Authors: Lourdes Bernabe
And then
Casey pushed me forward and I fell face first into the sand. It wasn’t a hard push. It was a light little shove. Casey had just wanted to play. But I hated playing with her. I wiped the sand off my face and looked at her confused.
“Let’s go play hide and seek,” she said smiling.
“I don’t like that game,” little me said.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she suggested again.
“Nah,” I said. I didn’t really like hide and seek. There weren’t very many places to hide in the park anyway. The class had already dispersed and little kids were running around in different directions. Everyone was having fun. But I really didn’t like playing with Casey. She was too bossy. I’d seen a lot of kids from our class go home all teary-eyed after playing with her. She’d make you do things you didn’t want to and get you in trouble just so she could watch. I was better off staying away.
I turned around and kept on playing in the sand and she just kept on yapping away. I tried to tune her out as I continued with my sand castle, but she had such a high-pitched voice. She just kept going on and on and something inside of me went off. Maybe it
was
the extreme high pitch of her voice. Perhaps, it was the way her face contorted with every word that flew out of her mouth. It didn't matter. They were unimportant details now.
To this day I remember the anger building up in me. The adrenaline rushed so quickly through my veins. There had been a part of me that held me back. It tried to subdue the urge. But the other part was just too strong. My anger as a child was not a force to be reckoned with. I’d seen other angry children. I wasn’t the only one.
Yap yap yap yap. It just wouldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. If only she had just stopped yapping. Casey might have been alive today. Maybe I wouldn’t have become what I eventually became. Life was full of what ifs. I wouldn’t dwell on them for long.
Casey awoke a monster inside of me. Before I could rationalize and clear out my thoughts I had her head in my two tiny hands. I grabbed her from behind and snapped her neck. It was so quick.
So painless. So easy. Too easy.
Just like I’d seen in the movies, I thought. Except this was not a movie and it was much easier than I could have anticipated.
She didn’t even have time to struggle. No screaming. Nothing at all. Finally, the yapping had stopped. I shut her up. I expected to have to use more strength, but my tiny body seemed to exert more power than I ever knew was possible. Casey's lifeless body dropped to the ground.
Everything went still. I didn’t mean on the outside. I could still hear the birds chirping and the other animals fidgeting in the trees and grass. But inside of me, everything went quiet. It was as if I was at peace. I calmly watched the other children playing and the adults chatting by the playground. I never could quite describe the calm after a kill. It was disarming. It was – bliss. Life and death came together for a brief moment as one.
I left little Casey's body there and rejoined the rest of the class. Her body was found a few hours later while they were doing a final head count on the bus and realized that we were missing a head.
"Where's Casey? Has anyone seen Casey?" my panic stricken teacher asked. Everyone could see the desperation mounting in Ms. Kepner’s eyes as the minutes passed by and Casey still had not been seen.
After they found her body on the tiny sand bed by the lake, they brought all the children back to the school where they questioned us all. Questioning children was somewhat different than interrogating adults. The police officers had to be careful not to frighten us. I wasn't scared though. I simply restated what I heard all the other children saying.
It should have been difficult. Lying about her death should have tugged at my core, at least a little. Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t. I felt nothing. I was happy not to have to hear her voice anymore. I wouldn’t have to see her bullying the other kids anymore. Not that I cared really. I didn’t hate her. I didn’t love her either. I just didn’t care.
No, I hadn't seen anyone looking suspicious lingering around the lake.
I answered the police’s question’s dutifully.
No, I didn't see her go anywhere. She was there one minute and the next she was gone.
At that young age, no one expected us to remember anything of importance. They never did suspect any of the children of any wrong doing.
They probably assumed it was a kidnapping gone bad. Someone had tried to take poor Casey and when it didn’t work they killed her. That was the story the police came up with. There wasn’t any other evidence to go on. There were a lot of people in the park that day. No one saw anything and so there was nothing else to be done.
I wasn't sure how I got away with it back then. How did I continue to get away with murder today? Maybe, it was the fact the Casey was killed in such a cold -blooded way. Sometimes children have accidents. But it wasn’t an accident. And no one could have suspected that I, a child, could have committed such a vicious murder and with such intent.
But I would always remember Casey Cooper. She was my first kill and you just didn’t forget your first time.
"Jolene? Jolene?" My parents sat there staring at me.
My parents repeated my name over and over till it brought me back to the present.
"Yeah, sorry. I was just trying to recall Casey. Nope. I just don't remember," I lied.
"You were so traumatized. You probably repressed the memory honey," said my father. "It's probably for the best that you don't remember the whole ordeal." He kept on chewing and shoving more and more food into his mouth. I affixed my eyes down onto my own plate. I could feel my mother looking down at me. Watching.
My mother was the most difficult person in the world for me to try to fool. She could see the lies before they left my lips.
Like she could see the lie forming from the wrinkles in my forehead. If she suspected something queer though, she didn’t let it be known.
"Yeah, you're probably right dad," I agreed finishing up the rest of my meal.
But the memory of Casey stayed with me long after my parents left and long after Eric came and went as well. Reliving that day made it almost real. Like I had only killed her a few hours earlier. I should have been feeling remorse. I knew what was considered right and what was considered wrong. But remorse was somewhere far off. I was thinking happy thoughts.
Chapter 11
The week flew by without any resistance. Here it was Thursday, and the prior days provided nothing of any importance. Work was work and home was home. I hadn’t received any other unsettling notes. Everything remained unscathed.
Eric, like any good boyfriend, had sensed something was up and continued to hound me with his questions.
What’s wrong honey? I can tell something’s on your mind. Anything you want to talk about?
His questions went on and on but my response was always the same refusal to acknowledge that anything was amiss.
Nope, nothing’s wrong. Everything’s peachy keen.
I should have tried harder to lie a little better but my mental resources went toward figuring out who had sent me those little black notes.
I still hadn’t thought of anything.
Paul's disappearance was still being broadcast. But only by the local news stations and they devoted only a snippet at the tail end of their hourly segments. There just wasn’t much interest in his case. Paul was definitely not headline news. It had been a week. Their case was ice cold. I felt confidant that once again, I got away with murder.
Yet, the usual satisfaction came without my usual delight. Yes of course, I got away with it. I always did. But this time, someone saw me. I had never, ever been seen or even suspected of any wrong doing at any point in time in my life.
It's as if for the first time, I was being stripped down to bare naked nothingness. I encountered a new set of emotions that had lain dormant inside of me for so long. Embarrassment, shame, fear, anger, annoyance and I dare say most of all, insecurity.
Insecurity really rattled my cage. It was not an emotion I often identified with. Could I be so bold as to say never? Never say never they say, as never often comes too soon. I was accustomed to feeling nothing. Numb beyond despair. But that insecure feeling, that of not knowing what exactly this stranger saw, had me constantly looking over my shoulder. But killing removed the numbness inside of me. I could actually feel. Feeling something was better than feeling nothing. Would I dare to kill again so soon? The itch was there. Would I be so bold as to scratch it? No. I’d better not.
And here I was, insecurity runneth over now. If ever there was a time to begin feeling insecure, I suppose now was the time. I was being exposed to a multitude of dangers.
Right here though, on my big gray ridiculously comfy yet ridiculously expensive couch, calmness began to take over. I sat with my knees clutched to my chest staring into the all consuming wall. I stared at the wall as all of those thoughts flooded at me a million miles a minute, or so it seemed. The thoughts just wouldn't stop coming...eventually, I passed out.
...Running...running fast. running faster than I ever thought possible. I was running for my life. I couldn’t stop. My Lungs burned from exhaustion. My legs grew heavy with every stride. I began to slow down. I was slowing down too much. I couldn't keep up the pace. He would catch me. "Oh my God," I panicked. I couldn't stop but I could not go on.
I closed my eyes. I could feel him come near. This was it. This was the end for me...
And suddenly I was in a dark room. Pitch black except for the tiniest sliver of light emanating from the bottom of a closed door. I fondled clumsily for the handle. Finally, I grasped the knob and slowly opened the door. I took a step and peered through the darkness. Two people lay there sound asleep in their plush queen sized bed. The dark fluffy pillows and blankets obscured my vision.
I crept up slowly towards the head of the bed. One toe in front of the other, I moved weightlessly to avoid making a sound. It hit me there, hard. That coppery smell. The kind you didn’t smell too often, but then it hit you and you knew almost instantly what it was. Blood. There was no mistaking it. Suddenly, dizzying and unsettling nausea took over me. My hands shot straight up to my mouth to mute my own shrill cries.
There lay my parents in what initially appeared to be a serene, peaceful night's rest. What I had thought were dark patterns on their pillows and blankets were dark red matted blots of blood. Blood everywhere. It was in their hair, on their faces. Blood had spattered onto the wall behind their bed and onto the floor. Petrified still, I could see thick gashes on their throats where they had been slashed. They’d been slashed in the same fashion that I had delighted in providing for my own victims.
Was this me?
Did I do this? Why? And how could I not remember?
The phone rang. I suddenly woke to find my iphone blaring my latest ringtone at a deafening volume. Eric - thank God. Even from afar, he pulled me away from my own insanity-ridden mind.
"Hello," I said rather hoarsely.
It was obvious he had woken me up.
"Hey babe, did you just wake up?" he asked. Guess it wasn’t obvious.
"Yeah, actually, uh, just woke me up from a nightmare," I replied. "It was really creepy." More than creepy really but he needn’t know more.
"Well then it's a good thing I called,” he said. God he was so cheerful. I hated it that he was so cheerful.
"Sure is. What's up?" I asked. I was sure he had called to discuss more than a Freudian - like discussion on what my night terror could mean. Did it point to a more disturbing part of my psyche that I had yet to explore? Anything was possible. Maybe I should see a shrink. Hah. Not likely.
My new-found insecurity had weaseled its way into my dreams and decided to torture my defenseless sleeping mind.
"I think we should go out tonight," he said. "Everybody's heading down to Lana. I think it'll be fun."
I begged to differ. Clubbing was the last thing I wanted to do tonight. I wanted to order some type of super fattening take out and watch a movie. The last thing I wanted to do was put on make-up and wear 6-inch heels that would torture my poor soles an hour after I put them on. Not to mention, the unbelievably uncomfortable short dress I’d be expected to wear.
"Ehh.. I don't think I feel up to it tonight." I stated blankly. "I'm feeling like a bum right now and I'm not in the mood to wear painful shoes and getting wasted."
"Come on please...for me babe," he pleaded. "We haven't had a night out in so long. I'm starting to feel old."
I hated to admit it but, he was right. I'd been turning him down a lot lately. A lot more than usual. I was stressed out. I was growing tired of my own pitiful excuses. It would only be a matter of time before Eric and the rest of our friends would stop asking all together. Which wouldn't really be a problem since then I could stop trying to come up with new excuses for not wanting to go out. Either way, I owed Eric. I had to give in every now and then.
Extremely loud obnoxious music blared from the apartment next door and I sighed. I could stay home and listen to crappy music or I could go out and listen to equally crappy music coupled with overpriced alcohol. The choice suddenly seemed obvious.
I would have to acquiesce for Eric's sake and my own. It would be cruel of me to constantly avoid spending time with him. He deserved more love and attention than I was currently supplying. He deserved more of me. I deserved peace and quiet but I would relinquish my needs tonight in favor of his.
"Ok ok," I complied. "I'll get dressed. Be here in two hours and you better look good." I ran through his wardrobe in my head and frowned.
"And don't try to look like a pimp! I hate when you do that shit!" I playfully shouted into the phone before I hung up.
Time to clean up.
-------
Two hours later, there was Eric. Punctuality was one of the aspects of Eric I loved most. He rang my doorbell, oozing with excitement. I rang him in and as I watched him coming up the stairs I was relieved to see he managed to pull off a decent outfit. He looked good. Really good. Sweet Jesus, if only we had time for a quickie before we left. But I knew there was no time.
I took one final look in the mirror. My long black hair laid pin straight down my back, just the way I liked it. I didn't have much tolerance for any bright colors tonight and so it was moments like these that little black dresses came in handy. Little black dresses or more commonly known as LBD's to women across the world, would forever be in style and could be called upon on any occasion. Funerals, work occasions, clubbing, you name it and you could get away with wearing one of these. This was perfect considering I lacked imagination when it came to style.