Bloody Bracelet

Part 3

"I'm home! Are we having caserole for dinner?"

"No, meatballs.", a crackling voice from the kitchen replied.

I swung my coat onto the hanger and locked the door behind me, as I always do. I can even do it with my eyes closed at this point. Grandma Ab walked through the kitchen door and gave me a very friendly, familiar smile. She hated being called Granma, even as when I was a kid. She always had a way of making you feel at home, but only if you call her Ab.

"You left the front door open again, Ab. One of these days I'm gonna come in hot and loaded."

"Only if I don't reply, dear. I always used to leave the door open when I cook back home.", said the frail old woman.

"Yeah, but you live with me now, and in my house a door can open and shut."

I gave her a hello kiss on the cheek. Her white hair was in a mess again, her hands sticky of meat and that "Best Grandma Ever" apron that I got her when I was going through puberty, was stained with tomato sauce. Me and her had a code. If I come home and ask if we're having caserole for dinner I get replied with a yes, then you better believe that shit's going down in this house. God, I hate caserole.

"Smells good, when's dinner?"

"When you've washed your hands. God knows what filthy, dead thing you've touched today."

"It was a young woman, early twenties. Her throat was slit and was stripped naked. Big, blue eyes."

"Like Jesse's? Well, the naked part, that's odd. Very sad, but odd.", said Ab.

"Yeah, but there's just something there. It's not quite right..."

"I can see something is bothering you, and I don't wanna ask or care what it is. Let's eat."

She pushed the plate full of meatballs and rice into me and grabbed a plate of her own.

"Woah, what's with you today? Crappy antiques on that show you're always watching?"

"Watch it. I may be old, but I can still beat your ass."

Ab grew up in Kansas, so believe me when I say she could still kick my ass. I remember one time when I kicked one of her chickens on the farm, she gave me a backhand to the ear so hard, that I woke up 20 minutes later and not knowing where the fuck I was.

"No, it's that damn lilly of mine that keeps dying. I dont know if it's the soil or the water, but it keeps brittling.", she said.

"Strange, you take better care of that flower than you took care of the cat you had."

"I know, that's what gets me."

"Well after work, I'll stop at Jane's to pick up a bag of soil."

"Much obliged."

I almost swallowed my plate whole. 50 percent because her meatballs are always phenominal, and the other 50 was because I was over this day. After saying thank you for the food, I put the plate in the sink, grabbed a cold one from the fridge, took a great first swig and made my way upstairs to wash the day off. I love beer. Upstairs to the left was Ab's room. It was always neat, always smelled kind of like soap, but I guess that's just how old people roll. Down the hall to the right was my room. Less neat and smelled less like soap. It was my cave, my sanctuary, my place to think when the day is done. All the time I was in the shower, I couldn't help but think of the vic's eyes. They really do remind you Jesse's. I got out of the shower and took the last sip from the now empty beer bottle. Oh, how I still long for a cigaret. It's been a year since I quit and I still crave? What the fuck. I layed down my clothes for tomorrow, hung up my tie, field-stripped my trusty Glock and started cleaning as Johnny Cash serenaded me in the background. Pretty much my nightly routine. After that it was bedtime and as my head hit the pillow, I started staring at that fucking photo frame again.

"Why do you still have to pop up everywhere?"

It was me in the photo, and in my arms, was Jesse.

Ah, Jesse.

We were wed after 3 years of a happy relationship, even though I proposed after 8 months. It was a small wedding, but elegant. She wanted it that way. On the picture read,

"If you ever get lonely, just think of me ;)

Love, Jess.

PS, Frank still wins."

We had this feud about who was a better singer, Frank Sinatra or Johnny Cash. She gave me that for my birthday about 2 years into our relationship. She was so beautiful. She was also around 7 months pregnant when the accident happened. A drunk truck driver fell asleep and she didn't even stand a chance. Not her, or the baby. I couldn't beat him to death, but I sure as shit made sure that fucker got jail time, and I might have spread a rumour about him in jail. Let's just say, prison is a pain in the ass for him.

God, I miss you. I miss you so much.

I shut off the light, and let the nightmares begin.