Blood Stained Emeralds

“Shit,” I yell. A bump in the road causes my coffee to spill over my legs. The burning is bad enough, not to mention that my favorite pair of pants is ruined with stains. I slam on the brakes in frustration. Normally this behavior would get me rear ended, but here in the middle of the woods, the only thing there is to hit are deer. I climb out of my truck and in a fit of anger, throw my mug to the ground smashing it. I rake the hair out of my face and hold my head in my hands. I let out a deep sigh. This trip has already been exhausting. I just can’t take it any longer. My head falls back and I gaze into the branches of trees towering over me.

After a minute I reach into my car to check my GPS. Only a few more miles and I’ll be out of the woods. Literally and figuratively. I open the bed of my truck and reach into my backpack to grab a pair of sweatpants. I peel the stained clothes off and replace them with said sweatpants. I take a deep breath, grab hold of the necklace around my throat, and rip it off, leaving it behind laying on the pavement. The inscribed pendant and emerald beads distributed aimlessly across the road. I stare at it for what feels like hours and remember her. The details of her face I so carefully analyzed. The curved edges of her body that my hands had explored. The way her fiery red hair fell over her shoulders.

I shake my head and brush off the trance. I climb in and pull the truck door closed behind me. Both hands on the wheel I take note of my breathing. Even and calm. Just the way it’s supposed to be. I put the car in drive and head off. After a while I reach the edge of the wood. Ahead, nothing for miles. The house is a bit further down the road. The grass was green and a few houses were spread out across the fields. Slowly the roads transitioned to dirt. Decrepit wooden fences marking out the streets. The big empty reminding me of the trip through Nebraska. 

I gaze at the house with joyful eyes. The drive from Chicago had not been easy. Somewhere in the middle of Utah I got a flat. Luckily an old couple had seen me, stopped on the road, and gave me a tow to a station. I even got hit with thunderstorms while making my way through Colorado. 

It’s beautiful. The morning sun painting the white planks orange. The house is a traditional colonial. It used to be a plantation house, but by the time my grandparents bought it most of the farmland had been sold off. Granted we still own one hundred acres of land. Well… I own one hundred acres of land. A few dogwoods and maples are scattered across the area, but the true glory is the weeping willow in the backyard. My grandmother and I placed a stone bench underneath the elegant skirt of leaves. I spent a lot of time here as a kid, but really I was raised in Seattle. But this town, this town kept me connected to her in the beginning, for she grew up here.

I open the back of my truck and begin carrying in the boxes. Stepping up to the wraparound porch I remember the times I would spin around the two story columns out in front while my grandmother would knit. I fumble for my keys and open the grand front door. Just as I remember it, the dual staircase in the foyer fit for a queen. The great room behind the two sets. The house still has all its furnishings as my grandmothers death came upon us quite quickly. As her only living family member I am left with her house, her savings, and her life insurance. 

When I finish moving the boxes inside, I head upstairs and put my clothes away in the master bedroom. All the furniture is old fashioned, but everything here reminds me of childhood innocence. That’s exactly what I need right now. 

I collapse onto the four posted bed to rest. I’d been driving for just about thirty hours, so I fall asleep in the blink of an eye. 

I awake in the cover of darkness. Reaching for the lamp on the bedside table I turn on the light. The room lit up in artificial light. My stomach carries me downstairs to the kitchen. Along the way I turn on the chandelier in the foyer. Though I leave the kitchen lights off. As I take out the lonely premade cookie dough from the empty fridge, I see something move out of the corner of my eye. I jump and turn my head in the way of the library. Cautiously, I grab a knife from the drawer and investigate the room. First I turn on the lights then I scan the surrounding area. To my surprise no one is there, waiting for me in the dark. For a minute I thought she had followed me out here. I go take a seat in the living room and turn on the TV. Old reruns of Seinfeld are playing because it is the middle of the night. Though I have heard the show may be ending next year. I eat my cookie dough and watch shows until I fall back asleep.

The next day I decide to go into town. I pull on my favorite flannel and head to the truck. The black paint turns the inside of the car to an oven. The summer sun beats down on me as I head through the woods to get downtown. 

I pull into a lot next to a convenience store and pharmacy. A bell rings as I open the glass doors. A man about my age looks to me, “Hey there, the name’s Wade. New in town?”

I walk up to the counter to meet his eyes. His blonde hair is grown out draping over his forehead. An oversized Alice in Chains tee is hidden under his ripped up jacket. Looking up at him I respond, “Uh yeah. I’m Raven. Just moved here from Chicago actually,” 

Wade nods along with my words but his eyes wander. They’re trained on my pickup. He interjects, “Is that a silverado?”

“Yep, a ‘97,” 

He turns to me and his mouth hangs open, “No way the new model?” His eyes light up with glee and he continues, “Damn you have good taste,”

My smile arises as I look around the store. I almost let out a laugh. Only my second day in Oregon and already I’ve met someone who reminds me of her. I turn my back to Wade and a display catches my eye. In the back corner of the store a stack of CDs sits on a table. I gasp and run towards it, “Wade! You have the new Nevermind CD? I couldn’t find it anywhere back home,”

From behind the counter he speaks, “Hey why don’t you just take one. Think of it as a welcome gift,”

“This is amazing thank you so much,” His lips curl up into a smile. I let him know that I have to go to the library down the street to use the internet and before I head out he hands me a piece of paper with his number on it. He says I can use it if I ever need anything. I can tell we’re going to be friends.

I step to the computer in the back of the library and press down on the power button. The familiar hum reminds me of home. It was a lot easier to get access to the internet in the city. Here everything is remote and technology seems to move much slower. Like we’re caught in a time warp. The screen coats my skin in a blue light as it starts up. I search through countless news articles until one stops me. Another Body Found Dismembered in the City. It’s a new story from the Chicago Tribute. The pictures are horrific, limbs strewn across the alleyway and heads found in dumpsters. The newspaper says that the faces were so terribly mangled that none of the bodies have been identified yet. A tear runs down my cheek and the hot breath fogs up my glasses. Without turning off the computer I grab my coat and run out the door, bumping into Wade on the way out. 

About a week later as I get ready for bed I again see moving shadows. I try to brush them off and get into bed, but then I hear the whistling of wind outside. I knew that a storm was on the way, so I closed all the shudders earlier in the day. I tip toe across the creaky floor boards towards the last open window in the back of the house. I stare out into the night and watch as the willow tree whips around swinging it’s branches ferociously. A bolt of white lightning strikes the earth out by the horizon. The crashing sound makes the world feel dizzy. In the reflection of the window I see the chandelier light flicker. I spin and face it only for all the lights in the house to cut out. I wander through the black halls trying to remember where the fuse box is. I shuffle through a closet searching for a flashlight. My hand catches it and I flip on the light. Only a fraction of the area is visible. Then, a crash comes on the door. Again I grab a knife and head towards the foyer. Who could possibly be at my door in the middle of the night, especially in the midst of a storm. Slowly unclicking the lock I peer outside. God she couldn’t be here. Not enough time has passed. Outside stands a man clad in a black rain coat. He towers above me, but the shadow of his hood covers his face. He speaks, “Hey Raven, I was just-”

“Wade?” I exclaim, “What are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me!” A tinge of anger lingers in my voice as I welcome him in. I hang up his coat and he tells me how he used to work here for the owners. Wade’s brows furrow, “Whats wrong?” I inquire.

“Nothing, I just thought they were selling this place and now you show up,” His shoulders raise and fall in confusion. The tone he uses makes it apparent that he wants answers. 

“My grandmother was the owner. And she just recently died, so the house was left to me. My girlfriend and I were planning to sell, but then…”

“What,” He tilts his head,

“Uh. Nothing. It just didn’t work out and I decided to move here,” I look down to avoid the stare. An emerald bracelet gleams on his wrist in the glow of a midnight moon. The conversation continues and he leads me to the fuse box, flipping a few switches and the power starts up again. He leaves me, climbing into an old van driving off into the storm. I try to convince him to stay but he relentlessly refuses. 

A few days later I head to the library again. While flipping through news stories I check the Chicago Tribute. The headline reads, A Killer Behind Bars, Body Count Unknown. My eyes widen and I scroll further. They say that the killer was found in the middle of the night, stuffing half of a womans torso into a dumpster. Police arrived on the scene and found her covered in blood carving a name into her own leg. They don’t know who the name belongs to and they will not release said name. 

I can’t move. My legs fail me. My whole body paralyzed, glued to the chair. Oh god. A wave of fear rushes me. Nothing could have prepared me for this. All though, nothing prepared me for that day either. My life is falling apart like a deteriorating piece of clothing. This news is a seam ripper tearing me to shreds. At first my breaths quicken, but then they come slowly. Until they don’t come at all. My vision blurs and I fall out of my seat. The last thing I see as I drift off is Wade trying to check my pulse. Then it all fades to darkness.

The first thing I see as my eyes blink open is the ornate blanket that lays over me in my bed. I let out a sigh of relief. A familiar voice prompts me to look out to the door, “Raven,”

“Oh thank god you’re here Wade. I genuinely thought I was dying,” He comes up and sits on the edge of the four poster. 

Nonchalantly he continues, “So, what was it that freaked you out so much? I would have checked the computer except you must have hit the power button as you fell,” 

I squint my eyes and an internal struggle surfaces. If I were to tell anyone it should be him. He’s ignorant to my baggage, so admitting this would pull a massive weight off my chest. I am emotionally independent afterall. I trail my eyes up his body, stopping a second to get a better look at his bracelet. When I meet his gaze all the words just fall out, “It’s a serial killer. In Chicago,” I pause.

“Wait, are you worried about your ex? I’m sure she’s fine,”

“Not exactly,” I respond, “It was about a month ago, before I moved here. My girlfriend Natasha had been acting weird. I thought it might have been something going on with a family member, but as far as I know she has no family. An orphan. Kind of like me I guess,” I shrug my shoulders and Wade scoots further on to the bed, getting comfortable, “We were planning to sell this house and travel across the world, but then…” 

“Then what?”

“Then I came home from work early. I looked through the slightly cracked door to our bathroom. I found her crouching over the bathtub. I called her name in an attempt to surprise her. I expected some semblance of joy but that is,” I sigh, “Joy is not what I got. She craned her next around staring at me with hatred in her eyes. Blood stained her orange hair and I threw the door open to see if she was okay. When I walked towards her she stood up and…” 

A shiver runs down my spine just thinking about her. Natasha was the woman I loved. And even now I don’t want to believe it’s true. I pick up the words again, “And the blood, it wasn’t hers. I would say there was a body in in the tub, but there were only pieces. The tile was flooded with blood and a single arm laid next to a hand saw. Her head sitting at Nat’s feet. The rest was in the bath. One of the legs was half sawn off and the chest mutilated. I tried to run but she grabbed me. She said she’d kill me too if I went to the police” 

Wade holds me close to his chest as I unravel. Visions of violence replay in my head and he picks up my head, “I know,”

“What?” 

He stood up and paced the room, “She should’ve killed you when she had the chance. Natasha had you in her grasp, but she just let you slip away. I always have to swoop in and fix her mistakes,” 

I try to run away but he pushes me back on the bed. He climbs above me and stares as he holds a cloth over my mouth and I lose consciousness. 

“Raven? Hey. Wake up!” He shoves me over and slaps me across the face. I open my eyes and start to cry. Everything hurts, but I can’t pinpoint the pain. He brought me to the basement and chained both my hands to exposed pipes. Who is he?

Then it all came together. The necklace that Natasha had bought for me that I threw across the road, it’s almost identical to the bracelet hanging from Wade’s wrist. And she had grown up here. I gasp, “You’re her brother!”

He holds my chin in his hand and nods. His boots click the floor as he walks around the room, knife in hand, “You know when I got the call from Natasha I wasn’t much surprised by her recklessness,” His voice calm and stead as if this is second nature to him, “Our parents raised us to hunt, but after a while the routine became trying. So one night, we ran blades across their throats. Watching them bleed. Watching the light leave their eyes. We knew it was our calling. So we kept going, we used to work together, but she got ambitious and ran off to the city. She called me a few months ago, when she started up killing again. She spoke about you. You made her soft and sloppy. When she was arrested she was carving your name into her skin, so I thought I’d write mine.”

He took his knife and cut off three buttons on my shirt, revealing ‘Wade’ carved across my chest. I scream and break loose of my chains. Stumbling up the stairs I take off. I’m outside in a matter of seconds, running for my life. I feel a hand grab my shoulder and turn me around. Suddenly, I’m strung out on the sidewalk feeling his dagger deepen the cuts on my chest. I struggle to breath as the knife penetrates my body. Then I watch as my heart is ripped from my chest. Last breath escaping my lungs.