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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1077679-Bloody-Pines-Bathed-in-tears
Rated: GC · Short Story · Crime/Gangster · #1077679
a sister is raped......a sister gets revenge....

          It wasn't murder. It was simply and act of reason. My actions justified his actions because I, Jenny Harrison, am not a murderer; but I am a big sister. Debbie lived with me for four years before her incident. I had just graduated college with a major in civil engineering. Debbie was always an inspiration for my building. Now, please note: Debbie was not my daughter. She was my sister. Our mother died giving birth to her and dad died when she was four. I took full responsibility and custody of Debbie because, the truth is, I needed her.
          I was about twenty-six when I committed this so-called "murder." I had just finished cooking this lovely green bean casserole and had left to pick up Debbie from her rendezvous with some snowballs. Every Friday afternoon, all the kids, yes all the kids in the small town of Lakeville, Montana, would join each other on the frosty filed next to the only high school in the town, Lakeville Central High. A chain-link fence separated the field from the school so that the teenage pedophiles and teachers leading secret lives of disgusting habits were contained. The kids had built fortresses out of the icy frosting, about half their height, which grew larger with each colliding snowball. John Crusack, a twenty-six year old high school drop out was leaning against the frozen fence smoking a cigarette. I started to look out for my sister and I noticed John. I remembered him for ninth grade gym. On the days that he would attend, he simply scowled under the bleachers spitting and smoking.
          He watched the kids toss cold lumps of ice back and forth so intensely, that a picture show of exactly what he was thinking could have been seen on the white screen of which the children were playing. It could have been seen, that is, by anyone who had dealt with this situation before. Not me; I was just picking up Debbie.
          I pulled up to the curb beside the field where the children were cavorting. As the radio wrapped up my favorite song, I stayed in the car for a minute or two soaking up the last few blasts of heat before I came face to face with January's wrath. I opened to door to my car, and yelled,
“Debbie! It's time to go! Dinner is ready!"
I noticed that she heard me and was headed towards the car so I quickly sank back into the warm driver's seat. Another good song came on the radio and held my attention for about three minutes. When it ended, I noticed that Debbie wasn't sitting beside me. I looked out at a group of girls gathered around some book bags and assumed that Debbie was one of them, so I went back to the radio. After another song ended, Debbie was still not in the car. I began to panic because Debbie was never one to just ignore me. I examined every face on that field but none resembled Debbie's pale, freckled pallor. I left the car oblivious to the cold and began to look for her.
         As I searched the field, the kids began to fad away with the setting sun. Even John was gone. I kept searching until the last child was gone and only a single book bag remained on the field. It was pink and had blue lei style flowers all over it. Debbie begged me to buy this for her. She threw one of her world famous tantrums for this book bag and now it has been abandoned in a field next to a high school. I ran over to it as if it were Debbie herself and I stared at it lying in a jumbled mess of tiny footprints. I felt tears cascade down my numbed cheeks and watched them dot the snow. I noticed, though, that one of the footprints was much larger than the others. I didn't see anyone out on the field except for the children and it couldn't have been mine because it was much too large. Then a thought hit me. I remembered John, leaning against the fence smoking a cigarette. His shoes were large black boots. I looked past the footprint and found another, and then another. I followed the succession of footprints to the fence where a cigarette butt stuck out of the ground like a tombstone. As if every part of my insides spontaneously combusted, I struck the frozen fence with my bare hands only to be left with bloody knuckles. As my anger trickled off my hands and fell into a puddle on the ground, I realized that I had to find Debbie before she lay in her own puddle.
          I looked back across the field, now completely dark except for a white glow cast by the moonlight. I scanned the thick, dark forest that surrounded the field on the far side. I knew Debbie was in there. At that moment a figure emerged from the woods about two hundred yards away. It was hard to make out but it cast a shadow into the white field. It was a person. It was John.
         As soon as I saw that he was out of sight, I ran across the field, my eyes stinging and my cheeks blushing as the crisp air whipped me in the face like a jockey. I reached the edge of the woods where John emerged and found a small path, barely visible under the moon. I started down this path, keeping my eyes open for a broken trail and my ears alert for a faint cry. After about three hundred paces into the woods, a sound hit me like a car hits a stunned deer. I stopped so abruptly that I almost toppled over into the snow. I regained my balance and listened. Two minutes later another cry was heard from the right of me. I ran toward the sound, my face being scratched by low hanging tree branches until I tripped and fell face first into the snow. I immediately jumped up and wiped the snow from my face and noticed that my hands were black and wet. I tasted the strange liquid, but it didn't taste like mud or snow. It was salty.
"Blood,"
I said in a faint whisper. I began to look around me and mad out a figure leaning against a tree.
"Oh my God, Debbie!"
I shrieked as I scooped the broken girls up in my arms. Her warm blood dripping from God knows where thawed out my frozen arms as I carried her to the car. I am not a strong girl but that night I had the strength of a thousand men as I ran though the woods as fast as I could, showing know signs of struggle carrying her hundred pound body.
          When I reached the car, I laid Debbie in the back seat. Her cold, lifeless body was soaked with blood.
"Debbie! I am so sorry Debbie!"
I said repeatedly as I clung to her jacket with my bloody hands and laid my sobbing head on her lifeless chest. I've never believed in God but that night, I prayed for him to make her little heart start beating again. As I lay there, ready to join my sister, I remembered the lousy bastard that ran off with my sister's life. I raised my swollen head and gazed out of the window into the dark abyss, watching my baleful hatred grow. “Debbie, I swear on our mother's grave, that bastard will suffer for what he did to you."
After my vengeance was sworn, I drove home on the lonely, icy road, looking into the backseat every few minutes to see if Debbie had awoke from her nightmare.
         When I pulled into my driveway, I scooped Debbie up and carried her into the house, straight to the bathroom. I sat her up against the wall adjacent to the tub and began to run the bathwater. I gently began to take Debbie’s clothes off, but her Levi jeans were stuck to her legs by the dried blood. I managed to get them off along with her other clothes. I turned off the water and hesitantly looked back at Debbie, now lying on the floor. I began to cry as I perceived the blue and purple bruises that covered her undeveloped chest. I reluctantly rolled her over and grimaced at the sight of more bruises covering her bottom and mower back. Blood covered her inner thighs and between her legs. Her golden hair was matted with blood that stained the back of her neck and ears. I was incredibly nauseated at the thought of what had happened to her and I wept harder as I witnessed my heart lying on the floor in a heap of bruises.
I picked up Debbie and placed her in the bath with as much care as if she were an infant. I unmated her tangles hair and scrubbed away all the evidence from that night with her purple sponge. I took her from the bath, dried her, dressed her, then placed her in my bed. I crawled under the sheets next to Debbie and held her close.
That night, I dozed off many times to find myself in a surreal state only to be shaken back into reality by some scratchy branch that would cast illllusive shadows into the room. As annoying as it was, my lack of sleep deprived me of nothing. Even in my drowsy state, I was able to perfect my plan which, at first, seemed like some cynic whim but by the time that January’s pale morning rays lighted the frozen face of my sister, I realized that my emotions were to intense for the police and my conscience was to polite for murder, so a cynic whim was perfect.
I rose slowly out of bed that morning. Every one of my muscles screamed at me because of the previous night’s exertion. I stumbled down the stairs, clinging to the banister for support, and finally made my way into the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot. I rubbed my sore and swollen face, then looked around the kitchen to target that God-awful smell. It was last night’s casserole, stinking and cold on the stove. The strong aroma of gurgling coffee soon replaced the rancid stench with a relaxing hazelnut. After about fifteen minutes of indulging myself in comfort, grief reminded me of what may upstairs. With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly went back upstairs into my room. She was as I left her, wrapped in blankets, stiff and blue.
I knew I needed to call me cousin, Carolina, who was the only member of my family to support Debbie and I after dad died. I hesitated for a second, but finally summoned up all the courage I had in me and dialed her number with my hand shaking.
“Hello?”
Carolina always had a cheerful voice. I hesitated to answer.
“Caroline? It’s Jenny.”
“Hey Jen! What’s wrong? You sound sick. Is everything ok?”
“no, I’m fine but….”
As if she knew what I was going to say Caroline gasped.
“ Oh my God! Is Debbie ok?”
I swallowed my tears.
“No, she isn’t. This morning she was playing in the big Oak tree in the back yard and slipped. I heard the neighbor’s dog barking so I went outside to see what was going on. Debbie was lying under the tree, motionless.”
“ Oh Jesus Christ! Did you take her to the hospital? Is she….dead?”
“ No, I didn’t take her to the hospital. When I found her she was covered in blood and bruises. She was stiff as a board and not breathing. I knew she was dead.”
I couldn’t believe I was telling her this lie. My heart was breaking into a million pieces as my story stretched further and further. We planned a small funeral three days away. At the end of our conversation, I asked Carolina about John.
“ Yes unfortunately I do remember John. I heard he moved back here from Michigan about a month ago and is holding a job at Libby’s Auto Shop on Bregate Road.”
This was perfect. My plan was coming together.
The next couple of days were so chaotic, that I practically forgot about my plan but in the night of the funeral, after Debbie had been laid to rest and my house was left in mourning, I curled up next to the fire and remembered what I had started. I gazed into the fire and pictured his screams and pain in the sparking embers. With a sneering grin on my face and the embers popping in my eyes I talked to Debbie.
“ I haven’t forgotten.”
The next day, Wednesday, was a little warmer than the previous days. As the icicles on the garage began to melt under the morning rays, they dribbled to the ground and joined the icy river flowing down the driveway. I left the house wrapped in a fur duster in conceal my provocative outfit from the neighbors. Even though the morning was warm enough to melt the snow, January’s cool breath still frisked over my face and made my smoky eyes water. Almost slipping on the soggy walkway, I quickly jumped in my car and took a deep breath.
“ Here we go.”
My heart began to fall out of my chest as I headed toward Libby’s Auto Shop.
I don’t think Libby’s was getting a lot of business because there weren’t many cars in the garages or in the parking lot. I pulled into one of the many empty sports and entered through the dirty double doors. Immediately an overpowering odor of grease and gas stopped me in my tracks. After I regained my senses, I removed my coat at first timidly, but then, just like it had been rehearsed at home, I folded my coat over my arm and stood in the shop with as much confidence as a Tiger when it has cornered its prey.
I flipped my highlighted brown hair much like the enticing women in the James Bond movies do. My hair framed my plastered face and fell onto my bare shoulders. Luckily for me, genetics didn’t grace my chest with anything larger than a c-cup or my strapless black dress would’ve hit the floor with the first wobbly step I took. The sense of security that the front of my dress provided made up for the provocative and revealing line that clung to the tops of my thighs. The knee high black stiletto boots created an ungodly cramp in my calves, but I felt sexy.
I carefully strutted up to the reception desk and waited for someone to appear. A bell sat between a cracked bowl of mints and a full ashtray. I rang the bell and immediately saw a head appear out from a small window of a door that read employees only. When the door opened, a large cloud of smoke appeared followed by the familiar smell of marijuana. A scraggly head with bloodshot eyes appeared from the patch of smoke. It was John. I could recognize his scruffy beard and large, pointed nose anywhere.
“Hello little lady, can I help you?”
His breath was so horrific, that I could have puked all over his mangled face.
“Oh, my car is making some sort of rattling noise and I don’t really know what it is.”
I talked in a helpless, southern debutant manner followed by a seductive smile.
He licked his lips.
“ Well, I can take a look at it for you but um, prices are kind of high these days. You know, with inflation and all.”
He smiled and flashed a mouth full of yellow, broken teeth. I ignored his stench and the gaps in his mouth.
“ Oh I just moved here and I don’t have much money with me.”
I looked at him with my smoky eyes and leaned forward on the desk revealing the top part of my breasts.
“ Do you think you could help me out?”
He licked his lips and gazed down my dress like a little boy at his first bike on Christmas.
“Well you know money isn’t the only form of payment.”
I giggled reluctantly and showed him to my car. As I led the way, I made sure my hips swayed from side to side as if I really knew what I was doing. As I left the shop through the dirty doors, I knew I had him hooked.
John soon followed and got into the driver’s seat pf my car as I got into the passenger’s side. He choked on his words as he watched me adjust my dress.
“ What exactly.. um…. Is wrong?”
“ Oh, it’s making a rattling noise. It sounds like it’s coming from here.”
I leaned over him and pointed to the side panel of the door with my right hand, as my left hand grabbed his inner thigh. His voice turned into a squeaky premature adolescent’s.
“ Um, let’s take her for a drive and see what see does.”
I began to finger the hair on the back of his neck which was now protruding from his dirty, pale skin. I was entirely disgusted with what I was doing and what I was about to do, but as soon as Debbie’s cold, lifeless body flashed through my mind, I became even more seductive. After I told him where I thought we should drive, I slowly began to run my hand down his chest and as I touched the furry nap that lay right above his belt, I was repulsed thinking that this had corrupted Debbie’s innocence.
I looked out the window and noticed that we had almost reached our destination.
“ John, will you pull over by that field?”
I began nibbling on his cheap cologne flavored ear. I could almost picture those kids playing in the snow again. I could almost picture Debbie’s’ perfect, wind kissed face running toward me. I wanted to cry.
John shook me out of my nightmare.
“ Why are we here?”

“ Oh, you’ll see.”
I got out of the car and walked over to the driver’s side. I opened the door and leaned into John. I kissed his raw, puffy lips and ran my fingers through his greasy hair.
“Oh John, won’t you come with me?”
He glazed over with excitement as he nodded in approval.
I gently pulled him out of the car and then reached in over the driver’s seat for my purse. As we made our way flirtatiously across the slushy field he looked at me and smiled.
“You know nothing was wrong with your car?”
I just looked at him and giggled. When I had reached the trail that I was about to enter, I turned around and looked at John. He smiled at me with a smile that sent a shiver down my spine. I nonchalantly tossed my hair around, and began to run down the trail. I followed the same path I took when I went after Debbie, trying to remember every step. I looked back at John. He still followed but a look of anguish wrinkled his face. Amazingly I managed to reach the spot where Debbie had lain. The tree still had blood on the base of it. I tried not to stare at is so that John wouldn’t notice.
John stared at the blood.
“Why did you take me here?”
“So we could be alone.”
I pulled my strapless dress down and picked my legs up out of it. A burst of wind erupted against my body but my adrenaline kept me warm. I walked toward him and began to unbutton his oily work shirt. He placed his cold hands on my breasts which made me cringe a little. I slipped his shirt off and undid his belt. He slipped off his pants and underwear, and then stood naked before me. He pulled me toward him and in a matter of seconds, had me on the ground. I pushed him off but not to seem scared I got on top. I slowly began to crawl toward the blood-based tree with him under me.
“John, can I be dominant? It’s always been a fetish of min.”
He nodded and became submissive. I pushed him up the tree, kissing his body as he rose over my head. I reached behind me for my purse and pulled out a rope. The dumbass just smiled. I tied him to the tree with my father’s handy-dandy always works, no pain no gain eagle’s knot. After I made sure it was secure. I backed away from John and just stared. That ignorant son of a bitch let me tie him to a tree. He smiled again, but this time began to nervously laugh after he perceived the evil look on my face. I reached for my dress and put it back on but I left John naked. I walked up to him and began slapping him in the face.
“Say it! Say it you bastard!”
I ripped the curly black hair from his inner thighs and chest.
“OK!OK I did it! I’ll never do anything like it again I swear just don’t kill me!”
He looked like a little girls the way his wet cheeks bathed his hair. He wept in horror and regret as he yelled for God to give him mercy, but he looked like a little girl. He looked like Debbie. In his eyes I saw total fear, perhaps the same fear he instilled in Debbie. Perhaps when he took her life, he took her fear. I grabbed and ripped out one last handful then I stumbled backwards away from his smooth hide and fell to the ground. Every memory came rushing back to me. Every breath and every footstep came back.
I looked up at him still weeping like a child.
“Do you remember that day John? Do you remember what happened? Do you remember leaning up against that fence watching those kids throw snowballs at each other while you smoked a cigarette, John, do you remember? You wanted them didn’t you. You wanted those kids’ blood to run through your veins like the nicotine in that cigarette didn’t you John? Why did you choose Debbie? What was so special about her? Was it her undeveloped breast or her golden hair? Did you think that when I pulled up to pick her up that I was too stupid to notice what happened? John, Debbie disappeared just like the sun. I also noticed that you were gone too, but your cigarette butt was sticking out of the ground and your footsteps led to Debbie’s book bag and then the woods you stupid bastard! Oh yes, the amazing thing about snow is that it is the cheater of hide and seek for two reasons: one, you can’t tip-toe to the nearest rock without leaving a trail, and two, a moving object’s shadow is cast onto the blank screen even in the moonlight. You waited until night to leave didn’t you? You thought that if you slinked along the edge of the woods no one would see you. Well I saw you. Your body was as black as death stinking with fear. I smelled that fear John and it led me right to where Debbie was. She was leaning against the very same tree you re tied too. Can’t you smell her John? Can’t you taste the blood that covered her body, turning it black in the moonlight? Look down John. That’s where she was leaning lifeless when I reached her. My only love was dead in the snow. Do you know how that feels John? You love yourself so much so what if I took some of that love away?”
I walked up to his shivering, naked body and pulled out my knife.
“ No! No pleas! I swear I’ll never do it again!”
“ Hold still John. Don’t be scared. I’m sure Debbie wasn’t scared.”
And with that I sliced through the tender flesh of his only weapon. He let out an agonizing screech of pain as he remained helpless and defenseless up against the tree. The blood dripped from the open wound and fell onto the snow.
“ Shh, you’re going in to shock, don’t you remember? Debbie went into shock.”
His entire body stated to shake more violently and his veins started to budge creating little humps for his tears and beads of sweat to go over on their way done his body.
“ Do you know what the worst part is? You left her to die alone in the cold and that was rude. I think you need some time to think about that but first I have a present for you.”
I pulled a bottle of honey out of my purse.
“ Since you love sweet little girls John, I’ll give you one last taste.”
I took my knife and slit open the sack that supplied the bullets for his now dismantled weapon, and then wiggled the knife around indeed to make a larger gap. He moaned and twisted around as I poured the honey into the open wound then spread it over the rest of his newly plucked body. I stepped back to admire my creation and after I was satisfied with it, I looked john in the eye.
“Good-bye John. I’ll miss you.”
I kissed him on his livid cheek and walked out of the woods. It wasn’t murder, yet, when I reached my car and removed my latex gloves, I laid my head on my steering wheel, and began to cry.
© Copyright 2006 mighty munchkin (mightymunchkin at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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