Black Wings

Order of the Numerous Pink Ducks (Part 2)

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" I exclaimed, hastily wiping stray tears away. "I have zero idea of what you're talking about. The, uh, mind wipe? The mind wipe totally worked. There's no murderer here. Can I go home now? I swear, I won't tell the cops about this."

And I really wouldn't. As long as this guy took me home safe and sound, I wouldn't do a thing. He clearly had mental issues, and I didn't want the poor guy to go to some mental institution. I knew what it felt like to be judged crazy and treated like dirt for it. People just don't like what they don't understand. You can't speak like everyone else? You're ignored. You can't move like everyone else? You get left out. You can hear a bloodthirsty female voice in your head and experience life-like hallucinations of horrible violence? You get shipped to a "psychiatric ward" and tormented by a "therapist". More like a dungeon and torturer. Worst of all, what if the whole fiasco with the other cult member was actually real, and not just in my head? What if I actually murdered a man? No. I wouldn't tell the cops a thing.

"You wouldn't tell a soul? Not even your Gaurdi- brother?"

"Not even my guardi-brother," I said solemnly. The cops could only put me in jail. Chris would straight up murder me. He was really into the whole eye for an eye punishment thing. A few years ago, that would have just been an exaggeration. Now, I really wasn't sure if he'd actually kill me or not. Family sucked.

"Wait here." He turned to the pink dresser and started to rifle around the drawers. I took the reprieve to vacate the bed and stand in a more suitable position for fighting him off. I wasn't much of a fighter, but I could throw a punch or two. Not that it would do anything to Godzilla over there.

"You good?" I asked carefully, refraining from tacking on a Mr. McCult at the end. He'd started flinging clothes and jewelry boxes all over the room, clearly frantic to find something- oh my God. He was looking for a gun. He was going to kill me. Of course he wouldn't just let me go- he didn't know that I'd keep my word.

I backed as far away from him as I could, and grabbed the nearest thing that I could use as a weapon. The sad part was, the only thing near me was a framed duck picture. Maybe I could use it as a shield. I'd been looking for an exit all this time, but I slowly came to realize that there... wasn't one. Not one door, window, or even one of those doggy flaps. How the heck did he even bring me in here? There had to be some sort of secret button, a passageway-

"Here!" He shouted triumphantly, and pointed his gun at me. Wait- oh, that wasn't a gun. It was just a picture frame. I looked down at my own picture frame.

"Is this some horrible spin on 'You can't bring a gun to a knife fight?'" I asked in a horrified whisper. "Are you going to bludgeon me to death with a picture frame?"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "No, I simply wanted to show you this picture. Of Lilith, my wife."

"Ooh," I felt like a total idiot. There I was, rushing to terrible conclusions. "My sister?"

His jaw dropped. "You REMEMBER? You LIED to me?! MURDERER-"

"No! No, Jeez. You literally just told me that you thought she was my sister." I still held the duck in my hands like a shield. He was so unhinged. "Why are you showing me the picture? I'm really sorry, but I don't know where she is. Do you want to...uhmm... talk? About it?"

"Talk?" His eyebrows furrowed again. "About what?"

"Your wife. Did she leave?"

"She did not leave! She was taken from me! By you!" He visibly calmed himself. "Forgive me, I am usually not so... crazed. Lilith is the love of my life, and I need to find her. I need your help. You're the only one who could possibly get her back to me."