GRAPEVINE

A

A dead body floated in Eunice's pool, and it was the first thing she saw when she stepped onto her patio. She sucked in a sharp breath, hands pressing against her lips to catch her scream. The water in the pool was once deep blue, but now it was tainted with a sick red.

The wind picked up, sailing like a ghost, trying to blow Eunice off course, but she stood her ground, taking only slow, careful steps towards the pool. Her shirt was stuck to her body like a second skin, and her face folded in on itself. Eunice's chest tightened as though a heavy weight pressed down on her lungs. How had someone died in her own home? Before she could dwell much on the thought, the back door creaked.

Eunice jerked her head to the side, but no one was there. She tried to push past the fear clogging her throat, but the further she walked, the more it heightened, and she was overwhelmed with emotions that she couldn't quite process anything.

The dead body didn't sway anymore, as if aware of her presence and Eunice watched in horror, her lips quivering like a lamb about to be sacrificed. The body was a male with a shaved head; he looked young, maybe in his late twenties, judging from the softness of his face and the paleness of his fair skin. He reminded Eunice of someone from her past—a past that kept resurfacing everywhere she turned. And as she stared harder at the body, realization struck her. Pam.

It had to be Pam, the guy her friends thought she would marry and live happily ever after with. Eunice and Pam had dated for three long years in high school, made love, slept in each other's embrace and sought comfort when things grew too challenging. It was all rainbows and sunshine, until the first day he laid his hands on her. Or was she the one who had hit him? Eunice couldn't remember what followed after that. The memory was fuzzy in her brain, like a shapeshifter, like something she could forget if she didn't get a good grasp of it in time.

She shook the memories off her head and turned back to Pam. He didn't suffer any grotesque physical damage—just a bullet hole through his forehead and palm—probably from when he tried to block the assault.

Light breeze ruffled the waters and the body floated again, drifting farther and farther away from her, just like her mum did when her dad traveled and never came back. Eunice stumbled away from the pool, her eyes still teary and dazed, trying to make sense of why and how Pam would be showing up now, after so many years—dead in her backyard. Some distance away, she spotted a piece of paper, flowing slowly along the air current which carried it over to where she stood. Eunice sprang to action, then thought better of it and got out her cellphone. She had to call the police.