The Parasites That Live in The Cracks

Bree Someday, I will get my life back. I’ll find a way, somehow, to escape this mess and have a normal life again. I walked, as inconspicuous as I could, into the woods. Just past the first few pines stood a man, an unruly gray beard unable to hide the menacing smirk that reached into his glinting eyes. Dread settled deeper into my stomach as I walked closer to him.    “I got plans tonight.” His voice grated on my nerves like gravel; I wanted to run in the opposite direction. But I stayed, holding my ground.    “You got any guesses?” He asked, moving slowly closer. He looked like a ghost in the dusky light, pale, ready to possess me and use me for his twisted schemes. I shook my head.    “Well then,” His grin grew, “I got some people I don’t really like, n’ it’d be great if you’d… Take care of them.” My breath caught in my throat, choking me as the worst realities filled my mind.    “Take… Care of them?” I asked slowly.    “Yes, good care…” He reached into his coat, pulling out a shiny silver blade. I took a step back, hands trembling. Usually, all I had to do was steal or vandalize something. I could go to jail for life for murder! He wouldn’t care though, I was just a tool.   "Unless you'd rather your fam die, they'd do also." He added, seeing my expression.   "Okay," I blurted. "I'll do it..." I couldn't let anything happen to them, I'd never forgive myself. How could I live without Mom's loving smile and Dad's firm hugs and even Alex, pain in the neck he was? I’d never forgive myself for this either, but I could live with this easier than knowing I caused the death of my family. "Let's git goin then." He led me off into the forest, I followed, my stomach churning. The dark outlines of branches seemed to be grabbing at me, the moon a leering face. The world transforming into an ugly, horrifying reflection of what it once was.    Only a few minutes of walking had passed before my phone rang, deafeningly loud in the tense silence.    My hand instinctively twitched towards the noise, causing the man to glare at me. “Don’t ya dare.”    “It’s probably Lisa… She’ll be suspicious if I don’t answer.” I said, my voice quivering with every word. Should I try to send her a coded message, or was it too risky?    “Ya ain’t just sayin’ that?” He narrowed his eyes.    I shook my head, maybe too quickly. He motioned for me to pick up the phone, taking the knife from his coat.    I tapped the answer button and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I spoke in the most confident voice I could muster, trying not to tremble as I felt the cold blade pressed against my throat.    "Sabrina, can you come over tonight? I know it’s late, but I need some serious help. I still can’t decide if I want to be a psychologist or a doctor, you’ve just gotta help me do more research!" Lisa, my best friend, asked excitedly. “Please please please, we can work on more of your stuff too, like whatever you need for police training!”   "I can't, I'm grounded ..." I lied. “But you know, why don’t you just study both? We’ve got a year before we go to college, and by then you should know.”   "Oh. Okay." Lisa said, her voice quieter and flatter than it’d previously been. I felt bad making her this disappointed yet again. Compared to theft and upcoming murder I shouldn't feel bad about lying, but I did.  "Sorry, maybe next week?" Not likely, but I'd try.  "Yeah, okay. Stop getting in trouble Bree!" She chastised me lightly.    I laughed, a little stiffly, but managed to contain the storm of emotions building up in my chest. What if this was our last conversation? What if I got caught, or whoever I was supposed to kill killed me first? What if I’d said something wrong, and the moment I got off the phone I was dead? "I'll try, I gotta go now. I'll talk to you later, bye." I hung up, holding my breath.   The man nodded curtly, resheathing the knife and leading me on, towards the end of my previous life.   ⇎   I jumped out the window and ran, the relentless screaming of sirens closing in on me. How were they here already? Who called, was there someone else in the house? There was a knife clutched in my blood-soaked hands; if I was seen, there would be no doubt I was the murderer. No way I could be an unfortunate bystander or even second victim.   The sight of the man I'd killed staring at me in horror, pleading for his life, lying slumped against the wall with a knife in his stomach and blood dribbling out of his mouth burned into my mind. Playing on endless repeat. I felt like screaming and punching the trees, an intense agony of hatred and remorse filling me to a bursting point. But no, I ran. I ran home to stay out of jail. Even though part of me wanted to get caught, to go to jail, to be punished.   As I dashed into the trees there were glimpses of the shaggy, grey-bearded man who'd put me in this position. I was tempted to throw the knife into his back, but he'd said he had friends who would hunt me down if I ever killed him. I already had one murder on my conscience, I doubted I wanted to hold another anyway, though I suspected doing so would help many people.   "Hey, you gonna help me escape?" I hissed. After ruining all my self-esteem and peace in life a little help was the least he could do. Keep your toy safe, why don’t you? Don’t let the police steal it!   "Nope. Good luck." He sneered and walked away.   I growled in frustration and ran faster as I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced behind myself when I reached the door, seeing flashlights closing in but not here yet. Maybe I hadn’t been seen. I hurried inside, running to the bathroom and turning the water on with my elbow to avoid getting blood on the handle.    It wasn’t even a minute later that there was a pounding on the door. I couldn’t answer it yet, smears of scarlet still stained my skin. The sickly smell of iron clung to my hands worse than the deep red lodged under my fingernails. I squirted soap all over my hands, my arms, again and again. Overpowering the scent of blood with unnatural floral scents. The knocking became louder and more insistent before I was satisfied with my work.   In order to explain how long it had taken me to come, I quickly got my hair wet and took off most of my clothes, wrapping myself in a towel instead. I felt sick with both dread and disgust, of what might happen and what I'd done.   I ran to the door and opened it. "Hello? What's the matter?" I asked in my best imitation of surprise. Would they fall for it?    "Hello miss, there might be a murderer hiding in your house. May we have a look around?" Of course, look around, doubt you’ll find her if you haven’t already.   "A murderer?" My eyes widened in feigned shock. "Yes, of course! Come on in." I stepped aside and watched them enter, stomach churning.   I stood by the door, observing them complete the search while pretending to be concerned for other reasons than I was. I didn't know whether I wanted to be caught or not; if justice to what I’d done would clear my conscience or not. But I could never let my family know what a horrible person they lived with.   “Have you seen a woman with light brown hair, wearing jeans and a blue sweater?” One of the officers asked, seeming to come out of nowhere.    “No, I haven’t. Is that who you’re looking for?” I said, resisting the urge to push my wet brown hair off my shoulder. Dark brown when it’s wet, not curly when it’s wet, they won’t notice. Plenty of girls have shoulder-length hair, and yours looks longer because it’s not curly when it’s wet. Don’t freak out. You ditched your clothes in the trash, nobody’s checking the trash, calm down. Breath. Smooth liar.    “Do you know anyone who fits that description?”    “Well, there are plenty of women with brown hair around here. None really strike me as a killer though.”    “Keep a lookout and call if you see anything suspicious, smell anything strange, anything. Okay?”   “Yes sir, I will.”    "Seems you’re alone here, thank you for your patience and cooperation. Stay safe, miss."   I nodded to them as they trooped back out, not needing to feign relief. Thankful that Mom worked at night sometimes and Dad and Alex were on vacation so I didn't need to worry about them. I didn't need them worried about the murder hiding under their noses.