Same Place, Missing Person

               The sweet smell of melted chocolate awakens me from my slumber. Another wonderious dream quickly dissolves before I can remember or truly appreciate such a dream. I roll over and nearly fall off of my old corduroy loveseat. I blink hard and rub my right eye. The blurs and swirls of colors soon shape into my living room. I look around the room to find an open box of chocolates sitting upon the coffee table in the direct light of the early morning sun. I slowly sit up and wipe away the saliva from the corner of my mouth. As I stand up, the wooden floor boards creek. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, then coming from the other side of the house I hear the clicking of paws hitting the floor. I open my eyes just in time to see an old basset hound come running out of my bedroom to meet me. I lean down to him and russle his ears, he replies to me with a sneeze. I gave him a little smile then headed towards the kitchen. As I walked I could feel his little head rubbing against my pajama bottoms, I took it as a form of affection though his intentions may have been to simple wipe away the mucus from his face after he sneezed.

 The house was old and creaked quite often and she probable needed a good paint job as well. I sighed as I entered the kitchen. I turned on the light and looked at all the mixed matched appliances.  An orange refrigerator, a lime green toaster with a cartoon head on the side, an old fashion stove, cedar wood cupboards and a stainless steel sink. I rubbed my neck and let out a yawn. I waked over to the cupboard and pulled out a loaf of bread. I selected two pieces and placed them in the toaster. As I was putting the rest of the bread away the phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice still a little rusty. It was peculiar to have such an early morning phone call.

“Hello, is Jonna there?” the voice was of that of a woman.

“No, I’m sorry. But Jonna has been gone for about a month now.” I replied. So I guess she was looking for mom.

“Is this Nlytak ( Nill-tac )?” she asked.

“Its pronounced Nie, like lie and with a slient k. Nlytak ( night ).

“Of course.., anyways its Caroline Edgars, from West Quest insurance. Please get your mother to phone me. She should know the number.”  She sounded almost like a recording.

“Excuse me, But how did you know my name if you’re just an insurance lady.” I replied with a sense of insecurity. That sort of thing seems kind of weird if she knew the way my name was spelt. I could understand if she knew my name and could pronounce it right.

“Oh… Well I was over seeing your mother’s will and it states that her daughter Nlytak inherits everything in case of disaster.” Her voice was quiet and measly, “Just tell your mother to call me.”

After that she hung up. That’s odd. I guess I’ll write down her message, but I don’t know when or if I’ll hear from mom.

My mother works for an agency to which she can’t tell anyone what she does. When people used to ask her she would often lie and say something like she was a night janitor or she was a waitress in some chain restaurant. She would always make it so no one would suspect her or if they tried to catch her working it would next to impossible to even start. I don’t know a single living soul who knows what my mother does for a living. Even when my parents were together she refused to tell my father what she was doing. And to a child, and most likely to my father as well it seemed my mother was cheating on my dad.

She was always gone for weeks at a time and would never call. And when she finally got back she acted like nothing happen. As if she only went to the store for a couple of hours. Eventually this caused my father to end it with my mother. He wanted to take me with him to his new home, and have full custody of me. But for some weird reason my mother also wanted custody of me. I honestly just wanted to be with my father. For the ten years leading up to that day, it was my father who was a constant in my life. However the court went into favor with my mother. To this day I have no idea why they did, throughout the entire hearing I cried saying I wanted my father. But alas I was given to my mother. And if that wasn’t hard enough for a ten year old girl, I wasn’t even allowed to visit my father. However I thought that maybe my mother would stick around with me, however all she did was buy an old house, hired a nanny and got me a dog.  I would call my dad every day and end up crying on the phone.  Though my nanny was kind, she didn’t compare to my father. Then on my twelfth birthday my mother came home for an entire month. I was so happy, the longest time she had spent with me before that was a week. However right before she left again she fired my nanny. I was completely alone, well except of Oliver (my basset hound). So for the past five years I have learned that I can’t just cry about my sorrows, I need to use them to make me stronger. Though I still call my dad at least once every second day.

 “Hey, did you hear? There was a woman found dead at a public subway station bathroom, the one on Third Avenue. Apparently, she was splattered everywhere, they’re trying to do an autopsy, however it looks like there was multiply weapons used. That would be the twenty-third murder this year.” He spoke with a bit of a catch in his throat. “It looked like she suffered a lot… But I guess you have to prepare yourself for things like this when you enter this sort of job.” He said while starting to walk away.  A body splattered in a bathroom. I reached for my camera.

 “Hey, Edinburg! My friend was going on the subway last night. I’m going down there to check and she’s alright. Cover for me ok.” I said as I walked through the crowded office. If it was her, how would I react? I went out onto the street, cars whizzed by. I waved my hands, trying to grasp the attention of a fellow worker. Sargent Mary Lanoge, and I made our way down to the cop cars. I took the passenger seat while she took the wheel.

 “Where’s the location?” she asked, while pulling out of the driveway.

 “The Subway station, on Third Avenue.” I replied. Please, oh please let it not be her.  When we arrived, we found the station to be crowded with cops investigators, journalists, and civilians. I entered the policed taped building. Getting in was no problem, with my badge. However it was to find the will power in myself to enter the area.  I approached the woman’s washroom and held my breath. The room was soaked in the reds of the young lady. The woman was not my friend however I did know her. My heart fell upon seeing her face.  She was one of my fellow classmates back in high school. Her beautiful blonde hair was clumped in her own blood. Her body was torn, burned, scratch, and gouged. Her torso and head lay upon the cold floor by the sink; however her arms were chopped and flung around the room.  The smell of her blood and burned flesh filled the room.  I approached the lifeless corpse. Her face was paralyzed in fear and pain. Tied around her mouth there was a green scarf it seemed that the murderer or murderers had gaged her so no one would hear. Her eyes were staring out, the right eye dazzled blue, like they did when we were in school, however the left had eight-balled. How twisted was this “man” do to something like this? What did she do to deserve this? My thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar voice. 

“Miss, you are going to have to leave now. We already have had photographs taken.” I turned around to see an intimating police officer. His arms crossed across his chest, it looked as if he was going to kill me. 

“I’m so sorry, I knew this woman before… so I…” I could feel a tear cascade along my cheek.  The man’s expression turned from intimating to sympathy quickly.

 “It’s fine miss, however we are only permitting the investigators.”

               I went home after that, I called Edinburg and told him that I was taking a sick day. The house was completely empty. I walked down the foyer admiring the wedding photos of Carter and myself. To think we have already been married for two years. Where does time go? I entered my storage room and pulled out my old high school yearbooks. Sandra Rancliff, class of 2009, prom queen. 

“So it was Sandra…” I mumbled to myself.  Sandra wasn’t the most liked of people among the girls at our school, was revenge? The different scenarios and reasons raced through my mind.  However the opening of a door distracted my thoughts.

                I entered the foyer to meet the “stranger”, “Hello?” I asked. I waited a moment before looking to see who it was.

“You’re home early.” Said a man while taking off his shoes.

“So are you.” I said happily. The man walked towards me and entered into the light, and I could see the beautiful face of my beloved. A wave of worry swepted over his face. He reached out and touched my face,

“Have you been crying?” he asked. Carter is an excelling person, who is extremely attractive, extremely intelligent, and has many wonderful talents.  I shook my head,

“The woman who was slaughtered last night, was a classmate from my high school. Carter pulled me in close to him, and I hear his heartbeat.

“Darling, who was it?” he asked in a soft tone. I looked up at his sad face as I replied.

 “Sandra Rancliff…” his expression changed drastically.

“Isn’t that the woman, who caused you so much pain? Didn’t she encourage your depression, and told you to die!” his words were full of furry. “How can you be so sad over someone you hate!” I stood in shock.

 “I can still cry for those, who didn’t for me. That is how humanity stays intact. I don’t understand. Why are you acting this way?” halfway through my sentence, Carter had left the room. It was unusual of him to act in such a manner. On a normal day he would have held me, and mourned. But why did he get angry for? That night my mind was filled of gore and turmoil.

               I found myself walking along Third Avenue. It was dark and the city streets were polluted in light. As I walked past the subway station I heard a scream.  It rang like church bells, echoing throughout my entire body. I ran inside to see what had happen. The station was full of people, but no one made a sound. I watched as people went about their business. But all I could hear was the high scream of someone being tortured. I covered my ears, but the shrieking continued. It was getting louder and louder. People looked at me as if I were insane. Their cold lifeless eyes, judging me. Then at that moment a stir of hate and competent, arouse in my heart.

 I came to the conclusion that I, yes I, hated everyone in this station, everyone in this city, everyone, in this country, everyone in this world! I wanted them to stop everything, and just die! Yes die! Then in the mists of my internal rampage, I saw Carter, the only one person in this universe I didn’t want to be hurt. The only one who would or could stop my desires. He looked over at me and smiled. However his smile was not like the ones he gives me in the morning, this smile was one of pity. Enraged I attempted to run towards him. But he was just out of reach; I followed him until we had reached the woman’s washroom. The police tape was still on the door, however when I peered inside, the washroom was completely clean. The witch of my childhood had been mopped up, and the room was “pure”.

 I turned my attention back to Carter. I looked at him trying to remember, what had attracted him to me in the first place…, yes it was his shimmering green eyes, those eyes had made me say “hello” to him three years ago. However today, his eyes weren’t green; they were a deep brown color. I don’t know why but the change of color in my lover’s eyes had caused me a great scare. He turned to look at me and gave me another smile. I fell to the floor, stilling hearing that awful scream. Carter pulled out a yellow scarf out of his jacket pocket, and approached an older woman. She seemed so familiar, I stared at the woman till I realised that the woman was my old neighbor, Mrs. Quan.

 When I was younger she used to babysit me while my parents were away. The woman treated me horribly and often beat me for no reason. Once in a fit of rage cause by her intemperance, she hit my ear so hard that I lost all hearing from that ear, it took years for me to even get a small fragment of my  hearing back. She told me to tell my parents that I just got into a fight at school. Both a classmate and I were suspended from that elementary school, because of it. And my parents never treated me the same way ever again. How I loathed that woman.

 Carter continued toward the woman, she smiled and it seemed that they were talking, then Carter whispered into her ear., and her expression changed instantly. I slowly followed them into the woman’s washroom. Then and only then did the scream stop. But an even more disturbing sound replaced it. The sound of a blade entering flesh, the splashing of blood hitting the floor, I ran into lavatory to see a half-dead Mrs. Quan and the man I devoted my love to.  She lay there upon the cold floor, almost exactly where Sandra did lie the day before. She whimpered in pain, I had never felt this kind of fear.  Her left ear had been cut off. I placed my hand over my own. Is he getting revenge for me? I leaned up against the wall in terror. Once again I found myself staring at the woman, not only was her ear missing but it seemed she was also stabbed in the forehead. The switch blade still was imbedded in her.  My throat felt like it was closing, and I was shaking like a Chihuahua. Then Carter turned to see me, those cold brown eyes stared at me. It’s not him! It can’t be him! He smiled, and then he reached out his hand, a hand that was coated in dark reds of his victim. He looked so content with his sin. He looked so demonic, not even human anymore! My gaze fell upon Mrs. Quan again; she was torn apart, swimming in her own blood. I gaged as the smell overwhelmed me.  When my vision returned to Carter, he was much closer, knife in hand with that pitiful smile.  Every second seemed to last an hour, and with every passing moment Mrs. Quan suffered more and more, Carter got closer and closer, and I couldn’t move at all.  I could hear my own heartbeat, the howls of his victims, and the small chuckle of my insane beloved. I fell to the floor looking up at him. He wore his victim’s blood like a soldier wears a metal; with pride and a love for what he did. I stood directly in front of me. His feet touched my own. His bloodlust full brown eyes stared at me; he dropped his knife and kneeled down. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small hand gun. He placed the end of the barrel at my throat, it chocked me.  My lips quivered and tears rolled down my face.

 “Don’t worry, I won’t cause you anymore pain…” his voice was echoed and sinister. I closed my eyes as he pulled the trigger.