Chopping Down the Aspen

There it is. Again.

It’s happened three times today already.

I narrow my eyes, waiting to catch it once more. I scan the street. The bench is cold beneath my legs, but sweat drips down my forehead all the same, stinging my eyes. I don’t want to miss it, don’t want to confirm that I am, in fact, certifiably insane. Someone, someone out there just needs to—

There.

This time, it’s an older woman with short, stubbly gray hair and thin glasses resting on a flat nose. She glances in my direction and nods. She looks away, back to the path before her. And then, like clockwork, her head snaps back in my direction, and her eyes widen so that I can see the pale white edges around blue irises.

She stops dead in her tracks. It only happens for a second, but time stretches forward endlessly, making every hair on my arm quiver. She gapes. And then her jaw shuts with an audible snap as she hurries away, keeping her head down and eyes forward. I watch as her hand slips into her pocket, pulling out something––a notebook, maybe? A wallet? She raises it to her ear––

A phone. She's whispering into it. Urgently.

She’s around the corner and out of sight. And I’m on my feet, once again racing along the sidewalk, chills running up and down my spine.

I don’t understand. Several individuals have stopped dead in their tracks today, staring at me with those same wide eyes and deathly pale faces.

I yank my phone out of my pocket, my fingers trembling as I tap the keys. I dial the only number I know to call.

“Aspen?” A familiar voice says on the other line.

“Ivy,” I breath, relieved. “Ivy, something’s going on.”

She sighs. “Yes. I suppose so.”

I stop, her words slowly entering my head. “What… what do you mean?”

Silence.

“Ivy…”

“Aspen, I’m so sorry,” she says quietly. “It had to be done.”

“What had to be done?” I say, my voice hard.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore,” she murmurs. “You’ll understand one day. They’re going to find you, but don’t worry. I have a plan.”

And then she hangs up on me.

I slowly lower my hand and stare at the phone. At my home screen. It’s a picture of me and Ivy, our arms wrapped around one another in a one-armed hug in front of Lake Palmer, smiling at the camera, our eyes twinkling in the warm sun.

I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore…

A nearby siren wails. I drop my phone. I stare down at the cracked screen as the sound fills my ears. Slowly, so slowly, I reach down to pluck it from the ground. The background is different. My body and Ivy's body... they're grotesquely distorted. Sickening.

As the siren grows louder, I run.

I don’t know where I’m going, only that I need to move faster. The siren is everywhere––in front of me, behind me, snarling and spitting. I can’t escape it.

An alleyway appears to my right. I leap into the darkness and jog down until I see a dumpster, its lid haphazardly flopped to the side. The stench of garbage induces my gag reflex, and I lean over, my breathing shallow as I close my eyes shut. Once the black dots dissipate, I squat beside the dumpster and pull out my phone again, fingers tapping restlessly on the screen.

“News… news… news…” I murmur to myself, scrolling, typing anything.

There.

My fingers freeze.

It’s an article.

"The Aspen Tree Murder Spree: Serial Killer Murders Five Citizens in Five Days"

My face. It's on the front page.

It’s not my face exactly. It’s a sketch of my face. And below, five other faces.

Four of them are familiar. I look away quickly from those, and my eyes land on the fifth picture.

Ivy.

“No.”

I scroll through the article. Through article after article. My hands are shaking. They're numb.

“…Police have discovered the remains of four victims, along with the disappearance of Ivy Willows. The department names identical twin sister Aspen Willows as the primary suspect…”

“…Serial murderer Aspen Willows prime suspect in 4, possibly 5, murders…”

“…Detectives warn the public to avoid highly dangerous individual…”

“…Serial killer murders her own twin sister in high-profile killings…”

Aspen Willows the serial killer. Aspen Willows the murderer.

My breathing gets shallower. I force myself to look at the other four pictures. Two men and two women.

“The Pack,” as I call them.

My tormentors.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the memories drift from a once shut box.

Do what the therapist said. Do what the therapist said––

Too late.

Second day of high school. They corner me. The older girl laughs, spitting in my face. The boy and the other girl yank me into the bathroom stall. There is pain, and blood… I taste it in my mouth. My eye is swollen. I am huddled in the corner, tears and blood everywhere…

Ivy is there. She wipes away the blood and the tears and rocks me until I go to sleep.

“Woman found stabbed in bathroom of Silver Hills High School…”

The school lake day. A field trip. The boys argue as they decide who should go first to hold my head under water, for so long black dots spot before my eyes…

Ivy is there. She drags me out of the water and wraps me in a towel. We bathe in the sun.

“Man drowned at Lake Palmer…”

A year later. The girls spread a rumor. They say I spread disease like the plague. They say I’m open for business. My friends walk away from me, never to return… teachers look at me in disgust…

Ivy is there. She holds me and we read books until only the words of fantasy novels fill my head. 

“Woman’s remains found behind gentleman’s club…”

Graduation night. A party. I go, only because I'm feeling braver now. They haven't bothered me in a year. But all of them find me. They rip my clothes away until I’m left, exposed. They laugh as I sob.

Ivy is there. She brings me a beautiful new red dress. We go to the movies.

“Male body found in backyard of house, clothes missing…”

Do what the therapist said––

“The ground is black. The dumpster is green. My shoes are red. The sky is blue. My name is Aspen Willows.”

Aspen Willows the murderer…

“OY! She’s here, I just heard her. YOU. Hands up where I can see them. Now.”

I close my eyes, and everything goes black.

************************************************************

10 years later

************************************************************

“You did a good job this time. With that,” I say, gesturing at her face.

She tosses her hair back, eyes sparkling. They’re blue now, which is an adjustment. But they’re pretty.

“You like it?” She asks, giggling.

“I said you did a good job. Don’t get too crazy.” I laugh, rolling my eyes.

Her hair is blonde and short, framing her face in a bob. Freckles fill her cheeks––drawn or tattooed, I don’t know. Her ears are pierced to the nines. And her lips look… fuller, somehow. Her nose is straighter, too. Different.

“What do you go by now?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I think I settled on Lilith for the next couple years. Ivy was always my favorite, though,” she says wistfully.

“Lilith is nice. I like it." I clear my throat. “So, who was it this time?”

She grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Come on, Ivy. Lilith. Whatever.”

She shrugs, her eyes glinting. “It’s nobody. Well, now there’s definitely no body.”

I groan. “That was terrible.”

"He was terrible. That's all you need to know."

I snort. "You never tell me about them. Any of them."

She holds up her hands in a shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Again. Terrible.”

She smiles softly at me. “So,” she says quietly, leaning forward and clasping her hands on the table in front of her. “Are you still enjoying it here?”

I know we've moved past the subject, and I sigh. I look around. It’s a beautiful living room area, with plants and succulents glowing in the sunlight on ornate tables surrounding comfy couches. My bedroom is down the hall. A sunroom out front. And there’s a backyard full of flowers and plants and trees… and aspens. I love my aspen forest.

Everything is perfect here.

“Yes. Very much so.” I smile at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t ever want to leave.”

She laughs. “I’m afraid our time may be up soon. I can pull strings… but I can’t pull that many strings.”

I sigh. “Really? It feels like we just got to this one. We always have to move so suddenly.” I cross my arms. “And I like my aspens.”

“I know.” She frowns as she looks down at her hands. “I can’t keep you in one place forever, though. It’s not safe.”

“But you tried,” I say, smiling gently at her and uncrossing my arms, my frustration disappearing in an instant. “You tried to keep me safe.”

She nods, her eyes warm. “Hey, speaking of that… I got you a present.”

“Aw, shucks. You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, be quiet. Here.”

She pulls something bulky from her purse. It’s poorly wrapped, but that’s just Ivy. Or, Lilith, I guess. It’s rectangular and flat, and surprisingly heavy.

“Open it.”

I tear at the paper. There, enwrapped in a heavy golden picture frame, is a news article. The headline stares at me in thick black lettering.

“Chopping Down the Aspen Tree: Serial Killer Dead At Last,” I read. I glance up, raising my eyebrows. “When did this happen?”

“Not 'did.' It will happen. In one week,” she says, leaning back and crossing her legs. “Poof. Gone. Vanished. You're free to live the end of your days in peace. We’re free.” Her eyes sparkle.

I look around at this house, tucked away and hidden from humanity. “Do I really have to leave here? It’s been so nice these last years. We get to live peacefully, do whatever we want…”

“Aspen,” she says, her voice serious. “They’re on to you. I’ve managed to hide you away for a decade, but we can’t fake this any longer.”

I meet her eyes. And nod. “So, what do we do?”

“Don’t worry,” she says, smiling. “I have a plan.”