Denoumont

Warning: this story is a bit darker than I usually do. Also, there is some depictions of blood.

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 had 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, dark stage surrounding her and ropes binding her body to the chair. Of course, they were the softest ropes and chair I could find in the whole theatre. I mean, I'm not a monster. And I already knew her.

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 ben the brightest. And, Hank was an 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 cringing.

Whatever, I wanted a grand finale. 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.

"Hello, Hank," I bellowed, stepping right on the 'x' I had taped to the floor, which was the most perfect position that 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 make up wipe form my sleeve. I wiped quickly, revealing my face.

Hank stepped forward and looked at me really closely. I could feel his heart beat 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, sliding the makeup wipe back in my sleeve 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. To 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, looking at my nails in the light.

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. And Claire. And Ella. And Jeremiah. And all the others who trusted you, you liar!" I said, my voice slowly rising to a yell.

"But, why," he asked, as if he didn't already know.

"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. “Do you have any last requests?”

I moved my bloody lips into a sinister smile, and said “yes. You seemed to have” cough “forgotten about my favorite word to use.”

I wheezed for a second and then said “do you know what it is, Hank?”

Hank looked at me, and I saw fear in his eyes. He could tell something was wrong. But he didn’t answer.

“The denouement,” I said, and started cackling.

At that moment, the curtains set on fire, and the last thing I saw as my eyes darkened was Abigail and Hank's scared faces, and the flames overtaking the theatre.

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 the 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 never be answered, 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.