Shadows of Her Memories

THE FOLLOWING SCENES CONTAIN SLIGHTLY GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED.⚠️ DECEMBER 21ST, 2019 The door flung open with a violent c***k echoing through the room. Splinters of wood scattered like confetti as a tall figure stepped inside, his steps quick, and his eyes wild with fury. “Where is SHE?” he bellowed, his voice a thunderclap that silenced everything within this space. The rustic table at the center of the Victorian-inspired study gave way under his fist, collapsing into ruin. Before him, in the distance, the trembling voice of his housekeeper cut through the tension. “In the room you left her, sir.” She tried to avoid his gaze as she steadied her breathing. The man didn’t need more. He stormed forward, his presence like a hurricane, leaving destruction in his wake. And when he reached her, his wrath was immediate. The housekeeper barely had time to flinch before his hand clamped around her neck. He lifted her like a ragdoll, her feet scraping against the floor as she gasped for air. Her perfectly manicured nails raked his arms, leaving trails of blood, but his grip didn’t waver. “Please” she choked, tears streaming down her face. “I don't know anything about it. I swear.” The sound of her wheezing breaths mingled with the soft drip of blood falling to the floor. “If I find out you are part of this,” he growled, his voice low and venomous, “you’re next.” A s******c grin played on his lips for a moment. With a sudden, savage motion, he hurled her across the room. She hit the wall with a sickening thud and crumpled to the ground, her sobs muffled by the weight of her fear. “Mark!” he shouted, gently massaging his throbbing arm. A man in black appeared, his movements quiet, calculated. “Sir.” “Clean this mess up.” ___ In a room down the hall, another woman paced, her bare feet soundless on the cold floor. Her heart thundered in her chest, it was loud enough to drown out her thoughts. “What do I do?” she whispered, clutching the hem of her nightgown like it was a lifeline. Her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. “I’ll beg.” She resolved, “That’s the only way I can survive this. I’ll beg.” WAM! The double doors burst open with a force that made the walls tremble, the hinges barely hung on, their battered state a testament to past violence. “No! No, please!” she cried, her voice cracking as she crawled backwards, instinctively retreating to the master's bed. “You think you can hide?” His voice dripped with disdain as he closed the distance between them. Within a second, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet, his grip unrelenting as always. His eyes glazed over, “You dare report me, Marisol?!” His words were quieter now, more dangerous. He threw her onto the bed like she weighed nothing. “It wasn’t me!” Marisol screamed, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. “I didn’t say anything, I swear! Please, believe me!” She tried to convince him, but it was already too late. “You ungrateful little liar.” His tone was cold, almost mocking. “Marisol, I saved you. Gave you this house, these clothes, a life most people would kill for. And this is how you repay me? You went to your pathetic family with stories of ‘a***e’?” “It wasn’t me,” she rubbed her palms in a plea, tears streaming down her face. "I swear! I didn't tell.” His hands closed around her throat, cutting off her protests. She clawed at him desperately, her vision blurring as darkness crept in. The sharp, acrid smell of alcohol lingered on his breath. It made her gag, but the scent quickly faded as her world started to go black. Then, just as suddenly, he let go. She collapsed onto the bed, coughing and gasping for air. “Mark,” he barked. The man in black reappeared, his eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion. “Go to the sheriff’s office," the man ordered, his voice cold. “Handle this now.” “Yes, sir.” “AHH!”, the man exclaimed suddenly. “WHY YOU LITTLE-” CLAP! The slap came without warning, sharp and brutal. It echoed in the room as she fell to the floor, blood trickling from her split lip. “You’ll regret this,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing. As he glared at her, his knees buckled, and he stumbled. Mark was there in an instant, catching him before he could fall. “Sir," Mark said, his voice steady. “We need to get you to a doctor.” The shard of glass protruding from the man's abdomen gleamed under the light, crimson spreading across his shirt like a blossoming flower. “Get the car,” he rasped. “Now”. Ignoring his pain and the blood staining the floor, he grabbed the woman by the wrist and dragged her with him, her screams bouncing off the walls as the doors slammed shut. ___ TWO DAYS LATER The sleepy town of Benissa awoke to chaos. At dawn, Catalina had been out on her usual jog with her dog; the thoughts of her divorce proceedings were miles away from her at this point. But then, she saw it. A sight so horrific it rooted her to the spot. By mid-morning, St. Clement’s Cemetery was swarming. Police officers shouted orders and yellow tape fluttered in the breeze as onlookers crowded the scene. Whispers and gasps filled the air, mingling with the relentless flashes of cameras. “Step back!” an officer yelled, waving his arms. “Behind the line!” The chaos only grew as more people arrived, each face etched with a unique mix of horror and morbid curiosity. “BREAKING NEWS!” Sofia Morales stood at the edge of the scene, a microphone in hand. On a normal day, Sofia was a ray of sunshine. This day however, her usual bubbly self was gone. Her expression, a mix of professionalism and unease. “This is Sofia with Gale city News, reporting live from St. Clement’s Cemetery,” she began. "Earlier this morning, the battered body of an unidentified young woman was discovered by a local jogger. Authorities are calling this a ‘perfect crime’ with no witnesses, no evidence, and no one who can come forward to identify the victim. The town of Benissa is shaken to its core, and one question lingers on: what in the true crime story happened here?” The cameras continued around the scene. The blood-stained ground bore evidence of this crime and a torn sheet barely covered the victim's body. In the air, a question hung heavy, unanswered and menacing: who would be next? _____ JANUARY 14TH, 2024. CALDWELL TECHNOLOGIES AND HEALTH CENTRAL OFFICE; HUDSON YARDS, NEW YORK. “Are you done talking? As you know I'm a busy man with lots of things to do.” Felix Caldwell growled. He threw himself into his office chair. With his head tilted over, he drew sharp breaths as he massaged his forehead. His eyes were dark– clouded by repressed emotions. He was a ticking bomb that could explode at any moment. “I have 2 more meetings planned for today's lunch hour. You're wasting my rest period.” He snapped, succumbing to the unbearable weight of his busy schedule. “Did my secretary not tell you that? Huh?!” In a moment, his eyes darted past the figure standing before him. He fixed his gaze on his secretary standing by the door. Burdened by his gaze, she shifted uneasily. This was going to be her last day at this job. “You punk!” Abigail hissed. “I'm much busier than you'll ever be!” Unfazed by her son's attitude, Abigail strutted her way to the sofa by the side of his desk. With grace, she picked up the teacup from the table. As she sipped, her eyes grew wide, taking in the new look of her son's office, “I see you're done with renovations. I really love -.” “Enough mother,” Felix snapped, cutting her off. The weight of his schedule pressed down on him like a vise. This week had pushed him to his limit and his patience was wearing thin. “I know you didn't come here to admire my office. It's a known fact that this building in itself is the prized jewel of the Hudson yards. So, just state your business and leave quietly before I lose it.” “Hm. "You think that'll shake me?” She scoffed, taking another sip, her breath seized in anticipation. “I'm not like your late wife, you know, who would tremble at your outburst.” “ENOUGH MOTHER!” Felix, with blunt force, slammed at his desk, shaking it to its core,“ARE YOU TRYING TO PISS ME OFF?! "WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THE DEAD HERE!” He growled, his voice laced with bitterness. From outside the office, the sounds of Felix's palms making contact with his desk spread rapidly across the 70th floor like a shockwave. Terror gripped all the employees who heard it as their tearful eyes and sunken hearts were immediately directed to the central office. “IT'S. CODE. RED!” Phoebe, Felix's 7th secretary for the month, mouthed from behind the open office door. At once, word spread all across the hall. Throughout the entire building, the trembling of shuffled feet could be heard as every employee scoured to take battle formation – it was going to be a lousy day. Abigail continued. She adjusted her shawl to cover her fidgeting arms. She was entering dangerous territory; she knew . But she had resolved to put up a brave front. She would do it all to save her son from himself. “Five years, Felix. That's enough, it's time to move on.” She rose to her feet with a look on her face to match the icy glares her son shot at her. “Your father's company. Your inheritance is on the line! Snap out of this and find another woman!” “Another woman?” Felix mocked, “Why? You want me to become a serial killer?!” “FELIX!” Abigail challenged him. Tears filling her eyes, “You're not responsible for her death. It wasn't your fault.” “It was mother!” Felix paused, “I killed her.” His voice broke. He began to stare off into the distance, his mind trailing off. Gruesome images of his wife's cold and lifeless body soaked in a pool of her blood flashed before his eyes. He blinked hard to keep the images at bay. Felix's heart clenched within him. He bit his lips hard as he avoided his mother's gaze. “I'm a murderer pretending to be a successful CEO.” Not wasting a moment, Felix impulsively reached out for the bottle of tequila on the coffee table. Under his mother's watch, he poured himself a glass. Abigail dipped, her eyes heavy with tears. Pulling herself together, she sniffed before moving to hold his hand, “You've punished yourself long enough. I... I can't bear to watch you like this anymore.” “Perfect,” He retorted, his demeanor quickly shifting. The shot of tequila, like a wonder d**g, instantly pushed the memories away. “Maybe now you'll finally leave me alone.” He emptied the second shot glass before storming out of his office, his secretary tailing him behind. All across the 70-story building, the hallways appeared deserted as he passed through. With each floor he entered, two new security guards joined his entourage. He was making his way out of the 2nd floor elevator when, out of nowhere, a petite figure slammed into him. “ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Like a boiling pot, Felix's rage spewed over. “DIDN'T YOU KNOW I WAS PASSING?” “I'm. I'm. Sorry.” The young lady, with her head down, responded as she gathered herself on the floor. Finally. He rested. He had found someone to unleash his anger on. Within him, he felt a slight release as he prepared to blow “YOU.-” Like a flash, Felix's pulse quickened. He was stopped in his tracks. The young lady that had hit him, dared to meet his gaze. ‘What..’ His eyes widened, his emotions amiss, like he had seen a ghost. Her eyes, there was something about them– something that made his breath hitch. He searched within them for an answer. Felix felt an inexplicable pressure rising from within. His tense body relaxed further as his fury slowly simmered away with each glance he took. ‘Her eyes?’. For a moment, he was lost. “Mr. Felix. So nice to see you.” Like a slingshot, the sound of Miss Vicky, the company's Human Resources Head Manager, knocked him out of his trance. Immediately, he straightened himself as she walked out of a small office by the side to greet him. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. Still uneasy. With a fake smile and a careful wave of hands, Vicky signaled for the guards to get the poor young lady out of there. “You were supposed to be present for today's interview.” “I know. I got caught up.” He grumbled, his eyes slowly trailing back to the figure that hit him. “What do we do now…” Vicky continued talking, but at this point Felix had zoned out. His head pounded, each thought colliding into the next. ‘Was it the tequila?’ He struggled to grasp what had just happened. All he knew was that he needed to leave. To escape the suffocation weight of that place. “We still have a lot -.” “Hire everyone,” he said, barely registering the words as they left his mouth. “But-”. “Hire everyone that comes for the job interview,” he repeated. Without saying anything more, he walked out, his entourage pacing behind him. At the entrance, he couldn't help but pause for a moment as his head turned slightly. He shook off the eerie thoughts that flooded his mind as he raced out of the building. ‘What, was that?’