Thud. Thud. Thud. The ball flew from the young girls hand to the ceiling, hit it, and then fell gracefully back down to smack back into her palm. Small fingers grasped it, and it followed its previous course once again, arching into the air, hitting, and then falling. The girl’s dark, amber eyes watched it carefully in its travels. She was in a position to be able to throw it with very little movement, her shadowy, black hair falling down over her face. It was matted in places, but the girl didn’t notice. She flicked it out of her eyes with her free hand, and shuffled slightly so she could see the clock. The red numbers flashed up at her. It was six pm. Sighing contentedly she resumed the throwing of the ball.
An hour, then two, passed. The phone rang every ten or so minutes, a series of messages getting more disgruntled and tired as time passed. It was the voice of a middle-aged woman. Probably double the girl’s age.
“Sarah, just pick up the phone and talk to me, or unlock the doors or something! You know I can’t help unless you let me. Oh-“The phone beeped as the speaker hung up, but Sarah could still hear the continued swearing coming from outside her window. That lady had been there for hours. All day most probably. Sarah didn’t care. It was winter outside. White snow was covering a long line of flowers that were arranged in some kind of perverted parade outside her house, signifying death and a great loss. It surprised her how it could go from boiling hot one day, to snowing the next night. That’s England for you. Sarah climbed onto the windowsill, grabbing a small teddy as she clambered up. At fifteen, you are expected to be growing out of cuddly toys, her older brother had said to her earlier in the week. She had just snorted at him and turned away.
As she watched the lady outside the house she had lived in her entire life getting more frustrated, her stomach rumbled horrendously. Leaning her head against the window she heard the phone ring once again. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to block out the noise. She was unsuccessful. She sighed, and a small patch of condensation formed on the window. This irritated her greatly, as it obstructed her view of the outside. She wiped it with her sleeve, causing only a dark smudge where the patch had been. Scowling she clambered down from the windowsill, and padded, barefoot, through to her parents room. She picked up the phone, and let it hang by the cord. She looked at the unmade bed that her parents should have made, and wondered to herself why she wasn’t crying.
Driving along the road with her family was always different. Bickering between them in the back was a regular occurrence, as it was in any family. They sat in age order, her father driving on the right, her mother sitting next to him on the left up the front. Her brother sat to her right, and her younger sister to her left. She sat bolt upright in the middle, eyes straight ahead, always looking where she was going, excitement building up inside her.
They stopped outside her friend’s house, and she jumped out the car, standing on her younger sisters’ foot in the rush. Her sister yelped, and Sarah muttered a quick sorry as she raced to the boot of the car. Her friend ran over to help her get it all out. Squealing, her friend and she ran her stuff up to the front door. The boot now closed, the family inside waved to their fifteen year old daughter and sister, and backed up the driveway. Her father’s arm draped across the back of her mothers seat, he was twisted to look behind him as he backed out of the drive. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a lorry swerved round the corner. There wasn’t any time to even blink.
The lorry smashed with great force into the side of the car. It had smashed at an angle, hitting the father’s door. The car spun round, and the long, side of the lorry smashed into the front of the much smaller car, causing a concertina effect. The steering wheel was forced inwards and upwards, and the father’s arm, trapped behind the mother’s seat, left his chest wide open. The steering wheel broke every one of his ribs, some protruding from wounds in the flesh of his chest, and one, fatally, piercing his heart. The children behind saw the look of pain and fear contracting their fathers face saw his arm hang limp. The mother, in a vain attempt to protect her children, had unbuckled her seatbelt and jumped into the back with them. The force of the spinning car hitting the nearest tree sent her hurtling through the windscreen, straight under the wheel of the metal beast that was attacking them.
Screams of pain echoed through the screeching of the wheels. As the car hit the tree, shards of glass went hurtling through the air at tremendous speed. Sarah, realising the danger, had dropped to the floor, attempting to pull her friend down beside her. Too late, her advice was in vain. One particularly large shard of glass hurtled like a Frisbee through the air. Straight through the young girl’s neck, it hit the wall behind her and shattered into pieces. Sarah’s hands flew up to protect her face, and shards of glass, grit and gravel embedded themselves in her palms.
She peered up through her fingers, the adrenaline fighting the pain. Her friend’s bodiless head stared up at her; open mouthed, and eyes glistening with blood. The body laid a cars length away, blood pouring out of the neck, covering the road in another pool of blood. Sarah rolled over onto her front, and watched the rest of the scene pan out in morbid fascination.
Everything was red. One pool of blood merged with another, and then with another. Gravel flew everywhere; specks of dark red flew with it, falling like rain over the scene.
The doors of the car were open now, and the youngest child was just thrown around in her seatbelt. Her small, brittle neck had smashed in the instance of the crash, and Sarah could see that many of the other bones in her small frame had been broken also. Limbs hung off the torso like a puppets. Her older brother was thrashing around, screaming for help, for mercy. Everyone stood around, watching as he suffered. She could see it in their eyes that he wasn’t going to live. Internal bleeding, external bleeding, the large, metal door halfway through his stomach. Sarah couldn’t watch any more. She stood up, walked over, and to the amazement of all the onlookers, kissed her brother on the forehead, and proceeded to stab him through the head with a piece of the metal door frame. He died with a small, relieved smile on his face.
The young girl sauntered down the stairs, and padded through to the kitchen in her socks. She had run as fast as she could away from the accident, and had locked herself away in her home. Her dark hair matted with the blood of her friend and family. Her clothes combined with the blood from herself and the others. Blood everywhere, blood on the soles of her feet; she had taken her sandals off by her friend’s front door, ready to go in, and it had seeped through her socks. Bloody footprints followed her all around the house that day, blood squelching between her feet and the floor, but they had dried today. She had crudely bandaged her hands, after pulling out each individual shard of glass, grit and other miscellaneous objects that had embedded themselves in them.
Her stomach rumbled again, causing her to double up in pain. She straightened herself, and searched through the cupboards. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a car drive past with its lights on, causing her pupils to get smaller. Her small frame didn’t move, didn’t shy away from the light, nor shade her eyes. Like a statue she stood, and stared.
Outside, the lady, Sarah’s prospective counsellor, psychiatrist and carer was having difficulty not swearing. It was getting close to eleven pm, and she was tired. All day, and most of last night she had stood there, phoning that child. She knew she shouldn’t be getting angry, but she was cranky. That child was different. Most fifteen year olds wouldn’t survive in a house by themselves for two days. Especially after mercy killing their own brothers and watching the rest of their family die in horrible ways. She’d seen the pictures. There was something a bit off about the pictures, pieces missing. The officials had said pieces of the bodies must have flown off during death… but she wasn’t so sure. This child seemed so, together. She wasn’t the best at keeping her cool, but this woman was very good at her job. Fairly modest too. Saved many from the fate they had chosen for themselves. She tried the phone again, and at the engaged tone, threw it down in disgust. Inside the house, the child heard the sound, and smiled secretively. People need their technology, she mused. This could be a perfect opportunity. Munching on a flapjack, she stood up on her tiptoes, and watched the lady out the window.
“D****t Jordan” the lady muttered to herself “You’ve buggered it now.” She looked down at her broken phone and bent over, picking up all the pieces. Attempting to fit them back together, she began swearing under her breath. To others, she could seem the most together of people. Inside, she could hardly handle her own problems. Being put in charge of a case like this was both an honour, and what could lead to a fatal mistake. She threw the pieces of her phone into her car in disgust, and decided to call it a night. It was midnight, and the kid wasn’t about to do anything. That’s what she thought anyway.
Sarah took her time packing her things into a small rucksack. She didn’t want to take too much stuff, could hold her down in tricky situations. She put on a black jacket over her bloodstained t-shirt, and rummaged through her fathers drawers until she found what she was looking for. Her fathers other hunting knife was well maintained. Cleaned, sharpened, and could cut through flesh easily. Large blade and ivory handle. It was one of her fathers’ prized possessions. She cut a piece of cloth, and made a crude holder for the knife on the inside of her leg. It held it well, and would be useful for what she had in mind.
As the car approached the house again, Jordan looked suspiciously at the house. It was early morning, five am. Still dark outside, due to the large snow clouds hanging ominously from above. The lights in the house were all on. Every single one. She parked the car, and picked her way carefully through the wall of flowers. The lights seemed to get brighter as she got closer, probably a trick of the light. But it was a sign she was sure. A sign Sarah was ready to talk. She smiled to herself at her apparent success. Maybe she had just needed time. Time to get her head together. Time to get sorted. Time to let herself think what she was going to do. She did a small little dance inside her head to celebrate her success. The door to the house was unlocked, and she wandered inside.
“Sarah, Sarah sweetie, you ready to talk?” She listened. Silence. It was a little disconcerting. She went through to the kitchen. Boxes lay everywhere, and many packaged foods were missing out of the multi-pack bags. Jordan swallowed nervously. Perhaps she’d got quite hungry? Jordan didn’t feel hungry at all; her stomach was sinking with every passing, silent, second.
Moving on to the dining room, something seemed very odd. Not only the silence, but there was a dripping coming from upstairs. Drip, drip, drip. She walked to the centre of the room, where there was a patch of dark liquid. Jordan kneeled to look closer. The dark, purple carpet made the liquid look black. She dipped a finger in it, and rubber the liquid between her thumb and forefinger. Blood. Oh God.
Jordan ran upstairs, her short, blond hair flying in her face. Blood, Oh God, Suicide. Her thoughts ran over every possible suicide inspection. She choked back a mixture of tears and gasps for air. She rounded the corner and burst into the room. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes almost popped out of their sockets. This was most defiantly not suicide.
Sarah hummed to herself quietly. She was impressed with the thought and skill she had put into this. She sniggered as she thought of what she was doing. The neighbours weren’t very careful with their windows. She could easily climb up and slip in. Past the security systems easily. Stupid people, her parents always used to call them. Made it easy as heck to get in.
She climbed up the tree and along the branch until she could reach the drainpipe. After scaling up it a few metres, she was by the window. Slipped the blade of her knife into the crack, she pried it open, and slipped through the gap. Inside, she paced through the corridor, her bare feet feeling for every loose floorboard or possible hazard. Her bandaged hands grasped the knife, carefully holding it at a distance where it was easy to retract or attack with. Slipping into the room of the old lady and her husband. Fast asleep they were. She walked over to them, and sat on the edge of the bed. Sliding the bottle of her fathers chloroform out of her bag quietly, she doused a strip of cloth with it. Holding it under the old ladies nose, she stroked the silvery hair, and whispered noises to calm her. She slit the old ladies throat, and peeled the skin away from the wound. Watching quietly, she waited until the blood seeped across to the old man. She smiled and tilted her head to the side, waiting for his reaction.
“Susan?” he whispered quietly to his wife. The whiteness of her dead flesh shone in the moonlight, and the old man gasped as he saw the seeping blood soaking through the white sheets. He turned his head quickly at the small, girlish giggle from the corner of the room. Sarah stepped out of the shadows, and walked over to the old man. The blood ran from his face in torrents, from the space where his eyes used to be. He made gurgling noises as he tried to breathe through the brand new hole in his throat she had given him as a leaving present. Sarah sat and watched him writhe in pain, he head tilted to one side, stroking the hair of the corpse of his wife. Now all she had to do was get them home.
Jordan stood stock still, wishing the bodies would move. But they couldn’t. Tied up in a knot of limbs and bones, the blood dripped from every wound. She saw a piece of paper attached to the top of the mangled bodies. Knowing she shouldn’t, she approached them, holding her hankie over her nose. She read the carefully handwritten words:
‘Hide and seek…The game began here.’
Slightly puzzled by the words, and wanting to get away from the mangled corpses as quickly as possible she glances down. She turned away suddenly, in utter horror. These corpses, they were positioned in a sexual manner…
She took another glance around the room. And with that final thought, Jordan ran out of the room, and threw up. Wiping her mouth over, she exited the house, and rang the police.
The police arrived in just under ten minutes, with a team of forensics. They yellow taped the area, and proceeded to enter the house. Jordan sat in the car, covered with a blanket and talking to a specialist. Her hands were wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee, and she could see various lights from houses lighting up as people noticed the spectacle that was being paraded around by the police. An ashen faced policewoman walked out of the house, and over to Jordan.
“What…um… What did you see?” She rubbed her forehead, and closed her eyes. Kerry wasn’t used to asking these kinds of questions. Especially after seeing a sight like that. How the heck did she get put in charge of this anyway? Her short, auburn hair was tucked neatly behind her ears, and her appearance was perfect, no sign of outwards emotion at all apart from her stuttering speech and glassy eyes.
Jordan just looked at her, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She wasn’t sure where to start.
“Sorry” the policewoman stuttered again. She wandered off in search of her superior. She glanced back over her shoulder, and motioned to the specialist to find out what he could.
The policeman walked over to his superior, and explained in a hushed voice.
“It was the girl, the one whose family died in the car crash the other day. Fingerprints everywhere and she’s the only one in that house. The um…. Hearts of the victims were not with the corpses. We found them in the back yard, along with a third. The team has done various tests; the third, it’s the child’s fathers”.
His superior looked at him, and nodded, his face bone white. This was going to be a tough day.
Sarah knew that sticking around wasn’t the best plan. She had hopped on the first bus she saw, and taken it as far away as possible. Thinking about what she had done made her smile. She was happier than she had been for a while now. She whistled to herself, there was nobody else on the bus, and she was perfectly happy. She saw the bus driver raise one eyebrow and look at her in the rear-view mirror. She was tempted to make patterns with his blood, but resisted. She needed him for transport. She stopped whistling, and stared out the window into the dark. Her thoughts raced over everything that had happened. She giggled at the look that would be on that ladies face. The one with the mobile. Hmmm… would she have it fixed when she returned? Would she ring the police? She hoped so. The more the merrier in a game of hide and seek.
Jordan slipped out of the view of the police when she had the first chance. This child was dangerous. Sarah was dangerous. No matter how twisted and sick this child may be, she still has a name. Still had a family. Still human. Treating her like something that came from beneath the sewers is not the way to go. Plus, Jordan had experience with this kind of stuff. She knew what kids would do. Though this was new to her, everyone works in basically similar ways. Right now, Sarah would be running away. Catching the first bus as far away as possible. She got into her car, and went to the nearest bus road. You wanted a game of hide and seek, Sarah? This could be fun, she whispered to herself, her face grim.
Three days later Sarah stood outside the large building, and looked upwards. Lights shone from all the different rooms, and she entered through the large, double doors. She knew her way around. She’d done her research. She knew what to expect.
Jordan stood outside the hospital, watching the flashing blue and red lights on top of the surrounding cars flash in and out of time with each other. Sirens rang out nearby, possibly off to another emergency, or just finding their way to this one. She had been too late getting here. It had been too late for her to stop this injustice. She sat, once again wrapped in a blanket with a steaming mug of coffee. She had accidentally seen the pictures the officers were talking about. So here she was. Talking to yet another policewoman. Forensics and everything were inside, sorting out the mess. Jordan’s thoughts tumbled over one another. She knew the answer, had it just outside her grasp. The father’s heart by the bodies presented in a sexual act. And now this? What did it mean… hide and seek, it’s just a game. What possible connection does it hold?
Sarah knew her way around the hospital like the back of her hand. Wandering through the hallways, she looked perfectly innocent. A doctor even patted her on the back. Such a lovely hand too. Would have looked nice in one of her pieces of art. She finally got to where she wanted to be, and pulled out the drugs she had managed to find about her travels through the hallways. Finally, she found what she was looking for. A pregnant woman, very pregnant. A husband asleep on the chair beside her. Sarah grinned wickedly. She unpacked the tranquilizers, and carefully snuck up behind the couple. Seconds past, and the work was done. Now came the fun part.
She slit the throat of the man, and then peeled the skin away from his body. Minutes went by, as she carefully hacked off the skin. Finally, after an hour, her work was done. The skinless corpse lay on the floor. She carefully arranged his body in a foetal position, and went to work on the mother. Cutting her open, she removed the unborn baby from the womb. Snapping its neck was simple, and it prevented any sound coming from the mutilated corpse. She then cut open the father and placed the baby inside. She deftly manoeuvred the mother’s corpse on top of the fathers, after cutting in almost in half lengthways. After placing the bodies correctly she covered them with the blanket of skin. After standing back and admiring her work for a second, she opened her backpack, removed the scalp of her mother from its sealed plastic bag, and placed it on the head of the mother. She slinked into the shadows, and disappeared.
So, there was sex, and giving birth. Jordan was still puzzling it over. Conception and Birth. Two stages in life. Oh God, who was next? And how?
She got up, and went to her car. She had to be careful, if she turned up at the next murder just on time, she could get into a bit of trouble. She grimaced at the thought of being related to these murders. Even she was beginning to doubt whether Sarah could, or was worth, being saved.
By this time, the entire nation knew Sarah’s name. Knew what she looked like, and what she was wearing. They all had some idea of what she did, but none of the public knew to what extent. This was a rampaging teenager. Murdering innocents. Horrible stuff. There is one problem to mass media coverage. It makes it easier for the subject to know they are hunter. Sarah wasn’t stupid. She knew she had to disguise herself. She cut her hair, bleached it, and changed her clothes for some new ones she had bought with some of the money she had gained from her recent activities. She was ready to continue. She had to continue; this wasn’t finished quite yet…
Jordan had some research to do. She drove back to her headquarters where all the information on Sarah was held. Knowing she had the resources to find out all she needed to know, she quickly flicked through the file.
Sarah had been born in that hospital. Jordan gulped, and looked down the page. Under schools were many different listed ones. Seems like Sarah made a bit of a nuisance of herself. But which one was she going to go to… Jordan tried to think, but there was no way of knowing which school was Sarah’s target. Jordan sighed, and looked up the phone number of each of the schools. If she couldn’t stop Sarah, at least she could make the schools aware of the danger.
“I’m sorry, but I really doubt the validity of your claims. Yes Sarah did come to this school, but there is no obvious reason why she would come here. Or even how she would get here. There are police everywhere looking for her. Thank you for your concern”. Jordan almost threw her phone down again. She stopped herself just in time, another broken phone and ruining the only way to contact people was not the best way to go about this.
Sarah sat on the fence, watching the young children playing on the field. Chewing carefully on her sandwich, courtesy of pregnant woman, her eyes followed the antics of the young ones. Jumping deftly off the fence, Sarah walked around, talking to a few of the children. The helpers keeping an eye on the kids had their backs turned, so getting a couple of the children to follow her was easy. So trusting these youngsters were. Sarah smiled kindly down at them, leading them by the hand to a derelict shed not very far away. None the wiser, the children followed.
S**t. Four children missing. Frantic parents and teachers searching the vicinity. An old derelict shed nearby seemed to hold clues and the police had yellow taped it up already. Bloodstains. Sarah was most likely behind this. Tests had shown that the blood did in fact belong to the children, but there was no evidence to prove it was Sarah. Jordan was certain, but a small nagging doubt did pull at her. This school wasn’t on the list.
Sarah stared at the small, tied up, bodies. That would teach that stupid school not the let her in. Ok, so she hadn’t made things easier for herself, but she would have behaved. That was the first school to turn her down. Those little children, little goody-two-shoes, they would pay for the injustice. She would have turned out better if they had let her join them. Well, now they would pay.
Out of her bag she pulled reels of barbed wire. The bloodshot eyes of the children widened, and soft, muffled screams fell on uncaring ears.
She had moved from the shed, realising it was one of the more obvious hiding places. She had found a small cave close by, and had moved the tied up rag-doll style children carefully.
Wire cutters were pulled out of the bag next. Carefully, Sarah cute lengths of wire to pre-arranged lengths. She drew this process out, torturing the young children with their imaginations running wild. She turned to them, and smiled from ear to ear, her white teeth shining through their blood on her face. Tying the barbed wire to long, thick sticks she had collected, she carefully formed the framework for four puppet handles. She looked up at the children again, and waved one tauntingly in front of their faces, her head tilted, blood dripping from her hands as the barbs dug into her own flesh. She relished the pain, and the adrenaline that rushed through her every vein with it.
Suddenly, a thought struck her. She rummaged through the bag again, finding some spare barbed wire. Making a circle of it around her head, she dug it into her scalp, forming a crude band. She looked straight into the eyes of the nearest child.
“I am your saviour.” She whispered, her breath gently blowing into the eyes of her victim.
“Ma’am I’m sorry, your claim is just not credible to be held accountable in this investigation.” The policeman looked her in the eyes, genuine pity causing lines in the corner of his eyes. Laughter lines. But now was not a time for mirth. Sighing, Jordan thought it over in her head again. Conception, Birth, Childhood. Three different murders, children missing signified the third. After having talked to the Headmaster, she had discovered that Sarah’s parents had applied for her to go there, but she was refused. It was the first school to refuse her on account of her behaviour in the first school. Jordan wondered how big an effect this had had on the girl. It also gave her a slight idea what might be next. Conception, Birth, Childhood, Adulthood. Jordan swallowed her throat sore. Death.
Her crudely made puppets hung there, blood pouring from the separate holes each side of their arms and legs. She picked up the first, and threw it on the ground. Picking up the sticks that formed the control, she lifted it up again, sitting on a ledge on the edge of the cave. A macabre puppet show ensued, causing the other children to beg for mercy, they were conscious still; Sarah had made sure of that. Weak, but still alive. Her puppet-child whimpered with the pain. Its face ashen, like white china of the face of childhood dolls, it danced, unable to control its own arms. The barbed wire tightened around its arms and legs with each tug the puppet-master made. The child didn’t have the strength to lift his limbs of his own accord, and so let the master continue her dance. Left and right, spinning around, Sarah stood up on the ledge, and swayed her body in time with the music only she could hear. Faster and faster the macabre display went on, blood splattering the walls, Sarah’s barbed wreath forming torrents of blood that ran down her face and mingled with the blood of the child positioned below. Finally, the child’s head drooped, and the dance had ended. Discarding her broken toy, she walked over to the second. Smiling happily, and whistling a tune to herself, she adjusted the barbed straps that were wrapped around the second child’s limbs. The third child had died already; Sarah mused, and proceeded to cut off the limbs with a bone saw she had found in the hospital. Her bag was filled with wondrous items she had found within that white haven. The fourth child was unconscious, but still alive. He had fainted during the dance routine Sarah had created in her head especially for the occasion. Barbed wire was pulled off the limbs of the third, and wrapped around and jabbed into the spaces where the bone should have been. The, with the protruding barbed wire strands, she attached the limbs to the fourth body. Still unconscious, and slowly dying, the four armed, four legged boy hug awkwardly from his wooden puppetry system. Finally, as her piece-de-resistance, she took her younger sisters disembodied hand from her bag, stuck it on barbed wire, and pieced the boy’s chest with the other end of the wire. Blood poured from the wounds, and Sarah caught some in her hands, forming a puddle in the centre of her palm. Walking over to the still living second child, she swirled her forefinger in the palm full of blood, and drew a cross on the forehead of the still living child. Removing her wreath, she placed it on the head of the child, adjusted it so it was as tight as it had been on her own head, and left with a cheerful wave towards the four dead and dying children.
Jordan left the police studying the corpses of the four children. She knew what the results would be. A policewoman studied her carefully as she left the area.
“Hey, Jake? Could you track that black car now leaving the perimeter?” She spoke into her radio. A couple of seconds later a reply crackled through.
“Yeah, without much trouble. Why?” Jake asked, his Irish lilt sounding through even over the radio.
“I’ve seen it before. She was at the first one.” Silence on the other end of the radio, and then
“I’m on it” His soft voice had hardened. They all suspected that the child had an accomplice; maybe even the child was the accomplice, dragged into thinking something different to the truth. Some people would use a damaged child in that way.
Walking over to the corpses of the young children, Kerry’s face hardened. She knew that Jordan was a child psychiatrist/helper, and knew how to manipulate a child. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had abused this kind of power.
Driving along in her car, Jordan was thinking to herself. These sick displays of torture, what could they mean? She knew the five stages that people often went through at the loss of a close loved one or relative. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. Maybe this was a display of each of the stages. Conception – her parents couldn’t be gone, they created her, they were supposed to still be around to help her grow through Birth – Anger at the loss of her parents, who brought her into this world, and should be around to help her through Childhood – She was bargaining, saying she’ll behave herself in school to have them back, or maybe even sacrificing those children to God in return for having them back. Maybe, just maybe, Jordan had some idea of what was coming next.
Adulthood was her future. Sarah knew she had no future now, and could see as she walked round the streets of London, that there where many others like her, without futures. She didn’t think it was fair. Many people had decent futures to look forward to, but that was easily changed. She spotted her next target. She would purge those who were wasting their life, and help them see that they needed to change their paths before theirs collided with hers. She smiled at the thought of helping all those people. All that she needed was right with her. Smiling and tilting her head on one side, she joined the ranks of the homeless and futureless, and slept a dreamless sleep.
Jordan wandered the streets of London, deep in thought. Who would Sarah target for her future, adult self? She threw a few coins at the feet of a young, blond haired girl sitting on the side of the path. Maybe the homeless? They had wasted their futures, just like she had wasted hers. London is a big place though, which homeless people who she target. No, it was too big a group. The blond haired girl tilted her head up at her. Familiar look, Jordan thought to herself. Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d been in London; same old hobo’s here as there were every time. She looked round, feeling something watching her. The hobo girl had gone. Well, it was getting late, probably had gone to find herself a comfy doorstep. Mind you, she had looked like she had been there all day and last night… maybe longer.
Darkness fell, and Sarah slinked away from Jordan, clutching the few coins that had hit her in the head. Foolish woman. Packing her bag again carefully, she discarded the blanket by the corpse of the dead homeless guy she had borrowed it from. Washing her hands and face in a mucky puddle by the side of the road, the barbed wire wounds in her head were healing. Scabbed over slightly, Sarah picked at them, they bled a lot less than they had done a couple of days ago.
Standing again, she walked the streets; it wasn’t long before she located a drunken bunch of twenty year olds. Tutting quietly to herself, she decided to give them a hand in changing their life for the better.
Walking quickly over to them, she deftly caught the nearest as he tripped over his own misplaced feet. Thanking her in a slurred voice, and covering her with saliva, he tried to walk off. She held onto his hand and smiled up at him.
“This way mister, you and your friends should come with me!” She looked as cute as she could, and smiled, tilting her head on one side. The group weren’t too fussed, as long as they were moving they didn’t care where to.
Pulling the leader, and watching the others follow, Sarah mentally patted herself on the back for her good deed.
Many of them got lost while attempting to follow her quick pace. She could only hold two, and so those were alls he was left with. This angered her, as she wanted to make her point known to all of them. But on the other hand, they could spread the message of her good deed to others. She smiled happily to herself, and danced along the road for a bit, pulling the two she had managed to save along with her. They giggled at the notion of dancing along the road, but their heavy, drugged feet were unable to carry them at a walking pace, let alone dance like Sarah’s.
They got to a quiet spot by a river. Sarah asked them to play a game.
They lie on the floor, and let her gag them, still giggling slightly. She duct taped their hands together, and then their feet. Then duct taping the gag into their mouths with one hand, and messing with the zip of her bag, her eyes glinted.
“I’m here to help you!” she smiled at them, and she could se the confused looks in the faces of the two she had saved.
“I’m here to help you see what a mistake you’ve made. I am here to help you realise that knowledge is power, and that losing that power through drink and drugs makes things worse. You must open your third eye and find God. Material knowledge alone won’t save you.” The fear in their eyes was noticeable now. They had sobered up fairly quickly. Attempting to get up, the wriggled and moved around. Sarah hit them with the back of the bone saw she had pulled out of her bag.
“Knowledge is worth the pain, friends” She said, and hacked away at the head of the first man. Peeling back the skin and the top of his skull, his brain was left exposed. Pulling out two wreaths of barbed wire, she forced the small ring of metal into a ring smaller than the circumference of his brain, making a small canyon in the mush of his head. The mans eyes rolled back into his skull with the pain, and he fainted. She knew these two wouldn’t die quickly; they would die after having time to think over their sins in life. She was doing a good thing. The second man reacted in much the same way, eyes rolled back, and muscles spasmodically tightening. She then pulled out a jar from her bag, and removed her sister’s eyes from the jar. Placing one eye in the centre of each of the men’s brains, she had finished her representation of knowledge. Walking away from the bodies, she knew she had left a decent message for everyone who followed them. She had done well.
Damn! How had she missed that? Jordan was angry with herself. She knew she recognised that face of the hobo. It was Sarah! But she’d changed so much. It had been a couple of weeks now since her parents had died, and she had murdered six grown adults, four young children, and an unborn baby. For one child, that was a feat worth mentioning. And now Jordan was being followed. On the other hand, she had finally figured out what was going on. Where Sarah was going next. And with the police following her, Jordan could show them what was going on.
She’d figured it all out. It was scrawled on a piece of paper on the seat next to her. She glanced down at it to re-read what she had put.
Conception, birth, child, adult, death
Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance
Father, mother, youngest sister, friend, brother
Broken arm, ribs broken, pierced heart
Killed under tire, flattened.
Almost complete skeleton broken
Decapitated
Sarah stabbed him through head with metal bar.
Man driving truck – alive on life support in hospital on other side of London.
She knew what Sarah was thinking, she had worked it out. She had recreated the deaths of her family as she went through the stages as she began to get over her family dying. The first murder had been the conception, and the hearts had been taken from the bodies. She was denying they were dead to herself, while recreating her father’s method of death.
She was angry, and murdered an unborn, as if to blame something that had nothing to do with anything in this world for her problems. She had skinned one of them, and cut the other one almost in half. Like the mother had died, flattened under the tyres of the lorry.
She used the children to bargain with God, she had reached out to religion, thought she could exchange. Sacrifice. They had been turned into human puppets. Boneless puppets. Like her sister.
Depression, Sarah had figured out she wasn’t getting her family back, and so was trying to help others, and prevent them from feeling the same depression she was. Not as much effort or amusement came from these. Decapitation and the realisation of what was happening represented by the third eye, which had been taken from the head of her friend. All those missing pieces from the bodies, Sarah had them, and were leaving clues for Jordan. Hide and Seek.
Next, it was Acceptance. And a mercy killing. Killing someone because it hurt them too much more to live.
Sarah stood outside the large hospital room. Inside was the man who had caused this. All this suffering. She knew there was nothing she could do to bring her family back, and knew that God was not going to help her here. She held up one had to the glass window of the door. Her dyed hair dropped into her eyes. Ghosts appeared and faded away in front of her. Everyone, those she knew, and those she didn’t. For the first time, Sarah cried.
She walked into the room and sat by the side of the man who had killed her family. Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was the foolishness of the driver, she would never know. The machines beeped quietly around her, but she was oblivious to everything but the slow pounding of her own heart.
She carefully stroked the speckled silver hair of the man in the bed, and deftly flicked a few switches that turned the machines off. She held her hand over his heart, and felt the man slowly begin to live of his own accord. She held his hand, and undid the zip on her bag with the other. She pulled out a shard of the metal pole she had killed her own brother with, and wrapped the mans hand around it.
Pulling the knife from its place on the inside of her thigh, she caressed the soft ivory and gleaming metal.
Suddenly the door burst open.
“STOP!” Jordan screamed, breathless. She heard the footsteps behind her.
“Sarah, you have so much to live for” She whispered
Sarah shook her head; tears still flowing down her face.
“The games over, you found me. There’s no need to hide anymore.”
Jordan stared, and suddenly realised the man Sarah was sitting next to was still alive. The machines were all off, but he was breathing, his chest moving regularly.
“All right, hands up!” Kerry shouted at the two in the room, gun pointed at the youngest. Jordan eyed the barrel carefully, and slowly raised her hands, looking over her shoulder at the crying girl.
“That’s it, nice and gently.” Kerry soothed, watching the two pairs of hands reach to the ceiling. Something glinted in the hand of the girl.
“Put the weapon down, Sarah” She said, raising one eyebrow expectantly.
I’m not going to hurt anyone else, Sarah thought to herself. But I’m not letting the knife go. It’s all I have left of my family.
She looked around quickly, and spotted a window. She tried to run for it.
Kerry fired her gun at the unexpected movement from the child. Jordan noticed the knee-jerk reaction and jumped in front of the bullet. Kerry reeled back with the shock of what she had done. It wasn’t her place to take a life. She was going to be in trouble for this. Why was she thinking something trivial like that when she had just shot a possible innocent! Kerry’s face hardened with the thought. No matter if she had forced the child to do commit these crimes, it was not Kerry’s place to make the decision. She was so certain.
“NO!” Sarah screamed. That lady meant no harm! She was just playing the game. Playing Hide and Seek. A little game never hurt anyone. I never…
Sarah dropped to her knees at the side of the lady, eyes glued to the small, perfectly round hold in the centre of her chest.
“She never did anything wrong…”
“She was an accomplice. She was making you do those things; we had it all figured out. So, you are under arrest.” Kerry took a step forward, and then noticed the child was moving again, her hand snaking across the body. A small piece of paper was clenched in the palm of Jordan.
Doctors surrounded the room.
“Let us help them!” one doctor insisted,
“It’s not safe. Wait.” Kerry was insistent that the child was under control before she let anyone near. “Stay back.”
Sarah carefully picked up the small piece of paper that Jordan had held so close to her. She smiled as she read it. This woman had been an excellent player in the game of ‘hide and seek’. A truly worth opponent. She looked up at the barrel of the gun.
“She was right. She won.”
The Ivory hunting knife went deep into her heart, simultaneous to a bullet striking her in the centre of her forehead. She was flung backwards with the force of the bullet.
Finally, she thought to herself, it’s all over.
She died with a lopsided grin on her face, her head tilted to one side.
Acceptance, Jordan thought to herself as she lay dying in a pool of her own blood, which was mixing with that of Sarah, she had accepted the fact she wasn’t going to live through this. She had accepted her family was dead. And she didn’t feel the need to make anyone else suffer. She was just completing the pattern of objects. She had left the man alive, because she was being merciful, as she had been to her brother. Mercy was just subject to circumstance. Jordan closed her eyes, and drifted into oblivion.
Kerry stared into the room, her eyes glassed over. She tasted the salt of her own tears on her lips. She walked over to the child, and took the piece of paper. Backing away she watched as the various nurses and doctors attempted to save the lives of the two girls in the middle of the room. Whose blood was whose, no one could tell. Just one, large, seeping puddle.
Opening the paper, Kerry gasped. This was the final piece of the puzzle. The reason behind it all. The murders, what they were positioned as, why the body pieces had been mixed up. The shard of metal in the unconscious mans hand on the hospital bed. All Jordan’s findings had been written down on the small slip of paper. The answers.
She turned over the piece of paper out of habit, checking the other side.
‘Hide and seek…The game began here.’
Kerry looked up, and her eyes were drawn to the truck driver.
Through the mayhem, Kerry looked at the corpse of the child. It certainly did begin here, with this man, and this girl. But now it was finished.
Game over…
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