Page 7

six

Always Watching

November

Scarlett

R iver and I decided not to go to the cops after discovering the finger under my pillow and blood smeared all over my windowsill. Because of what happened to Carli, we assumed it was someone who witnessed the incident and wanted to fuck with us, which neither of us found amusing.

There have been no sightings of Shawn, and the cops, like Carli, haven’t done much to find him. River is losing his mind without him around, even worse than he was after what happened to Carli. Melanie and I are perplexed, but we’re afraid to question him. For the past week, he has been nothing more than a shell of a man, and I’m at a loss as to how to help him, so I try to avoid him as much as possible.

I can feel Melanie's eyes on me as I sit on the couch and flip through pages in the manual from the prison I’m trying to work at, but she says nothing, which irritates me even more than her constant, incessant glares. Even though Halloween has long passed, she sighs heavily as she watches reruns of the same two horror films. She sighs once more and taps the remote with her nails in an effort to get my attention. I slam the handbook shut and look at her, my eyes narrowing and squinting from tiredness.

“What, Mel?” I huff, hearing the annoyance in my voice, so I know she can hear it too.

“Have there been anymore fingers? Or body parts in general?” she asks curiously, referring to the single finger we found under my pillow a week ago, a grin appearing on her pink painted lips.

“No, and you know that, so why are you asking?” I roll my eyes, making it a point to show her—not just tell her—how annoyed I am with her shit.

“Please don’t sit here and act like you tell me everything . I know there’s something you and River aren’t telling me," she scoffs, pointing her finger at me.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Scarlett, but this is too fucking weird. First, Shawn kills Carli by accident, and we bury her body in the cemetery; then he goes missing, and some random finger ends up under your pillow?” She hugs the couch pillow against her chest and grins, living for the horror surrounding the nightmare of our lives.

I shrug, taking a generous sip of wine from the coffee mug in front of me, trying to block everything out and wanting to forget about it for at least one night. “You were there, Melanie. Nothing else happened. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“So you think Shawn’s dead too, right?” she says calmly, as if she knows something that I don’t.

“I’d like to think that he isn’t, Mel. But where is he?" I look out the window, catching a glimpse of Salem at night and the danger that lurks in the shadows.

The thought of not knowing what’s out there waiting for me sends shivers down my spine. In the alleyway across the street, something flashes in the dark, but I only have to blink before it vanishes. I rub my eyes and sit up straight, fixating my sight ahead, but nothing’s there when I focus .

“What is it, Scarlett?” Melanie looks out the window, trying to see what I’m looking at, but I can’t even be sure myself.

My spine tingles in fear, but I can’t look away. “I don’t know. I thought I saw something.” My throat dries, my hands get clammy, and my eyes stay stuck on the window, getting lost in the darkness outside.

“You look fucking possessed, Scar, damn. You’re scaring me now.” She tosses the pillow at me and gets up, stomping toward her room, leaving me clutching my coffee mug filled with wine and staring out the window into the eyes of the unknown.

Nixon

“She fucking sees me.” I stand here with a grin on my face, flashing it toward Silver as he obsessively stares at the girl in the window.

“Good, I want her to see us," he sneers.

Even though he’s wearing his mask, I can tell he’s smiling just by the way his shoulders slump and he carries himself. He’s infatuated with this chick, and he doesn’t even know her.

A gust of chilly fall wind blows, scattering an array of colorful leaves around and kicking up loose dust as it whips by us. We stand here watching her for a few minutes before Sil makes a move, and even then it’s like pulling teeth to get him to walk away with me.

“What the fuck are we doing here?” I ask, annoyed and ready to explore the night.

“I told you that you could’ve stayed with the guys,” he bites back, walking ahead of me as we leave her apartment, swinging the bag with the kid’s head in it in his hand.

“And I fucking told you that I was coming, so get over it.”

As we move toward the alley in search of a truck to move the girls' bodies from the other night, our heavy steps reverberate from beneath the bridge as the train squeals above us on the old tracks, coming to a rough stop at the station.

“What are you doing with the fucking head?”

“I haven’t decided yet," he laughs, a sinister grin curling on his lips.

“So you’re just going to carry it around until you do?” I laugh, tucking a smoke between my lips, as we file down the dark alley in a line, using the flame from the lighter to illuminate our way.

“No, White. I was gonna leave it for her tonight, but I changed my mind. Just stop asking fucking questions,” he spits, sounding more uptight than usual.

We come to a halt when we hear voices ahead, and we duck into the darkness to avoid being seen. A female yells, and distinct male voices follow, building up my rage to the point where my veins bulge with burning hot fire. We exchange glances as we pull our knives from our boots, both of us aware of what’s about to go down.

I emerge from the shadows, smoking my cigarette, lighting the cherry, and causing the orange to glow brilliantly as the men push the girl against the side of the abandoned building. As I approach the men tearing at her clothing, Sil remains crouching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She screams again when I bolt up and she sees my mask. I begin ripping the guys off of her and tossing them to the ground on their backs.

“Get out of here,” I tell her, not even giving her another glance.

She runs, and I turn around slowly, giving the predatory creatures a chance to get to their feet for a fair fight. I notice Sil slowly making himself known, stepping into the dim street light with his silver mask on and his blade gleaming in his hand .

“Who the fuck are you weirdos?” One of them laughs, slurring his words as he points to the masks on our faces that protect our identities from the world.

“Your worst fucking nightmares,” Sil bites back, still as calm as can be. Compared to the shit we’ve done, this is nothing.

Without noticing the knives we have in our grips, they charge at us, each one slamming into the sharpened point. I dance around my guy as he tries to flee, twisting the knife as I press it deeper into his stomach, while Sil continues to play with his. Blood splatters everywhere, staining his white shirt and turning my hands bright red. After I knock him to the ground and remove my knife, I re-insert it into his neck, slicing his jugular in half and almost completely removing his head.

“I wasn’t planning on killing them here, White,” Silver shouts as he swipes the blade across the guy’s throat as he lies still underneath him, decapitating him completely so that his head rolls down the small hill toward the end of the alley.

"Now look at what we've fucking done," I laugh, rolling the limp, bloody body to the side, blending it in with the bushes, while Sil fetches the bloodied head like it's a fucking basketball, tossing it where the bodies are piled.

"So, we just add them in with the girls' bodies, and we bury the four of them together. No biggie," he replies with a casual shrug to match.

We return to the cemetery after getting a truck to move the new bodies. Sil is quiet, gazing out the window, and is probably losing himself in compulsive memories of the black-haired beauty from Halloween night—the one he saw holding a gun.

Riley appears to be passed out when we enter the Mausoleum, clutching a bottle of Jim Beam and sprawled out on the top of a coffin. Blade approaches, looking at his brother, but Saint brushes past him and helps himself to the sheet of acid on the small wooden table near the bloody concrete torture slab .

"What the fuck? Why does it look like you two got into a fucking fight?" Blade eyes us, anger seeping off of him as he grits his teeth and steps into my face.

"Because we did. Their bodies are in the truck. We're putting them with the girls."

"What the fuck, Nixon?" He glares at me, bearing his teeth.

"It wasn't our fault they ran into our knives! We ripped them off of some girl they were going after."

He shakes his head but smiles and pats me on the back. Blade, being the oldest, took on the role of big brother; even though he’s Saint's actual big brother, he’s all of ours in a way. We became close during our shared time serving in the Marines. The four of us are as thick as thieves—or killers , depending on your perspective.

He approaches his brother and pulls him toward the small room we constructed for privacy before leaving me alone with a snoring Riley. I snatch the bottle of Jim Beam from his hand and take a few sips before starting to load the girls' bodies into the truck so I can take them to the cemetery on the other side of Salem.

Blade

I can tell something's eating at Saint, but trying to get him to talk is like trying to get a junkie to get clean. After he's placed the tab of acid on his tongue and shot gunned his first beer, I hand him a lit cigarette and tug him out of the Mausoleum, hoping the fresh air and change of scenery will help him open up.

"Fucking spill it, Saint," I say the minute we step outside .

"Ain't nothing to talk about, Blade. I'm fine. I already told your ass that."

"It's got something to do with Scar, doesn't it?" Once I say her name, he looks at me, his curiosity instantly piqued.

"How'd you know her name, Blade?"

"I know fucking everything, Saint. And I told you, I want her just as bad as you do, and I will have her first." I smirk, knowing I'm getting under his skin, but that's just what we brothers do.

"You're not having her first. I saw her first; she's fucking mine," he bites back with venom in his words, spit flying from his gritted teeth.

His obsessive, compulsiveness is coming out, and he's starting to become manic, which doesn't happen too often. Usually it's me who has constant manic episodes, but he's been having them more often lately, and being off his medication isn't helping the matter.

"You know she's a virgin, right?" His voice is low and shaky, and I can tell he's aroused just talking about it.

"No, I didn't know that," I admit, now wanting to up the ante and have a little fun to lighten his mood.

"Yeah, that's why I fucking want her so bad, Blade."

"I'll fight you for her pussy, Saint, and that's the best I'll give you."

"Fine, a fair fight, though, and it's gotta be before Halloween since we've got plans for her."

"Oh, it will be... But how would you like to go have a little fun now with her ?" As the sky fills with brilliant stars and darkens due to the swift, full clouds that disperse in the night, his eyes widen and glisten beneath the crescent moon.

"What kind of fun are you thinking?" He grins, kicking the sole of his boot off the headstone and already walking toward his BMW.

"Bring the fingers with you," I tell him, making his eyes light up even more.

Pleasure surges through us as we begin the drive and cruise the streets of Salem. My brother's eyes flash with wonder as he guards the severed fingers of the friend we killed for our little troubled angel, ready to use them on her whether or not she realizes it. With a smile playing on his lips, he rubs them between his hands, and I can tell he has a fucking boner. He’s fucking twisted in that way, but I am too, so I can’t say much.

We are absolutely fascinated by blood and horror, so it’s impossible for us not to enjoy what we do. Because of the terrible things we’ve witnessed in war, we've developed some rather odd desires. The girls we've found seem into it at first, but we always take it too far. Depending on whether they want to cooperate or not, we either kill them or set them free. I’m not going to lie; we’ve killed more than we’ve set free. There’s something about feeling the life drain from someone’s body and the way their blood feels like velvet coating my hands... I just can’t seem to get enough of it.

Scarlett seems like the kind of girl who will work with us; she acts as though she would sacrifice anything for forgiveness. As if she’ll go to any length to be accepted. She appears to be the type of girl who will get down on her knees and suck your dick if you promise her it will get her into heaven. I’m curious what she will do if I tell her I have the power to send her to hell. Because none of us—even her precious soul—are going to heaven, and that's God's honest truth.