Perfection (Red Wrists 1 REWRITTEN EDITION)

Part Four

(???)

"Hey, get down here, dinner's ready," I heard Richard call from downstairs, "And stop playing with that damned girl!" I shook my head, snapping my attention away from Clarissa. Clarissa laughed in relief, immediately beginning to struggle in her restraints. I growled at her, pinning the knife against her throat as I snarled, "What, you think I'll let you live just because I was told to stop playing?" Clarissa's color drained from her face in horror. "You're the dinner tonight, Miss Clarissa. Didn't anyone tell you?" She whimpered and pleaded, but I just laughed. Letting out an amused sigh, I looked around and spotted my list. Walking over and picking it up, I asked Clarissa, "Do you see all these red X's?" I turned the list to face her, allowing her to see the red marks along the multiple pages. She gulped, and I continued, "Each of these are written in someone's blood. And see how your name isn't marked off yet?" She began crying, which only made me laugh harder.

"You see, in this world, in this life, you need to be perfect. If not, there would be no way anyone could get away with murder," I explained. I looked over the list. George Baker, Leila Marino, Stewart Cleveland, Emma May Linn... Emma May? I didn't remember this person being on the list. New edition, I suppose. "Good night, Clarissa," I chuckled, tossing the list aside as I sliced her neck open. "It's so nice to be able to have you for dinner!"

(Emma May)

Darkness. Everything was shaking, blurry, and dark. I could see, but just barely. It was all red. And I was scared. In the distance, I could make out the figure of another child. I wiped my eyes, and immediately I could see more clearly. The child was shaking, on his hands and knees in the dirt, crying loudly. His cries sounded angry, scared, sad. A cacophony of emotional woe. He was crouched over two limp bodies.

Upon closer inspection, both the child and the bodies were covered in blood. I shouted in distress, and the child froze. Without turning to look at me, the child stood in his place. "Emma," they whispered, their voice soft and scared. "Emma, it wasn't me." I looked at the bodies closer. My mind did not know how to process what I was looking at, but the mutilated faces on the bodies belonged to my parents. "It wasn't me..." the child repeated.

The young kid turned to face me, and I was greeting with not a crying face, but a white mask. A pure white mask with black eyes and a mouth scratched into the surface. The mask, as with the child, was covered in thick red splashes of blood. "You believe me, don't you?"

My heart pounded in my chest, my fear boiling over in terror as I screamed myself awake. I clutch my chest, my breath hitching in my throat with each exhale. I looked at my alarm clock, the numbers saying that it was time for me to wake up for school. I reluctantly stood up and got ready for school, the dream fading away into the back of my mind.

The walk to school was uneventful, and the walk to the classroom was the same. But when I got to the classroom, I had a surprise waiting for me.

I stood in front of the classroom door, confused. There was yellow police tape across the door. My mind swirled with thoughts. What happened in there last night? It didn't have anything to do with Timothy suddenly appearing in my life again, did it?

"You're putting it together too, aren't you?"

I blinked, turning my attention to the voice at my side. A small boy, a grade or two below me at the least. He looked timid and nerdy. "I don't remember Timothy ever going to this high school. Suddenly he comes in and claims he's always been a student here, everyone just nods in agreement?"

All I could reply was a simple "What?". I focused the question at him, but my eyes traveled behind him, to where Tim himself stood.

The boy looks up at me, fear in his eyes. "Timothy. Yesterday was his first day, right? But everyone else is saying he's been here all year." Now, I'm not one for secrets, but I was unsure whether or not I should tell this kid that Tim was standing behind him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, kid." The young boy jumped, going pale in the face. "I've been a student here for years. I even went to kindergarten with miss Emma here, didn't I Emma?"

I was taken aback by Tim's brashness. This wasn't something I talked to him about yet, but he remembered it too. He knew who I was.

When I didn't immediately respond, Tim glared daggers at me. He expected me to say yes. With the look he gave me, it felt like I  "Uh, yeah. I did." Turning to the boy, I added, "We were best friends actually." My mind screamed at my mouth to shut up but it just kept pouring out. "We had a bit of a falling out, I don't remember what happened exactly. One day, him and I went out to play, but he was acting off, and I-...." I, what? What did I do? My mind pulled a blank. "I don't remember...." My eyes brimmed with tears. As I realized I was crying in public, I began to cry even more in embarrassment. "Why can't I remember?"