Letters to Maxine

CHAPTER 46

Mack The Knife

May 6 12:06 AM

Haley's Woods

She couldn't sleep; she hadn't since confessing to the French Priest with the thick accent.

The voices that had mortified her since that night in the embalming room led her from her bed and to the window. She stared at the dirt and gravel parking area leading to Hailey's woods. She didn't want to go and didn't want to do what the voices were telling her.

I can't. How are you doing this?

But Hillary Durkin couldn't fight them. In front of her vanity mirror, she stared, unable to see her reflection. She disrobed and climbed through the window barefoot and naked, rushing from her backyard, across the blacktop of Mill Pond Road, and to the edge of the wood line.

As she stepped into the forest, the eerie whispers of the wind through the trees made her question whether her hallucinations had consumed her.

This can't be real. This is another night terror. It has to be.

Hillary Durkin stumbled through the forest, her vulnerable form exposed to the elements.

The rustle of leaves broke the eerie silence only under her bare feet, a haunting soundtrack to her macabre pilgrimage. The scent of the earthy aroma of moss guided her as an accomplice to her ritualistic journey.

Her lips trembled, uttering what she believed to be nonsensical lyrics, singing along to her grandfather's favorite song.

Scarlet billows start to spread...lies a body just oozing life...And someone's sneaking 'round a corner.

In the fight against the wicked shadow overtaking her being, she ended up at the foot of the massive pine tree where her cousin's body had rotted before being found.

I want to live. My heart longs for love. I pleaded for forgiveness from the Priest, but he didn't grant it.

"Your sins are beyond Hail Marys and Our Fathers," he said. "You have sold your soul to Melech Balahot and must face the consequence of loosing that demon from his place of torment!"

But why? Why must I do this?

She wanted to go back home to her bed, but she knew the French Priest with the heavy accent was right. She had to die.

The possession of Melech Balahot had taken over her will, leaving her with no choice but to stop his relentless craving for souls.

Hillary noticed a sizeable, fifteen-foot ratchet tie-down strap in her hands as she glanced down. Her lips curled into a sickly smile as she caught sight of it. When she looked up, she found the shredded yellow tape, once marking the boundary of her cousin's lifeless body, now blended with the ominous black forest.

The sight of the torn tape mingled with the darkness, creating an unsettling contrast. The faint sound of a whispered, haunting melody serenaded her.

A shiver ran down her spine as the tie-down brushed against her thigh, a chilling reminder of the horrors concealed within the Asylum's depths where she first met this demon.

The memory of the embalming room and the spirits of those tormented in the place cried out for liberty from Melech Balahot. They replaced the haunting melody that was no longer a whisper.

I'm sorry. So, so sorry. But I did nothing to you. I just wanted to be loved. Please, leave me alone.

The sickly smile vanished from her face as she stared at the nearest branch sticking out from the gigantic pine tree. Out of reach, she wanted to drop the tie-down and flee, but they wouldn't let her.

Hillary jumped and missed, then jumped again. She felt silly being there in the nude, trying to climb a tree to kill herself. She wanted to smile. But the tears began flowing from her eyes, cheeks, and mouth.

This is where it ends.

Her third leap found a firm grip on the branch, the jagged bark mercilessly slicing into her delicate skin. With a wild grip, she wrapped her trembling legs around it, her heart pounding. She fought and struggled to find the proper position to stand. She pressed her feet against the tree trunk, her left palm gripping the branch from the top. And when she overcame the battle for position, she reached for the next and the next.

This is it. I can't look down. Please, someone rescue me from this. I want to go home.

As she straddled the last branch, she wrapped the thick orange strap around her neck and secured it with the black rubber-coated hook.

Afraid to fall, Hillary gripped the tree trunk. She reached above her head, almost losing her balance. She fought Melech Balahot against tying the strap to the branch above but couldn't resist the urges or the screams from those demanding her self-sacrifice.

Hillary stood with her hand against the tree trunk. The voices prompted her to look down at the spot where her cousin's body rotted before being found.

An eeriness and dead silence overtook her. She recalled the faces of Casey DeLorre and Jasmine Barrere, but not as they were.

Melech Balahot showed her their decayed flesh and bone. Their brittle hair stuck to the remaining skin that concealed the darkness of their deaths.

The French Priest's thick accent had turned. It growled at her, forcing her to cover her ears to silence it.

"You have sold your soul to Melech Balahot and must face the consequence of loosing that demon from his place of torment!"

"Casey and Jasmine," she said and wept. "I'm sorry I did this to you."

She tugged and grabbed the strap around her neck to fight it as it tightened.

"You will not kill me," she shouted.

And in doing so, she lost her balance. And the petite, curvaceous, and beautiful seventeen-year-old blonde Hillary Durkin fell to her death.