The Masked Murderer

Jess's Bloody Birthday Party- Part I

I opened the front door and stepped outside into the dirt-filled yard, where pots of plants sat near the entryway. Beams of sunlight spiraled down, enveloping me in the humid Texas heat.

"Phew, it's gonna be a hot one," I exclaimed as Charles trailed behind.

As we walked towards his truck, I glanced at his attire, which seemed overly simple for a birthday party—blue jeans and a plain black short-sleeve button-down shirt.

"Charles, maybe you should add a tie to your shirt?" I suggested.

Charles rolled his eyes and replied nonchalantly, "I'll be fine."

He always preferred casual attire, regardless of the occasion. Last week, Jess had asked him to dress up for her birthday party, mentioning that everyone else, including Justin, would be doing so. But he clearly disregarded that suggestion.

"I just wish you wouldn't dress so casually," I sighed. "Jess was expecting everyone to dress up." I nervously bit my lower lip, hoping my comment didn't offend Charles.

"Olivia, you know how much I hate being overdressed," Charles responded. The gravel crunched under our shoes, kicking up dust into the hot, still air.

We both opened up our respective doors, climbing into the truck. I grabbed my seatbelt, placed it over my body, and buckled it. Charles put his key into the ignition, starting up his truck; the engine roared. A loud cranking noise puttered out as the engine continued to rev.

My cheeks burned with warmth as the stifling heat permeated the truck's interior.

"Charles, could you please turn on the A/C? It's really hot in here." I complained, fanning myself with my hands as the heat pressed down on me.

I swiped at imaginary beads of sweat on my forehead. Charles loathed using the air conditioner, always grumbling about gas consumption. It would have to be a scorching 130 degrees before he'd relent and switch it on.

"Fine, just this once."

Charles reluctantly reached for the black knob with the four blue stripes and cranked it to the max. Warm air blasted through the vents, offering little relief. It would be a while before the cabin cooled down.

As I fumbled to pull the zipper of my dress back up, it unexpectedly came undone. With a delicate touch, I secured the zipper, but then... Pop! Something soared through the air.

Was that my zipper?!

I checked my dress. The zipper was still in tack. Then I looked down at my hands. The fresh French manicure I had received at the salon a few days ago was now ruined.

"Darn it!" I said as I brought my index finger towards my face while inspecting it. The finger was now missing the white French manicure tip.

"What happened?'" Charles asked, concerned, stealing quick glances at me while also trying to focus on the road ahead.

"Oh, nothing...just broke a nail," I replied solemnly.

I leaned back into my headrest, relaxing my shoulders while enjoying the warm air that drifted into the truck. It breezed by my cheeks like the air flowing through an electric fan on a warm summer's day.

Charles continued to drive down the country road. I stared out the window, admiring the oak trees as their leaves blew in the delicate summer wind. Light brown weeds sprouted out from the fields where the old abandoned barn sat for what seemed like an eternity. I was always afraid that the Masked Murderer would hide out there and find me since Charles and I lived so close to it. But I tried to erase that thought from my mind whenever it would appear.