Just Him&I: In Universe of Cruelty

Part 28

It has been a few hours since James... I mean, Bucky, proposed that I become his girlfriend, but we were already home. Although in my head, I will call him James—he can't hear it anyway, or at least, I really hope so. We took a day off on Sunday. Nick understood us perfectly, supported us, and even congratulated us, which surprised me the most out of everything.

The apartment's interior was roughly similar to the one in Romania.
Cold gray walls, almost no furniture, and minimal details.
The fridge was as empty as could be, but that's not surprising—he hadn't been here for a long time.

The car was heading toward the grocery store. A black Toyota Corolla gained speed with every passing meter.
The apartment was located almost on the outskirts of New York State, and I understood perfectly why. Fewer people and plenty of fresh air.

To get to the city center, we needed to drive along a small highway surrounded by fields that seemed endless (at least to me). I was slowly watching the lonely snowflakes fall to the ground. I opened the window a bit and breathed in the cold air.

— Can we stop by Woodlawn Cemetery before going to the store? — It was Christmas Eve, and I finally wanted to visit her grave. Thoughts about who had killed her still occupied my mind. Even though I had no leads, I would never give up on this case.

James grew a bit gloomy, gripping the steering wheel and licking his lower lip.

— Sure, if you want! — He didn't look at me, just emotionlessly shifted the gear and turned the wheel to the right, stopping at a traffic light.

— Is something wrong? — I asked him, looking into his eyes while covering his cold hand (cold as the first snow) with my overly warm one. He seemed to snap out of a trance, and his gaze met mine.

— No, everything's fine. I just didn't sleep well, so I'm lost in thought. — His smile was strange and seemed fake. But I decided not to pry into his thoughts if he didn't want to share. Maybe he would open up later.

His hand reached for the gear shift again, moving it from third to fourth. The car sped up a little more. He kissed the back of my hand.

We were almost at our destination. James calmly and quietly parked the car. It remained warm inside for a few more minutes before the cold winter air entered.

— Should I go with you? — He unfastened his seatbelt and was already about to step out of the car.

— Stay here. I want to go by myself first. — A sign with the cemetery's name hung above the entrance, adorned with forged flowers that looked as though their petals were about to bloom. But they never would, either because it was too cold or because the craftsman had closed them too tightly for them to escape.

I inhaled another portion of frosty air and finally took a step inside. It felt eerie and so lonely here, but for some reason, I liked it. Although perhaps it was strange, or maybe I had simply grown accustomed to such an atmosphere since childhood.

My steps were light and almost inaudible. I didn't know where to go or where her grave was. I simply emotionlessly examined the plaques of those who had long rested here and those who had recently fallen into an endless silence and peace. Some had hearts that stopped, some were hit by cars, and some chose to leave life on their own. But in the end, we all become captives of death, and it is unavoidable.

This place pulled me deeper and deeper into its midst, luring me with its eerie atmosphere and silence. I looked down and froze in place. My heart began to race madly, and I stepped back slightly, examining what I had just seen. It was the severed head of a magpie, lying right at my feet. Its eyes were empty—they had already seen death in its most terrifying form and actions.

I exhaled heavily.
— Damn it. — There wasn't a single drop of blood, and the feathers shone as though the bird were still alive. — I don't like this already. — I stepped over it and hadn't even managed to take another step when my phone buzzed with a message. I slowly took it out of the back pocket of my jeans. Before daring to unlock it, I looked around. But nothing had changed.

A blanket of fluffy snow, lonely graves—some with fresh, recent flowers, while others were hard to even call graves, where someone's relative or acquaintance lay.

I tapped on the screen, and a message popped up.

— Three graves straight, then turn left. — I read it aloud softly to myself, puzzled. — Walk a bit further, then turn left again. That's where she is.

I read the message once more and again, unable to understand who had sent it. I didn't know whether the devil nudged me or if I had drunk some courage, but my legs carried me along the suggested path, and I couldn't resist them.

Now the snow crunched loudly underfoot as though I were about to start running. I heard the wind howling behind me, and my fingers grew numb from clutching my hands so tightly.

Finally, I made the last left turn and stopped in front of a gravestone. It was a bit dirty, and I could see fragments that had broken off after so many years of standing firmly in the ground. The plaque read, engraved in bold letters:

"Christina Berest
1976–1996"

A fresh bouquet of crimson chrysanthemums tied with a black ribbon lay on the grave. I had no idea who could have brought it, but I was glad that at least someone visited her.

— Mom... — I covered my mouth to keep from screaming out loud. I knelt down, my hands trembling as I touched her plaque.

— What did he do to you..? — Hot tears filled my eyes. I rested my forehead against the gravestone and heard the sound of a new message. Instinctively, I thought James was worried since I'd been gone for a while. I took out my phone and wiped the tears from my face.

The same number had sent me a video.

— I think you'll find this interesting :) — I waited for the video to load. — Who are you? — I tried replying to the message, but it wouldn't send. A warning icon appeared, and I tapped it to find out why.

— This number does not exist. Please check if you entered the digits correctly. — I froze in silent shock, squeezing my eyes shut.

— What the hell is going on here? — The video finished downloading, and I opened it.