Just Reality

Chapter 20

I gasp silently, a sense of panic coming over me. I'd slammed the lid shut, but with as much strength as I can muster I open it back up again, searching the box for some kind of note.

Nothing.

It's a serial, and we believe they're on their way here. To you.

I frantically scan my eyes across the backyard. Could this be the UNSUB Aspen and Axley are chasing?

No.

My logical side screams the word. This UNSUB wouldn't know these things about me. And Zander hasn't had any visitors at all in the time he's been in prison.

Even so, let's say the killer does know about my childhood sheets. Yes, he is carrying the legacy I wasn't able to sustain, but he'd still want the validation of making me remember. How would he know if a simple piece of cloth would bring back old memories?

He would send a note.

Don't use he or she. It keeps you on the outside. Use I... or You.

You would send a letter. I've distanced myself and you know that. What's to say I haven't completely forgot about my past. You'd want to be sure I know what you're talking about.

But somebody else. They would know that I'd remember. They would know that I'd realize what it means.

They changed out pink blankets for red. They know I'm no longer child, and prefer not to be treated as such.

They know I live here.

They know I'd hear them.

I shake my head. I'm blowing this out of proportion. Anybody could have put this package here. Not the UNSUB... And not my Mother. She's dead. She's been dead for two months, and she'll be dead for a hundred times more.

But why was there that feeling of hope?

I gag, and then again even harder as I remember the crime scene photos. So many people, dead at the hands of my Father. It makes me sick even thinking about it, and this time I can't hold it back.

I rush towards a bush and only just make it before I throw up all over myself. Leaning haphazardly over the foliage I suck in a harsh breath, the act spewing a whole other round into the grass. I cough a few times before dry heaving into the air. Lucky for me, the aftermath isn't visible to the eye as it dripped lower down, and I take a deep sigh of relief.

Wiping my mouth I hazily walk back towards the house, picking the box up with one hand as I push open the backdoor with the other.

I feel as if everything has drained out of me. The fight I once held diminished, and now all that remains in uncontainable anger, disgust and guilt. I can't even pinpoint exactly what I'm guilty for, but the emotion is there, and a knot ties itself into my chest.

Without a care as to who may be on the other side I push into the kitchen. A few people stand around the island, and all heads turn to me as I step into the room. My eyes stay trained on the ground, and I circle around to the stairs, finding my way up with muscle memory.

Weakly I pad towards my bedroom. To my benefit, the room is empty, and I look around. The emotions building up in my chest are excruciating. All I want to do is yell. Kick and scream.

Without any warning I throw the box across the room. It smashes against the wall with a loud bang, thudding against the ground. The cardboard deforms, and there's a small dent in the wall. But all I want to do is attack. Break the walls into dust. Turn the world into my bitch. I just need to... let go.