Deterioration

Caught Red Handed

The air was unusually chilly that late afternoon as I walked along the trail that lead me away from the painful reality of the town and to something far more exciting. Where there were no limits to what I could do and no dreams too big to dream. I came here as much as I could, usually on the Weekends when I wasn’t hung up on school, but it never seemed to be enough. I’d always spend more time at home enduring Derek’s endless abuse.

My parents died in a car accident when I was a baby and I was put under the care of Gemma and Derek Ashford, my parent’s closest friends. Things had been good in the beginning. I was happy. At least as happy as a parent-less child could be. Gemma and Derek were the kind of people that lit up the room. They carried so much love and warmth and shared it with everyone around them, no matter if they were deserving of it or not. They were the best guardians I could have ever asked for. Things took a turn for the worst when Gemma died. I remember the day clearly, the horrific memories sat in the back of my head, haunting, torturing, making happiness seem like a distant dream. It was my ninth birthday and Gemma had promised me to go the zoo; a three hours’ drive away. A storm had made its way to our tiny speck of a town, large dark clouds hovering above us, as if waiting for the right moment to strike.

 It is too risky, Gemma had said, to drive in the rain. Considering the way my parents had died, I should have agreed with her, I should have been scared to death by the possibility of ending up like them. But instead I pouted my lips, put my best puppy-dog face on, and pleaded her to take me. Since Derek had work that day, we left, just the two of us. The rain started pouring, water droplets thumping against the windows. I remember Gemma was uncharacteristically quiet in the car, her knuckles tight around the wheel and her eyes focused on the road ahead. I kept my mouth shut most of the way, though it was hard to contain my excitement. When we finally made it to the zoo, I sprang out of the car and ran towards the entrance giggling in glee. Gemma laughed with me as I pulled her along to all of the attractions. I liked the penguins best. We spent the rest of our time downtown where I was treated to a meal of spaghetti Bolognese and gelato for dessert. We walked back to our car under the black sky, staying close to the street lamps so we could see our steps. I remember one moment thinking it was the best day, and the next, feeling a mind-numbing sense of fear. Gemma was pushed up against the wall of an alley by a hooded man. My eyes widened in horror as he ripped open her shirt and I caught glimpse of the gun pressed firmly against her temple. He whispered some things to her, things I couldn’t hear, but by the look on her face I knew I didn’t want to. He pulled the zipper of her pants down and at that moment her eyes met mine. She looked at me with sorrowful eyes and I saw a tear roll down her face.

 I love you, she mouthed to me. I was too paralyzed to say it back and so I just stared at her, wanting to do something, help her. She must have read my mind as she shook her head at me.

Run, she mouthed. Though my head didn’t want to leave her, my body was already sprinting down the street. I had been running for five minutes when I heard it. The sound of a gunshot. I didn’t want to believe it. I ran back the way I came, telling myself she was fine. As I walked into the alley, the hooded devil was nowhere to be seen but instead, my mother lay motionless on the ground, ruby red liquid pooling around her body. My knees gave out on me and I fell to the ground. I crawled over to her and called out her name. She didn’t answer. I kept calling out her name, hoping that somehow she would wake up and hug me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. I shook her with all my might, still nothing. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I crumpled into a little ball.

 Never had I felt such sadness. It almost physically hurt. And the rest was history.

After that, Derek completely shut me out. He shut everyone out. At a time where we needed each other the most, he wasn’t there. Every day, I’d try to talk to him. But he would never listen. He stayed in his room from dusk till dawn. In just a few weeks, he looked like a whole other person. He’d lost so much weight and looked unhealthily skinny. He had dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. He was ghostly pale. And I was so sad. He was in a faraway world, a world where I couldn’t reach him. I knew things would never be the same but I had never expected what was to come.

Four months after the incident, Derek started eating properly again and went back to normal. At least, physically speaking. His once warm honey colored eyes were a dark brown color. They looked scarily hollow. He always had a blank expression on his face and rarely spoke. When he did, his voice lacked any emotion. He was like the living dead.

Day by day, he started growing angrier. I could understand why he was angry, he had lost the love of his life. But his anger was always towards me. I knew something wasn’t right when he’d look at me. I just chose to ignore it.

Until it was too late.

He blew up at me. Screamed at me. Even hit me. But worst of all, he said her death was my fault. He did this every day. And by the time six months had gone by, I started to believe him. Eight years, this has been going on. And only one more till I’m free.

Pushing my sleeves up to my elbows, I grab on to the sturdiest branch and pull myself up, climbing the big oak tree. I slump against the trunk once I’m high enough to enjoy the view of the forest and the burnt oranges and reds of the leaves. Fall is my favorite season. It was Gemma’s favorite season too. I bite the inside of my cheek, willing the thoughts away. Pulling out a book, I begin my reading. It’s nice to be up here in the world of my book. It almost feels like this is my reality and the world below is a messed up nightmare. I laugh quietly as I read a funny sentence. It feels good to laugh. I haven’t laughed in a while. A twig snaps and my eyes follow the noise to see a figure walking towards me. It’s a boy. He removes his hoodie from his head and my eyebrows raise in surprise.

He’s gorgeous.

In a compelling, mysterious kind of way. His eyes are the clearest blue I’ve ever seen, even from this distance. His hair looks raven black. His pale skin glowing. He walks past the tree and I silently watch him kneel down by a small stream of water flowing through the forest. My eyes travel down to his hands and I gasp in shock. He seems to hear me and whips his face around so fast, I can barely blink. I hide behind the trunk, praying he won’t see me. Tentatively, I poke my head around to find his back turned again, washing the blood off his hands. When he’s cleaned up, he sits there, as still as a statue. I hold my breath, waiting for him to do something. Suddenly he does, but not what I expect. He screams. I watch with wide eyes as he pounds his fists into the ground, screaming words I can’t make out. After a final and likely painful hit, he slumps down. Breathing heavily, he stands up with a blank expression and disappears the direction he came. I let out a breath.

A billion questions race through my mind but one stands out.

Did he kill someone?