Aiding and Abetting

I walked toward my car parked at the end of the lot.  My shift at the police station just ended, and my mind was preoccupied with some trivial thought.  It wasn’t until I sat in the drivers seat, and looked into my rear view mirror that I noticed my back seat was mangled and bloody.  My pulse quickened as I leaped out of the car.  The trunk was popped, and I saw the remnants of the bloody trail along the side panel.  Slowly, I walked toward the rear to confirm my assumptions; and, as I got closer to the car’s rear, I spotted the edge of a clear plastic bag filled with bloody limbs.  I stopped.  Strewn beside it, were a few fingers glossed with pools of blood.  My heart raced, not for fear–  but of excitement.

I walked hastily away from the vehicle, and grabbed my cell phone from my purse.  I dialed a number I hadn’t contacted in some time.  He was the only likely culprit in my mind, and I assumed the mess left in the car was a gesture at truce.

“Hello?” he answered, cautious and hesitant.

“Did you do that?” My voice, somewhat shaky.

“Did I do what?”

Panic swelled my throat.  “My car.  Did you put that in my car?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” he replied curiously, but unwilling to pry further.

My eyes darted around me, and I stumbled in circles like a drunken madman.  If it wasn’t him, then my exhilarating peace offering has just become a vile threat.  I hung up, and struggled to keep my mind alert.  I ran back to the police station, and feigned the victim.  There was no where else to go.

In minutes, yellow tape barred me from my car.  Law enforcement focused on  identifying the corpse in the trunk, but I was tuned into a greater issue– someone was toying with me.  The lack of information over the next few hours allowed my paranoia time to brew.  I was suspicious of everyone, and everywhere I went bred more caution.

Being alone in my apartment calmed me somehow, but that security soon faded.  Later that evening, I headed toward my window to shut the blinds.  When they were halfway closed, my eyes spotted my car in my parking space below.  My breath went hollow, as I did a double-take at the vehicle that was supposedly confiscated as evidence.  The exterior was cleaned up, and interior reupholstered.  My curiosity got the better of me, so I headed downstairs to take a closer look at my phantom car; but, when I got there it disappeared.  Either I was losing my mind, or I was playing cat and mouse with a pro.

It was obvious that the police were too easily eluded, since I had yet to hear of any news, so  I contacted an acquaintance instead.  After I divulged the details, she insisted that I not be alone.  She insisted that I stay at her place until everything settled down, and I agreed knowing that she was expendable should anything happen.

She showed me my room once I arrived; and, although I had never been there before, it looked incredibly familiar.  I shrugged it off, and managed to fall asleep instantly.

A muted noise awakened me.  I sat up.

The bedroom door was open, and it was dark.  Despite the dim lighting, I saw a tall figure in the hall walking away, with a limp body dragging behind him.  He didn’t say anything, nor did he turn around to look at me, but, I understood that he’d “take care of it.”

I walked toward the light switch, quietly, hoping not to arouse the others in the house—if there even were others.  When I flipped the switch, the walls were splattered with blood.  Some of it had fully coagulated already.  I knew I had to be accountable for something, so I decided to clean up.  I sought out some paper towels so I could easily flush them away, but had to later resort to Scotch-Brite.  The ammonia I used was overwhelming.  I had done all I could for the mess.  Now, to plan my getaway.


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