Pretty Twisted (short story)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I'm shaking uncontrollably, struggling to take a breath. Unsteadily I climb out of bed and head toward my en-suite bathroom.

"Calm Carmen, just take a few deep breaths. In and out. In and out."

!I think to myself.

"It was all just a bad dream, the first two times were just a coincidence, and it won't be real this time."

I peel off my sweat soaked pyjamas and jump in the shower; letting the hot water scald my skin I unsuccessfully try to scrub away the memories of last night, the sights, sounds, smells, feelings and tastes. The thought, of which, was making me feel sick. Feeling the bile rise in my throat I forced myself to forget and got out the shower, putting on some clothes I ready myself for school.

Looking at my Rolex, I grab my blazer and tie and run down the stairs. I hear my parents laughing, which is a relief as the past few months the only time I heard them was when they were arguing over the business. As I sit down with both my mum and dad, the maid hands me my breakfast, for the first time in a while I feel content, that is until I see the newspaper headline 'Crazy killer strikes again' My heart beats over-time. I rush to turn on the news.

"If you've just tuned in there's news that earlier today another body has been found. A 16year old girl who has been identified as Alisha Baskcombe was found lying dead in the hundred-acre wood at 5.a.m this morning by Sally Gardner and her dog; we will be interviewing her later on. Locals say she usually went running around 9:30.p.m every evening in the woods for 1-2 hours. The coroners said that she was attacked viciously and has been found with cuts, bruises and scars all over her body and that she must have died at approximately 1.a.m."

I take a sharp intake of breath. That wasn't what I remembered.

"However her face, strangely, was untouched apart from a small scar shaped like the letter 'A' on her check and instead was covered in makeup: scarlet red lipstick, pale foundation, blusher and a strong metallic eye-shadow on what was left of her eyelids; this, and the fact that the previous 2 victims were also blonde with blue eyes, are common occurrences in these particular cases. The investigators say the strangest thing about these murders are the small scars left on the victim's faces which are various letters of the alphabet, seeming to be the first letter of the victims name. We are still unsure however. The police have been baffled by these murders as not one single piece of evidence has been found and are calling for all people with any knowledge to come forward. They believe all are connected but have no leads so far. We will come back to this story later and give you any new revelations as soon as they come through."

"Midnight, it was Midnight not One" I whisper.

"Eh? What's that about midnight?" my mother askes.

Suddenly, I didn't feel so hungry anymore, I was longing for everything to be back to normal. Trying to ignore how the whole ordeal was effecting me, I picked up my drink, but my hand was uncontrollably shaking, the tea spilt everywhere, soaking the tablecloth, the fruit bowl and the flower display. I started to breathe heavily, I couldn't handle the guilt, they were all staring right at me, and I jolted up.

"Carmen, are you okay? Come and sit down"

I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to think. Walking away, I mumbled I was fine, just a bit stressed. I looked outside. Fresh air. I needed fresh air, so I ran outside. All these thoughts were rapidly swirling around in my head: the news reports, the dreams, the bodies, my parents, and the screams over and over, getting louder and louder...

"You need to get in the limo Miss."

"Huh?" I said, rather dazed and confused. Through the haze I vaguely recognised Louis the chauffeur.

"You need to get in the limo Miss; otherwise you'll be late for school."

"Oh right, thanks."

As I sat in the limousine, I glared through the blackened windows, everything was rushing past me, and in fact it seemed to be like that for the next few days. A blur. Occasionally my teachers and friends would ask if I was okay, to which I replied by saying I was fine. But the truth was I wasn't. The news story was nationwide, making it more impossible for me to forget. Every day for the next week was the same; I couldn't think straight, it went from one day to another without me even noticing anymore.