Elsewhere: Black Heart Bracelet

5

I drive around aimlessly for a while. Fuming. Once the heat starts to wear off, I start thinking. This person isn't even Jussie. My loving, confident, intelligent wife has been taken over by this suspicious, insecure, crazy person. People don't just change like that in the blink of an eye. People don't wake up one day and think, "I'm going to go insane today, and take my husband with me."

No.

Then it hits me. It all started after I bought her the bracelet. I do a sharp U-turn in the middle of the road and drive right over the median. I have a destination now.

I pull up right outside of Elsewhere, parking halfway on the sidewalk in my haste. The place looks locked up, but I bang on the old door anyway. TINK! TINK! TINK! goes the bell on the inside as I pound away, jarring the door. A figure materializes out of the darkness and comes toward the shop door. A girl, probably in her late twenties is staring at me with wide eyes.

"Hi. I came here, bought a bracelet yesterday," I explain frantically.

She's staring at me puzzled, shaking her head. "I-I don't-"

"Oh, you don't know? An old man sold it to me. Where is he?"

"My grandfather isn't here right now." She pulls a shade down on the door window. Goodbye, conversation is over. She's just as weird as the old man, I realize.

"What's wrong with it?" I shout. "What's wrong with the freaking bracelet?"

No reply. This is getting me nowhere. I slam my palm against the door and the bell shakes one more time. I stomp back to my car. I'm going to go home and rip that thing off of Jussie's wrist.

***

The Suburban is no longer in my driveway. In it's place, there's a Mercedes CLA Coupe. Shannon's car. That's not a good sign. I jump out of my car and barge in the door. Something as hard as a brick hits me on the side of the head and I knock out cold.

I become aware gradually. First I register that I'm waking in a sitting up position, and then I register the binds. My wrists are tight against chair arms. My ankles are bound to the legs. Duct tape is wrapped around and around them.

Across from me, Shannon is also taped to her chair. Her mouth is covered with a long strip of the silver adhesive. Black tear tracks go all the way down her cheeks, across the tape, and down to her chin. Her watery green eyes look pleadingly at me.

"Jussie? What the hell is going on?" I shout. "What are you doing?"

"Refusing to be a victim," my wife says simply from behind me.

She walks around slowly. There's a butcher knife in her hand and she's playing with the tip of it with her finger. Her eyes are wild. Her hair is unkempt. She looks morbid and dangerous.

"We're going to play a little game," she says. "You're going to tell me everything or your tramp pays!"

She throws the knife down and it sticks straight up in the table. I see other things beside it. Pliers. A hammer. A curling iron.

"What are you doing, Jussie?" I panic.

She takes the pliers and walks toward Shannon. Shannon's fingers are digging into the chair arm. Jussie uses her own hand to flatten Shannon's, so her fingers spread out. Jussie grabs one of Shannon's nails in the pliers. She whimpers.

"How long have you been seeing each other?" Jussie demands.

"We're not, Jussie. Baby, listen to me. We are not having an affair," I say, trying to keep calm. I'm more scared than I've ever been. I don't even feel like I know this person in front of me anymore. I don't know what this stranger is capable of.

"Wrong answer!" she shouts and pulls.

Shannon's screams are muffled by the tape. I wince, trying not to look at the blood or the nail that Jussie has clasped between the pliers. She flings the nail in the floor and I almost vomit.

"Ugh. That's sick," she says, disgusted. She perks up. "Time for another chance."

Shannon cries and shakes her head desperately. Jussie clamps another nail.

"Stop it!"

"How long, Richard?" she shouts.

"Never!" I scream. "She doesn't even date men!"

"Liar!" Jussie jerks the pliers again, and I look away, appalled. I turn back see blood dripping from Shannon's fingers. Snot and tears are dripping down her face.

"I'm so sorry, Shannon," I say, blubbering. Even though I did nothing wrong, I feel responsible for Jussie's actions. She's doing it because of me. Or because something she thinks I did.

"Shut up!" Jussie screams at me.

Her upper lip is curled into an unsightly snarl that I've never seen her wear before. She's breathing heavily, her hand tight around the pliers. She throws it down and picks up the knife. Her face is full of scorn as she walks behind Shannon. Shannon struggles and tries to look around, her eyes wide with panic.

"Justine, please!" I cry.

"You better start answering soon," she says. She grabs a handful of Shannon's hair and pulls back her head. Jussie puts the knife tip at Shannon's cheek and presses. A red droplet joins the tears and snot on Shannon's shirt front. "I'm getting tired of waiting." She lets go of Shannon's hair. "Want to see what I did to the last person that wouldn't give me answers?"

"W-what?" I stammer.

Jussie smiles a lunatic's grin. "Wait here."

She runs out of the room. I struggle in my binds. The chair even comes off the floor and slams down a few times. I hear Jussie return. She's carrying something about the size of a bowling ball, but it has blonde hair-

My heart skips a beat, then goes double-time. Jussie sets the thing down on the table and it stares at me. The waitress from Pier Olivia's. Her mouth is slack. Her eyes are rolled back. Lifeless. I scream. Shannon screams behind the tape. Jussie laughs.

"What? You don't like the little hussy now?" she teases, stroking the dead girl's hair. "She's still pretty."

"Why? How?" I cried.

"I didn't want to kill her, but she wouldn't tell me what I needed to know," she says. "Are you going to make me do the same thing?"

"N-no," I stammer. "No. Please, baby, please."

She ignores the endearing term. "Tell me," she says with tight teeth, "How. Long."

I sniffle. Breathe deep. "Okay. Okay. I'll tell you, just...just let her go."

"Wrong answer." Jussie pulls the knife back, and drives it straight into Shannon's stomach.

"Noo!" I shout, struggling against the tape. It's loosened. All of the pulling and jerking has finally given me some room.

Jussie pulls the knife out and blood spills down Shannon's abdomen. She's panting, snot is flying. I slip my hand out. Jussie is too busy watching Shannon to see my hand shoot out. I could go for the knife and free myself, but The knife is not the root of the problem. I know it. My fingers latch onto the bracelet. She turns to me, shocked I've freed my hand. I pull the bracelet off and fling it to the floor. It slides under the table. Her expression switches from shock to terror immediately. She sees the knife, handle dripping red with fresh blood. She sees me. She sees Shannon, bleeding and crying. She sees the severed head of the Pier Olivia waitress. Then she loses consciousness.