed him as he ascended slowly. He paused halfway up as the other guy had, and Tatum looked up out of habit.

  Her body shook. Mr Wild’s father, Roger and Jacqui all stood side by side at the top of the stairs looking down at her teacher.

  His body stiffened. These were family and students, people he was close to in his life.

  Mr Wild Senior started to bleed first. It was like someone had stabbed him in the chest. The white button up shirt he was wearing gradually turned red; it started around the area where his heart was, and spread slowly until it was dripping onto the floor.

  Roger and Jacqui both smiled down at her, or at Barker, she wasn’t sure which, and the slits appeared. Each started on the left-hand side of their necks and spread across to the right, the cuts widening as the incision moved.

  Blood poured from the wounds and soon all three bodies slumped forward onto the stairs.

  Tatum didn’t even bother to turn away. Although tears streamed, she clenched her fists. She couldn’t speak, but she did move forward. She tried to stop the blood gushing out of Jacqui’s neck. She couldn’t save them all, but maybe she could save her best friend. The invisible knife was not finished though, because it was now cutting around the back of Jacqui’s neck, slowly severing her head from her body. Tatum looked over to Roger and discovered the same scenario happening to his body. There was no saving them.

  Trying then to scream, she found she couldn’t. She tried to move again, but was frozen to the spot. All she could do was look up the stairs to see the skeleton girl standing there. Her short blond hair gelled back, her stockings ripped. The stupid black leotard was ever the same.

  Skeleton - that was what Tatum would call her - descended the stairs, each step an echoing THUD. She sat on the step above Jacqui’s body. Skeleton opened her mouth to speak, but she had no tongue. She made a funny gurgling noise instead. Tatum shook her head to show that she didn’t understand what she was saying.

  Skeleton then leaned forward and slit Tatum’s throat.

  Tatum screamed and sat up straight in her chair. She hadn’t been sleeping well since the funeral, which had been a little over a week ago, and was prone to dozing off in class.

  Mr Barker turned around from the blackboard and hurried over to her. “Tatum, are you okay?” He knelt by her desk, putting a hand over her clenched fist. “Tatum?”

  The whole class was staring at her. Tatum slowly unclenched her hand, watching it tremble before she looked up at Mr Wild. “I’m fine, Mr Wild. I’m sorry I just dozed off.”

  Her teacher looked concerned. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. I can call your mom.”

  She quickly shook her head. “It’s the last lesson. I should be fine.”

  He looked at her sceptically, before standing up and going back to the front of the class to resume his lesson.

  When the bell rang, he came back to Tatum to check on her one last time. She felt embarrassed. “I’m fine really,” she said as she shoved everything into her bag. “I just haven’t been sleeping.”

  “Maybe you should consider …”

  She snapped, “I don’t need to see the therapist.” Mr Barker raised an eyebrow and she bit her lip, took a deep breath, and added, “I’m sorry, I am just tired. I’ll ask my mom to get me something to help me sleep tonight.”

  Her voice was soft, defeated, and Mr Barker relented and let her go.

  Darren had hung around to overhear their conversation and was almost out the door when Mr Barker called him back.

  “Darren. A word, please.”

  As Darren passed Tatum they bumped shoulders. She looked up at him. “Oh, sorry, Tatum.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Blackwood,” their teacher threatened.

  She wasn’t in the mood, so she just left to amble to her locker. Her body felt like lead and every movement was exhausting. She needed to sleep. Her body needed rest more than anything. She actually did intend to ask her mother to get her something to help switch her mind off before she went crazy.

  As she prepared to pack what she needed for her homework, she realised she left her binder in Mr Wild’s classroom. She sighed, hoping he hadn’t left yet, and went back there. All her English homework was in that binder and it was due tomorrow.

  She slowed as she approached the classroom, hearing raised voices behind the door. She inched her way closer and heard Mr Barker and Darren having a fight.

  “It’s bullshit! I worked hard on that paper! You can’t fail me!”

  “Mr Blackwood, watch your mouth. I am offering to let you make up for the fail with extra credit.”

  “It’s biased. You just hate me because I’m not some short skirted cheerleader you can chase.”

  “Excuse me, young man?” Mr Barker’s sounded livid, something that she had never heard before.

  “You heard me. So concerned over all the pretty little girls in your class.”

  “If you are referring to earlier …”

  “If the shoe fits,” Darren interrupted.

  “IF YOU ARE REFERRING TO EARLIER,” Mr Wild shouted, “MISS METZ HAS BEEN THROUGH QUITE A LOSS, YOU SELFISH LITTLE PUNK, AND WE HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED AS HER TEACHERS TO KEEP AN EYE ON HER.”

  There was the sound of tables being shoved around and Tatum dared to sneak a peek through the small window in the door.

  Darren was
standing nose to nose with Mr Wild now as he yelled, “EVERYONE HAS SUFFERED A HUGE LOSS. HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND. SHE WAS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE.”

  Mr Wild held his ground. “I know, Blackwood.” His tone was softer now. “But she also lost her Dad not so long ago. You’re not dozing off in class or seeing skeleton people around, are you?”

  Great, she thought, feeling hurt; the world thought she was insane. She was about to knock on the door, when she froze.

  When Tatum looked at Mr Wild and Darren, through the gap between where they were standing, she could see clearly the face of Skeleton. She stood there watching the two men fight and they acted as though they didn’t see her.

  Oh God, she thought, maybe only I can see her because I am insane.

  Skeleton simply stood there and watched the two men as they spoke; Tatum wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying now. She sought to determine who Skeleton was, what she was doing there, why she was being haunted by this woman.

  Haunted.

  She hadn’t considered that before. Maybe she wasn’t going insane after all, maybe she was being haunted. Tatum gave herself a mental shake - that made no sense at all. Why would some random woman suddenly start haunting her? They hadn’t moved into a new house, they hadn’t bought some dead person’s belongings. She tried to think of other reasons why someone would be haunted, but couldn’t. She looked through the window again and fell back shrieking as the skeleton girl had her face pressed against the window watching her with wild eyes.

  Tatum stared up at the door as Skeleton opened her mouth to reveal she had no tongue. She looked away, trying not to gag at the sight. The door opened and she shrieked again, crawling backwards and away.