Sister

"You wanna hear a story?” asked Jacob. His three companions watched him intently as he stoked the hot campfire before them. The four teenagers had been in school not seven hours ago, getting out at 3:00. A campsite had been newly established inside the forest preserve, the same site as the one the boys were now sitting in, looking at the crackling fire. The air was chilled, and the light of sun had long since departed from the earth.

“As long as it keeps my mind off the cold,” replied the boy directly across from Jacob as he shivered with the howling wind. The other two teens nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Yeah, anything is better than just sitting like this. I’ll die if we don’t do something soon…” another answered.

Apparently unaffected by the cold, Jacob smiled and said, “Don’t worry; it’ll be worth you time.” He smirked. “Just…try not to get too scared. I don’t want to have to baby sit the three of you.

The only boy who hadn’t said anything rolled his eyes and finally spoke up, “Get on with it Gable, it’s still cold as hell out here and you sitting around like a lump talking about us getting scared doesn’t help.”

Ben laughed quietly to himself, stoked the fire one more time, leaned back against a rough tree trunk, and began his story.

Lightning flashed in the distant sky as a fifteen-year-old Sharon walked to her house. Each step she took seemed to drag her moods even deeper into the ground. Why does Lindsay have to be such freaking ass! A perfectly good party ruined all because she thought it would be cool to have a drink. She is such an ass! I was looking forward to that party, my one chance to have a bit of freedom, all week.

She turned onto her street with a heavy glance back over her shoulder. Nothing… She though she had heard something… Stupid kids are probably just playing around it the dirt or something, she assured herself. She kept on walking. Again she heard something, and again she looked back over her shoulder, though this time a little more reluctantly than the last. Nothing…

She started walking toward her house faster, each step nimble and quick. The noise came again, a noise like a blown out motor. Like a saw, she thought to herself. She shook her head and chuckled. A saw? Yeah right. C’mon Sharon you’re imagination is just getting to you. She could see the front door of her house now, with the porch lights illuminating the doorstep and part of the lawn beyond. She walked even faster than she had been, desperate to get home and out of the dreary darkness of the night.

Her foot hit the base of the porch step and she stumbled into the metal door.

Nervously she brought out her key ring and starting sorting though the numerous keys on the circle. She was unlocking the door almost before she even located the correct key. Sharon pushed the door open with some difficulty, but one inside she heaved a deep sigh of relief and bounded up the stairs to her own room.

The wooden door of her room creaked open, revealing a surprisingly pink room, even for a normal, preppy, teenage girl. Her bedposts had been painted a light shade of pink; her quilt was made of many different designs, all of which were embroidered with pink lace. Her curtains, now being drawn by unsteady hands, were also pink. Her desk, bureau, and nightstand- though white- held pictures of her and her boyfriend, her and her dog, but mostly just her. All of the pictures were framed in a pink border, whether they were plain pink wooden frames, or pink, fuzzy, monstrosities. Overall, her room was hugely cluttered and… pink, but also indescribably comfortable.

The tired form of the teenage girl sank down onto her bed and closed her eyes, hoping to get any amount of seep she could before her own parents arrived home. To no avail, because once she hit the mattress she was up and about again, looking through her window to find the light of her father’s shed shining brightly though the grubby pane of the wooden room. They can’t be home already can they? No, they would’ve caught me in the hall if they were. So who’s in the shed? Benjamin! She yelled at herself as it dawned on her. The stupid brat’s using dad’s power tools again!

She took a deep breath and marched dutifully towards the downstairs. Once at the landing of the staircase she took a left turn, continued down the final flight of steps, and barged through the back door in the kitchen. Her deep footfalls should have been heard by the person in the shed, if indeed it was a person. She arrived at the front of the crudely made building and tried the door handle. Locked… That’s weird; it only locks from the outside. No one, even as stupid as Ben would purposefully lock them self in there. Would they? The answer was no. No one in their right mind would lock them self in that broken down shed.

Sharon twisted a stone on the border of the gravel path to reveal a small slot where a tiny old brass key was hiding. She picked it up and slid it into the old fashioned lock and twisted. The door swung open with a creak and light flooded onto the grass and flowers planted in front.

“Ben! Get out of here now and I won’t tell...” She let her voice trail off. No one was in the room. She took a step into the shed and examined the work table. Normal. Almost. Everything was in the place it should have been. The screwdrivers were hanging on a plywood board along with two hammers, sludge and regular, wrenches of all different sizes, and an orange, Black and Decker cordless drill. Only one thing was out of place. Rather, only one thing was missing. Her father’s favorite tool out of all the different types he could have picked.

“The power saw…” she muttered to herself. Behind her, the door slammed and the lock was bolted in place. Slowly, Sharon turned around with her eyes tightly shut saying, “Ben… Ben put it down now.” She received no answer. When she was facing the door completely she opened her eyes weakly and found exactly what she had expected. Ben’s eyes were boring into her; his hands were hanging loosely at his side- one with the missing power saw. His gaze turned to the saw in his hands. He brought his occupied hand level to his chest and fingered the trigger curiously.

“Nice night,” he started. “Isn’t it?”

Sharon ignored the rhetorical question and continued on her dangerous rant. “Ben, put the saw down. I don’t want to get hurt and I don’t want you to get hurt either. So just put the saw down and go back to the house. I don’t care what you want to do. Just put the saw down and nobody is any worse for wear.” As she said this she cautiously backed up to the edge of the rotten shed wall and cowered in a corner.

Ben said nothing, but his hand dropped noticeably and his menacing expression melted off his face. Sharon saw this and let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. “God I hate boys…”

“Well, guess what.”

“WHAT?” the girl replied tiredly.

“I hate girls.” On that note, his face contorted back into and evil snarl, his hand leveled off near his chest, pulled the trigger- and lunged. Sharon tried to scream but the puny attempt was cut off by the deafening sound of a power drill’s blade spinning in the air. Now though, the blade was no longer spinning in the air. The sharp notches in the round piece of steel were tearing into the girl’s skin like paper. Then, the blade stopped spinning, covered with a thick layer of crimson liquid. Blood- of course. The killer grinned and started to maneuver the body around, not bothering to put the blade back in it’s proper spot or to even wipe it clean…………………………………………………………………………………

“Mornin’ Hun,” said a big man. He sipped his coffee and flipped the newspaper to the sports section. The woman that had just arrived down the stairs smiled worriedly. Without even replying to her husband’s greeting she asked, “Have you seen Sharon? I thought I saw her in bed this morning but when I went to wake her up it was just a pile of pillows.”

The man abruptly put the paper down and said, “No I haven’t, but I’ll check the whole house. While I do that, have you called her friend’s houses?

“No, no I didn’t even think of that.”

“Well, while I search the house and yard, call her friends to see if she’s over at their house.” With that he got up from the table without a second look at the newspaper and started to search all possible areas Sharon could be.

A half-hour later, with a dozen failed searches and calls the two adults met back in the kitchen. “Anything?” the mother asked.

“No… And since you asked I’m guessing you haven’t had any luck either?” She shook her head.

“Should we tell the police?” The mother asked. “She could be anywhere! She could have run off with that boyfriend of hers, or- or jumped in front of a car and killed herself. She would do that! She just the kind of girl that would do that just to spite her mother! She- she- she...” The woman lapsed into hysterics even as her husband wrapped his arms around her and cradled her there.

“There’s still another place I haven’t checked yet,” the man added.

“Where! No- I don’t care where just- just check it!” she yelled at him. He retreated to the back door and trekked out into the yard. He reached the shed and jiggled the handle. The door smoothly came open- with only the barest hint of a creak. The burly man backed off immediately. He found the same shed he had left the afternoon before. He rushed back into the room with a cry of pain. The body of Sharon Wheeler was strung from the weak rafters. Her hands were roped together above a single beam, her body suspended, slowly swaying back and forth. Her head placed neatly beneath her feet on the floor, eyes staring blankly forward. The man covered his mouth with both hands and backed almost completely out of the shed. He stopped as he bumped into a small barrier. Quickly, he turned around to find his son, Ben, with a power saw in his hand.

“You… You did that! You killed your own sister! You-” but he got no further. As he started his last sentence, the blood hungry Ben lunged.

“That was-” the boy next to Jacob trailed off.

“Lovely.” another boy finished for him. "Hey, don't you have a sister named Sharon?"

Jacob replied, “Me? Sister? Sharon? Yeah, right. I hate girls. Besides, I told you not to get scared. I don’t want to-”

“Have to baby-sit us. We know.” The boy that answered was the same that told Jacob to get on with the story in the first place. This time though- he was much less cocky about it. His eyes were open farther than you could think possible. His hands were clenching and unclenching like the muscles in a snake’s body.

Scared. Ha. I though he would be after that story, though Jacob. He smirked and folded his hands across his chest. He leaned to his side and grabbed a duffel bag that had been sitting next to him the whole night. He unzipped the two flaps holding it together and looked inside. To the other boys it looked like he was searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” the cocky one asked.

“Oh, nothing,” he replied happily as he spotted the dull gleam of a piece of steel, dull buy the glint of a crimson liquid in his bag. He zipped the bag carefully. “Nothing at all.”