Patti Hale stood at the treeline barefooted and silent. A late summer sun had already dipped behind the trees, sending slashes of red gold across the Hale family's horse pasture. The day had been hot and heavy, but now the forest was draped in shadow and a coldness tugged at Patti's exposed skin. The dark loomed between towering evergreens, breathing a chilled breeze that wafted across Patti's cheeks and fluttered her dark bangs.
Stepping out of the dress crumpled around her feet Patti moved forward into the trees. Stickers and thorns clawed her flesh but she continued her trek peacefully, eyes cast dimly ahead of her.
She walked for some time, far past her parents property line and further than she could ever remember going, even during her explorations as a child. She walked until the tangled underbrush became unmanageable for most, the twisting blackberry bushes creating an impenetrable wall. Even then she pressed through, not blinking at the cuts torn into her body or rivulets of blood that began to ooze downwards. Clumps of hair were torn from her scalp, left draped over the brambles.
When Pattie came to a small clearing illuminated by weak moonlight she stopped. A walking path cut through the forest four yards away, but the clearing was invisible unless one were looking for it.
Content with the location, Patti sat on the decaying leaves and pine needles. She stretched bare legs out in front of her and placed her left arm gently in her lap. A charm bracelet adorned with flat silver hearts hung loosely around her wrist.
A Nightingale sang to the moonlight somewhere in the trees while Pattie worked patiently to detach one of her silver charms. They tinkled daintily and Patti recalled receiving the bracelet last year on her 18th birthday. Her mother had given it to her after driving all the way to Seattle for it. For a moment Patti hesitated. Something flashed behind her eyes, a scream stuck in her throat.
But then the silver charm detached and she pressed it into the under side of her left arm. She pushed until blood welled up and stained her finger tips red and then she dragged the silver heart down to her wrist. The four inch slice gushed violently at first, sending dark splatters onto her thighs.
Patti watched until the blood flow settled into a steady ooze. She laid back under the dark swaying tree tops and shut her eyes to listen for his voice.
YOU ARE READING
Hell Bent
Siêu nhiênSeventeen women died before Detective Brookfield was assigned to investigate. Seventeen photographs were taken by Cleo Warren, each one leaving more questions to haunt her mind. Seventeen days passed since the gates of hell were opened.
