Death Reapers MC: Angels to Ash

prologue.

before.

Riley, one year prior.
"I've touched heaven and returned howling"

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My heels slapped on the concrete steps as I raced up the steep stairwell. The August night howled loudly, wind tossing my long auburn hair into my face. I kept pushing myself, running faster to get to her, crunching over bits of discarded trash. I had to be quick.

He would be coming for me soon.

Finally making it to the fifth story, I sprinted forward and abruptly stopped in front of the door labeled 506. Brynn's shitty, shoebox apartment.

I raised my fist to bang on the peeling red wood of the door but stopped short when I noticed it had already been cracked open. My heart thudded in my chest as I looked around and down the open hallway. I was alone. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled with alarm as I realized the doorknob was half broken. I cursed myself for forgetting my cell phone in my car downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open wide, cautiously stepping inside.

"Brynn? It's Riley. We need to go. Now." I called out, blindly feeling against the dirty white walls and turning on any light switch I could find.

The living room was empty, couch cushions scattered across the mildewy tan carpet. The old TV was smashed in, wires exposed. Wooden dining room chairs were tossed around, the table broken in half near the opposite wall. A lone bassinet that I had never seen before was in the corner on its side.

"Brynn?" I called again softer, my limbs feeling heavier as I made my way to the apartment's only bedroom. Dread, dread, dread slithered into my veins. As I passed the kitchen, I glanced around, noticing broken dishes spilling onto the yellow linoleum. The clock on the wall read 3:46 AM. My feet carried me further inside, the air in the apartment was so humid, stale. My lungs heaved to take in the thick air.

Brynn's bedroom door was open, a soft yellow light glowing out into the short hallway. The black bedsheets were crumbled up on the king bed, as if I had just missed her napping in them. Her work clothes were thrown all around the room, pink and sequins and glitter sparkling around the small space. The sounds of water running came from the bathroom.

I sighed in relief as I turned the knob, slowly opening the bathroom door. I fixed my face into an expression of annoyance as I stepped into the cold, damp room.

"Brynn, it's time to go. I really fucked it up this time." I called out, my legs dead in my tracks at the scene in front of me. My ears began to ring loudly. I could no longer feel anything.

The bathroom mirror was shattered, glass laying haphazardly on the counter like an invitation. Bloody handprints smeared the counters and walls. I turned my head at the sound of water slowly trickling from the bathtub's faucet. The violet floral shower curtain was pulled tightly shut so that I couldn't see inside.

"Brynn." I whispered, my eyes widening as maroon bled into the water overflowing onto the floors from behind the curtains. Oh god. Oh god, no.

I closed my eyes, my shaking hands slowly reaching for the curtain. I hoped she was just playing a sick joke on me as I quickly yanked it open.

My feet slipped on the wet floor as I fell back into the counter, trying to put space between myself and the mangled thing in front of me. Glass shards cut into my arms, falling and shattering into even smaller pieces onto the floor. My hands and forearms stung in protest.

Her right arm hung limply on the ledge of the bathtub, a rubber tourniquet cutting into her bicep. An empty syringe was hanging from the inside of her forearm, like an arrow pointing to the "Riley Jane" tattoo on the inside of her pale snow wrist. A spoon, lighter, and 15 or so empty small baggies were placed neatly onto the tub's ledge, as if someone had organized them. My mind repeated "too many bags," too fucking much. Vomit was splashed on the walls of the shower, floating in the bloody water. The scene was like some kind of overdose. She was no stranger to drugs. Hell, I wasn't an angel either but my subconscious screamed this wasn't the truth.

Dark red blood spilled slowly from a 6 inch gash across her neck and matted into her beautiful white blonde hair. Large clumps of blonde hair had been ripped from her head and lie sickly across her chest. Her eyes were open, the green irises covered in a milky film and changing the unique emerald color I loved so much. Her expression, blank and resolved and empty, was something I'd never seen on her beautiful face. The stench of damp rot in the small bathroom made me gag. And gag and gag. I bent over and dry heaved violently.

High pitched screams ripped from my chest as I struggled to haul Brynn's cold, naked body out of the overflowing tub and onto the linoleum floor. My voice sounded foreign to my ears as I screamed for someone to help us. Please just fucking help us!! Red water drenched my jeans, white sweater, and pink converse. I grabbed a towel off the shelf and tried to stop the slow bleeding from her mauled throat. Her head rolled sickly to the left, as if nothing was connecting it to her body but the pale discolored skin of her slender neck.

"Fuck! Fuck! No! No! No!" I screamed over and over again until my voice was hoarse. I stopped screaming long enough to start chest compressions, counting silently in my head to 30. When it came time for the rescue breaths, I pinched her nose, tilting her chin back as I pressed my lips to her blue ones and emptied my lungs. I jumped, terrified, as soon as I heard air hiss from the gnarly wound across her throat. Her chest stayed unmoving and flat. Nothing.

I stumbled away from her, my stomach revolting at the scene in front of me. My legs gave out, my body crumbling down near hers, hands involuntary slipping in the coagulated blood and tub water. Hot tears leaked from my face onto the floor. I struggled to breathe. I shut my eyes tight and turned away from the bare body next to me, not wanting any of this to be true.

This nightmare was no dream.

My sister was dead.