Why’d You Do It?
“Why’d you do it, Sarah?” a soft male voice asks behind me.
I jump to my feet and spin around. The Lawman. Two of him. The one with my sickle buried in the center of his neck, splayed over blood-soaked carpet, and his shimmery twin sittin’ beside ’im, puffin’ a cigarette behind a curtain of smoke as wispy as he is.
My stomach rolls. “I—I don’t know. Momma turned on me, and … I snapped.” I meet the spirit’s washed-out eyes. Even without life, they burn through me.
A wild shot of adrenaline racks my whole frame. I done somethin’ bad. Real bad.
He exhales a thick cloud and stands. “I had a family. When you brought that scythe down on me, you killed a part of them too. There’s no coming back from murder in cold blood. At least, not without a big sacrifice.”
Steadying myself on the arm of the couch, I lower my head.
“You got something dark living inside you. Look what you did.” He gestures to his and Momma’s hacked up bodies. “You dragged your mother’s corpse up here from the cellar and posed us like dolls. You drank tea and made a toast to Luna over our bleeding bodies before we were even cold.”
Frowning, I press a palm to my forehead. I feel sick. Shaky. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that you did it.” He steps closer. I back away. “You’re fucked up, girl. Somewhere down the road, you lost your humanity. Or maybe you never had it. Either way, you’re an abomination. God turned his back on you, and now you gotta make your wrongs right.”
I swallow the bile zippin’ up my throat. “Yes, sir.”
His eyes assume a eerie glow, like freshly birthed vengeance. “I’m gonna have to haunt you, Sarah.”
I clutch my stomach. “I reckon that’s fair. For how long?”
He cups my chin and forces me to look at him. His brown skin is ashy and sunken. His face is sad. I shiver. “As long as it takes. Once you make peace with yourself, you’ll be free of me. Until then …”
I bounce my gaze around the crime scene that used to be my home. Why did I do it? Why?
Because the shit finally piled up so high, I either had to let it crush me to death, or shake it off for good. Killin’ was necessary to my survival, like breathin’ or eatin’.
A siren sounds. A police car’s blue and white lights brighten the gloom.
“Make this right,” the Lawman intones as he fades into the shadows.
“I will,” I vow, too dizzy to stand.
The sirens cut off.
I pass out.