I step out onto the porch in a daze, and stare at the cottage. The light spills through the open front door and onto the porch, but the curtains are drawn.
It’s waiting like a spider in a web.
I take out my phone and dial.
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
“My name is Jacob Reese. I’m at 213 Normandy Lane. There’s a woman here who is mentally unstable. I need the police.”
“Where is she, now?”
“There’s a cottage on the property. She’s in there.”
“Do you know who the woman is?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m outside.”
“Is she threatening you?”
“Yes.”
“Does she have a weapon?”
From inside the cottage, I hear a plaintive bark.
“Sir?”
“I have to go.”
“Sir, I need you to stay on the line with me. I’m sending police and an ambulance. Do not try to—”
I hang up the phone, and begin walking.
The gravel of the driveway under my feet sounds a million miles away.
I walk past the fire pit and onto the porch. The open door looks like a glowing portal.
I step through.
Rachel.
She’s standing in the middle of the living room, dressed in her Little Red Riding Hood costume. Murphy sits by her side. With one hand, she’s holding his collar. In the other hand, she has a gun, pointed at his head.
She’s smiling at me, not in triumph, but in a creepy, sweet “I-told-you-so” manner.
Murphy looks okay, but he’s scared. He doesn’t understand the gun, but he can sense that it’s not a toy. Murphy yaps at the sight of me, and tries to move. She holds him in place.
‘Please, Murphy,’ I mentally plead. ‘Be a bad dog, for once. Bite her. Attack!’
I know he won’t, because I’ve trained him so well.
“Hello, Jacob,” she says, eyes glistening in the soft glow of the lamps.
I hold up my hands. “I’m here. Let him go.”
She keeps the gun pointed at his ear. Murphy’s big brown eyes look from me to her in confusion. Her smile widens. “You took everything from us. Why shouldn’t I take everything from you?”
“Because the dog has nothing to do with this. You have some warped view of fairness, but he did nothing to you.”
She considers my words, and then nods to the corner of the room.
“Stand over there,” she says.
“Let him go first.”
She presses the gun more firmly against his ear.
“Okay!” I shout. “Okay …”
Still facing her, I step sideways into the corner, making any escape through the front door impossible before she got off a shot.
“There,” I say, coming to a stop. “Let him go.”
She hesitates, enjoying my panic. Again, she presses the gun to Murphy’s ear.
“Rachel, let him go, now!”
She smiles, and releases his collar.
Murphy instantly darts out the front door, and begins barking in the yard.
Rachel points the gun at me.
The hair, the scar, the contacts. She looks so much like Laura, it’s uncanny. Her peaceful gaze makes it terrifying.
“Rachel, put the gun down.”
“You have to pay for what you did to us.”
“Rachel, there was no you and Laura.”
“I loved her. I loved her more than anyone, and she loved me. We were going to be happy. I would make her understand that, and you took it away.” Her voice is calm but forceful.
“It was a mistake, Rachel.”
“You have to pay. You have to sleep.”
“Rachel, stop! Your parents—”
“They didn’t want me to make it right!” she snaps, causing me to start. Her calm demeanor has cracked and is replaced with simmering rage. “After they took me from school, they tried to make me forget Laura, but they didn’t understand. They kept me there for over a year. They didn’t understand. I played along with the doctors so they would let me out. After you killed Laura, they sent me back to that place—that hospital. I was there for years, and you … You were free. When I got out, I wanted to make it right. I had to make it right. My parents didn’t want me to make it right. They said they were going to send me back to that place, again. I couldn’t let that happen. Not again. I had to make it right—for Laura.”
Just like in that warehouse, when Reggie was pointing a gun at me, I’m looking for any opportunity, any sliver of a chance to act, but she’s too far away for me to make a move for the gun. She’s also too close to miss. I have to keep her talking.
“Rachel, it’s okay. We can—”
“It’s not okay! When you sleep, it will be okay! You killed us!”
“You’re not Laura!” It was my turn to snap, but it only enrages her more.
“We were the same! We were one person, and you killed her!”
“Rachel, I didn’t kill her.”
“You did! You shot her! You killed us!”
I hold up my hands, pleading with her. “No, Rachel, listen, I didn’t—!”
“Stop lying!”
“Rache—!”
“STOP!”
Something starts clicking in my head. How does she—?
“You can’t lie to me,” she says, trembling with anger. “You shot and killed us. You sat there on the ground, with the gun in your hand, and watched us die.”
My head is spinning. Something doesn’t add up.
“You have to understand what you did. You have to take responsibility. You have to admit that you shot us, and then sat there on the ground, and watched us d—!”
It clicks.
“How did you know that?” I ask.
My question throws her. I’m not angry. I’m not panicked. I’m not thinking of the gun or Murphy. It’s a simple, sincere question.
She stares at me, while keeping the gun aimed at my chest, but doesn’t answer.
“How did you know that?” I ask, again.
She continues to stare.
Anger starts to creep into my veins. “How did you know that I sat there on the ground, with the gun in my hand, and watched her die? I’ve never told anyone about that. So, how could you possibly know?”
She’s still smiling.
“There’s only one way you could know that …”
Everything aligns. Everything makes sense.
“You were there,” I whisper. “You were at the warehouse, that night … You were the reason she needed to talk to me. It was you. She was trying to warn me that you were out. You were the reason she was at the warehouse, looking for me … She was trying to get away from you … You were there …”
Rachel shakes her head. “I only wanted to talk to her. I was going to show her that we could be happy. I followed her there, and she ran inside. I parked in the road, and was walking up when I heard the shot. I hid, and then I saw you,” she spits, “standing over us with the gun. You sat down, and watched us die.” Tears begin spilling down her cheeks. “You could have saved us. You could have gotten help, but you didn’t. You shot us, and watched us die. After you left, I went inside to find her, and I found that door, in the basement. I knew. That’s where you put us. You left us in that room to rot!”
“Rachel, I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay? I didn’t shoot Laura.”
Her eyes flash with anger. “You’re lying!”
“I’m not,” I reply, as calmly as I can, “and I can show you.”
She blinks.
“I went to the warehouse to meet a guy named Reggie. He was a bad person who tried to kill me. We were in the warehouse, and he shot me. The bullet went through me, it went through my side, and hit Laura.”
I don’t know if she believes me, but I can see the first signs of doubt in the quiver of her lips, and the trembling of the gun.
“I’m going to lift up my shirt, okay?”
She doesn’t answer, only waits.
Very deliberately, keeping my hands in view, I slowly take a hold of my shirt, and pull it upwards. I twist slightly to show her the matching scars on my side.
“Here,” I say, speaking very slowly. “That’s where the bullet went in, and there’s where the bullet came out. Reggie shot Laura, and I killed Reggie. I hit him with a pipe, and killed him. You never saw him, because he was hidden. I took the gun from his hand, just in case he was still alive, and I went to Laura. That’s when you saw us. Afterwards, I put them in that room because I—I didn’t know what else to do, but that’s what you saw. I didn’t shoot Laura.”
She’s wavering. The certainty is gone. “No … No … You killed us.”
“Rachel, look at me, okay? Look right here,” I say, pointing to my eyes. “I didn’t shoot Laura.”
Her trembling becomes worse. Her lips are shaking. The tears are pouring from her eyes and make a light pat-pat as they land on the floor.
“You’re lying! You shot us!”
“Her! I didn’t shoot her!” I snap. “You’re not Laura! Don’t you get it?! You made her go there, that night. You scared her so much, she ran to that warehouse to get away from you! It’s your fault, too, dammit! I didn’t kill her! I just didn’t sa— I didn’t save her.” I can’t stop the words before they leave my mouth.
She stares at me. Fear and revulsion begin to take hold.
“No …” she quietly pleads.
“You’re the reason she came looking for me that night, and I didn’t shoot her.”
The gun lowers slightly. Her mouth twists in agony.
I see it happen.
I watch as her broken mind sees clarity, recognizing that she shares some of the responsibility for Laura’s death. Her heart breaks right in front of me. She keeps the gun pointed in my direction, but doubles over, as if she’s going to vomit.
“No … No!” she cries, and lets out a blood-curdling scream. Her body is racked with sobs. “Laura … Oh God … Laura …”
I could make a grab at the gun, but there’s a couple of feet between us, and she still has it pointed in my direction. If I make a dash for it, she could panic and pull the trigger.
My slight hesitation ruins any chance I may have had.
She straightens up and continues speaking through her choked sobs.
“Oh my God … Laura … My parents … What did I do?”
“Rachel, listen to me.”
My voice brings her back. She steadies the gun, but her face is still a mask of pain and anguish.
“It will be okay,” I tell her. “The police are on their way. Just put the gun down. We’ll get you help.”
She looks at the floor in thought, and then looks back up at me. “No … No. They’ll say I’m crazy, and send me back to that place. That’s not fair. It’s not fair to my parents or Laura. Someone has to pay.” She chokes on the words. “I have to pay.”
“It’s okay, Rachel. It will be all right.”
She shakes her head. “No … it won’t.”
She glances at the ground one more time.
Now. I have to move, now.
“You said the police are on their way?” she asks, eyes still on the floor.
“Yes. The lady said the police are on their way with an ambulance. They’ll be able to help you.”
I steady myself on the balls of my feet.
This is it.
I shift my weight forward and prepare to—
She looks up.
Her expression freezes me in place. She has an angelic smile, as if she’s had an epiphany.
“I know,” she says, her smile breaking through her tears. “I know how to make it right. I’m to blame. I played a part in Laura’s death. And there’s my parents. I have to pay for what I did.”
“Rachel, you don’t—”
“But you’re right, too … You didn’t save her.”
My heart stops.
Her pain has completely disappeared. She’s calm, peaceful, and self-assured. “But do you know what? You saved yourself. I didn’t think you could, but you did. You saved yourself, and you saved Murphy. And you showed me that I have to be fair.”
I can’t speak.
“You said the police and an ambulance were on their way?” she asks.
“… Yes.”
She shakes her head at me like she can’t believe how perfect it all is. “I’m going to show you mercy, Jacob Reese. You didn’t save her, but I’m going to show you mercy.”
“That’s great, Rachel. Thank you. Now can you please—?”
“I’m going to show you mercy by giving you what you took from Laura.”
I blink.
“What do you mean? What are you going to give me that I took from Laura?”
“You took away Laura’s chance to live, but I’m going to give you one. That’s how you pay; I’m going to give you a chance.”
With tears in her eyes, and a benevolent smile, she aims the gun slightly lower …
And fires.
I collapse onto the floor in a ball, clutching my stomach. It feels like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer. The pain is so intense, I want to scream. I want to wail like a child, but all I can manage are strained grunts through clenched teeth. Rachel is talking, but my ears are ringing, and her voice sounds like it’s reaching me underwater. I’m vaguely aware of Murphy barking outside. I make the mistake of looking down at my hands. I pull them away from my stomach. They’re covered in blood. My blood. I go back to pressing them against the wound, trying to hold my life inside of me.
I roll onto my side, still curled into a ball, and look outwards. Rachel’s feet are within arm’s length. The sledgehammer pain in my stomach morphs to include the sensation of a white-hot poker being driven through my gut. My eyes are bulging and every muscle is straining. The ringing in my ears is fading. I can hear Murphy outside, and Rachel’s voice finally comes through clearly.
“—all of this, and you’re right. I only wanted to be fair. So, I need to pay. I have to pay for what I did … and it’s time for me to sleep.”
I raise my head and look at her feet.
There’s a silence.
The gun fires.
It clatters to the floor next to her feet.
Rachel falls.
Her body offers no resistance as it collapses. Her head hits the floor, her face in my direction. Her eyes are open. They still have that angelic look. Her mouth holds that serene smile. Slowly, her facial features go slack as her muscles relax. Her eyes remain open but the smile fades. Blood begins to seep out from under her head. It inches across the floor towards me.
I turn away, and press myself tighter into a ball.
Every twitch sends bolts of pain through my body.
Murphy’s still barking.
My hands feel warm. I need to slow the bleeding.
I don’t think the bullet went through. I think it’s still in—
FUCK!
The pain is blinding. I’m still grunting, even though every grunt causes my stomach to contract, which brings a horrible flash of pain, which causes me to grunt, again, starting the cycle over.
The bleeding. I need to slow the bleeding. I think the bullet is still in me. I can use gravity.
I twist myself and roll onto my back. I let loose a scream, which brings more pain, and clamp down on my stomach.
Murphy’s barking pauses, then grows more frantic than before.
Being on my back should help slow the blood loss. I press harder with my hands.
I start crying.
This is indescrib— I hear them.
Sirens, approaching fast.
Murphy continues barking.
Good boy, Lassie. Tell them that Timmy is in the well.
I almost laugh, but grunt, which snaps my mind back into focus.
I’m going into shock. The pain is lessening.
I have to stay here.
I have to keep my eyes open.
The sirens are growing louder.
Hurry. Please, God. Please! Hurry!
Keep your eyes open! Focus on the ceiling. Keep staring at the—
—heavy steel door. There’s a pressure on my shoulder.
“Jacob?” a voice whispers.
I turn.
It’s Laura.
We’re standing in the warehouse. The music from the—
—STAY HERE!
I can see faint red, blue, and yellow lights playing across the ceiling. They’re getting brighter. The sirens are growing louder.
Hurry. Please.
I just need to hold on. I just need to focus. Focus on the pain. Keep your eyes—
—music box fills the warehouse. There are pinpoints of light overhead like stars. All around us, moving through the piles of rotting wooden pallets, people are dancing, waltzing to the music. I catch a glimpse of my parents dancing together. I see Reggie dancing with Rachel. Two of the dancing figures don’t have faces. Somehow, I know they are Rachel’s parents. Everyone is elegantly spinning to chimes of the music box.
Laura smiles at me and holds out her hand. “May I have this—?”
—KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN!
I press on my stomach, knowing the agony it will cause, but the flash of torture keeps my mind in the present.
DON’T DANCE!
I can hear the cars in the driveway, outside.
The sirens cut off but the lights continue to play across the ceiling and the walls.
I can do this. I can do this. I just have to keep my eyes open.
Hurry.
I hear voices. Loud voices. They’re at the door. Heavy footsteps. They’re coming towards me. They’re in the room.
Hurry!
I just need to keep my eyes open!
HURRY! PLE—