1 When it Begins, it Ends

POV of Jane Croft

(MISSISSIPPI, April 27, 2016)

2:38 am: Present

A thrusting force - the banging continues. Someone keeps on knocking at my door as it awakens my senses from sleep. It was loud and intense, like the person doing it is in a hurry. I saw the clock and It's passed 2:30 am; I don't think I have the audacity to come and open the door because I'm still dizzy.. and another thing, It's still dark outside. I guess it would be a natural thing for him to stop if I will not respond.

Somehow, upon thinking, I remembered being alone today — mom is on a work trip together with dad. They told me that they will come home after a week so this is definitely not them. But who could this person be? A friend? A classmate? I have no idea.

I jumped off my bed to check what's happening. I felt chills as the banging at my door intensifies. It suddenly felt like I'm on a horror movie.

"Who will gatecrash somebody's house at this point of time?"

The thought is making me a little bit frightened. But I can't help myself from inching a step to check it. My curiosity is piling up.

Deciding to go there, I grabbed the vase above the table as my weapon. I raised it above my head as I trod these steps, ready to break the porcelain against his face. The fluorescent light was still turned off and I think this is how I should play it – using our blind spots.

I stood against the door and held the knob with my left hand, still having the vase raised at my right, quite shaking. "WHO'S THERE?" I asked with my voice deep and bold, trying to terrify this person in any possible way I can. My hands are quivering.

"Oh God! Jane! It's me, Emily! Oh thank God you heard me knocking! Please open the door now, please!"

"Emily?"

I immediately dropped the vase on a circular table half a meter away from me and immediately open the door for her.

"Why are you trying to crash the gate at 2:38 in the morning? That scared me, you know!!"As I opened the door, I saw nothing but darkness. Along with it was this figure of my best friend wearing a jacket. Hazy, the light's not on. The moonlight is blunt. And I guess, based on these droplets she spilled out of my door, she's soaking wet. It's kind of weird because it isn't raining outside, but it's alright. That don't matter though.

I caught her breathing heavily like she had sprint barefoot from their house to here. That's 25 blocks away. I could barely see every detail because the moonlight outside is our only source of light, creating a vestige of only her silhouette in my sight. Now I know I should really have turned the light on.

"Wait, what happened to you?" I asked.

"Jane.. I.. I am----" Emily stammers as she suddenly bursts in crying.

I grabbed her hands and reached for her. "It's okay, Emily. Come on inside. Let's go to my room and talk about it."

Emily continuously cried her heart out like she's having a break down. I assisted her footsteps as she shed her tears with a voice sounding gravelly. She was cold, still soaking wet in my senses.I reached for the switch and turned the fluorescent light on. My eyes became larger.. Shocked. I can see my best friend, not soaked with water, but with blood.

....

POV of Emily Stewart

(MISSISSIPPI, April 27, 2016)

2:00 am: Flashback

I came home late today and I never thought my father is still awake at this juncture of time. He was sitting on the sofa as I yank the door open.

"Are you not aware what time is it?" he said, holding a drink in his hand – I don't know what kind of drink it is but one thing is for sure; it's alcoholic. I mean, just look how messy this place had become.. full of empty bottles, can openers, ice tongs and icebags – they were all scattered on the table. While he, with his face turned red because of the drink, strangely stares at me like he has been a really good boy in charge.

"I'm really sorry. Me and my classmates just finished a project. You know, school stuff." I lied, not looking directly unto him. "I'm tired, I just want to go to sleep. I'm going to my room now."

I was about to take my third step when he suddenly held my arms tight. Really tight, in a sense I can feel that it would leave a mark.

"You're hurting me!" I tried to push him away and let my arm go, but he is too strong. He's holding it with a powerful grip like he is holding a fish trying to escape his hands. This time, it became aggressive.

"SHHHH. Come on, Emily. I will not hurt you. I just want us to have fun like the old times. Remember when you slept with me when you were ten? It was fun, right?" He said, looking at me with his tongue licking out his lips. I could feel my body quiver because the ambiance has been a very familiar one to me. It was still here – the memory of my childhood which was ruined by my own father. Disgusting.. It drew me to that moment when he first harassed me.

He grabbed my waist and take inches down my butt. I felt it, everything. The traces of his crime were still here. And now he's into it again.. There, I involuntarily slapped him with all my force. Almost my fist closed. He held his cheeks and gasps in awe. "I—I'm really sorry. I just—"I don't know what to say next. My heart is racing. "I think I just really need to sleep now, I'm going to my room."

I ran hurriedly to the stairs without my eyes meeting his. What have I done? I slapped my father so hard that my hands hurt. When he tells this to mom tomorrow, I'll be dead meat again. She never heard me in this house, ever since. Even I tell her every story, she won't listen and understand what I am trying to say. I tried to tell her way back then that I was harassed by her husband, but she won't take anything from me. I know she never will.

I ran upstairs, trying not to do things that would hurt us both.

"Emily! I'm not done talking to you yet!" my father pulled my hair down as it extends downward to his knee. I screamed in pain.. so much I could feel my hair pulling off of my scalp.I uttered pain as I stumbled and fell. My head hits the circular table as I felt the blood rushing through my forehead down to my cheeks.

"let me go!—" I grabbed my hair and tried to pull it away from him, still lying on the ground, near the circular table.

"HELP ME! Somebody please help!" I screamed my lungs out begging for mercy.

"Aww. Poor Emily. Nobody could hear you no matter how hard you scream. Just—just let me get what I want, baby. Come on." he laughed like an evil. He reached for both of my wrists and held them straight using his left hand. I can't move. He was on top of me. He is unbuttoning my jacket using his right hand as I am screaming for help, trying every single word to fall out.. He is the same rapist I can picture out when I was ten.

My voice cracked as I continually scream for help and cry for mercy; he was astounded to what he is doing. While I, tired and almost breathless, could only give myself nothing but pity – like a worm caught by an eagle for supper, barely alive.

I saw the circular table and remembered how messy it was. I remembered everything that was placed in there; empty bottles, ice tongs and can openers..Gulping, I have known a way to escape. I know this all I can do.

As my father took a minute to let my hands go and get his belt off his waist, I grabbed the ice tong and stabbed his neck.

"Aaaaaahhhh! F—ck you Emily!"

Blood spilled all over the floor as he screams in pain. He used both his hands, trying to keep the blood off from shedding. He's onto it, but none of his agonies satiate me. All I can see is the freedom I have longed to find for almost 9 years. I want to see more, I don't know. It feels like everything seems so right.

Screaming, I stood up and grabbed an empty bottle. I hit his head and it broke into shattered pieces on my hands. That was the time when I involuntarily pierced his neck a thousand times using the sharp fragments of the bottle. All I can feel is anger. I repeatedly did it until I can't see him breathing anymore.

Seeing him die made me dauntless for a moment. I never thought about his blood creating an ocean of reds in this house. Seeing what I did, I can't help myself but to run with his blood all over my body. A daughter who killed her rapist father? I know it would be a good headline for the next days' news.

....

POV of Jane Croft

(MISSISSIPPI, April 27, 2016)

2:45 am: Present

After Emily told me what happened, I know she wouldn't be sane for a while. She cried with a voice gnashing of hatred and shock as I find it too strong for her to handle. She is having a breakdown, and I know it's still a part of what happened when she was 10. I guess things were just.. happening the way they were supposed to. Her father deserves what he's been served — death.

She has lived with every bunch of shame within herself for years since she was abused and I have seen the burden in her shoulders. She told me everything she has struggled with ever since. I saw how she tried to conquer them little by little, through thick and thin. For me, being caged for 9 years is more than enough to give herself justice. It's what she deserves.

"Emily, hey, listen to me." I held her face and tilted it upward. Her voice keeps shaking because of heavy sobs. "I'll go to your house right now and check it. Okay? Go to the bathroom and clean these mess. Change your clothes too. My drawer is over there, beside the countertop. Just don't open the main door in any case someone knocks while I'm away. Alright?" she didn't reply verbally. I know she just can't.

"Don't worry, we'll get away with this. I promise."She nodded.

I rushed on the way to her house and left her there, alone in my room, crying.

.....

POV of Trisha Stewart, Emily's mother

(MISSISSIPPI, April 27, 2016)

2:18 am: Flashback

It's passed 2am and I am just going home from work. I have never been home this late before. I am tired. Wasted. There were just lots of workload to finish today. Hopping off the taxi cab, I squinted my eyes for a while; I can see the door ajar from here, probably three meter away to where I'm standing at.

"Emily? Emily? Hey, Are you in there?" I called out of nowhere. I think that stupid girl forgot to close it. This is really annoying!

But.. Wait. Seriously, what happened here? My heart starts racing as I approach this weird scenario. Did something worse just happened? Oh my God please.. no. Having these doubts in mind, I took steps closer to the door until I entered the house..

"OH---OH MY GOD! WHA—WHAT.. OH NO! PLEASE, NOOO!"

I could hear myself crying in jitters.

WHAT HAPPENED IN MY HOUSE?? This is terrible! I can see my husband covered with his own blood.. Oh my God this couldn't be happening!Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I dialed 911. I feel my body quiver as I place the phone into my ears.

"This is hotline 911, how can I help you?" a voice on the other line answered after a ring or two."Oh thank God! This—This is Trisha Stewart.. My husband has been murdered! P-Please help us! It's number 452, Alabama Street, Southern coast, Mississippi. Come quick! Please!" My voice cracked as I feel my tears invading my cheek. I can't believe this is happening. This is a living nightmare!

"Alright ma'am. Stay calm. Help is on the way." 911's line echoed as I heard a sound of a typing keyboard on the background. "please stay in touch with us."

"O-Okay. Okay, sir. I will.. Oh my God.. Please, come quick."

I just.. don't know what I was thinking.. Everything turned pitch black; sirens wailing; my heart racing..I dropped off my bag and ran away outside. I though that I should call somebody for help. Another thing, I can't help myself looking at my husband dead and lifeless like that. He was a nice husband and a father.. Who would do this to him?

....

POV of Jane Croft

(MISSISSIPPI, April 27, 2016)

2:52 am: Present

Having these bleaches, detergents, and scrubs I got from the garage, I went hurriedly to her house without looking forward on what it could cause me. Standing at their red wooden door, I could imagine things with myself, "Here I go now, about to enter the crime scene."

As I take careful steps inside the premise, a rusty smell welcomed me. It was awful like a smell of some freshly-slaughtered pig. I could feel the tension running down my spine as I saw an ice tong pierced deep on the victim's neck. I mean, he's not literally a victim. But, this scene quite tells otherwise.

Shattered pieces of glasses were scattered everywhere, too. He looks miserable in a way he deserves.

"Ughh." I uttered in disgust as I cover my nose. The smell and the ocean of blood made everything worse. But I don't even feel pity for this man, to be honest.So there, I started to clean the mess. I closed the door first and dragged the corpse into the bathroom so I could clean the living room without his body interrupting my work. I grabbed a pail of water and scrubbed the floor repeatedly. I used detergents and bleaches to scalp off some of traces for forensic evidences. Repeating the routine, over and over, until I finished washing away the blood.

I stood up and looked unto it. I can't see his blood anymore. It's pretty cleaned up, I guess. But now, It's time to deal with the body full of bottle fragments pierced on skin.

Before placing him inside a sack, I chopped his extremities first to fit them all in. Then, I tried dragging his body from the bathroom to the living room. It was a hard work because Emily's father is kind of bulky, quite having a bear-built body. I can't lift even a single leg from him. I dragged it away as far as I can. Maybe burying the body in the woods near the village would help my best friend to get away with the crime.

Everything's working according to plan, until I have been startled by a siren I heard from the outside.

A SIREN IS WAILING IN DISTANCE

the blue and red lights. THE POLICE INTERROGATION. Here it comes. I'm in trouble.

My instincts are piling up; I decided to take the body in the bathroom again just in case the police aims to stop by here. I guess, in this kind of silence, nobody could have seen nor reported this. I just hope so, fingers crossed. I can feel my heart racing faster.

Glancing out the window sill, I saw the flickering blue-and-red light of the police car invading my eyes. They stopped at the door front. I can see them walking.. approaching the door. I'm totally messed up right now. What am I supposed to do? Oh God.

"Is anybody home?" knocking, a police asked from the outside. Oh no. Calm down, Jane. Calm down. Just CALM THE F—CK DOWN.

I gulped, and made myself easy. "Y-yes. Yeah. I am here." I said, yanking the door open for them. Acting like nothing happened.

They entered the house and they were all sniffing. I am totally faking my smile for the frame. I could hardly breathe for seconds every time they make faces at the corners of this house.

"Did something just happen here?" one of the policemen asked.

"Of course, nothing happened sir. Is there any possible things to happen?" I replied, holding my waist real tight. Really tight.

"Someone called our hotline last 2:45 and she told us someone has been murdered here. Isn't that you who called?"

"N-no, sir. I didn't. That would probably be just some teenagers playing prank calls to your hotline." I think that's the nicest thing I could say. I'm sweating.

"Okay. But.. can you explain what just happened in the bathroom earlier?"

My nervousness became evident as my hand shakes all of a sudden.

"Come on, boys. Check the bathroom."

Someone grabbed my arms and placed them at my back when the policemen went to inspect the bathroom. This is happening. My body stopped functioning just now. I am completely frozen as a block.

"Sir, positive." My eyes became larger. The policeman lifted the sack and has dropped the body parts that I cut off to fit in there. The policeman holding my hands at my back immediately put hand cuffs on.

"You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Those were the last lines I heard before I lose my consciousness. I fainted.