The Psycho Is Innocent | ꪜ

Chapter 23: The Story

A R I E L

          THE HOUSE WHICH Larson showed us in the photo came into view. It was further away from the main road than we had expected, but I'm guessing if this really is Jack Morison and by chance, he's hiding out from someone, then it wouldn't be in plain sight. As anticipated, the sky had drifted off into a darker hue, which then prompted us into using our flashlights. Larson led the way and through our journey, I remained centred between him and Lewis. I genuinely couldn't care less about their problems, but I'm guessing she didn't take my words of encouragement into consideration.

          That's the least of my problems. Right now my plan is to find Jack and uncover the story and whereabouts of Barry Roosevelt. My life depends on it. "Should I knock?" Larson asked as we stopped at the end of the pathway leading up to the porch. We were surrounded by tall trees that hovered over our heads and complete darkness. There was no sound coming from the house, no light nor any indication of life. It didn't look abandoned but neither did it appear inhabited. "Let me, if something bad is going to happen I should take the blow," I said as I pushed him out of the way.

           "No, let me." Lewis piped in.

           "Look the two of you, this isn't an election, okay? It's just knocking on a door." I snapped as I climbed up the porch. The hardwood creaked beneath my feet and somehow the sound seemed to have magnified way beyond my expectations, halting my footsteps. "Ariel seriously–" I cut Larson off as I threw my hand in the air. I'm not scared and neither do they have a reason to be. Sure this is dangerous I guess but we're kids. If by chance our life is in danger I'll just whip out my "we're lost" card and crawl my way into the cracks of this person's heart.

           Ignoring Larson's cry of protest, I etched closer towards the front door. At my feet was a welcome mat. The sight wasn't out of the ordinary but rather it was what was left beside it. I crouched down and ran my fingers through what appeared to be ash. It felt warm to the touch and withered as a gust of wind swept in my direction. Someone's here. Just as the thought crossed my mind something clicked above my head and the door came flying open. In the next following seconds, all I could hear was Larson and Lewis' cries of pleas and all I could see was the barrel of a shotgun.

   ~~~

           I never saw the day where I could say that I was held at gunpoint. Should I have been scared? Yes, I supposed so. Was I? Not really. Call it intuition but I knew that he wouldn't have shot me. Luckily enough though I didn't have to pull out the "I'm lost card." Well to be fairly honest I didn't want to. When Jack had asked me to stand on my feet slowly and Lewis and Larson cried like dying hyena's in the background I just muttered his name and waited for my desired reaction. As expected the colour drained from his face and his grip on me loosened. He seemed to be both in a state of fear, confusion and anger.

          However, things settled down once I told him we just wanted his help. Like I said earlier: I'd find a way to crawl into the cracks of his heart and I succeeded. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you living in the woods so far from town? All your information on the internet was wiped out except your articles and myspace page which both had no photos of you. Can I take a wild guess. . .witness protection?" Jack set the shotgun rifle down beside the entryway leading to what appeared to be his living room. "I should be asking the questions, you little rascals. Wandering in the woods to find a man you don't know at such a late hour in the night? This better be worth it."

         "It's about Barry Roosevelt and the murders he committed," I said. His shoulders suddenly tensed, "our friend was accused of a double homicide a month ago. It was in the exact same fashion Barry murdered his wife and those two other women whose bodies were discovered after his arrest. We know our friend is innocent and that he was framed but no one believes us. We're trying to sus out a possible copycat killer or Barry himself. Any information will help, really. We just-we just want to get to the bottom of it." My eyes brimmed with tears as I peered up at the man who appeared to have rather been dead than invite us inside.