The Blood On My Hands

Chapter 4

"Where's Mark?" Josh asks.

"He's been delayed. Give him a moment to put himself together," I reply, nonchalantly with a hint of anger.

"Mark! Come on up! You'll die down there, alone!" Josh shouts.

"Coming!" You can still hear his voice waver but it's barely noticeable. I guess that's Mark for you. Always keeping any problems from you hidden. Somehow managing to cloak his guilt, even though it's dangling right in front of you.

Mark shows up in the bathroom doorway, focusing his now less-puffy eyes anywhere but on me. Coward. That's what he is. Too cowardly to admit that he killed Violet. Too cowardly to accept the fact that he got dumped. Too cowardly to even look at me.

I turn around, heat blossoming in my veins as the anger fuels my tired body.

It was then that I actually took notice to the state of the bathroom.

The curtains were shredded and barely hanging onto the rod by only a few hooks. Any pictures or decorations were either ripped, painted, or thrown off the wall. One picture of Mark and I that I had taped to the mirror, now had two x's over Mark's eyes. The closet door was hanging on it's hinges and most of the towels were tossed out onto the floor. The mirror was cracked and had slimy dark blood drizzling out of it. Prescription bottles were tipped over around the tub with tiny capsules laying around everywhere.

The candles that I keep laid out around the tub suddenly flicker to life and reveal the dark red substance filling the tub. Not only blood filled the bath, but so did different limbs and organs. From what I could make out, there were two ripped up legs, one shredded arm, three hearts, a liver, intestines, two pancreas, and four tongues. It was absolutely revolting.

I double over the toilet, releasing dry heaves that wrack my body.

And then I see the ouija board.

Tucked into the tank of the toilet, sticking out.

I sit up, not risking the chance that I'll start heaving again if I stand up too fast.

Pulling the board out of the tank, I grab the attention of Josh, who hurries to help me stand.

Josh lays the board on the small, pink, oval rug in the middle of the bathroom and begins searching for the planchette.

Mark digs his hand in the bloody tub and pulls out a beating heart.

"Gross! Are you sick?" I ask him.

No reply. Looks like we're not on speaking terms anymore.

"This heart isn't shaped right. And it's far too big. Telling me..." He reaches his hand in the heart with a squelch. "That something's hiding in here." Mark pulls out the planchette and throws the now still heart back in the tub.

Josh takes the piece from Mark and inspects the blood that's starting dry on the glass center of the planchette. "Brilliant!" Josh praises. "You're absolutely brilliant, Mark!"

Mark smirks, clearly satisfied with himself as Josh wipes the blood off the piece.

"It's time to begin. Everyone, sit in a circle around the board. I snuck some salt from the kitchen for salt circles. Do not under ANY circumstance, break it. A couple of rules to go over; 1) Do not take your fingers off the planchette at any time. 2) Do not ever leave the board without ending the game by moving the piece to 'goodbye'. 3) Do not force the piece to move at any time unless you are ending the game. 4) Do not anger or mock the spirit. And 5), the most important one of all, do not give the spirit permission to possess you," Josh informs us.

Mark and I nod in agreement and Josh passes the salt around after making his own circle.

"Put two fingers from each hand on the planchette and we will begin," Josh announces.

We all lay our four fingers on the piece.

"Spirits, we welcome you. We do not mean harm. Is anyone there?" Josh speaks in a loud, calm tone.

Suddenly, my fingers start to move against my will. I can't explain the sensation. It doesn't feel like someone's controlling my arms or forcing me to push the piece. It feels like there's a light suggestion from an unknown force, telling me to push the piece a certain direction, trying to gently will my hands there.

A sharp intake of breath burns my lungs as the planchette lands on "yes".

"Whom are we speaking with?" Josh continues to question.

I feel the same tug on my hand as the planchette slowly slides across the board.

V...,I...,O...,L...,E...,T...

"Oh my God," I exclaim. "That's actually my sister."

Tears begin rolling down my cheeks and for the first time since the kiss, Mark looks at me.

"Why are you here?" Josh tested.

R...,E...,V...,E...,N...,G...,E...

"On who?" Josh asks, still not in the know of how Violet really died.

Wind whipped in Mark's direction and whipped the hair off his forehead.

"Mark? Why?"

K...,I...,L...,L...,E...,D...   M...,E...

Josh looks up to Mark in horror, only to find him staring down at his feet.

"How did he kill you?" Josh continues.

F...,O...,R...,C...,E...,D...   P...,I...,L...,L...,S

"WHAT?!" I screamed through sobs. "You told me it was all an accident! You told me you loved her as your own!"

Mark's body starts shaking in what seems like cries...until I can hear the shrill sound of his laugh. His head slowly lifts up to reveal a wicked grin spread across Mark's lips.

"You actually believed I could accidentally give your sister eight pills?"