Spoiler
I orginally wrote this for a contest but I wound up really liking it. I had to keep it under 2000 words though which is why it doesn't go as in depth as it could.
Tell me what you think! (It looks longer than it really is because of all the dialogue by the way...)
It was a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun streamed through the glass, lighting up the kitchen as I made breakfast. I smiled to myself as I flipped a chocolate chip pancake. Sarah’s favorite. She would be so happy. Odd that she wasn’t up yet.
“Sarah?” I called out, heading down the hall, a plate of pancakes in hand.
No answer.
“Sarah, honey,” I began, pushing open the door to her room. “I made break—”
The plate fell from my hand, shattering on the hard wood floors.
“Sarah!” I screamed, rushing toward her. My mind told me it was too late. There was too much blood, too big a hole in her beautiful skull. But my heart would not listen.
I crawled onto the bed with her and pulled her onto my lap, rocking her as I held her broken skull. As I rocked her, tears streamed down my face, falling and mixing with the blood that covered my poor baby. It coated her sheets and her Daytona High School Track sweatshirt. It stained her hair and speckled her face, and try as I might, my tears would not wash it away.
At some point I remembered to call the police. And then I stayed with my baby in my arms, swaying to the rhythms of my mumbled prayers until someone took me away.
There were yellow ribbons and staring people surrounding my house. Flashing lights persisted.
Some people put me in a car and drove me to a building where they gave me clean clothes then took me to a cold room. They asked me questions, then poked and prodded me. They told me I couldn’t leave town; they told me they would call me if they found anything.
Finally they asked, “Do you have somewhere you can stay for a while? With family maybe?”
And I answered, “I have no family. But I have another house that I rent out.”
“Good, we’ll have an officer take you there.”
Surprisingly, I fell asleep quickly that night, but my slumber was plagued by nightmares. There was blood everywhere, drowning me. I opened my mouth into a silent scream and it spilled in, choking me so that I was gagging on the metallic-tasting liquid. I flailed madly, panic rising.
And then I saw her: my darling Sarah, smiling at me.
I swam toward her, relief flooding my veins with every breath she took. Just as I was about to reach her, there was a loud noise. I flinched, closing my eyes.
When I opened them again, the blood was gone.
But Sarah was there, lying in front of me with a hole in her forehead. She stared up at me lifelessly.
“Sarah!” I heard myself cry out, tears coming to my eyes again.
“What’s the matter, Mommy?” I heard from behind me.
I turned to see Sarah. But not the teenage one I had known. This was the seven year old Sarah. She looked up at me through her long-lashed brown eyes, so beautiful and innocent.
“Why are you crying, Mommy?”
“Sarah, honey, come here!” I called to her, holding out my arms.
She just cocked her head to the side and asked again: “Why are you crying, Mommy?”
“Sarah, honey, COME HERE! Please, honey, come to mommy.” I begged.
But she just whispered, “Why are you crying, Mommy? It’s just me.”
And with that she vanished.
“SARAH!” I screamed out.
“It’s just me,” I heard again as arms shook me. “Rachel, it’s just me, Tom. Wake up.”
I sat up. “Tom?” I muttered.
“Rachel, I know what happened to Sarah.”
“Tom, we have to find her!” I realized, climbing out of bed.
“No, Rachel. You can’t. Sarah’s gone.” He said, holding on to me.
“No, she’s just lost. That’s why we have to find her!” I tried to get around him. “Let go of me, Tom! Let go!” I was screaming by now but I didn’t care. “Let go! We have to find her! We have to!”
“Rachel, stop! Just stop.” He held me still, looking me in the eyes, searching for something.
I stopped moving.
“Rachel, Sarah is dead.”
And then the tears came again, flowing long and hard.
“Rachel?” Tom called, racing after me. “Rachel, could you please slow down? Or at least tell me where you’re going?”
I ignored him, ducking under the yellow CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION: DO NOT CROSS tape that surrounded my house.
“Uh, Rachel, I’m pretty sure that’s illegal...”
Still ignoring him, I unlocked the door and made my way toward my bedroom. I hesitated for a moment outside of Sarah’s room but pushed on. Once in my bedroom, I pulled back the huge Oriental rug that covered the oak-paneled floors.
“What are you doing? You’re tampering with a crime scene!”
I pushed on one of the panels and a huge section popped out, revealing my safe beneath it. I punched in the combination—Sarah’s birthday—and the door creaked open. Smiling, I reached in and pulled out my Colt Anaconda.
“Jesus, that’s a big gun. Rachel? Rachel, what are you planning on doing with that?”
“Tom, go home. I’m sorry I invaded your space last night. I forgot you were still living there. I’ll get a hotel room for tonight, ok? Just go home. I don’t need you taking care of me anymore.” I said, heading for the door.
“Yes you do! I’m not leaving until you tell me what you’re planning. Rachel, talk to me!” He grabbed my arm.
I whirled around to face him, shoving the barrel into his chest. “Do NOT tell me what to do” I warned.
He held up his hands in surrender. I headed down the sidewalk. Tom followed
“Tom, you do not want to get involved in this. Go home.” Tom still followed.
“Tom, seriously. Go home.” Tom kept pace behind me.
“Fine!” I screamed in frustration. “Follow me. See if I care. Just know it’ll get messy.”
I slowed as I headed up the steps to Stacy Laurel’s house. Putting on my saddest face and hiding the Colt behind my back, I knocked.
She answered almost immediately.
“Oh, Rachel, honey. It’s you. I heard what happened. I’m so sorry. Here come in.”
And just like that, she let me into her house.
“Here, sit down. Let me get you something to drink. Lemonade okay? What is it you need? You can have anything you want.” She began heading to the kitchen.
“Actually, funny you should mention it,” I said, closing the door behind me and Tom and pulling out my gun, “but what I want is for you to close all the blinds and take a seat in this chair here.” I waved my gun towards an armchair.
Speechless, she did as I told her.
Then the questions began, full of false innocence and feigned confusion.
“Rachel,” came her choked voice, “why are you doing this?”
“Oh, I think you know why,” I responded with a smile.
“Rachel,” Tom spoke up from the side. “You really don’t want to do this.”
“Shut up, Tom! You don’t know what I want!” I yelled.
“Rachel, who are—” Stacy began again but I cut her off.
“SHUT UP!” I screamed, pointing the gun at her. “Shut up, you bitch! You have no say in anything that happens next. You were always jealous of her because she was so much better than your little pest, Lillian. I mean, how could Lillian ever succeed at anything? My Sarah beat her in academics, theatre, band, soccer. So you killed her. You killed Sarah. To give your little brat a chance. I know you did. And you know what? Now I’m going to kill you.” I smiled again.
“Wh-What?” stammered Stacy. “I didn’t. Rachel, please don’t do anything rash...”
“Tom, watch the door.” I spoke calmly.
“Rachel, listen to me. You don’t know she killed Sarah—”
“I SAID SHUT UP!” I screamed again, this time at Tom. “Go watch the door.”
He went to stand in front of the door, but he kept talking.
“Seriously, Rachel. She didn’t kill Sarah. She doesn’t deserve to die.”
“Tom, stop talking and watch the door. You don’t know anything.”
“I do know something: I know who really killed Sarah!”
“But, Stacy here,” I continued as if Tom hadn’t spoken, “knows. She knows what she did. And I think she knows now that she’ll have to pay for her sins. For the wager for sin is death.”
I pulled back the hammer of the Anaconda, cocking it into place. Then I began to laugh. “Actually, I guess you could say the wager for death is death...” My finger tightened on the trigger.
“Rachel MacKinnon, freeze!” I heard from behind me. “Put the gun on the ground and step away slowly.”
“Never!” I shouted. I had no intention of letting her go free after what she’d done, but I did relax my grip on the trigger as I looked around. There were so many, all with guns.
Guns pointed straight at me.
“What are you doing? Why are you pointing those at me?”
“Rachel, put the gun down. Now,” one of them ordered.
I looked around helplessly.
“Do it,” Tom said from the corner.
“E tu Brute?” I asked softly.
“You know she didn’t do it, Rachel.”
“Really, Tom? Well, if she didn’t do it then who did?” I demanded.
“Rachel, who are you talking to?”came someone’s voice. I turned to see a new man, one who had no gun, or, at least none aimed at me.
I rolled my eyes. “To Tom, who else?”
Turning back to Tom, I said again “If she didn’t do it who did?”
“Rachel, listen to me” said the man without a gun. “My name is Detective O’Connell. I need you to just calm down for a second and listen to me.”
“Tom, who did it?” I said louder, ignoring this O’Connell man.
“Rachel, there’s no one there.”
“Tom, who killed her?” I was screaming by now but I didn’t care.
“Rachel, Tom doesn’t exist.”
“Tom, tell me right now! Who killed Sarah?”
“I think you know” came the whispered reply. But it didn’t come from Tom.
I whirled around to face the man. “I do know! It’s her! Stacy Laurel!”
The man shook his head sadly. “No, Rachel. Stacy didn’t kill Sarah. You did.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “You’re crazy! Tom, tell him he’s crazy.” I turned back around to face Tom but he wasn’t there.
“What did you do with him?” I asked angrily.
“Nothing. Rachel, Tom never existed. You made him up. To help you cope.”
“No I didn’t!”
“You did. You made him up to help you cope with Sarah’s death. Rachel, you killed her.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did. You tested positive for gunpowder residue at the station. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t,” I said again, but even as the words left my lips, I knew they were a lie. I could feel the truth, rushing back, engulfing me, bringing with it a flood of memories.
Sarah and I arguing... Me holding the gun... The sound of the shot... All the blood that followed it...
Tears streamed down my face.
“No, no, no...” I kept saying. I couldn’t have done it.
“Rachel, give me the gun,” Detective O’Connell commanded. Or could I have?
And suddenly, I was hit with one last memory. This one was of Sarah, looking up at me from where she lay on her bed. Her face was stricken with fear and tears rolled down her face.
“No, no, no...” I raised the gun, pushing the cold steel of the barrel to my temple.
“Rachel, put the gun down, please. Let’s talk about this.” He sounded a bit desperate but I barely heard him as I watched the memory replay in my mind.
Sarah looked at me, crying and afraid. “No, mom, please don’t” she pleaded.
“Why are you crying Sarah? It’s just me.” I said softly.
Then I pulled the trigger.
