If you want to read this dark series from the beginning, click here.
There was no doubt about it. The killer was definitely one of us.
It was only a matter of time now.
Next to the tongue, someone wrote in blood: RETRIBUTION. It chilled me to the bone.
On April 10, 1998, five unidentified men killed an elderly farmer in his farmhouse. His body was found in separate pieces, his tongue pulled out. The victim, Mr Johnson was allegedly suspected of raping his neighbor’s daughter, Susie O’Donnell. Susie and the suspects have disappeared without a trace after the incident.
I have no regrets tearing that asshole’s tongue out. Not after what he did to my wife.
But at the moment someone was hunting us for our crimes. Now we were going to have to pay for our past.
“You think it’s David?” Charlie asked.
“David’s in the nuthouse.”
“We’ll check it out tomorrow.”
I exhaled a hazy cloud of smoke. It left behind trails of tantalizing fingers of nicotine. I noticed something on Charlie’s wrists. “What happened to your arms?”
Charlie hastily covered the bite marks. “Those six years olds got frisky today.”
I narrowed my eyes. Why would Charlie lie to me?
I pushed the glasses up to the bridge of my nose. I had to get out. The air was suddenly pressing down at me. It was getting hard to breathe.
“I need some air.” I went outside and inhaled the smell of wet autumn leaves. Ah, this was better.
I absentmindedly picked up today’s mail and leafed through them. One was a postcard of a warm beach: Get ready for the time of your life!
I could hear Susie from the porch. “I’m scared.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
I saw Charlie tentatively reach out and wrap his arms around her frail figure. She looked up into his eyes for a moment before she returned his gesture and embraced him tenderly, fiercely. Their faint hushed shadows from the window melted into one. And then in a second it was gone. They stepped away from each other.
How clichéd. My wife and my best friend. I dropped the cigarette and grind it with my shoe.
I hadn’t realized I was still holding the photo. My hand was shaking. The lightning cracked the still sky making the words etched in blood stand out and dance before my eyes.
To be continued
Enjoy your weekend!
Photo by miquelet