The Serial Killers (Complete)

Kate12/25/2014 3:23 PM

"Katie! Come give mommy a hug!"

I wrapped myself around my mother and breathed in her signature scent: fresh linen laundry soap and vanilla perfume.

"Ohh, I missed you so much, Love Bug," she crooned, squeezing so hard that I could barely breath. "Merry Christmas!"

"Yeah, Merry Christmas." Max stood in the doorway to the dining room, shoulder propped against the frame and arms crossed over his chest.

Mom grasped my shoulders and looked me over. "You're so skinny, but you're just in time for dinner! What do you want? I made mashed potatoes, turkey, stuffing, cranberries-."

"I think you're overwhelming her, Karen. Let the girl breath," Max said, cutting her off. Then he said to me. "Why don't you head upstairs and unpack? Maybe clean up a little?"

He took the suitcase from me, letting his fingers linger. "Here, allow me."

I didn't let go of the bag. "No, really, I'm fine."

"Kate," my mom warned. "Let him help you."

I released my grip with an exaggerated gesture. Max plastered the smile back on.

Mom grasped my shoulder and tugged towards the study. "Why don't you take that upstairs, Max. Kate and I need a little mommy daughter time."

His face contorted subtly. "See you two at dinner then."

Mom whisked me down the hall, giggling like a schoolgirl. At the glass french doors she spun towards me. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" I tried to peer behind her into the dark room.

"Please?" It was times like these that I wondered who was the adolescent, my mom or myself.

I complied and she steered me through the doorway. "Okay, open."

I opened my eyes from the dream, the pain in my chest reaching a crescendo. A sob rose in the back of my throat and I aspirated on the cloth.

Calm down, Kate, I thought feebly. My choked and bile rose in the back of my throat. God, am I going to die down here?

My watering eyes roved over the dimly lit space, slightly blurry because of my blinding headache. I dug my big toes into the soft earth so that I'd stop swaying. Think, Kate.

Then it struck me.

I curled my legs and promptly began to sway again. My fingers wrapped around the chains of the cuffs and I lifted myself until I was close enough to the wood to touch. I jutted out my hips so that I was swaying even harder and had a rhythm. On the second upswing, I flipped upside down and planted my feet on the wood. With all the strength left in my body, I tugged. The rust chain gave a faint whine, but didn't budge. Black spots crowded my eyes, but I didn't let go. I heaved again, feeling a momentary sense of weightlessness as a weak link snapped and I plummeted to the ground.