Chapter Eighteen

Richie framed Ang’s face with his hands and examined her eyes. They were haunted, pain-filled, and she looked afraid. After a moment, Angel Rose eased back and started to stand. Richie sprang to his feet and helped her up, waiting for her to tell him what was next.

“Do you understand what just happened to me?” she asked. She needed to be sure that he knew what he was getting into.

“I think so,” Richie said. “You were somehow possessed by Kirstin’s memories? Reliving what must have been her last day?”

Ang nodded. “Something like that. I saw her memories as if they were happening now. Snatches of colors, sounds, smells, emotions” she broke off, shaking her head. “It’s all in there, mixing around with my own memories. I can’t stop it, and I can’t control it, so I need you to understand that. When we go in there, it’s going to get strange.”

Richie chuckled. “And the last half hour, what was that?”

Ang’s smile was wobbly and didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That was just a teaser. I’m going to say the same thing to you that you said to me: you don’t have to go in there with me.”

Richie looked surprised. “The hell I don’t,” he said. “Not only is it my house, but I promised Kirstin that I would help her.” He smiled a wide smile, his eyes crinkling and his dimples showing, “And I never break a promise to a woman.”

Ang nodded. “I can feel her getting more agitated,” she said. “If we are going in, it should be now.”

Richie looked into Ang’s eyes, and saw steely resolve there. He knew she wouldn’t back down from this. There was nothing he could say to change her mind. The pair turned to the house and brushed the dirt and stray leaves off their clothes, before joining hands. They made their way slowly back around to the front of the house. They climbed the dilapidated steps to the porch and opened the door. With a shared shudder, they passed into the house.

It was cold.

Very, very cold.

Angel Rose gently pulled her hand from Richie’s to wrap her arms around herself. Richie looked around at the living room, surprised that everything appeared to be just as he had left it. There was no upended furniture, no shattered glass. He touched a few things, surprised to find them warm when the room was so cold. He turned to find Ang staring up the stairs. As if in a trance, she climbed; her step heavy on the treads. Richie followed silently, unsure and a little afraid about what was going to happen next.

They stopped outside Kirstin’s door, and it opened of its own accord. Ang’s eyes went wide as a rush of frigid air passed through her. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Richie was blown back by the force of the air that came through the door, and he had an almost overwhelming urge to snatch Ang up into his arms and leave the house.

Richie and Ang stood on the threshold of the room, and he gasped. He could see Kirstin in the middle of the room. This Kirstin was the woman-thing from his dreams. Her hair hung in damp, dirty clumps around a badly swollen face. Blood and dirt crusted her lips. As he watched, Kirstin’s eye blackened and he could hear a snap that was unmistakably a bone breaking, and watched in horror as a welt rose on her cheek. Her head was snapping back and forth as these marks marred on her skin.

“What is happening?” Richie asked, horrified.

Tears were streaming down Ang’s cheeks. “She’s being beaten,” she whispered. Richie looked at her, and was horror-struck. Matching welts and bruises were covering Ang’s face.

“You, Angel, your face…” Richie reached out a fingertip to trace a blemish on her forehead.

“I know,” Ang said.

Richie shuddered. “This is her death?” Ang nodded. “Sweet mother of God,” he whispered. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and block out the scene in front of him, but he couldn’t. He felt helpless as he watched Kirstin relive her last moments.

The Past

“Where are the children?” Kirstin asked her beloved, as she shut the front door behind them.

“They are preparing for the party tonight,” Geoffrey answered. He hugged his wife and kissed her temple. “You’re shaking, my love,” he commented. “Is everything alright?”

Kirstin laughed a carefree laugh and waved him off. “Oh I am quite fine,” she answered. “Just got a bit of a Hallow’s Eve scare down by the lake. An animal was walking about in the bushes.” She blushed. “I thought it may have been you coming to join me for a tryst,” she finished softly.

Geoffrey groaned and pulled his wife fully to him. “Ah, my dear, had I only known,” he said on a rumble, “I would have loved to lay you atop that boulder.” He leaned in to trail kisses from her mouth to her ear. He lowered his voice even more, and breathed to her, “I would have worshipped your body.” He bit her earlobe gently, and laved away the sting. “I would have stripped your clothing from you, one garment at a time, until you were fully nude,” he said, nibbling on the pulse point under her ear.

Kirstin’s heart quickened at her husband’s words. “Then what would you do, my love?” she asked, softly, breathlessly.

Geoffrey chuckled. “You will just have to wait until tonight to find out,” he said, sipping from her lips. A knock at the door brought them reluctantly apart.

“Yes?” Kirstin called. “Come in.” The door opened to reveal a child, one of the neighbor’s, standing on the porch. Kirstin smiled. “Well hello, Nell. The children are about somewhere,” she said. “You’re a bit early for the party.”

“Mrs. Maddox, Mama sent me to fetch you. She said she needs help with her costumes.”

Kirstin sighed and smiled. “Alright, Nell. Tell her I’ll be along directly.”

Nell smiled. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Maddox!” She dashed in to hug Kirstin. “Mama is beside herself. Daddy’s ready to shake her.”

Kirstin laughed. “You tell your daddy I said he will do no such thing.” Nell nodded and with a ‘yes, ma’am’, took off. Kirstin looked to Geoffrey. “I am looking forward to the unveiling later,” she said, smiling wickedly. She leaned up to press a kiss to her husband’s lips. “I love you,” she said.

“And I you,” Geoffrey answered. “Hurry back.”

“To you? Always,” Kirstin answered, and left to help her friend.

Kirstin skipped down the road like a child. She was so happy she couldn’t help it. She had her husband’s words in her head, the promise of tender and passionate lovemaking making her heart sing. She trailed a hand along the shrubs that lined the lane, feeling the silky texture of the gorgeous purple blooms. Before she could leave the boundaries of her property, however, a large hand sprang from the bushes and grabbed her arm. Kirstin let out a scream, twisted free, and started to run.

She couldn’t run fast enough. Every time she chanced a glance over her shoulder, he appeared closer -- this faceless, hulking monster that chased her. He wore a mask, a simple burlap sack over his head, but it was enough that she could not identify her attacker. She thought of her children as she fled, and her Geoffrey, and put on an extra burst of speed, willing her God to give her strength to keep running. She stumbled just once, but it was enough for the man to just reach out and touch her sleeve. With a scream, she veered off the lane, crashing through the rhododendron bushes, trying to get far enough ahead of him that she could hide.

Maybe if she could just get through to the lake, she’d take her chances swimming across.

Kirstin raised her arms against the branches that were battering her face. She ran deeper into the thicket until it became difficult to maneuver. She heard the masked man’s horrible laughter follow her through the beautiful blooms.

“You can’t run from me, Kirstin,” he sang, like a child. “I will catch you!”

Her heart tripped at his words, adrenaline pumping into her system anew. She chanced a half turn to look over her shoulder. She didn’t see him coming up from beside her, and he pushed her. She started to fall.

As soon as she hit the ground, he was upon her, straddling her thighs and tearing at her dress. “Stop! No! Geoffrey, help me!” she screamed.

“Your precious Geoffrey can’t help you,” the man said, barely out of breath. Kirstin thought she recognized the voice, but with the blood pounding in her head, it was hard for her to be certain. One thing she did know, she did not want this man to soil her body with his seed. With all her strength, she brought her knee up, firmly coming into contact with his manhood. The man hissed and backhanded Kirstin, and she felt her lip split.

Crying and spitting blood, she begged the man for her life. “Please,” she said. “Please, let me go back to my children. I will give you anything you want, just let me go home to my children.”

“Shut up,” the man said, hitting her again, this time blackening her eye. He pressed his hand hard over her nose and mouth, and she couldn’t breathe. “Shut up or your precious children will be next.” Kirstin grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand further into her mouth so she could bite him. He howled in pain, and reared up, shaking his hand. Blood droplets sprayed as he shook. Kirstin tried to lever the man off of her, but he was too strong. He grabbed her wrists and brought her arms down to her sides, pinning them with his knees.

His hands closed around her neck like a vice, choking off her airway. She started to get dizzy, and random images of her children and her husband floated through her head. She smiled at one memory, and the man got angry. “What are you smiling at, bitch?” he demanded, and loosened his grip long enough to smack her hard across the face. Kirstin snapped back to the present, and struggled anew when she felt his hands close around her throat once again. She was able to gouge his hand with her fingernails, but she was too weak to push him away.

As she struggled for breath, Kirstin tried to pull the mask away from the man’s face. She had to know who had done this to her. Maybe then she would know why. She caught the edge of the mask’s chin with a fingernail, and it slipped enough so she could make out her attacker. There was only one person on this planet that possessed those dead, green eyes. As her world turned black, she started to weep. She wept for her husband, her children, and herself. She thought she saw a shadow looming behind her attacker, but she couldn’t focus. She was so weak. With her last breath, she gasped a name…

The Present

Back in Kirstin’s room, Richie watched in horror as Ang slumped toward the floor. He caught her and laid her down gently. “What’s happening?” he asked, hating that his voice wasn’t strong for her.

“She’s –” Ang licked her lips before trying again. “She’s being suffocated.” Her hands scratched at her throat, but there was nothing there to loosen.

Richie watched as a look of recognition came over Ang’s face, and he heard her croak out the name “Jeremiah” before she passed out. Her breathing had become shallow, and her complexion ashen. Richie scooped her up and ran down the stairs. He ran outside with her in his arms, and started up the lane. The further he got from the house, the better her skin tone looked, so he kept running. He ran until he got to the main road, and then crossed the street into the wheat field beyond, not caring whose property he was on. He ran until Angel Rose started to stir in his arms, then he stopped, and sank into the chest-high stalks.

“Ang,” he said breathlessly, rocking her and kissing her forehead. “Come back to me. Breathe for me.” She started to moan, and Richie encouraged her. “That’s it, come on, you can do it.” He had tears in his eyes. “You’re safe here.”

Suddenly Ang sat upright, nearly knocking heads with Richie. “Jeremiah!” She screamed. “I think I saw the man who killed Kirstin. She called him ‘Jeremiah’.” She burst into tears and curled into Richie’s chest.

“Oh, Angel Rose, I’m so sorry. I should never have brought you into that house. I’m so sorry.” Over and over he apologized while this poor creature sobbed in his arms. He started to rock her back and forth, and eventually, Ang’s tears subsided.

“Richie,” she said in a small voice.

“Yes, Angel Rose?”

“I think I want to go home now,” she said. Richie picked her up in his arms again and slowly retraced his steps, heading for his car. When he crossed the street to his property, Ang’s arms tightened around his neck.

“Are you alright? Do you want to wait here and I’ll get the car?”

“N-n-no,” Ang said, unconvincingly. “I’ll be okay. Just don’t let me go, ok?”

“I promise,” Richie said. Who the hell was Jeremiah?