Closure

I got home late, and I wasn't even tired. Not from the office work at least. No, Ellie Mears was in a fine mood. I entered the house in all my mid-30s glory. A black woman who still kept a youthful spirit behind her professional demeanor. My face still smooth with electric eyes. And even on this cold January night, I felt no stress or turmoil.

But then I got ambushed. Like a bomb raid on my emotions, my good mood veered toward horror. I'd come home to a massacre.

Our two story house on Silver Lake Road had been given a gruesome makeover. A crime scene of slasher movie proportions.

Right when I walked in, a foul stench hit me. I cringed as our powerful A/C unit spread the smell of death everywhere.

"Jimmy!" I yelled.

Uneasy, I staggered into the living room. My feet sloshed through piles of blood. Our floor nothing more than a red ocean. The flatscreen all I could hear. My pounding heart all I could feel.

Our family photos were the only items spared from the carnage. Me, my husband Jimmy, and eight-year-old daughter Kristina. Within the picture frames, their smiling faces stared back at me. But they offered no comfort from the dread running through my veins.

A small necklace was wrapped around Kristina's neck in all the pictures. The dolphin medallion her pride and joy. A keepsake my mother had given me during my own childhood.

"Jimmy!" my panicking voice rang through the house. But I heard nothing. No reply.

I entered a tight hallway. Red walls surrounded me. They were white until tonight.

Like a leaky faucet, blood dripped from the air vents. My eyes kept searching, but I didn't see my family anywhere.

My gaze drifted toward the blood-drenched stairway. Hanging on the walls, more photos stared back at me. Kristina and Jimmy's photogenic grins beckoned me to continue the eerie scavenger hunt.

I ran up the stairs. The creaking wood overshadowed by all the splatter beneath my feet.

Horrified, I stopped in the upstairs hallway. Amidst the dead silence, two open bedroom doors lurked before me. Like a sadistic game show, I didn't know what awaited behind either one. And I wasn't sure I wanted to...

"Kristina!" I cried. Trembling, I forced myself into my daughter's bedroom.

Like a lit clinical lab, the bright lights illuminated all of her toys and stuffed animals. The blood-stained Disney posters. Kristina's bed now an operating table.

Tears in my eyes, I collapsed on to the mattress. "Kristina!" I yelled in grief.

And there I held my little girl's body. The grisly bed sheets drenched her blood all over me.

Kristina's eyes were forever closed. Redness coated her brown skin. Her small chest carved out with surgical precision.

Like a mother rocking a baby, I cradled her corpse close. Kristina now lighter than ever without her organs. My child reduced to a hollow doll.

Sobbing, I held on to her. "I'm sorry, baby... Kristina, I'm sorry."

My hand felt along her scrawny neck but all I touched was skin. The necklace was gone.

Feeling as hollow as Kristina's lifeless corpse, I buried my weeping face into her hair. My desperate attempt at escaping the horror around me.

Soon, the police arrived. I was still holding Kristina when they found me. I never let go of her and I never wanted to. Of course, I was worried about Jimmy, but I couldn't leave her alone in there...

And seeing Jimmy like that would've sent me over the edge. Like a catalyst to an eternal breakdown.

He was left for dead in our bedroom. Defensive wounds ran all over him like battle scars. A coroner later determined my husband did all he could to protect Kristina. He'd made himself into a literal human shield. But not even Jimmy's sturdy physique could survive the deep, vicious cuts. A butcher knife struck straight through his beard for the final death blow.

Police suspected the blood was scattered around on purpose. A taunting form of interior decorating. Nothing was stolen except Kristina's dolphin necklace. Ultimately, there wasn't a motive. No logic. The whole tragedy a twisted puzzle.

All I knew was my family had been slaughtered. And I had no response except grief.

When the police started questioning me, I went from being the sole survivor to the chief suspect.

I guess I couldn't blame them. There was no one else. And then there was the real reason I got home late that Wednesday. There was Derek.

A couple of months earlier, Derek and I met at an office party. I didn't have any excuse for the affair. Jimmy and I were doing well, I loved Kristina. I loved my life. But I was introduced to Derek and sparks flew. We just hit it off.

Derek was tall and fit like me. Nerdy but still handsome. His megawatt smile so full of life. He was a little younger than me, but I just couldn't resist.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Or the exciting power I felt from being both his boss at work and in the bedroom. Derek was just a nice thrill... I wouldn't say I loved him. I never did. And that's what made my selfishness that night all the more crushing. A devastating blow to my internal strength. After all, if I hadn't been with Derek like a reckless teenager, I could've saved Jimmy and Kristina. Or I would've at least died with them. Better than where I'm at now.

Like a tormented criminal, I had to live with the guilt. Or should I say, struggle with it.

I had to get a lawyer. I endured the grueling process of being grilled for my family's slaughter. Me and Derek both.

But I never said a word. And while I wasn't charged, the result was far from a victory. People refused to talk to me. The company let me go. Like a witch, I was ostracized in Columbus, Georgia.

On top of that, Derek still tried to see me. He called me constantly... even after the funeral.

Sometimes, the loneliness would make me give in to his advances. I mean I had no one to turn to. Nor did I have the money to move to another town. Hell, I couldn't even afford to leave my crime scene of a house.

But after the murders, Derek acted weirder. More aggressive. I just hoped it was the stress... but I was still uneasy around him. The truth was Derek had been late to meet me at his apartment that fateful night. I waited for well over an hour... and looking back through my disturbing gallery of memories, I remembered him having scratches on him when we made love.

Of course, Derek denied killing anyone. And I figured the police must've investigated him thoroughly before not pressing any charges.

I wanted justice for Kristina and Jimmy. But I didn't know how Derek would react if I voiced my suspicions to the police. Or what he would tell them for that matter. I mean I was already skating on thin ice with the Columbus Police Department as is. And I had no one on my side.

Like lost souls trapped on Reviled Island, Derek and I only had each other. Through our stilted conversations, we remedied our melancholy through booze, pot, and sex. All of it empty and devoid of the happiness I hadn't felt since the night my family was killed.

Most of these nights were boring at best. Derek a mere distraction from utter despair. But he still had his moments where his temper flared. He'd break a plate or punch a wall. His emotional distress revealed itself in these physical outbursts. Mine forever disguised by my repressed regret.

Going through the motions, I lived my life in solemn seclusion. My paranoia fueled by both Derek's increasing hostility and the never-ending dread I had knowing my family's killer was still out there. In turn, I made my home into a fortress. Sturdy locks, security cameras.

The first Halloween was rough. Especially since it was Kristina's favorite holiday. Then Thanksgiving got worse. And Christmas was brutal.

By now, my mood matched the frigid temperature lurking outside. Like I was iced in, I rarely left the house. And I rarely saw Derek.

But not even my survivalist facade could prepare me for this January night. The one-year anniversary of the night I lost my family.

The agonizing long year had finally caught up to me. The memories came roaring back. Nothing could help me. No booze, no drugs. There was no escape from the personal Hell residing in my mind. Not to mention the flicker of memories playing through my head like a torturous montage...

Similar to the ways an asylum suffocates a disturbed inmate, the house overwhelmed me. I had to get out. Dressed in just jeans and a tight hoodie, I escaped into the cold night. I knew where I wanted to go. Where I had to go.

I drove all the way to Cusseta Road Bridge. Like I was in a snowmobile, I kept the Toyota's windows down. The heater turned off even in this thirty-degree weather.

Around ten o'clock, I pulled over on the concrete bridge. The whole road was secluded. Nothing but forests and overgrown properties for neighbors. The bridge was a "lover's lane" for Jimmy and me back in college. Not to mention a nice place to drink and smoke. A forgotten relic of Columbus, Georgia. And an abandoned one judging by all the immense silence.

The crumbling concrete made for a bumpy ride or walk. The bridge looked over Bull Creek. Over ugly, murky water that would be all the more unforgiving in this weather.

Complete with a Southern Gothic charm, the creek was serenaded by old fishing lines and stray wildflowers. Old trees loomed over the water like ancient Greek Gods. The creek so long neglected it resembled an area gone from hosting baptisms to suicides. Perfect for tonight...

I stumbled out into the cold. A howling wind made the fishing lines sway like spiderwebs.

Shivering, I walked over to the edge of the Cusseta Bridge. Cold breath burst from my lips. Even without snow, I still felt chilled to the bone.

Like I was on the glorious Golden Gate, I gripped the cold concrete railing. Decades of dirt scrunched up under my nails. Behind mournful eyes, I gazed down at the water below. My Bull Creek grave.

The drop looked so much longer than I anticipated... From here, the dark water looked like straight black ooze. I doubt there was much fish or life left in it. And given the rural silence all around me, there wasn't much left out on Cussetta Bridge Road, period.

I realized how much I'd withered away over the past year. Like a sand castle slowly collapsing from an ocean of grief. The immersed isolation had left me skinny and gaunt. My hair a frizzy, unwashed mess.

With the wind bearing down on me, I resembled one of those creepy ghost moms said to haunt the Crybaby Bridges every town has. I certainly felt like one.

Prepping myself for the fatal fall, I closed my eyes. Then I took a deep breath. The wind ripped through me as if I were an elegant chime.

A shrill vibration snapped me from my "plan."

Annoyed, I retrieved my phone. Derek was calling. There he was prolonging my pain once more...

In a quick swipe, I declined his call. All of his text messages stared back at me. All from the last few hours. Piled-up like a back catalog of threats: Answer the fucking phone Ellie! Answer, it you bitch Goddammit talk 2 me

Rather than looking silly, his angry emojis highlighted the outbursts. Like exclamation points on a kidnapper's letter.

Then my phone buzzed to life once more. Again, Derek was fucking calling me.

The anger and agony within me finally flared up. Aggravated, I hurled the phone over the bridge.

I grabbed the railing and stared down at Bull Creek. A tense moment passed where all I saw was cold air flowing from my heavy breaths.

Like a victim awaiting a falling bomb, I stood there in nervous anticipation. Then a faint splash echoed toward me. I saw the dark water ripple... then I realized how long the drop was. Not that that was a bad thing... The cold creek water was sure to be a cure to my constant suffering.

I leaned over the rail. Adrenaline warmed me from the harsh breeze. For the first time since the massacre, I felt alive. Our Mears family reunion was finally about to happen.

Right when I got ready to lay my foot on the grimy railing, a firm grip snatched my arm.

"No, don't do it!" a frantic but compassionate voice yelled.

I staggered back onto the bridge. A light beamed in my face.

"It's not worth it!" the voice continued.

I came face-to-face with a backwoods black woman. She looked to be in her forties. Her long hair all over the place. Her rumpled jacket and jeans suited for a low-class farmer. The lady's rugged hand held up a large flashlight.

Confused, I looked into her fiery stare.

"Please!" the woman went on. She caressed my shoulder. "Don't do this!"

Colder than icicles, tears formed in my eyes.

"I can't let you," the lady continued. Like a determined therapist, she leaned in closer. "I live right down the road and saw you." She motioned toward the railing. The spot that was to be my literal final stand. "I couldn't let you do that, sweetie." She squeezed my shoulder. "I don't know what you're going through, but your life is too precious, okay. Remember that! You can't just throw it away!"

"I'm sorry..." I said. Shivering, I turned away. "I'm sorry..."

"Hey, it's okay." The woman placed the flashlight on the ground and hugged me close. Like a nurturing mother. Just like I'd held my daughter the previous year. "You're okay."

In the light, I could see her taking off the jacket. Beneath it, she wore a red sweater. Homemade judging by the obnoxious horse designs on it...

"Here," the woman said. "Wear this, sweetie."

She wrapped it around me like a blanket. Instantly, I felt warmer... both inside and out.

"That'll keep you warm," she told me.

Calm, I wiped away my tears. "Thank you."

"I couldn't let you just jump like that," the woman said. "I couldn't stand to see anyone hurt themselves." She gave me a toothy grin full of yokel charm. "That's such a waste of a wonderful life. You know."

I flashed her a weary smile. "No, you're right." I looked down the bridge. Past my Toyota. "I need to be stronger." The bitter wind picked up. "I was just in a bad place tonight... I just. Things got rough. They were..."

An odd sight silenced me. Helped by the bright flashlight, I saw a white van parked just ahead of my Toyota. The van's sliding back door wide open...

I noticed the woman's gaze morph from empathetic to hungry. A wild glint appeared in her eyes.

"You shouldn't waste your life like that, Ellie," the woman said.

Uncomfortable, I jammed my hands in the coat pockets. Like a barrier, I felt something cold. Smaller than an iceberg.

Grinning, the woman took a step toward me. "Don't take it away from me," she said in a calculating tone.

I felt along the cool metal. Full of dread, I retrieved the mysterious item as if I were opening Kristina's bedroom door once more.

Reflecting off the dolphin, the light's glare hit me right in the frightened eyes. Like headlights on future roadkill.

"After all," I heard the woman's taunt of a tone say.

I heard a harsh flick. Even in the freezing temperature, the sound sent chills down my spine.

The glimmer of a knife struck me. Turning, I saw the lady holding a large switchblade. In the winter cold, the flashlight illuminated her like a gravedigger's lantern. Her focused glare contrasted by that wide smile.

"I have to finish the job," she said.

With the force of a rabid animal, the woman lunged toward me.

Before I could even scream, the killer grabbed a hold of me. Her strength so impressive. As if the woman had molded and sculpted her body to physical perfection...

Amidst the struggle, Kristina's dolphin medallion slipped from my grasp. I stumbled along the cracked concrete.

With vicious force, the woman pushed me back.

Losing my balance, I crashed against the railing. The concrete tougher than a frozen boulder. Crying out in pain, I struggled to keep the woman's blade at bay.

The murderer inched the knife closer and closer to my face. Her wicked smile sharper than the weapon.

I could see my death in her cold brown eyes. Not just mine but the butchered bodies of my family as well. Yeah, I had just contemplated suicide. But now I finally saw the true villain. And it wasn't me. My death wouldn't be the catharsis for what Kristina and Jimmy suffered. This suck fucking bitch's would be.

Cackling, the woman pulled her knife back for a monstrous stab.

Using all my strength, I swung a punch right at the woman's temple.

Yelling, she staggered right beside me.

I turned and gave her a violent shove.

Like a glimpse at what I would've done just minutes earlier, the lady went tumbling over the railing. Only now the roles were reversed.

Breathing heavy, I stood up over the railing. My eyes stared down into the dark void below.

A heavy splashed erupted. Waves spread out across Bull Creek. But I couldn't see a body...

The wind hitting me like bullets, I grabbed the flashlight and shined it down below. But I saw nothing. As if the water had swallowed the woman whole, Bull Creek was now back to its normal stillness.

I should've drove off right then and there. Let the police take care of the mess like they did last year. But I was tired of playing scared. Even if it was the smart thing to do...

Like a detective, I shined the light all around the bridge. And a small glimmer on the ground gave me a small glimmer of hope.

Smiling, I grabbed Kristina's dolphin necklace. The cold metal warmed my spirit. I felt life here again on Earth.

And then, I did the smart thing. I drove away.

The cops later found Derek's body in the van's backseat. All his severed pieces had been laid out in a methodical manner. Like his limbs were cherished works of art. And like Kristina, his organs were missing...

The woman's name was Susan Stockwell. One of Derek's many ex-flames. She'd found out about me and took her jealous aggression out on my family. Only Kristina and Jimmy weren't her first victims... The crazy bitch ended up being linked to several relatives of Derek's other girlfriends.

And tonight was gonna be her grand finale. She'd been the one calling and texting me from Derek's phone... and she'd even followed me out to Cusseta Bridge Road. She'd stopped me from jumping not from the kindness of her heart but for her own selfish sadistic pleasure.

I'm doing okay now. Rather than becoming my grave, Bull Creek became my baptism. I just take it one day at a time. I plan on moving out of my Silver Lake Road prison soon. I also recently got a new job as well. And rather than looking at our family photos in dread, I cherish those memories with Kristina and Jimmy. And I still love them. Like a healing stone, the dolphin medallion has resurrected my soul.

My only worry now stems from Susan. That's my only concern. After all, the police found Derek's body. But they never found hers.

14

Submitted January 29, 2019 at 03:29AM by rhonnie14 http://bit.ly/2UlyYUk