Chapter 10 (part 2)
1310 Words
I'm just finishing up another chapter when I hear the USPS truck pull up. The mailman has always been a pretty nice guy. He doesn't stick around long and spends most of his time glancing around nervously.
The last time I asked him about it, he said something evil happened here..
And since a man went missing off my doorstep last night, I'd say several evil things have happened here.
I open the door just as he's dropping off several cases of books. I have to sign these and get them shipped out to my readers.
Eight large boxes later, the mailman is panting, sweat running down his light brown face.
"Thank you, Pedro. Sorry for all the boxes," I say, waving awkwardly.
He waves a hand in acknowledgment before getting back in his truck and shooting off.
sigh, staring at the boxes with a look of dread. These are going to be a b***h to haul in. I step out, but my foot knocks into the corner of something heavy.
Looking down, I notice a small, lidded cardboard box. There's no shipping label on it, which means Pedro didn't drop this one off. My heart plummets, a burst of anxiety hitting me right in the gut.
I don't know why, but my eyes dart towards the woods as if I'm actually going to see someone standing there. I don't. Of course, I don't.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pick up the box. And then nearly drop it when I see a smear of blood where the box was sitting.
"Oh, f**k. f**k, f**k, fuckity f**k. God? Please don't allow this to happen to me on this fine Sunday morning. Please let me not find what I think I'm going to find," I pray out loud, my voice cracking as a drop of blood lands on my toe. Hands shaking, I set the box back down and just panic. There's a drop of blood on my toe. I knew there was blood on my hands. already, but now my toes? I can't take this.
Before I can think about what I'm doing, I tip the lid off with my foot.
Hands.
Severed hands are in the box, just like I feared.
"Oh, f**k me. f**k this shit."
I twirl and run back in the house, scrambling to find my phone to call Daya. The line rings for all of two seconds before she answers.
"I'll be there in a few hou—"
"Daya."
"What happened?" she asks sharply.
"A hand. And another hand. Two of them. In a box. On my porch."
She curses, but my panic mutes the sound.
"Don't do anything yet. Wait till I get there," Daya orders. "Go take a couple of shots and wait for me."
I nod, despite that she can't see me. But it doesn't stop me from nodding again and then hanging up without a word.
I do exactly as she says. Taking two shots of vodka to calm my nerves. And then take deep breaths, slowly, in and out until my racing heart calms.
The fucker actually did it. He sent me Arch's hands. A part of me knew he wouldn't lie, but somehow, I didn't believe it anyway.
"s**t," I mutter, dropping my head low between my shoulders, balancing my weight on the edge of the counter.
Twenty minutes later, Daya shows up, her car ripping through the driveway, based on the squealing tires.
Her car door slams shut. By the time I get to the door, she's approaching my gift still sitting on the porch, her gaze riveted on the
grotesque sight. "This guy is f*****g deranged," Daya spits, picking up the box to inspect the hands closer. "Definitely Arch's too. He's got that stupid
ass star tattoo on his thumb."
I blink, curious how she even knows that, but still too much in shock to open my mouth and ask.
"There's a note in here," she mumbles, plucking out a piece of paper covered in blood. Carefully, she opens it. It takes her two
seconds to read it before she's sighing and handing it over.
Hesitantly, I reach out and grab the note by the corner that doesn't have blood on it.
While I will enjoy punishing you for every time you call the police, let's hold off this time. Wouldn't want to have to hurt them next, little mouse.
Is this guy shitting me? He's going to punish me? Don't you think sending me f*****g severed hands is punishment enough, asshole?
"He's seriously going to threaten to kill a cop?" I hiss. Daya swallows, her eyes darting to the hands.
"I think you need to listen this time," she says quietly. I look up at her, having come to the same conclusion. This guy is dangerous. Very dangerous.
As much as I want the police to handle this, there are two problems. I don't have any faith whatsoever that they'd be able to catch the guy. And secondly, I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me.
I don't know if I will be able to bear it.
"I don't know what to do, Daya," I whisper, my voice cracking. Daya sets the box down and rushes to me, enveloping me in a tight hug.
"I have a friend coming over to help install the security cameras and alarm system. Listen, normally, I would say call the cops anyway. But I don't know, Addie. You know how I feel about cops as it is, but I truly don't believe they will be able to help you. I have some connections, and maybe we can hire a personal bodyguard or something."
I'm shaking my head before she can finish her last sentence. "So he can die, too?"
She gives me a droll look. "This isn't just going to be some guy off the streets, Addie. Whatever you're up against, they can't be more badass than a trained killer, right?"
"Maybe," I concede. "But I don't know about any of that yet. Having a bodyguard follow me everywhere just makes me feel like a damsel in distress."
I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks I'm being stupid. I mean, I do have a hand-chopping, possible murderer stalking me. But then what? I have some random guy following me around until my shadow is caught, and who knows if that'll ever happen.
I grind my teeth, overwhelmed with frustration. I don't want to live my life with an extra attachment—an extra limb. And in both scenarios, I have one. One is there to protect me, while the other is there to... I don't know. Hurt me? Love me?
Either way, I don't want either of them.
"Do you think Arch is dead?" I ask, failing to keep the tremble out of my voice.
She twists her lips. "I don't know. It's definitely a possibility. But it's also possible he chopped off his hands and let him go as a warning. We won't know until Arch either shows up... or doesn't."
I nod. "I'll let you know about the bodyguard thing. Let's just see how this alarm system thing works out first."
"Okay, in the meantime, I'm going to dispose of these hands. I'll be back in an hour, and then we're getting hammered."
My eyes widen. "Daya, you don't have to do that. This is morbid
enough, and I don't want you to have to—" The severity of her expression stops me short, my words trailing off.
"I see worse every day. Addie. Go inside, I'll be back soon."
Swallowing, I nod and turn towards my door, shooting one last lingering look at my best friend's retreating form, wondering what the hell she's involved in if she sees worse than chopped up body parts every day.
- Writer
