Page 25

TWENTY FOUR

SNOWMAN

"Snowman," she called. "I need Snowman. Please, Snowman, come to me."

The last hour was blank; no images, no sounds, no memories. I didn't know how I ended up in this room. Bree was on the bed, her arms clutching a blanket against her bare skin. Moonlight slipped through the curtains, casting her in a pale glow. My chest tightened. My head felt like it was packed with static.

I pressed my hands against my face, trying to ground myself.

"What happened?"

When I looked at her, she pulled the blanket tighter. I reached out, instinct taking over, but she flinched. Her reaction stopped me cold.

"Don't touch me," her voice was trembling.

Her words cut deep, but I couldn't stop myself. "Bree," I said softly. "What happened?"

She stayed silent for a moment, her eyes flicking to mine, then away. Finally, she inched closer, hesitant. Her hands, shaking, found my face. The touch was so light I barely felt it.

"Thor?" she whispered, her voice fragile.

I frowned. "Yeah, it's me. Who else would it be?"

She stared at me, her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around me. Her body trembled against mine, and I froze, unsure of what to do. Her grip tightened like she was afraid I'd disappear.

"What happened?" I murmured again, the question catching in my throat.

She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. Her lips parted, but the words seemed to stick. Finally, she said, "Did you know you have someone else? In you?"

I blinked. "What?"

Her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt. "Not Snowman. Someone... someone else. You scared me."

My stomach dropped. The room felt like it was spinning. I'd always known something was wrong with me, I always knew I had a Snowman who could resurface at each moment. But this? Someone else? Someone who hurt her? The thought made my chest ache.

"Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, but her eyes told a different story. They darted away, unable to meet mine. "You scared me, that's all," she whispered.

I didn't need her to say more. I knew. Deep down, I knew.

"Bree, I swear," I said, my voice cracking. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, trying to hold myself together. "I would never hurt you. Never."

Her shoulders shook as she covered her face with her hands.

"You had no control," she said through her fingers. "None."

"I'm sorry," I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. I kissed her forehead again, lingering as if it could erase everything. Then I stepped back.

"I can't..." My voice broke. "I can't stay."

She didn't stop me as I turned and walked to the door.

I couldn't face her, couldn't look at the bruises I knew I'd caused. The sight of her curled up on the bed, clutching that blanket like a lifeline, was enough to break me.

I needed to get out.

The hallway was dim, the tiles cool under my feet.My eyes blurred as I stumbled forward, my steps uneven. At the top of the stairs, I froze.

A broken deer skull lay on the floor, its jagged antlers glinting in the faint light. Around it were scraps of torn clothes. My stomach twisted. I held the railing to keep from collapsing.

A scream clawed its way out of my throat. It echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls. The door creaked open behind me, but I didn't turn around. I couldn't.

I staggered down the stairs, each step heavier than the last. At the bottom, I found a dark sweater crumpled on the floor. I pulled it on, the fabric scratching my skin, and stumbled out into the night. The cold air hit me like a slap, but I barely felt it.

The car was parked in the driveway, its windows fogged from the chill. I climbed in, gripping the wheel with my trembling hands. The engine roared to life, loud in the quiet night.

Without looking back, I drove away.

I didn't want to leave her. I never wanted it to end. But I needed to breathe. Just for a second, I needed to step back and clear my head. Something didn't sit right. Was the person she mentioned the same one Joe had called out in the barn? The thought gnawed at me, but the harder I tried to focus, the further it slipped away. My mind felt like it wasn't mine anymore.

Snowman, at least, I could control. Over the years, I'd learned how to reach him, leave notes, plant the right images, and guide his hand. But when I saw that new name tacked on the board at the station, somehow, it had to be connected.

It had to be.

The sharp buzz of my phone yanked me back to the moment. I fumbled for it, fingers stiff, and saw Eric's name flashing on the screen.

"What's going on?" I asked, trying to steady my voice.

"Lena," Eric's voice was shaky, his breath coming in short bursts. "Mom…" His words cracked, barely holding together. "Someone… someone burned the farm down."

My chest tightened.

"Do you know who?" I asked, my voice flat, almost cold.

He didn't answer right away. When he spoke again, his words were fragile, like they might shatter. "Lena's dead, Thor."

My world stopped. Everything went quiet. Just… nothing.

"No."

My voice was barely above a whisper. "That's impossible."

"Thor, I'm looking at her. I'm looking at her body."

The phone slipped out of my hand and fell onto the seat. I didn't reach for it. My hands found the wheel instead. The car swerved as I spun it around, tires screeching on the cold road ahead. I floored it, the needle climbing past 200 kilometers per hour, the engine roaring as the road blurred ahead of me.

I had to see it for myself. I couldn't believe it. Not her. Not like this.

How do you even begin to process losing someone? She was my mom, but she wasn't a perfect mother. She stood by me when I needed her most, silent when I begged for help without saying a word. She saved me in her way, but she also let me suffer. There was love there, but it was buried under so much anger, resentment, words we had never said.

And now she was gone.

"Fuck!" I yelled, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. The sting shot up my arm, but it wasn't enough to drown out the storm in my chest. I hit it again. And again.

I had just seen her. That morning, she'd been right there. How could this be real?

I blinked hard, my vision swimming. This wasn't just about her. It was everything. Everyone. People around me kept dying, slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I tried to hold on. I was always too late. Always too helpless.

"Fuck," I muttered this time.

Lena was gone.

And I couldn't save her.

The farm was gone. Nothing but gray ash stretched across the land. It was all gone. Only the stable stood intact, a few pigs wandered near, their snorts and shuffle the only sounds breaking the silence.

Erik sat on the wooden fence, staring at the pigs and what was left of the farm. He was still, sunglasses hiding his face, but I knew him well enough to read the slump in his shoulders. Erik never wore sunglasses. Not unless he was trying to hide the tears.

"Hey," I said quietly, walking over and sitting next to him on the fence.

He didn't look at me, just let out a small laugh. "Had to tell them not to touch the pigs. Told them I would shoot the first one who tried."

"Yeah," I said. "You should've just told them you're emotionally attached."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "If they knew what those pigs ate... they would have backed away without me saying a word."

I raised an eyebrow. "No evidence yet in the pig shit?"

His smile fainted, "She burned alive, Thor."

I froze.

"Who did this?"

"They haven't told anyone yet, but I've got a bad feeling. I think... Mom was involved. Ingrid was Donna's cousin."

My stomach turned. "Are you saying Donna and Jan had something to do with this?"

"Yeah," he said, finally looking at me. His jaw was tight, his voice low. "Everyone knows Jan's been screwing Donna. They probably cooked this up together."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "And everyone knew why women went to Lena. She helped them, so they decided to burn a witch."

I let the words sink in, staring at the ashed ruins. "Do you know where they are?"

"No," he said. "And we can't risk it. Frida's all over everyone since Isak got arrested."

The snow under my boots crunched as I shifted. My hands were clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms.

"They'll be my last," I said. "I'm done after this. I almost hurt Bree..."

Erik turned sharply, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. "What the hell did you do?"

"I don't know," I said, my voice hollow. "I blacked out. Found the axe at the door. She said it wasn't the Snowman."

Erik exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe it was foreplay," he said, raising his hands and mimicking an exaggerated chopping motion.

"Not exactly her style."

"Good," he muttered, but the faint smile faded quickly. "Man, don't tell me there are fifty of you. I don't think I can handle that kind of crazy."

"Neither can I," I admitted.

He studied me for a moment before asking, "So, what's the plan? You're really gonna do it?"

I nodded, standing and brushing the snow off my pants. "Yeah. I'll burn them."

Erik stood too, slower like he was carrying a weight I couldn't see. "She wasn't a good mom," he said after a pause. "And I've never wanted to kill anyone before. But this time? I want to help."

I looked at him, then toward the car. "Let's go, then. The more, the merrier."

We started walking towards the car, the snow crunching under our boots in a steady rhythm. The air was cold enough to sting, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except what came next.

As the car rumbled to life and we pulled onto the icy road, I didn't look back at the farm. There was nothing left to see.

For a moment, I forgot about Bree. Forgot about everything. I let Snowman take over. I had to. If I didn't stay in that dark, ruthless place, I wouldn't have the nerve to do what needed to be done. Jan and Donna had to pay for what they did to my mother. No one else was going to make sure of that, just me.

We parked a block from Jan's house, but still from here, I could see through their front window. The lights inside were warm, Jan and Donna were dancing in the living room, their laughter was taunting me. My fists curled tight, nails digging into my palms.The sight of them, the way they looked so happy, so normal, made my stomach turn.

Erick leaned over. "You ready?"

I blinked and forced myself to focus. "Yeah."

I reached for the plastic mask on the dashboard and slid it over my face. The cool, hard plastic pressed against it like a second skin. The railway mirror caught my reflection, blank, cold, like the person I was before had disappeared. It was what I needed.

Snowman.

"You really had to pick the red mask?" I asked, glancing at Erick. He was tugging on a red ski mask with a dragon sticker across the front.

"It's Julia's," he said, not looking at me. "It was this or the pink one with a unicorn."

I snorted, shaking my head. "You'd pull off pink better, it goes with your eyes."

"What, are you the fashion police now?" he muttered, grabbing the door handle. He stopped, and looked back at me.

"You good?"

"Yeah," I said again, softer this time.

The truth was, I didn't know.

But it didn't matter.

I had to be.

We crouched through the wooden area, circling to the back of the house. Erik moved like he'd done this a hundred times before, and I was right behind him. When we reached the back door, he pulled a thin screw from his pocket and worked the lock. The faint click was barely louder than the rustle of leaves behind us. He opened the door slowly, motioning for me to follow.

The inside of the house smelled like cinnamon and pine, holiday cheer that had no place in my life. We moved through the dark hallway, staying close to the walls. The sound of Christmas music spilled out from the living room, along with bursts of laughter.

At the edge of the doorway, I stopped. Erick crouched beside me, gun in hand, waiting for the signal. I straightened my back, adjusted the mask one last time, and walked into the room.

The music kept playing. Jan and Donna were in their own little world, spinning and laughing, dancing. For a moment, I just stood there, watching them. Then I stepped forward, moving with the music, my boots tapping softly on the floor. They didn't notice at first. I raised my arms and spun around, dancing alongside them.

Donna saw me first, she froze, her face going pale. Jan followed her gaze and turned, his face shifting in fear.

I tilted my head.

"Don't stop on my account," I said.

Jan fumbled for the remote and turned off the music.

"Oh, fuck, that was my favorite part."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the knife.

"Jingle bells," I sang softly to myself. "Jingle bells, jingle knife away," I spun around, twirling the blade in my hand. My tone, almost teasing, tore them apart, and I just took a step closer, singing, "Oh, what fun it is to ride the blade," I giggled.

"In a one-horse open… slayed." I spun again. "Dashing through the snow," I sang softly, "making Snowman go."

Taking a step forward, "To slash your throat," I whispered, drawing closer, lifting the knife in the air.

Donna grabbed Jan's arm, her fingers brushing against his shirt. He stepped in front of her, his hands up in a shaky attempt to calm her.

"You're supposed to be in prison," he shouted, his voice cracking.

I took a step closer. "The funny thing about bars--they don't hold as well when you don't exist."

From behind, I heard Erik shouting, "Why did you burn the farm?"

"Please," Donna whispered, her voice trembling. "We didn't..."

"Lies." His voice cut through the room as he stepped forward, the gun steady. "You burned the farm. Don't even try to deny it."

Jan backed up until his shoulders hit the wall. "We can talk about this," he said, desperate. "We can figure this out."

I stared at him, at the panic in his eyes. I could feel the rage rising, but it wasn't the wildfire I expected. It was cold, and sharp, like he didn't care at all.

I tilted my head, studying him. "Talk?" I said quietly. "Sure. Let's talk."

Erik pressed the gun into Jan's neck, and he flinched, his breath hitching so rapidly. "Ingrid left a diary," he started, words tumbling over each other. "It... it talked about the cult, the family, and Lena." He looked at Donna as if she might save him.

"We just went to talk to her, I swear. But she… she freaked out! She came at us, and Jan hit her, and she fell," she whispered.

Erik's eyes narrowed, the tension in his body coiling tighter.

"The fire," Jan said quickly, his voice rising, "it was an accident! That's all it was."

"No," I said, cutting through his excuses. "She was alive. You left her there. You let her burn."

Donna's lip quivered as she spoke, "If we'd known, we wouldn't—"

"You wouldn't do a damn thing," Erik snapped. "Because this is who you are. This is what you do." He was shaking now, his fury barely contained.

I could see it, he was about to break.

"Take a walk," I said, stepping toward him.

"But—"

"Now!"

Erik stared at me for a moment, his chest heaving, then turned and stormed out. The door slammed behind him, leaving nothing but silence.

They both turned to me, I could see a trace of hope in their eyes, but for nothing. I tilted my head toward the kitchen, and shouted, "Move."

Donna hesitated, but Jan was already shuffling toward the kitchen island, his knees trembling. As they sat down in the wooden chairs, I reached into Erik's bag and pulled out the duct tape. The ripping sound echoed the room as I taped their wrists and ankles to the chairs. It wasn't precise, but it held.

Jan looked up at me, his lip trembling. "Please," he started, but I cut him off.

I yanked his shirt, the fabric tearing easily in my hands, and I tied the strip across his mouth, muffling his voice. His breathing turned shallow, panicked.

I moved to the sink, filled a pot with water, and turned back to him.

"Where's the diary?" I asked, my voice flat.

Jan shook his head violently. "It burned on the farm!" he mumbled through the cloth.

I tipped the pot forward, water pouring over his face. He gasped and sputtered, his body jerking against the chair.

"Try again," I said, refilling the pot at the sink.

"I'm not lying!" he cried, struggling to breathe, his voice desperate.

"Sure," I muttered, dousing him again. His head snapped back as he choked, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts as he gasped for air.

I turned to Donna, her eyes wide as I approached, "You?" I asked.

She shook her head quickly, her voice shaking. "Did you… did you kill my son?"

The question hung in the air for a moment without answer, her eyes following mine, looking for truth.

Then words came through, "I did," I said finally.

Her sobs broke free, and she collapsed against the tape, her whole body shook. I just watched her for a moment, detached. Her grief didn't move me, I just simply didn't care.

I turned to the stove, twisting the knob, the soft hiss of gas filled the room.

"No!" Donna's cries grew frantic. "Please! No!" She thrashed against the chair, the tape straining but holding still.

I didn't answer.

I let the gas spread, walking away, and when the sharp smell reached the tip of my nose I dipped into my pocket and pulled out a matchbox.

I lit a single match, watching the flame flicker, walking further away.

Her sobs turned to screams. "Please, please—don't!"

I didn't look back.

I tossed the match inside, the flame catching instantly, and I closed the door and walked away.

The fire spread fast, licking up the walls and consuming the whole house. Their screams filled the air, together with the crackle of flames.

I walked, the heat at my back, their voices fading in the fire. They were burning, their life belonged to the flame now.

Some part of me felt lighter.

Justice wasn't perfect.

But it was enough.