Denoumont

I mean, Hank didn't have to show up. I told him in my illustrious ransom note that all he had to do was mail a package full of the cash I had asked for. I wouldn't have to hurt him if he followed instructions.

Despite hoping for the least gory way of getting my money, I set up a trap ahead of time. There Abigail was, sitting in a chair in the middle of a spotlight, a dark stage surrounding her and ropes binding her body to the chair. Of course, they were the softest ropes and nicest chair I could find in the whole theatre. I’m no monster. And it’s not like she was a stranger.

I was waiting in the stage right wing, wearing my nicest suit. A crossbow was weighing in my arms, and my face was freshly powdered with makeup. A makeup wipe was hidden in my sleeve. A little sweat was beading my forehead, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to make a good entrance.

I saw Hank walk in from the back of the theatre, his phone flashlight shining brightly in his hand. I could see his hands, which looked just like any other man's hand.

Disgusting.

By the way, I did try to make this old theatre foreboding. It’s dark, gloomy, I even put a ‘keep out’ sign on the door. But, Hank’s never been the brightest. Worse, Hank is a f undercover cop. According to my research, he has seen every mystery/crime movie, read every book, and he still fell for the most cliche trick in the book: Just leaving the victim out in the open. I mean, the trap was so obvious, I was almost writhing in annoyance.

Anyway, I wanted a grand finale. A grande denouement. And he was definitely letting me.

"Abigail! Are you okay," Hank said, jumping on the stage and running over to her. Abigail was trying to speak, but the silk gag I put on her mouth was reducing her to muffles. Before he could say anything else, I stepped out from the shadows, letting the light hit me perfectly.

"Hello, Hank," I bellowed, stepping right on the exact spot, the most perfect position where the crossbow gleamed in the stage light. I smiled, my red lips stretched.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, you don't recognize me," I asked, tilting my head slightly, like the horror movie characters I studied for this moment. With a swift motion, I balanced the weight of the crossbow onto my right arm, while raising my arm up and retrieving the makeup wipe from my sleeve. I wiped quickly, revealing one half of my face.

Hank stepped forward and looked at me really closely. I could feel his heartbeat in my ear as he looked me in the eye. 

"Parker?"

I smiled wider, which took a while to learn. My mouth was aching, but performance is everything. "Yes, Hank. It's me. Fancy meeting you here," I said, throwing the makeup wipe dramatically to the side and positioning the crossbow back in my arms.

Hank stepped back, taking a deep breath and eyeing the crossbow. He put his body in front of Abigail.

"Ah, protecting her again. As usual. Too bad you didn't protect me. And you couldn't protect the others."

"What are you talking about," Hank asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Remember school? Remember that stupid rumor that got around? I've been scheming and plotting, and some people just got in my way. Remember Harrison Lambert," I said, continuing to stare menacingly into his cold, blue eyes. I had tried for months to train my eyes to be able to do such a stare, but I instead resorted to colored contacts.

Hank thinks for a second, then his eyes widen. "Yup, let that sink into your dumb blonde brain," I say, pointing at my head.

"You killed him?"

"Yup. Just kidding, you a. I only did what I’m doing right now, taking a loved one and getting a reward. Harrison was easy; one kidnapped daughter and a bag of 5000 dollars later, he finally respected me. Then it was Daniel. And Claire. And Ella. And Jeremiah. And all the others who trusted you. They finally know that I’m not some stupid nerd; I’m powerful. I have money. I have fame. What do you have? Nothing, but Abigail. And, I decided that, since you just had to show up, I would give you a bigger surprise,” I said, aiming the crossbow.

"But, why," he asked, as if he didn't already know. I threw my arms up, ready to rant, twirling.

"You ruined my life! You destroyed everything! My family left me, Abigail hated me. My college rejected me! I was wiped off the face of the earth! And it was all because of you!" I pointed forward, but no one was there. Abigail's chair was twirling across the stage, empty. I caught it, and looked around. Where did they go?

I found out too late.

In a second, I heard a click, and felt the searing pain of a crossbow arrow going through my stomach.

As I lay, blood gurgling from my diaphragm, Hank stepped out from the shadows with Abigail next to him. The crossbow was in his arms.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” Hank said as he watched me. “I know the truth, y’know. Dead people, piling up in your conscience. Bet you didn’t know I went to Harrison’s funeral a few days ago. Then I went to Claire’s. And then to all the other people. You aren’t a good liar.” He threw the crossbow down, taking Abigail’s hand.

I moved my bloody lips into a sinister smile, and said “Ah, so you finally understand. You know, I guessed this would happen. It’s a good thing I’m so dramatic, for I know all the tricks.”

I stood up, much to Hank’s horror. I plucked the arrow out of my stomach, the bag of fake blood peirced and still spilling. For added effect, I threw it to Hank’s feet. “You can’t kill me, Hank Freidman. You can’t,” and I began to cackle. Louder. Louder.

At that moment, the curtains set on fire, and Abigail screamed. Hank grabbed her. By the time they had gotten off the stage, I was running to the emergency exit. I was backstage, dodging falling pieces of stage and metal. I leaped, jumping over a roll of rope. But, I tripped. My leg got caught in the rope. S, I thought. This is so stupid. I began prying at the rope, trying to coax it to release my leg. But, in 5 minutes of intensive struggle, I suddenly saw a flaming piece of curtain, falling. I turned, and then curled up in a ball, letting the flames lick my arms.

I didn’t want to die right then. My plan was to shoot Hank, lock Abigail up, set the theatre on fire, and then run to the car that was waiting outside.

You see, my life wasn’t as horrible as I had told them. I had a family. A wife and a daughter, both of whom I loved. I was on a ‘work trip’, and they believed me. I had a plane scheduled for that afternoon to go back to my family.

I guess I won’t be.

I had been getting texts for days from my daughter, Angela. She was always saying “I love you” or “when are you coming back?” I always answered. Now, my phone will have notifications that will stay unanswered, birthday gifts that will never be given, and a story about a freak fire accident, where so-called “friends”, by the names of Abigail Terry, Hank Freidman, and Parker Georgino, died.