Red Discord

Chapter 4

The first place that the two siblings thought of going to was simple: their mother’s house. It was the place that they had grown up at, the place they felt most comfortable at; it was their nirvana... at least, for all they knew, it was. The Bombing and Murder of the Mitchell Family had gained worldwide fame and news coverage. They were the eleventh victims and, by far, the most gruesome case yet. Their mother took them in graciously when she saw her kids come to her, charred black, ripped and torn. 

Kassy was the first one to take a bath, followed by James, as demanded by their mother. She found herself drawn to the den in her mother’s house after her bath. There she sat on the couch and hugged her knees. James found her shortly after his bath. He didn’t say anything to her. The only thing he did was start the fire in the fireplace. He sat in front of it and watched the sparks and cracks of the fiery beast. There they stayed until their mother came into the room. She held a glass of apple cider in her hand. Barbara sat next to Kassie and handed her the class of cider. She wrapped her arms around her daughter and hugged her silently.

James turned toward the to two women. “Where’s my glass?”

Barbara frowned at him. “Get your own.”

“Fine,” James pouted, slumping his shoulders. He picked up the metal stick that was beside him and poked the crackling fire.

Their mother turned back to Kassy. She moved her hand up and down Kassy’s arm. “I know life is hard for you right now. Before I met your father, I also lost a child—I know what you’re going through; I know the feelings—, but, Kassie, the world goes on. People are born every second and die every other. Scars may last forever, but that doesn’t mean that skin won’t grow over them.”

Kassy shrugged her mother off. Barbara tried to put her hand back on her daughter but Kassy turned around and barred her teeth at her mother through her snow eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it, mom, because you just don’t understand. It’s not all just losing a kid! You can’t even compare it to that,” Kassy hissed. 

Barbara lowered her head, a tear trickling down her face. “Alright.” 

James, in complete silence, watched from the floor as his mother slowly got up and made her way out of the room. The door clicked and her heels sang down the hallway. “Are you happy now, Kassy? You hurt mother, so are you happy now?”

“I’m not!” she retorted. “I’m not happy at all. You don’t understand either, do you? You don’t, just like her.” Kassy placed her hands on her head and shook her head. “No. That’s not right.”

“Kassy?”

“Maybe we should just move on with life. Even if we have to force ourselves—myself—we will still be able to stand on our own feet. That’s what we should do then.”

“But, Kassy, you’re still unstable. Maybe after you’ve had a couple of days, but it’s only been a few hours since... the incident.” 

She smiled at her brother. “James, mother always did know best.”

.

Time went on for the broken siblings until a week had already passed by. Kassy kept to that mindset and she continued on with her life. It was like spring had come onto her, through the freezing autumn air; Kassy was born anew. She helped her mother with her chores—they liked to sing together as they danced while mopping or dusting—, she even went to get the mail and talked with the neighbors, and she found acquaintances with some of the people who called on the phone for her mother. James, however, preferred the artistic route and locked himself up in his room with the silly excuse that, “Inspiration had called,” and, since then, not a soul had seen or heard from James. He was a freelance artist, and at that, quite the popular one, so no one paid any attention, shrugging it off as “an artist thing.” 

It was the Autumn weather, though, that caught Kassy by surprise. It was the kind of crisp, chilling yet pleasantly warm Autumn day that made you take a step back to breath in the air, to open your eyes and take a look at how the world of nature around you looked. A car speed by as Kassy stood absorbed in her own world. The sound of the car snapped her out of her trance. Looking, around she crossed her arms and continued down the driveway to get the mail. She leaned against the fence, flipping through the mail, a sweet melody hummed through her mouth.

“I’m telling you, they’re happening again.” 

Two neighbor women stood talking together at the end of the driveway next to Kassy. She silently watched them, flipping through the mail with no particular attention. 

“I thought after that Mitchell incident, that man’d be dead,” one woman whispered. “How do you survive a bombing like that?” 

“They never could find any bodies that were kept in tact after that to differentiate between who was who.” 

Kassy shoved the mail back into the mailbox and ran inside. She slammed the door closed and slumped against it, sliding down the door only an inch or two. 

“Fuck! Fuck him,” she huffed, between tears and a loss of breath. “How many goddamn times do I have to kill him for him to finally leave me alone?”

James.

James was still here. He could help her. He’d understand what she was going through. They were in this together. 

Kassy jumped back up onto her feet and ran to her brother’s room as fast as she could. She just about threw herself on the door, pounding her fists as hard as she could on the wood. There was no answer, no usual, “Kassie, shut the hell up!” from inside the room. There was only silence. Not wasting another second, not letting herself think through the situation, Kassy flung the door open.

The room was a canvas painted red. There were buckets of different colored paints knocked over the floor, the paint inside seeping into the burgundy carpet; the bright, white canvas torn by claws, ripped straight through the middle; and the bed sheets that were always neatly made with a candy at the end of the bed with a small, handwritten note from their mother, were crumpled up on the floor, in a small ball, full of wrinkles and creases, and most of all, lots—and lots—of red paint. In middle of all that mess was James. He was covered in red paint, his eyes closed, his body lifeless. Kassy ran over to pick him up and cradled him in her arms like a newborn child.

“Dear God, James.” She moved his damp hair out of his face. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll get you out of here and—” Her face went pale. The red was oozing down her hand. It felt cold. Sticky. 

It was blood.

Her body shook in fear but her scream was caught in her throat. “Ja-mes....”

His shot open in that second. They were a gruesome shade of red, bloodshot from countless nights without sleep. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his eyes getting whiter and whiter, the red slowly diminishing until only the whites of the eyes could be seen. His voice was deep and it cracked with every word, going between a deeper version of his voice to a high pitched cackle. “You goddamned bitch! You’ve killed us all—every last one of us—and you’re not even sorry! You will die—” James’ eyes returned to normal. They were the familiarly kind brown eyes that Kassie had always known. His shaking hand grabbed Kassy’s shirt, pulling her closer to his parched, cracked lips. “Run.”

The door shot open with a large gust of air, like a hurricane was just outside the door. In from the hallway walked Barbara, stopping right before her feet touched the paint-stained carpeting. Her blackened, emotionless face sent shivers down Kassy’s spine. “I have guests over right now,” she said in monotone, her age showing through her voice. “They’re seated downstairs in the dining room and can hear every noise you’re making.” Her eyes swept quickly around the room. “Please, Kassy, do get cleaned up before you make a fool of me.”

“But James is—”

“Kassy.” Barbara’s voice was the queen. “You’re the only one here. And, one more thing, dear, please stop making a mess in your brother’s room. You’re not a child and you shouldn’t have such a desire to play with paints. James doesn’t have a lot of money and those paints are expensive, my dear, so please stop wasting the money that he doesn’t have.”

As Barbara left the utterly defeated Kassy, the women looked down to her lap where she had been holding her brother. There was nothing left there but air. She stood up and hugged herself, finally letting her tears flow freely from her eyes.