There used to be six of us, but now I’m alone. Hunted off one by one: I’m running, and I don’t plan to get caught. The end of my life started a month ago when my mom went missing, and then we knew when she wasn’t missing anymore. She wasn’t missing because she was dead; gutted like a fish and left on our front lawn. My fourteen year-old brother, Jeremy was next. He had left to go play a pick up game of basketball with some friends, but then he didn’t come home. We hadn’t known then that we were being targeted, until he showed up like postage on the front lawn. Then there was Candice, fifteen, a future Homecoming Queen in the making. Same routine. You’d think my step dad and I would have been prepared when Lonnie, my twin brother, didn’t make it back to our hotel from work — but Dad and I were just as crushed.
Sleeping was no longer an option, not with the maimed faces of our loved ones burned onto the insides of our eyelids. Instead we stayed up watching slasher flicks, morbid but we thought in our own twisted way that it would help us pick up some tricks to staying alive. Not that we were really alive anymore; I don’t think anyone can truly be alive after seeing their loved ones dead, mutilated bodies.
They relocated Karl and I, again. We were told not to tell a soul where we were, and to leave as little as possible. The police hoped this would keep us safe; they should have known hope is for the children and walking corpses. The second night I went out with one of the officers to get take-out for us, and came home to the man who raised me, the last person I had left, dead. Now with just me left, the cops decided on a new approach; however so did I. I was going to start running.
It’s just me now, Chelsea Singer, but I wouldn’t dare to use that name anymore. I’m all alone in a sleazy motel, traitorous tears streaming down my face as I shuffle through my last worldly possessions. Brushing over my mom’s face my tears become angry; who would condescend to take another person’s life I could not fathom. Should they be caught I would make sure to walk up to his cage and spit in his face, because I would have won. Should he find me I would fight like hell because I refuse to let him complete his sick set.
The family in this picture is so innocent. I remember the day we took that photo in front of the beige model house, Lonnie kept messing up my hair to torture me, and Jeremy was crying because his first girlfriend had broken his heart. We were happy and normal, with a whole life ahead of us. I know I will never be that perfect preppy cheerleader again, as I grab the black hair dye I have mixed. Strip by strip I paint my golden locks black, dreaming of the days I spent at the beach tanning my skin and lightening my hair. All a waste now, my skin has paled with dark circles encroaching on my aged face.
That’s when I see her in the mirror, the perfect homecoming queen, tiara on top of blonde curls, “Fuck you.”
“Oh c’mon Chelsea, you need to talk.” She pouts fluffing her princess pink gown as she sits on the toilet.
“Not to some figment of my imagination I don’t. Nor do I need a constant reminder of who I was.” I’m shaking from the anger as I continue to laquer my hair. “Must be the fumes.” I mutter hoping she’ll disappear.
“It’s not like you have anyone else to talk to.” She sings in an icy tone. “Oh don’t be silly. Of course I’m not a ghost; it’s only natural given the trauma we’ve experienced that you’d have a break.” The queen’s sapphire eyes are filled with pain and sympathy as she stares up at the broken her. “Really though, black? We would never dye our hair black.” Finishing, I turn with a grave expression. “Then again I suppose you wouldn’t want to do what’s expected of you right now.”
“Seriously, fuck off. I need…we need to be another person. No matter how much it sucks, you’re dead now.” I laugh like I’m about to fall over the edge, “It’s funny in a way he did kill me. I mean look at me this isn’t Chelsea Singer anymore.”
The queen sighes taking the new me into her arms, “Well then boss, what’s your new name?” The comforting embrace though all in my head is exactly what I need to get through this, she’s all I have left after all.
“Crystal Henderson. I was born in Portland on December 12, 2000. I’m the only child to Barbara and Tom Henderson.” I tip her head in the sink rinsing out the black.
The queen’s hand remains rested on my, Crystal’s shoulder. “That sounded good. I’m surprised they let us be a year older though. Guess it helps us run faster.”
“It’s kind of nice to be someone else.” Brushing out the newly black mane I try to smile as Crystal, but it will never live up to Chelsea’s award-winning gaze.
“Hey and now we get to celebrate two birthdays…by ourselves.” Cringing the new me stretches her eyelids to pop in dull brown contacts. With no makeup, a loose black tee, and tight ripped black jeans I’m a new person. “No one will ever recognize us.” The queen announced her voice and body falling flat.
“Let’s go, we have to be in Portland by 2:00 pm, and the train leaves in 20 minutes.” Grabbing the beat-up backpack that I’d stolen from a thrift store, I throw in one photograph, a new ID, 3 black tees, 1 identical pair of pants, and $500 cash.
I’m completely on edge, ready to jump out of my skin as I twirl off the cap of a salt shaker; pouring out the contents onto a faux wood table I draw pictures in the grains. My body stiffens, my breath hitched as I hear a body slide into the booth across from me. Careful not to look up my black-stained finger draws a heart in the salt, fear creeping up from my toes.
“Now what is a pretty girl like you doing all alone in the dining cart?”
Slowly raising my eyes I take him in, lean, blonde, with a devilish smile. He was exactly my type, but the hairs on the back of my neck were standing taller than the Trump Tower. Everything makes me edgy lately, and it was almost impossible to distinguish if it was even valid anymore. “Just getting a snack before I go back to my family.” Aloof and straight to the point.
“What’s your name?” His head fell to the side, gazing directly into her contact-hidden eyes.
“Crystal.” Dammit I spoke too quickly he’s going to know I’m lying.
“Alright, well Crystal can I tell you something I observed?” He was leaning in mysterious and gorgeous it was impossible not to lean back even though every cell in my body screamed not to. I nod holding my breath. “I observed that you boarded the train completely alone.”
My body shot back in the booth. “Y-You were following me?” I choked, eyes darting for an escape. I could scream there were tons of people here.
His calm facade melted into horror shaking his head furiously, “No, no, no. Oh God no, I just noticed you as I was boarding and thought you were hot, I wasn’t trying to seem rapey I was trying to be smooth! You have that sad demeanor that says you’re interesting and vulnerable.” His head fell in his hands, and I started to laugh, the first genuine laugh in what seemed to be forever.
My body relaxed and rolling my eyes, I teased, “Well you came off probably as creepy as possible. I swear if you had just told me my blood type it could have been perfect.”
“I swear I’m not going to like murder you or anything, just trying to pick up a cute girl. My name is Clark by the way.” His innocent eyes betrayed everything I thought of the world, and I spent hours that felt like minutes talking to him. Being Crystal was freeing, and being 18 was opening a lot of doors at the moment.
He was walking me to my room when I blurted out, “There is no way we have this much in common.” I looped my arm through his. “How can I have gone my whole life with no one ever knowing who Andrew Jackson Jihad is and all of a sudden this stranger on a plane is their biggest fan? Is there anyway you aren’t perfect?”
“Well you know earlier when I said I wasn’t a murder? Yeah that was a lie I’m actually on the run from a double homicide.” His laugh was contagious as we stood in front of my cabin door. I waited hoping he would kiss me, until I remembered why I was on this train. My entire family was dead and here I was flirting with some random guy, real classy.
“Well, good night.”
I started to slip through the door as the queen clamoured, “No! You better kiss him. You deserve to live Chelsea!”
Biting my lip and deciding I would be living Crystal’s life to the fullest I spun around, grabbed his shirt, and kissed him. Our lips fit together like puzzle pieces falling into place. When we separated the electricity was too strong and we crashed back into one another; he pushed me through the door and with his mouth on my neck back against the closed door. His mouth left me to my dismay in the instant it took to strip away my shirt. I tangled my fingers in his coarse, sun bleached hair pulling it back to speak, “You better not go ripping my heart out.” He thrust his body back into mine.
Hours later curled up in bed I had the first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks. I was plagued by nightmares of ghosts, dead families, and psychopaths, but then something jarred me awake. With bleary eyes I kissed Clark, but he wasn’t moving; my hand trailed his chest, and fell into a cavity, only to come back sticky and wet. My heart raced as I suppressed a scream, and then something hit me on the back of the head.
Waking up for the second time that night I felt lethargic, unable to take in my surroundings, except the gag in my mouth.
“Good you’re finally awake, now we can have some fun.” I followed the sing song voice to a petite girl around my age, with deep red curls. “You look surprised. Am I not what you expected, Chelsea?” Her head tilted as she brought the hunting knife into view.
I struggled against my restraints, but all that did was create rope burns. There was no way this girl killed my family; she’s wearing a yellow and pink babydoll dress for god’s sake! Tears were running down my face, my body twisting in all directions as she crept closer.
I shut my eyes as she closed the gap, but still felt the knife slide into the bare skin on the left side of my abdomen, white hot pain filling my existence. Wailing past the gag I screamed, “Who are you?”
A wicked laugh erupted from her chest, that sadistic smile reaching her emerald eyes. “I’m so disappointed in you. I thought you would remember me, little miss perfect.” I stared at her in fury tears welling up in my eyes. The knife slid across my cheek. “That’s for not remembering me. You’ve hurt my feelings, really.” Again but deeper. “And that one’s for trying to hide from me.” Her voice was huskier, as if it had actually hurt her. “It’s Maggie by the way.”
My eyes grew to the size of saucers, Maggie from camp Chicaree from over 10 years ago! I hadn’t even known her well then, Lonnie, Candace, Jeremy, and I stuck together there.
Her cherry curls swung back and forth as she laughed, “Let me take those out for you. I want to see your eyes while I play.” Clenching them closed I missed the sight of the knife impaling my hand to the chair. “Open your eyes or I’ll cut the lids off, Chelsea.”
Maggie was gentle with my eyes, wanting me to see everything that she would do to me. That’s when I noticed the queen standing in the corner in tears. “I am so sorry Chelsea, I never could have foreseen this. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” She rushed to my side, her pink gown staining with blood as she took my hand. “I’m here, baby.”
“You know I never would have thought you were the one who was going to give me the most trouble. I underestimated you, little miss princess.” She mocked me as she reached into a black bag to produce a rib spreader. Laying them on my thigh was the cruelest thing I could think of, they were cold against my bare skin.
“Why us?” I mumbled desperate for any shred of sanity that meant there was hope I wouldn’t die here tonight.
“You popped up on my Instagram suggestions. It was a no brainer, really.” Maggie shrugged kneeling between my legs. I let my head fall back in defeat bracing myself as the knife sliced deep down to my sternum. I tried everything not to pass out as I began to feel faint.
“It’s okay, baby.” The queen cooed her head on my arm. “Just close your eyes, it’s almost over.”
Maggie pressed the rib spreader in, licking her lips. “Wait!” I shrieked, I couldn’t die not knowing. “Just tell me why you’re doing this.”
“Baby you don’t want to hear this. It won’t make any difference.” The queen plead, but Maggie’s lips were already pressed to my ear.
“Because I was bored.” With a quick snap a pain beyond stabbing spread through my body and everything went black.