Carved Out

⚠️TW: Physical Violence, Mental Health⚠️

“Daddy! Why are you killing the pumpkin?” Olivia screeched, slapping her small palms to her cheeks.

“Relax, Livi!” Dad chuckled. “We’re carving them for Halloween!”

Livi raised her eyebrow, 3-year-old sass shining.

“Livi!” Cameron giggled.

Abigail rolled her eyes and started scrubbing her pumpkin roughly. “Can I get the knife?” she asked.

“Be so careful, Abby,” Mom remarked, handing the 10-year-old the knife.

“I will,” she said, flashing a perfect smile.

Cam watched Abby carve the pumpkin, but turned around and started to tickle Livi. Everyone began laughing, and even Abby cracked a smile. Livi tried to get away, but only toppled her and Cameron over. She began to cry.

“You’re fine,” Abby grumbled, the pumpkin knife still in her hand.

Cam rubbed Livi’s shoulder and helped her stand. When she’s seated back in her chair, she tosses her curly blond pigtails over her shoulder.

“Mommy, can I carve a kitty?” Livi asked, apparently totally fine after her little tumble.

“I don’t know, hon. How about you check the patterns?” Mom said.

“Ok.”

Cam ran to grab them, nearly slipping on some pumpkin innards that Abby had dropped previously.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Just then the phone rang.

“I’ll get it!” Cam shouted, already halfway there. He took the receiver from its place on the wall and held it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Cam. It’s Uncle Donald. Is your father there?”

“Yep,” Cam held the phone away from his ear and called for his dad.

Dad took the phone and Cam helped Livi tape a cat pattern onto her pumpkin. The kids busied themselves with carving.

After a moment, Dad called, “Alright, everyone. Say bye to Uncle Donald!”

“I didn’t even say hi!” Livi wailed.

“It’s okay, Liv. You’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Not likely,” Abby muttered.

“Abby, don’t be like that,” Mom lectured.

Dad put the phone back on the wall. “Ok, kids. Bedtime!”

“I’m not done yet!” Cam pouted. Abby set the knife down and stalked to the kids’ bedroom. Livi cried.

“You can finish tomorrow,” Mom said, picking up the little girl and carrying her to bed.

* * *

I entered the kitchen, moonlight streaming through the small apartment window. The knife gleamed on the table. Newspapers were spread across the surface, and pumpkin guts covered nearly every inch. I crept forward and grabbed the slimy knife. I picked a seed off the blade and left the kitchen. 

I tip-toed down the hallway to the children's bedroom. I entered and turned towards the crib, standing over the 3-year-old. Livi’s hair is still tied in pigtails, she rolled over when my figure blocked the nightlight. I fretted that she would wake, but thankfully she didn’t.

 I smiled down at her and whispered, “Don’t worry, it will be alright.” before I cut her throat.

* * *

Dad bolted upright in bed. His blanket fell from his shoulders. He shook Mom’s shoulder, but couldn’t remember what had woken him. Maybe it was just a dream. And then he remembered. It had been a scream. His daughters scream.

He leaped out of bed and ran to the kids’ room. When he threw open the door, he saw Cam crying by Livi’s crib, and Abby staring blankly at her rocking back and forth. He looked at his youngest daughter and stumbled backward. Her throat had been cut, and her face. Oh, her face. Where there had been sweet, small features, were now something straight from a nightmare. Her beautiful blue eyes were framed by triangles cut roughly with a knife, blood crusting over her brows. Her small pink lips were destroyed, and a huge rough smile sliced through her once rosy cheeks. Blood dribbled down her chin.

“No!” Dad cried, tripped over a toy, and hit the wall. Mom heard the commotion and ran in. She frantically glanced around the room and soon noticed her deceased daughter. She faltered and ran out of the room towards the phone. She hurriedly dialed a number and softly began to cry. The phone stopped ringing, and a voice over the other side could barely be heard.

“Hello?”

“Donald? Donald. You need to come over immediately,” Mom clutched the phone like a lifeline.

Cam tugged on her silky pajama sleeve.

“Not now, honey. Yes, Donald. No, it’s Livi. She’s…I can’t say it.”

Cam’s eyes shine with tears and he leaves the room. He can’t go back to the bedroom. That’s where Livi’s broken body lay. He can’t bear to see her again. To relive the moment he first saw her in the crib, crying and screaming.

There was a knock on the door, and the family solemnly answered. Uncle Donald walked in and followed the family to the bedroom. He let out a small gasp when he saw the little girl's body, and silent tears rolled down his face. He bent down to pick up the knife that had been carelessly cast into a corner of the room. He turned around, a determined look on his face.

“I will find who did this,” he muttered. He left to call in backup. Mom began to cry on Dad’s shoulder, and he rubbed her back attempting to comfort her. Cam was nowhere to be seen and Abby sat at the kitchen table. She continued to stare straight forward

, trembling slightly. Mom and Dad come to sit next to her, and Dad wraps his arms around both his girls.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers.

“No, it won’t!” Abby shouted. “Everyone always says things like that! It’s not going to be okay! Livi is dead! Nothing is changing that!”

“Abby, wait!” Dad said as Abby stomped out of the room, and back to the kids’ bedroom.

Mom sobbed harder into Dad’s shoulder and he sat down, drained and confused. Uncle Donald returned the phone and sat next to his sister and brother-in-law. Cam was still nowhere to be found. Abby, however, was kneeling next to Livi’s bed, staring at where her beautiful youthful face used to be.

“I’m sorry, Livi,” she sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.” She rested her forehead on the bed, clutching Livi’s hand.

She stayed there for a while until after Donald’s backup had arrived. The policemen and women walked around the room slowly, taking pictures and dusting Livi’s bed for fingerprints. A nice policewoman carried Abby from the room and helped her lie on the front room’s couch.

Donald had just lifted Livi’s body from her bed when Cam walked in. Tears had left trails down his face, and snot dribbled from his nose. “Are you gonna figure it out?”

“I sure hope so, buddy. We need to take this evidence into the station and then we need to do interviews,” the police chief’s voice sounded choked. “I–we will avenge Livi.”

Cam looked at his shoes, feeling bad, oh so bad. 

“It’s okay, Cam. Livi’s in a better place, now.”

“But she was fine here with us!” Cam shoved away from Donald and left the room, tears dripping down his nose. Donald held his head in his hands, trying to push his emotions down.

“Have you found anything yet, Donald?” Mom asked, walking into the room. Dad didn’t trail behind her, instead, he was staying out with Abby.

“The only fingerprints we found were from Livi, Abby, and Cam. The knife was too wet and slippery, so we can’t get a clear fingerprint reading. We’re planning to take it back to the station to look at it more.” Donald looked away from his younger sister, trying not to feel ashamed.

“Thank you for doing this, Donald,” Mom said.

“Of course. It’s my job.”

Mom nodded, tearing up again. Her mascara dripped from her lashes and ran down her cheeks. Donald caught her in a hug and squeezed her tightly.

“Cheif, we’ve bagged all the evidence. We’re reading to head out,” a voice said from the door. It was the policewoman who had carried Abby out of the room. She had a kind face and curly hair.

“Thank you, Tanya. I’ll be right there,” Donald smiled grimly at her. She nodded curtly and left the room. Another policeman took her place and came into the room. Donald instructed him to put Livi in a large bag. She looked much too small for it.

Cam was hiding in the kitchen behind the pantry door. He watched as Tanya placed the knife in a bag and all the other evidence on the table. He had watched her leave the room. He now watched the policeman leaving the apartment with a body bag. Cam knew immediately that Livi must be in the bag. More tears slide down his face as his eyes go back to the table.

He was suddenly overcome with a strange surge of longing, the same he had felt last night when he saw the gleaming knife in Livi’s neck. He picked up the bag that held the murder weapon, ready to be taken away as evidence. He unzipped the Ziploc bag and grinned softly, drying his eyes. Cam carried the knife, still crusted with blood and pumpkin. He walked to the hallway, following the sound of his family’s voices. His family stands in the bedroom, listening to Donald talk about something. Livi, probably.

“Don't worry, Abs. It’ll be alright.” Cam smiled and lunged for Abby, she shrieked and jumped back, barely dodging the knife. Dad tackled him to the floor and the knife fell out of his small hands. 

Cam began to cry, and Donald rushed into the room and surveyed the scene. Solemnly he grabbed his handcuffs and bound Cam. He called for backup and escorted Cam to the front room.

That was 10 years ago, and we were found guilty. Only now has Cam learned that he and I are the same.