53. Sabbath Bloody Sabbath

53

SABBATH BLOODY SABBATH

DAISY

Anxiety fills my body like the steady drip of an IV line all the way through the flight to Jacksonville and it doesn't stop when we make it to the ground. Once I'm checked out, I make it to the baggage belt and wait for my suitcase. I don't know how long I'll have to stay here, but I took enough necessities and clothes just in case.

I decided against telling my parents about my trip. Because, for one, I'm still not speaking to my dad. And two, Mom is at a book convention with Uncle Abe, and I don't want her to spend her time worrying about me being away from home.

It takes a long time for the baggage to be loaded onto the belt, so I decide to go to the bathroom first. My bladder is begging me to be released.

There are six stalls beside each other and each one seems to be free. Getting into the one on the left, I take a deep breath as I hover above the toilet and release. I clean myself up with toilet paper when I'm done and put my pants back on.

Swinging the door open, my eyes widen when I come face to face with a familiar woman. Before I get the chance to do anything, something sharp pokes into my neck and I instantly sag to the ground in a sedated heap of flesh.

"You didn't truly think it would be that easy, did you?" Rosemary asks as she throws me inside of a large suitcase.

I can't feel my legs. I can't move my mouth to speak. The only thing I'm able to do is keep my eyes open and notice everything that's happening. My whole world turns to black as soon as the suitcase zips up with me inside of it. Despite me not being able to feel a thing, I know she's walking, the wheels making it easy for her to transport me wherever she wants.

"Took it from his own stash," I hear her say, her voice like a faint echo in the background as it filters through the material of the suitcase. "Succinylcholine. Keeps the mind awake and the body paralyzed. But you probably know that all too well, don't you? You've been studying his kills just like I have."

Saliva flutters out of my mouth as I try to scream for help, but my tongue feels like a shriveled-up snake. I can't do anything to get myself out of this.

The suitcase shakes as it goes over a few bumps, and I hear her talking to someone, but I can't make out what she's saying. I'm soon lifted into the air before I'm put down again, and I think that I've been thrown into the trunk of a car. She does me the curtesy of unzipping the suitcase a smidge so I can breathe, but besides that, I'm treated like a bag of useless groceries as I hear the engine of the car.

My entire world is taken over by darkness, my stomach filled with fear. That's the only thing I can feel.

Where is she taking me? Where is Lester? Is she using me as bait to lure him to her or does she just plan to kill me and be done with it?

I stay awake for what must be hours. I don't know how much of the drug she has given me, but there is no improvement at all. I'm still numb when the trunk eventually opens and she zips the suitcase back up before she hoists me out of the car, dragging me somewhere.

Pretty blue eyes stare down at me as she unzips the suitcase. She takes me out of it, dragging me over the floor by my numb arms. My eyes bounce all over the space, trying to take in where the hell she's taken me to.

It looks recognizable somehow―a large, decaying barn, with slight peeks of sunlight shining through the pointed rooftop. Scattered planks and ladders clutter the place, and I can smell mold from rotting wood.

She deposits me somewhere in the middle, and I blink away my tears when I lie there helpless in a large circle of dried blood. It has seeped deep into the floor, looking like it must have been there for years.

I know why I recognize this place. It's because I've seen it on the news, years ago. I've also drawn it in my sketchbook. And recently, I saw it on a polaroid in Lester's secret room.

It's one of his kill locations.

1972. The murder of Warren Albrecht.

Fuck me in the fucking earholes. That means we're all the way in Montgomery, Alabama.

"H―ho―" I try to speak but fail. After a few more tries, I manage to choke out, "H-how―did―did you do it?"

She lets out a humorless laugh as she reaches for a rope on the ground. "It wasn't even that hard. I walked right past Lester, holding the hand of a little kid. Her mom went to the bathroom and left her with me―the nice lady she'd been talking to for the past thirty minutes. Lester doesn't know what I look like now, and I suppose he was on the lookout for single women only. I sat a few rows behind you in the plane, and you had no clue."

"W―why? You―you'll break his heart―" I gasp, "―if―if you kill me."

She crowds over my body and starts binding my arms with rope. "He broke mine, too. I waited for him all those years, thinking that he would come to save me. But he never did."

"He―he thought you were dead. Said he―he saw you die."

"That's why I don't blame him for it." She continues tying the jute ropes. "I thought I was dead, too, that night. But I wasn't, and that's when my hell truly started. Everything before that was nothing in comparison."

I know that she's trying to kill me and all, but I can't help but feel a sharp stab of pain in my heart as I imagine what she must have been through. If whatever happened to her afterward was worse than the stories Lester told me about their time together, it must have been something too awful to even comprehend.

"Wh―why did you take me here?" I ask, and with every word I speak, I seem to be able to talk better.

"Because I want him to come find me. Duh ." She rolls her eyes, tucking a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear.

"But why this place specifically?"

She finishes tying my arms and gets up from the floor, throwing the ends of the ropes over a large wooden beam before she hoists me up. My arms are spread wide, then secured on either side of the beam, my toes scraping over the bloody floor as I hang there limply.

"I just wanted to get him away from Desdemona Hill," she says. "I chose Alabama because it's one of the closest states to North Carolina, from his murder log."

I frown. "But how did you know I was flying to Florida?"

"I didn't. It was just a coincidence that worked out in my favor. It's only a six-hour drive between Jacksonville and Montgomery. I knew he would try to get you out of the city, so I followed you to the airport. When I saw you head to the gate for Jacksonville, I made accommodations there. Even had a car waiting for me at the airport."

"How will Lester know to find me here?" I ask, and I can tell that she's getting tired of my constant questioning.

"I left him a clue. It won't be long till he gets here. In the meantime, we'll have some fun. Do you remember how he staged this kill?" she asks, grabbing a knife from the pocket of her bellbottom jeans.

Tears flood out of my eyes, my vision turning blurry when I know exactly what she's planning.

Warren Albrecht was skinned alive. First his legs, the flaps of skin held apart with strong threads that were secured to the opposite sides of the barn. All done slowly, to give him the worst pain possible as he slowly woke up from the same drug that paralyzes me right now.

In all of Lester's staged kills, the notion that he's fascinated by the human body is clear. He likes opening them up and studying human anatomy. That's exactly what Rosemary must be planning to do to me as well.

Mr. Albrecht's entire face was skinned, too, some sections done so deeply that you could see parts of his skull, and his eyes were plucked out. Lester changed the corpse's position so his hands were in front of his face and he stitched the eyeballs onto the tips of his thumb and forefinger. It kind of made him look like he was in the praying position.

I can't stand the thought that Lester might see me that way. It would destroy him.

I'm terrified, and I can only hope that he will get here in time. Because I can't leave this world yet. I have so much left to do, to accomplish. I need to make up with Dad, tell him that I forgive him. I want my mom to hold me and tell me everything will be okay. I want to be with my uncles and the dogs.

I have too much to be grateful for. They can't have given me this perfect life only for me to be killed, right?

None of them would survive it. They would all die, just like me.

That can't happen.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when my brown corduroy pants are pulled down and taken off, until all that remains is my white underwear. It's Lester's favorite―white cotton with little red embroidered roses on it.

More tears spill from my eyes. I still can't feel anything, but I know that now that I'm able to talk again, the feeling in my limbs will return soon.

"Lester will never forgive you for this," I spit out. "Whatever happened to you that made you this way, I'm really fucking sorry for it. But it doesn't excuse anything that you're doing right now."

"He will." She smooths a hand over the skin on the inside of my thigh I carved into weeks ago. It's still healing. "Lester is just as dead inside as I am. He wouldn't be able to kill so many people over the years if he wasn't. He'll forget you eventually."

"You're wrong about him," I choke out as I hear the knife digging into my flesh. "Lester feels things even more deeply than others. He's not dead inside. He's sensitive and kind. But only to the people who deserve it." I try to not let the sound of my flesh literally being sliced off my body distract me. "He might grant you mercy if you stop this. If you continue, I can guarantee you that he won't hesitate to slit your fucking throat."

"You can try to stop me all you want with your meaningless threats," she answers, looking up at me with a manic look in her hooded eyes.

I didn't get the chance to get a good look at her yet, but now that I do, it's like I can see all the years of abuse and torture written on her face. There are permanent frown lines on her forehead, the ones you get when you cringe from pain. The corners of her full, pink lips seem to be permanently faced down, as if there's not even one slight possibility of her ever smiling again. Her cheeks are hollow, her long hair framing her face.

Even through all of this, I can still see that she's beautiful.

She rubs the back of her hand over her forehead, and it's instantly painted bright red from my blood. Continuing to carve away my flesh, she lifts an eyebrow. "You might be crazier than I thought. Did you seriously carve both of your initials into your leg?"

I don't answer her and she lets out a terrifying laugh as she continues. "It doesn't matter anyway. Chipmunk will be here just in time to watch me kill you."