Honeymoon
The smell of rancid piss entered my nose. Not the usual scent of lavender that I was used to waking up to. That usually meant only one thing, my dog had gone somewhere in the apartment in the middle of the night. I thought we were passed that point; she was almost a year old now. Its never smelt this bad before, I thought as I scrunched my nose when another whiff entered my senses.
A long moan escaped my throat when a large wave of nausea overtook me as I shifted my head. I didn’t dare open my eyes. Not yet. Tequila. The taste was still on my lips. Why do I always get sucked into doing tequila? A bright white light suddenly shined on my unopen eyelids. No, the sun can go fuck itself right now.
My hand absentmindedly reached for my fuzzy blanket. A couple pats on the uneven mattress revealed that I wasn’t in my own bed. That had me shooting straight up from my drunken slumber. Bam! “What the…” My eyes opened to see what I had banged my head on; another bed was above me. I placed my hand on the frame above my head as the world began to spin.
I rubbed the now sore spot on my forehead and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Finally, I took a look at my surroundings. The room was small and dirty. A set of bars were to my right and a tiny window where the devilish sun was doing its best job to make my head pound was on my left. I was alone in the prison cell. Completely alone.
“Where the fuck am I?”
The world shook under my feet as I staggered upright. My eyes fluttered shut as I could feel the wave of vomit coming up from my stomach. Yup, no stopping this, I thought. Doubling over, I threw up a mixture of green, blue, and yellow bile into the silver bowl that served as a toilet, just about missing it altogether. The heaves came a couple more times, but there was nothing more to come up besides stomach acid.
A jingle of keys brought my attention away from the heavenly cold steel I had my forehead pressed against. A guard dressed in a light brown uniform stood at the entrance to my cell. He fumbled with a large ring of keys before finding the one that fit the door. Stepping through, he waved his hand and yelled at me in some foreign language.
Dumbfounded, I sat on the floor gawking up at him. He repeated his words, his face flaring red and stepping towards me. The world spun once more as he grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. His words slurred together, and I had to take another moment to gather myself.
“Wait,” I tried to interrupt his long breath of jargon. “I don’t speak your language. Spanish?” Oh god, I can’t think with this hangover. “No hablo Spanish?” Is that the right way to say that?
The guard kept speaking in his fast-paced language, practically dragging me out of my cell and down the hall. This hallway seemed to go on forever as we passed cell by cell. The people locked inside them hollered and shook on their bars as we went by. Their excitement sent a shiver of fear down my spine. What the hell is happening?
“Sir, please, I don’t know what’s going on. Do you know English?” I asked the guard, but he still did not understand.
We reached the end of the hall to a large steel door that he yanked open. He then shoved me inside and I stumbled to my knees. Another wave of nausea overtook me, yet this time there was no place for it to go besides on the floor.
“Well, that’s pleasant.” A voice echoed from a dark corner of the room.
Finally, someone who speaks English, I sighed in relief. “I’m sorry, sir, I have a horrid hangover.”
“Sit.” He demanded.
I did as was told, grabbing my head in my hands, and placing my elbows on the table that occupied the room. “Where am I? Is this a prison?”
The man came out of the shadows wearing a black suit. He had short trimmed brown hair and held a notepad and pen. Screeching of the chair being pulled out opposite of me grated against my ears. My head pounded as the sound echoed throughout my entire body. I slumped back in my chair, taking a deep breath as I waited for him to answer.
“Don’t take me for a fool, Charlotte.” He huffed. “I do not have the patience for your games.”
“Games?” I asked, my brows furrowing together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know how I got here.”
“Really,” he smirked, leaning back, and gesturing one hand at me. “Fine, I’ll play along. What’s the last thing you remember?”
My mind was so fuzzy I took a moment to answer. “My husband and I had just arrived. We’re on our honeymoon.” My husband! “Oh god! Nathan, where is he? He must be worried sick about me. I have to call him, please.”
The man shook his head. “Isn’t that convenient.”
“What? I need to call my husband.”
He brought out a beige folder from his suitcase and flipped through some pages. “You and your husband arrived in Mexico two days ago. So, you’re saying you can’t remember anything between then and now?”
“Two days?” That’s when it hit me. After we arrived, we got in the cab and went…where? The last forty-eight hours were completely gone. “Where is my husband. Please tell me you know where he is.”
“I do.” He said simply.
I put my hands up in frustration. “Where?” That’s when I noticed the strange red tint to my skin. I examined them more closely, seeing the red blots under my nails. My heart dropped.
“The morgue.”
“No,” I shook my head. “That can’t be.” Tears formed in my eyes as I thought the love of my life was gone.
“It is. Probably for the better,” he stated, looking through the files he had.
Anger soared through me. “How can you say that? What happened to him!” I demanded.
“You tell me,” his eyes glanced down to my clothes.
I followed the prompt and saw just how much blood was actually on my body. My hands trembled as I desperately tried to remember what happened. “Please,” I begged. “I don’t know, I swear.”
He calmly began to place pictures in front of me; horrid, gory filled pictures. Blood tainted each one of them, bodies strewn about in haphazard manners. Each one had a single dollar bill placed carefully on their chests. All were faces I recognized. The last one was Nathan, only there was no dollar bill around him.
My heart squeezed and a lump formed in my throat. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be dead. I grabbed his picture, the tears now streaming down my cheeks. “Oh, Nathan.” I couldn’t get any other words out.
“Yes, very tragic. But what about these ones,” he pointed to the others. “Look familiar?”
I didn’t say anything. The tears stopped.
“I know who you are,” he smirked, folding his hands on the table.
The corner of my lips turned up slightly, and I met his eyes with a piercing glare. “Is that so?”
The man flipped over a newspaper. The title The Dollar Killers Strike Again. “Damn right it is.”
I had been so careful. We had been so careful. This was our honeymoon, it wasn't supposed to end this way. Whatever had happened in the last two days must have been some wild shit. It makes sense now, why I got so black out drunk, and I why turned to tequila. I would never want to remember what happened to my love. And I hope I never remember. It doesn’t matter what happens now. I’ll still get the last laugh.
An eerie calm settled over me. “Well, shit.”
“It’s over, Charlotte,” he laughed. “I got you.”
I smirked. “Sure, I’ll let you believe that.”
Purity
Ever have that feeling that the entire world is against you? Like around every corner there is something lurking; something with eyes that seem to pierce every inch of your body, sending shivers up and down your spine. A shadow that is not there when you try to look. An invisible being that is too hard to explain even to yourself.
And do you ever feel that this... this thing is out to get you? It waits for its opportunity, and then it strikes. There are only seconds to get out of the way or be caught. Getting caught... now that is a terrifying thought.
This is something I face every day. It’s uncomfortable to always have to look over my shoulder. I’ve been doing for years now. I don’t know when it started, or I can’t remember. Most people think I’m crazy, but I know there is something there, something watching my every move. Well, maybe they’re right. Maybe I am losing my mind. I can’t even remember where I am, or how I came to be here.
It’s dark, really dark. It is cold and dusty. I can feel the dust every time I breathe. Every time I inhale I get a mouth full of dirt. It makes me cough, which in turn makes it harder to breath. The dirt isn’t just in the air; it’s underneath me. I can feel it, cold and hard on my back.
My leg hurts. Why does it hurt? There is something on it. I think it’s stone. It’s tough and bumpy; also, heavy. It feels like a dagger is digging into my skin, deeper and deeper, breaking my bone. The pain is becoming unbearable. I need to get this thing off it. If I can just pull it out.
“Ah!” The pain, it hurts so much. I can’t move it. ”Fuck!”
I can feel the hot tears streaming down my cheeks now. I can’t breathe. The dust and the pain are too much. My leg is throbbing, and the dagger won’t give in. What do I do? I’m stuck and I can’t even see where.
“Okay, calm down. Just think Mira, think.” Remember what Dr. Kari said, “When you start to panic, just remember to breathe.” Inhale one . . . two . . . three . . . and exhale. That's better.
What the hell is happening? Where was I before this? The orphanage wasn’t it? Yeah, that’s right. I remember now. I was at the orphanage. The little kids and their big excited eyes had watched as I pulled out the old toys from my car. There were bags of them from weeks of collecting. I remember playing with Natasha, the little shy girl that rarely talked and only warmed up to me.
She is such a sweet girl. I really don’t understand how no one wants her. I’ve tried so hard to find her a family, but nothing I do well help her. I wish there was more I could do for her. I can still hear her little voice in my head.
“Why can’t I go home with you?” The look on her face was heartbreaking, the desperation in her bright blue eyes. She hated it there and I understood why. The place was awful. Crowded with other kids and loud, very loud. She always got drowned out, the poor little thing. I wish I could take her home.
Wait, what am I doing? I still don’t know where I am. I was at the orphanage and then... I don’t know. How did I get here? Where is here? I’ve got to get out of here. It’s so stuffy. This place is small. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, like the walls are going to give in to the weight of... of what? Stone? I wish I could see. Maybe there is something around here that will help.
“Yeah, if you can find it blind.” That’s a perfect way to cheer yourself up. Good job on that, Mira.
There’s nothing beside me except more dirt. With my leg stuck I don’t exactly have that far of a reach. Even just the slightest of movements sends a sharp sting through my entire body. I should try to sit up. Why does that seem like a lot of work?
“Okay, here we go.” Don’t hesitate, just go. “Ouch! What the hell is that?”
Now my head hurts. Is that a rock? Yeah, that is definitely a rock. There’s something dripping into my eye. It’s warm and thick on my fingers. I must have cut my forehead when I hit the damn thing. Uh oh, I think I’m going to be sick, definitely going to be sick.
“Disgusting.” What is that taste? It’s not vomit; I know what vomit tastes like. It’s kind of metallic and thick. It must be blood. That is how blood is supposed to taste isn’t it? I should know that. I’ve been in the hospital plenty of times that the taste of blood should be familiar to me.
I still remember the first time I tasted it. I was five; well, I think I was five. Maybe I was younger. Can you even remember things when you’re that young? My parents had rushed me to the emergency room in a panic. I remember my mother’s hysteria. Red was everywhere. It stained my clothes, my skin...my mind. I remember a laugh as well. It was distant, but I’m positive that I heard it.
Wait, why am I thinking about this? I need to find something to get me out of here. Or at least to tell me where I am. The grains of dirt keep slipping through my fingers. That is the only thing that I can physically grab. I keep scraping my fingers though. Some of these rocks are really sharp. My hands are almost numb now, mostly from the cold.
This is useless. I can’t see anything but black. My leg and my head hurts. Where the hell am I? Did I leave the orphanage? Wait, what if this is the orphanage? What if it collapsed? The kids, oh please, do not let this be the orphanage. I must have left. Dammit, why do I have to have amnesia now! I never forget anything.
I was with Natasha and she asked me if she could come with me and then I left. Right? Oh, I can’t remember! If this is the orphanage, then I hope the kids are all right. Maybe they got out? My head hurts; it won’t stop spinning and I think I’m going to be sick again. This can’t be happening.
What was that? Something just moved, I swear it. I can feel its eyes on me; I can hear it breathing, and... and laughing. Why is it laughing? It must find my situation funny I guess, the bastard. I wish I could see it, or anything at least. My eyes won’t adjust to the darkness. Another chuckle, only this time closer. I can feel my skin beginning to crawl.
“Who—who’s there?”
“An old friend.” Its voice, it makes me shiver. He sounds raspy like he hasn’t had a drink of water in days. It’s terrifying. He? Yes, it must be a he. His voice is deep like a man’s voice would be. What I would do not to hear that deathly voice again. It grates against my ears, like someone is scratching a chalkboard in the distance.
“What’s the matter, Mira? Cat got your tongue?” It’s laughing again. God, that sound is shaking.
“What do you want?” That laugh, it seems familiar, like I’ve heard it before.
“Nothing in particular.”
“Then why are you following me?” My leg hurts so badly. I wish I could just fall asleep and escape this pain. I can’t though, not with him here. What if he hurts me? He wants to, I know he does. I can feel it. Me? What about the kids? What if he hurt them? Please anything but that.
Why is he laughing again? Did I miss something? I want him to go away. He scares me. What does he want?
“Who says I’m following you?” Stop laughing, please, stop laughing.
“Go away. I don’t want you here.”
“Well, you’re just a rude young girl, aren’t you?”
“Tell me why then.” My voice won’t stop shaking. I want to be brave, but he scares me so much.
“No one ever knows why things happen, they just do. There is no real reason as to why I am here.”
“Then there is no reason for you to stay.”
“Oh, there is every reason for me to stay.” I have goose bumps. That damn laugh;
I just wish he would stop. Hold on, I have heard that laugh before. The first time I was rushed to the hospital. Oh, I’m so stupid! How could I not place it!
“What did you do to the orphanage?”
He’s laughing again. Oh no, he must have done something horrible. “Nothing. I would never take someone I didn’t need.”
Oh, thank god! I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something had happened. Natasha must be safe then. I must have left. I remember now! I did leave. Natasha didn’t want me to, but I needed to get home. Why did I need to be home? I didn’t have anything planned, did I? There was no reason for me to leave. I’m so lost and my head hurts too much when I try to remember.
Wait, take someone? What does he mean by that? I’m so scared and cold. My teeth won’t stop slamming together. Just leave me alone. What is happening? Why is he here? If it wasn’t the orphanage that he wanted, then why is he haunting me?
“Please, just go away.”
“You don’t really mean that.”
“Yes, I—I do.”
“No, you don’t. Want to know how I know that?”
What is he talking about? “How?”
“If I left, you would be here all alone. Stuck with no one to talk to. Now that would drive you completely insane.”
That laugh will drive me insane. “Stop laughing!”
“You’re being very mean to the only person that can help you.” Person? Is that what he is? I still can’t see anything. That voice is anything but human. My heart is in my throat and my breathing is pounding in my ears. My eyes sting from the dust that is floating around. What is that? There is something in my pocket.
“Help?” He wants to hurt me. “What kind of help?” What is this?
“The only kind that you can get.”
“Where am I?”
“Full of questions, aren’t you?” Again, with the laugh.
“Please, can you just tell me what’s going on?” I’m so lost. I wish I could see. My head is spinning, and I feel like I’m about to throw up. Wait, I know what this is. It’s the charm that Natasha made me. I can feel the strings woven together tightly. She was so good at making these things. I can still see the bright colours of it. The yellow and green and blue combined into a neat little pattern. Holding it makes me feel better. He can’t have it. Wait, why would he take it? That doesn’t make sense Mira.
“Your parents were right to call you Miracle.”
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to collect ever since you took your first breath. Somehow you always seem to beat me. Now, how has that happened, huh?”
“Collect, what do you mean?” He’s making no sense. I don’t get it. I’m so cold now; I want to go to sleep. I won’t let go of the charm. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel safe.
“You have survived everything I have thrown at you. Now that really makes you a miracle doesn’t it?”
I must lie down. Mira, you are lying down. How odd, I can’t even feel the ground beneath me anymore. My head won’t stop spinning. He is not helping either.
Wait, what did he just say? My head is so fuzzy I can’t seem to focus. I need to sleep. I need to—
“Ah!” My leg, it hurts. It’s like a blinding pain shooting through my body. I can feel it everywhere. There are hands on it. No wait, not hands, they feel like talons or... or bones. He’s hurting me. I don’t understand.
“You’re not allowed to go yet, Mira. We’re not done talking.”
“What do you want from me?
“I finally have you, Miracle. You’re mine now. Oh, the rich’s that I am going to get for your soul will be tremendous.” He’s laughing and his hands are tightening. God, it hurts. Please, make him stop.
“Please, tell me where I am! What’s going on?” That laugh again, it’s getting crazier, like the thought of my soul is making him high.
“You want to know where you are?”
“Yes.” That barely came out; his hands are digging deep into my skin.
“Well your grave of course.” Finally, he let go.
My what? “What are you talking about?” I’m so cold.
“Slowly, all your blood is leaving your body from the gash in your leg.”
“No, wait!” I want to go home.
“Your head is spinning and you’re growing colder by the second.”
“I don’t want to die, please!” Why is he doing this? I’m so scared.
“Your last breath is coming soon, and then your heart will stop.”
“Please, stop it!” He’s tormenting me. I don’t want to die. Why is he doing this? Why do I deserve this? I’m a good person. I haven’t done anything to deserve this.
“Finally, after seventeen years your perfect pure soul will be mine.”
“Why?” I’m so scared. I want to go home. I don’t want to hear that laugh again.
“A soul like yours is rare. Only happens once every few centuries. Just imagine what I can do with it. It was sickening to watch you grow up. All your good deeds teasing me, taunting me, but not anymore.”
“No... please.” I’m tired; I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. Wait, Natasha’s charm, where is it? It’s gone. He took it. Why did he take it? Natasha, I am so sorry.
Is it getting darker? No, it’s already pitch black. He stopped laughing. Finally, it is quiet, and I can sleep.
I’m so cold...
A Steady Hand
Her hand was steady.
A small stone stood like a sore thumb in the
lush grass. The fluffiness of the green strands laughing at the young
mother who sat atop it. There was such life in it. How could something so
insignificant be so lively and beautiful? It glistened happily, enjoying the
tiny droplets of water.
Faith,
Never Lived a Full Life
This was inscribed in the stone that she slouched in front of. The small
dirt pile had beads of green growing out of the soil. Soon only the stone
would mark her daughter’s place. She did not care if the water on her face
was salty or not. It didn’t matter.
A cry echoed in her head. The loud whine ringing in her ears,
tormenting her. It had been a consistent sound in her small apartment. She
remembered. There was no harm in resting her head on the table. None.
But the crash had woken her fragile body with a sudden shock. Her
heartbeat pounded in her ears. She couldn’t handle what she had seen,
what she had allowed to happen.
Beside her, a black handgun and a bottle of white pills hung in the grass
like a welcoming friend. Soon, she and her daughter would be together
again. And this time she would do things right. Her selfish mind would
only think of her. She would not let the sadness that was trapped inside
her soul take her daughter away again. The gun was her hope.
Her hand was steady.