It's Complicated

Chapter 15: Kacey Eton

The knife thuds as it collides with the center of the door and sticks. I throw the one in my left hand and it sticks right next to the first one. I walk over to my apartment door and pull out the two knives. There are about a hundred marks in the door that I know came from tonight. I always throw my knives at the door when I get aggravated. I had to get the door replaced twice through the whole time I lived here because I made holes right through the door. I walk back to the bathroom door and lean back on it. My black mask sits on the bed, but other than that, I am still in my outfit.

Thud. It hits the center of the door. All I could find was a note on the kitchen counter. I ready the second knife. Thud.

I pull the note out of my pocket and reread it for about the twentieth time. It is typed, probably so no one can identify the handwriting. It reads:

By now, you have noticed that your son is in fact gone. We have him. If you ever want to see him again, contact us at 555-0587. Don’t bother trying to trace the number, it is untraceable. We will relay the rest of the instructions to you at the time of which you call. If you contact the police, we will kill your son.

I want to crumple the paper into a little ball. I want to rip it to shreds and burn it. But I know that would do me no good. This little piece of paper is all I have to go on at the moment. I fold the paper up again and jam it into my pocket as I walk to retrieve my knives. I yank the first knife out of the door. I can’t believe I let this guy get away. I yank the second knife out of the door.

I lean up against the bathroom door again and tap the flat of the blade against my forehead. I know I have to think of something, and soon. I really don’t want Travis’s parents getting home to find their son gone. And if they contact the police, Travis could die. I shudder at the thought. I don’t think I could live with myself if he got hurt.

I am about to throw the knife at the door again, but I stop myself. I know it solves nothing. I slip the knives back into the sheaths and pull back out the note. But I don’t read it again. I open the top drawer of the dresser and hide it beneath some of my clothes. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I do have to go on with my normal life as if I don’t know about him being kidnapped. If I started acting weird or telling people about it, they would wonder how I had known about it the next day. No matter how much I hate to say it, I have to wait until people start noticing he isn’t at school before I say something, and even then I will have to lie my butt off. Or, if I can figure out a plan of action, I’ll have to go get him myself.

Why do I have to do all of the work?

~ ~ ~

I stand on top of the lone building in my black outfit. The sky below me flashes with lightning. No. Not again. I don’t know how, but somehow, I am aware that this is a dream. This time, it is the man who killed my mom holding a gun to Travis’s head.

I know what I should do. I should release one of my knives and throw it at the man. I could save Travis. But for some reason, I can’t move. I tell myself to release the knife, but my arm doesn’t listen. It’s like I have no control over my body.

I wait and expect the man to start saying, “Give it to me.” But he doesn’t. He simply pulls the trigger of the gun. The gunshot rings across the roof as Travis crumples to the ground. It’s just a dream. The man disappears, a sinister smile on his face.

“It’s all your fault. Your fault,” the voice echoes over and over again.

“No it’s not,” I say to myself. I am aware of myself saying it, but I don’t hear it because my words are swept away by the wind. “This is only a dream. Nothing more.” I realize it almost feels like I’m reassuring myself. I push the thought away, replacing it with the thought that this is in fact a dream.