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“Tensions in Sudan remain high as janjaweed groups continue to terrorize villagers in Darfur. The UN is…”
The newscaster held a hand to his headset, his eyes going wide as he paused in his sentence. “Breaking News. There’s been an account of murder in the East side of the city. Emily Quinn, a fifty year old was found in her bed early this morning where there was an apparent knife struggle. Her husband, Matt, spoke with reporters, saying that the knife found at the scene was her own, which she kept under her bed in case of emergency. Damage to her was minimal; however, with little blood around her various wounds. The cause of death appears to be a broken neck, though there were several cuts laced around her body- most of which the police investigators say were self-inflicted during the struggle. This is the first murder Nomecide’s seen in several months. Police investigators remain curious about what motive there could have been. Emily Quinn was described as, quote, “a small, gentle woman who brought a smile to the faces of all those around her,” unquote. Regardless, this event shows that no one is safe. There is no information as of yet on the killer’s whereabouts.”
I gulped, my hand frozen on the remote, thankful that there were no pictures for the moment. Knife, blood, struggle – it all sounded familiar. Too familiar. I tried to count back the days in my head. Could he already be on q? It seemed impossible.
But then again, I’d found myself slowly losing touch with the fact that Elliot was a murderer. He killed people, yet he made it so easy for me to forget that.
Why was it all so confusing?
I shook my head and pushed myself off of the couch to make myself a cup of tea. Letting the tea brew, I leaned back against the counter and admired the immaculate kitchen. My eyes slowly drifted towards the knives which were locked up, making me feel like an errant child. I swear, I wasn’t that broken and dangerous- not now anyhow.
I thought back to Emily and chewed on my lip. Well at least she didn’t die from her own knife; that would have been so much longer, painful, and outright cruel.
When the tea had turned a nice dark color, I pulled the tea bag out, deposited it in the trash, and then blew on the hot liquid before taking a small sip. As I savored the way the warmth traveled down my throat and to the pit of my stomach, I had my epiphany.
My eyes widened. The place where knives hide and people lie.
Oh my god I’m such an idiot.
A mattress.
I took another sip while smirking to myself. There better be something good hidden under there, something to help me make sense out of all this craziness.
I just hoped it wasn’t anything more about Carlea. For some reason thoughts of her always unsettled me, and that feeling had increased since I’d found the ring and scrapbook yesterday.
Maybe it was because she died prematurely. Maybe it was because she had an uncanny resemblance to me. Maybe it was because Elliot loved her…
I shook my head. Why would Elliot’s feelings be of any concern to me? I had a quick flashback to the night when he’d come home raving drunk. Okay, maybe I did care, but certainly not where his love life was concerned. Definitely not, I assured myself. Besides, Carlea wasn’t even around anymore.
I pursed my lips and took one last gulp of my tea before trudging back upstairs to Elliot’s room. It was the first time I’d ever taken the chance to really look at his room. I found it very plain, all white with black furniture. It looked like something out of a catalog, not a home. I frowned at this revelation and approached the large bed which took up most of the space and kneeled down before tentatively lifting up the side of the mattress. And even though I’d cracked the riddle, I couldn’t help feeling surprised when I found a couple of file folders and photo albums lying there.
I grimaced at the albums, dreading what they revealed. I was done with the pity parties for awhile and was still feeling exhaustion from my emotional meltdowns yesterday.
Why did I have to be so sensitive all the time? I frowned as I pulled out all the thin books and papers and gathered them up into a pile before carrying them back down to the living room where I set them on the coffee table with a loud thud. I rubbed my arms which felt strained from the effort of carrying them, and then went back to the kitchen for another cup of tea. Stalling I chided myself.
When I finally sat back down on the couch with the first photo album in my lap, my palms were sweating. The first page, however, had no photo whatsoever, only a newspaper clipping.
A newspaper clipping for a certain Myra Abigail, an article about her death. I turned the page to find a picture of the kind-eyed old woman with her name neatly scrawled underneath.
The following page contained an article of death for David Brindlow and realization dawned in my eyes; it was a scrapbook of all the deaths that Elliot had caused. I flipped through the pages, holding my breath when I reached my own. The article and picture were there just like with the rest. The thought that that was close to being real made my heart rate spike. I quickly flipped the pages until I found the picture of a sweet looking baby. There were tear stains on the page.
Elliot cared a lot after all.
Sighing, I closed the book and picked up one of the many file folders. Inside the first were stacks of paper all bundled up with paperclips. I pulled out one at random and saw a photo of one of the deceased, Sarah Holmes. On this page were pictures of her as well as countless tidbits of information: address, phone number, SSN, bank account number, vehicle registration... It listed her degrees, her job, her family members. The basic facts of her life were all laid out for anyone to see.
I flipped back through the other stacks until I found one with my name on it. As I tore through the sheets of paper I couldn’t help but gape at how spot-on all this information was. Elliot was scary good at doing background checks. My hands shook as I set down all the information folders back onto the coffee table.
In the corner of my eye I noted a typed page with a list of names, the names of everyone a-z. I bit my lip, feeling guilty. I knew that these people were going to die. Did I have a responsibility to reach out to them, to warn them?
But then again, if they didn’t and more people suffered than that would be far worse. Yet Elliot tried to warn me about what was coming…
This information certainly wasn’t doing anything to ease the tornado of thoughts and questions swirling around my brain. I kneaded my forehead with my knuckles and leaned forward, looking at the last unopened file folder.
With a sigh I flicked the cover open, figuring now was better to than later.
I sucked in a breath when I took in the sight of a very legal-looking document.
This contract gives the parameters for a legal agreement negotiated by Elliot Marvins and the chief of the PP branch of S.O.M.E.
Failure to comply with this agreement will result in:
“Collateral damage” on the scale discussed and according to the population control standards of S.O.M.E. All collateral damage will be understood to be the fault of the signing person, Elliot Marvins.
Failure in compliance includes but is not limited to:
· Failure to sign and/or abide by the rules of the contract.
· Failure to go through with one of the twenty six acts outlined in the verbal agreement.
· Disclosure of said verbal agreement to an outside party.
· Posting of information about S.O.M.E, it’s policies, it’s members, or the verbal agreement on the internet, in newspapers or any other written or spoken form.
· Getting caught and/or arrested while fulfilling one of the twenty six acts.
· Causing serious physical harm to a member of S.O.M.E
· Self-Inflicted harm that interferes with the completion of the twenty six acts.
· Suicide before completion of the twenty six acts.
S.O.M.E. commits to upholding all aspects of this agreement as listed above. This document is legally viable and will result in serious consequences upon breach of the agreement according to the terms verbally agreed upon.
The signee, Elliot Marvins, hereby agrees to all terms outlined in this contract, both verbal and written. The signee admits to full knowledge of the consequences of failing to comply with all terms of the agreement and of what constitutes as a breach in the contract. Thereby the signee accepts full legal and moral responsibility for the completion of the acts outlined in the verbal agreement as well as anything that may occur as a result of a breach of contract.
The signee, Elliot Marvins, hereby signs, fully aware that this is a legally binding contract.
On the adjoining line was Elliot’s name written in squiggly letters as if it had been written by a shaking hand.
I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth, letting the contract fall back to the table.
He wasn’t kidding when he said it was a serious agreement…
And yet he’d already risked so much already. So much had been put on the line just to save me. What made me so special? A crease formed between my brows. Deep down I’d known that Elliot was telling the truth, being honest with me about his reasons for killing, but seeing it in black and white before me was a whole different story.
This was concrete, solid as a rock.
Whatever S.O.M.E. was it was clear that it meant business.
Even while right in front of me though it was still unbelievable. What kind of sicko organization kills people? What kind of organization commissions other people to kill for them?
It was baffling to consider that something like this could even exist anymore. It was like some neo-Nazi group- a sadistic blast from the past.
This is insane, I thought to myself.
Yet as I sat there saying that to myself the files and scrapbook albums lay on the coffee table. I sighed and pushed them all together into a large pile, sighing all the while.
I think I needed another cup of tea if I wanted to down all this information.
With another steaming mug in hand, I curled back onto the couch and flicked the television on, looking for a movie I could watch thoughtlessly, anything to keep my mind off of the questions buzzing through my mind.
However just as the opening scene flashed across the screen, I jumped at the loud sound of the doorbell ringing.
Automatically I hopped up and sprinted to the door, and swung it out wide.
And then I realized this wasn’t my house. And that to top it off I wasn’t supposed to exist.
Upon this epiphany I stood there gaping at the man standing patiently on the porchstep at a loss of what I should do.
God, how stupid could I be? The information overload must have left me scatterbrained.
The man on the porch appeared to be around fifty, his light blue eyes sparkled in the light though judging by the thick rims of his glasses, his eye sight was beginning to face. He had a nice paunch forming and his skin was just beginning to fade and wrinkle; his snow-white hair stuck up in little tufts. On his place was a amused half smile accentuated by his thin, pale lips.
I gulped.
“Hello dearie,” The man’s smile widened a bit more at my nervous expression. “Is Elliot home by any chance?”
“I’m sorry sir; he’s currently out on a business.” I licked my lips which were becoming dry all of a sudden and prayed the man couldn’t hear the way my heart was thudding in my chest. “He should be back sometime tomorrow if you’re interested.”
The man nodded absently, “So who are you exactly?” His eyes narrowed as he looked me over.
I glanced down at my clothes and noted I was wearing a large baggy black t-shirt of Elliot’s and spandex. There was no way I would pass off as help.
Crap…
“I’m part of the house staff.” I grimaced at my pitiable lie, “I’m sorry I look like such a mess –I just finished washing down the floors.”
“Mhmm,” the man responded with a far off look in his eyes like he wasn’t listening to a word I said. “I’ll call Elliot and tell him I stopped by.”
I shifted uncomfortably gripping onto the edge of the doorway tightly, “Well I’m sorry I couldn’t be of much help,” I mumbled.
“No worries at all, dear.” The old man’s face lighted u with a sort of devious excitement, “you were quite helpful. Well, until next time!”He called out as he spun on his heel and began walking down the cobblestoned path to the driveway.
My temple was throbbing from the encounter. Just like the phone call it felt off and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d made a dire mistake by opening that door.
By the time this day was over I was going to go through at least ten cups of tea.
*
Later that night I was sitting down in the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream when I heard the door slam open roughly. I gulped down the spoonful I was eating, cringing as the ice-cold lump traveled down my throat.
“Jezebel!” I heard a panicked voice cry out.
I knotted my eyebrows in confusion as I walked out into the entranceway to find a very distraught-looking Elliot.
However as he caught sight of me I could see the tension visibly leaving his body. Before I knew what was happening Elliot slammed into me, crushing me against his chest, his arms firmly wrapped around me.
What the…? I couldn’t deny that the warmth of Elliot’s body put me at ease, along with the comforting pressure surrounding me. His cologne wafted towards me, a citrusy woodsy smell that calmed the anxiety I’d been feeling all afternoon.
I’d missed him.
He pulled away from me slightly and looked me in the eyes. His gray eyes captured me, holding me captive with their odd coloring and piercing gaze. And before I knew it he launched forward, capturing my mouth in his. His hands slid down to cradle my waist as he dominated my lips, firm and harsh, yet incredibly soft and sweet at the same time. I felt myself melt and was glad that his hold on me was so tight, keeping me up. The unexpectedness left my knees weak. Heat radiated off of him in waves as we both fell into the kiss, him kissing me earnestly as if trying to communicate something to me that he couldn’t in words.
However a few minutes later we both broke off together, panting from lack of oxygen. Softly Elliot leaned his forehead onto mine, gazing into my eyes as he did so.
“I thought you were dead,” he half-whispered as he tightened his hold around me, keeping me firmly pressed against the length of his body.
Dead? I thought, eyes growing wide. The pit of my stomach tightened up in fear. This couldn’t be good…
Dramatic, yes? Anyways, it was much more timely than the other updates :D So hopefully I'll be able to keep this up. Though school starts on Monday so...we'll just have to wait and see what happens I guess *fingers crossed*