Charity Cozbi. Frail and small when we first met. Granted, I was her equal, we knew ourselves to be polar opposites someday. I just hoped that day wouldn't come until we were ready for it. From what I can remember, and it's a lot, I know...she was the only one who could see me. Or better said-she was the only one who knew my existence in this world. It started out as just a friendly chat, where she’d sit down alone, on the floor of her bedroom with her tea cup set. We were four, I remember, because she kept counting that number over and over whenever she played that day. She told me-well herself-that if she counted the age she was on her birthday, she’d never forget it. She’d hold that memory like a stuffed doll until a better one shows up. But the truth was, the better ones will never show. And she forgot about her fourth birthday after a couple of days. I was hoping that in the end, she’d be my friend, but I wasn’t prepared to become like a sister to her. I guess it made sense, we were born on the same day, at the same exact place and time. I was, however, the unlucky one, because I never got a body of my own-one that I didn’t need to share with her. I know what you’re thinking, am I just a figment in her mind, perhaps an imaginary friend? No, I’m real, and we both knew that to be true. I was so real, that Charity was convinced that I was there beside her those days alone in her room. This gave mom and dad more reasons to be frustrated and harsh towards her.
In fairness, we both were under the same roof, and knew better than to make things hard for them. However, they wanted things to be hard, all the more reason to berate the brat, no? Not once did they ever cared for her, as giving her a room of her own and hand-me-down toys and clothes were enough. They didn’t feed her though, they stopped doing that at around age five, so I had to step up and teach the both of us how to cook. I guess I was the big sister at age six, because sooner or later, I had to take care of Charity as well as myself. It was a lot of work, but we made it through. At one point in our childhood, we’ve gotten a taste of something normal and happy, and that was when our siblings came into the picture. I learned that before we were born, our parents had three children-two brothers and a sister. The sister married before the older brother did too, and the younger brother was around our age, but a bit older still. Charity loves him deeply, as they grew up playing and sharing stories of their dreams and hopeful memories. The day that all three stopped showing at the house didn’t surprise me, but it left Charity distraught. It was all because of the parents, they didn’t want any joy coming from their house anymore. So off the siblings went, and her brother, barely fifteen, was living with Charity’s aunt.
By and by, I also went to school with her, wherever we went, we learned something new, and put it to good use. We wrote letters to our brother. He would write back often, until the letters started slowing down later in the months. And stopped all together when we turned twelve. Charity would ask me why he hasn’t responded, and I knew better than to tell her the truth. I hate lying though, the idea of lies made my mind crumble into itself, I hated lies as much as she did. Her parents would lie all the time, whenever they told her how idiotic and horrible she was as a daughter. So I told her that he was busy, which I believed was true. He was so busy with his own personal life that he forgot about his little sister that he left behind. Did he even care for her? Or was it all to make it look like he cared? Either way, I would never forgive him for leaving us, and I encouraged Charity to keep writing to him. Maybe guilt tripping him won’t work, but damn it all if it doesn’t bother the hell outta him later.
Sometimes in the evenings while lying in our bed, I would pick up her journal and read it. I could have spent hours reading her journals, laughing at our little adventures, feeling pain in what I had wished was my own heart, when I read her deep secrets. However, even if I could easily see it in her mind, as we share it too, sometimes it clouds over, and a wall appears. This only happens when she’s in distress, and I can’t hear anything that she is keeping from me. So it was my priority to make sure she never is distressed.
My priority quickly became a challenge in the following years, as her parents grew more passionate with their arguments and constant belittling of each other and of Charity. They would go on and on about how it was her fault for bringing them together, and how idiotic she was growing up to be, when everyday, she was trying to impress them with her middle school A’s and proper manners. Once she was a little girl who couldn’t speak, and then she grew up with a voice as kind as she really was. But the school that was once her partial sanctuary from the troubles at home was also a trouble at its boiling point. Middle school girls can be devils in disguise, and they played cruel tricks on poor Charity. Some would walk up to her to call her names to her face, see what it took to make her cry right on the spot. Some would ask girls to trip her on the school playground, and take her by the hand to pull her up, only to push her back down with even more insults. All Charity could do was cry and run away, but she didn’t run far. I had asked for her, and begged her to let me teach them a lesson, but she wouldn’t let me. I had come up with all sorts of schemes to get back at them, but they were torn to shreds by Charity.
She was too afraid of what would happen after the fact, and not at all open to the possibilities that might come out of hurting these girls back. I gave up after the 7th grade, and let her run away to cry.
Though I didn’t stop trying to protect her from her homelife, and it only got worse from there. At some point, I remember her crying so hard one night at home, and I tried so many ways to comfort her, but nothing worked. When she stopped crying, I remember her looking me in the eye and saying, “Let’s run away…now.” I was stunned, because she never wanted to run away from home before. No matter how much she hated her parents for how little they cared for her, and for all the times that they have made her cry and hate herself for no good reason…she never left them behind. Now it was my turn again to take control, to give her the chance to escape this cruel fate of constant emotional abuse, and I took it. I led us away into the woods, through the trails and carried us to the sweet release of freedom. I found us an empty tent here and there, made us a bed of leaves and we slept under the stars until the sun came up again. We traveled for days, with a backpack of snacks, our journal, and a pocket knife we stole from her parent’s garage. When she was hungry, I fed her, when she was cold, I made us a fire. I learned these survival skills somewhere from a book, maybe a show, either way, I used them to protect Charity. This went on for a couple more, until the truck came to a stop on the road.
The man pops his head out from the window of the passenger’s side, smiling at us warmly. “You alright?” he asks, his gum showing as he chewed it. It was annoying, the sound of his gum in his mouth, the stench of him unbearable, even from outside of his truck. “I’m fine.” says Charity, and I nod for the both of us. Just keep walking, we don’t know him. “You sure? I could give you a ride back to where you need to be.” he offers. “We don’t need to go back anywhere, thank you.” says Charity, lifting her head up to show her confidence. “We? Is someone else with you?” he asks, looking around us as if I was standing there with her, when in fact I was. “No, I meant me. I’m not going back anywhere-I’m going to…” corrects Charity, before she starts to trail off. DON'T! You can’t tell him where we are going! “Why not?” she had mumbled, and I almost grimaced with frustration. I’ll tell you where we are going later, but now we need to keep moving! She turns back to the driver and then continues to walk forward. The driver didn’t get the message, as I hoped he would, and continued to drive a little slower, following our pace. “You look lost.” he says, “You could sure use a ride.” “I’m not interested.” says Charity, speeding up her pace. Suddenly, the truck was no longer trailing us, as it was quickly put in park, and the driver get’s out of his truck. He runs to the front of the truck, arms outstretched to grab us, but I was two steps ahead of the both of us. We ran forward and made a sharp right turn into the woods beside the road. I could hear him gaining speed, getting closer to us. We were not as fast as I thought we’d be, and I made Charity grasp tighter on the pocket-knife she fished from her pocket mid-run. We both fell on our stomach as he tackled us both to the ground, and Charity struggled to wretch her body away from him. I watched as he pinned her down onto the ground, and I screamed for him to leave her alone. It was an out-of-body experience for me, and I felt as if I was no longer a part of her body for a moment. Then in a flash, I was in her body again, only this time, I could feel her in my mind and how she was no longer in control of her entire body. It wasn’t like before when I taught her to cook for herself, or to run away…this body was mine. Everything she was feeling was soon how I felt. I felt the man on top of us, getting ready to do something terrible, and I also felt the knife in our hand. When I felt strong enough, I yanked our arm up and the blade of the knife went into his heart. I heard him scream out, and I didn’t hesitate to pull the knife and stab him again in the throat when I pushed him onto his back. I stabbed him, over and over and over and over. Again, and again, and again, his moans growing more softly and distant with each blow to the body. It was as if I was possessed by someone else entirely, but I knew it was me who was doing it. This person, covered in blood, crying and screaming as she dug a pocket knife into this bad-man until the blade grew dull, it was me. Because who else would Charity be calling to stop?
After that event, we both were never the same. Charity thought it was terrible what happened to us, and was concerned with how I took control over her like that. I didn’t think much of it after the body was buried, and we continued on our journey to the northern states. Wichita Falls was a distant place, and Burnville, Oklahoma was our next stop to rest. I had asked for a room to stay in at the motel, but they didn’t rent for minors, no matter how much money I offered, which was all I could find in the trucker’s pockets. The bar man that resided in room 105 said he would let us use his room to stay in for the night. Besides the strong smell of alcohol, I could smell something sinister in his wide grin. He was most likely a child-rapist, the way his behavior was too inviting for such a favor. Charity refused to go…but I elected for the both of us to take the room. The buildings were separate, a weird but useful set up. After being invited inside with the door locked behind us, he made his move with his hand trailing our spine, and I made my move with a bottle of pink wine.
Broken glass cracked under our feet when I walked out the door and closed it behind me. Charity was still in shock, so I let her rest as I took control of her body. Two days later, another potential threat. The gas station is in a small subdivision near the woods of Missouri, and the both of us were very hungry. With the money we had from both the men, we bought up enough food and water to last us for nearly a month. I guess when Charity was feeling uncomfortable around the man with the small bandage over his eyebrow and the cigarette hanging from his pierced lip, I started growing more frustrated. Maybe a little more irritated than frustrated, but I was very close to being infuriated-a nice mixture, I would say. It wasn’t that he was eyeing her, it was that he was reading porn while doing it. Charity couldn’t see the magazine in his hands, but I could. I could even smell the worn condom in his pocket, and the pack of extra smokes. So, when we exited the store, and waited for him to take his smoke break, I made his head break. I pushed him against the wall with as much force as I could, and as he knelt down to regain his bearings, I continuously smashed his head onto the pavement, the last blow was with our pocket knife through his ear. Charity got mad at me for that, seeing as how it was an unprovoked attack, but I made it clear that she had no say in this at all. I mean, he could have attacked her any time, the way he was behaving. I was only doing this to protect her. I didn’t add that it was all due to me hating him as a person, and that he didn’t deserve to live at all. That justice was finally served by the hands of a cruel blade. When we left, I discarded the pocketknife and traded it for something more cunning.
I kept the clip-point on our newly acquired belt, and Charity was no longer in control of our body. She hasn’t made it a point to fight about the circumstance, considering the fact that I kept us both alive. I could tell that she was still pissed off from our last attack, and she only got angrier when more attacks happened. The stranger with the orange beanie and shifty eyes, sitting on the bench under the tree which I picked out to be our sleeping tree. He wasn’t really homeless, he was just pretending so he could prey on women who were alone at the very large and hidden park. I guess he didn’t expect my hidden blade to pierce his right eye and then slit his throat. The next was a man with an empty beer can in his hands, pretending to be sipping on it, when he was really tailing us at a small town in Kansas, where no one was watching the edge of the woods. He got what he deserved, when he dropped his can after I threw the blade and it landed in between his eyes, he didn’t even bother picking it up. Littering is a horrible crime, and I don’t respect those that do it for the fun of it. Next was the mom watching her son from the side as he swung on his swing set just outside of their backyard. I knew her type well, she didn’t care for the boy, and was watching him because she was afraid of what he might do if he was out of her sight. He could run for help, tell on her, tell everyone her dirty secrets. When he swung and jumped out from the seat, he didn’t even notice her feet dragging behind her into the woods where she was buried. The knife didn’t just go into her chest, it went through. With a broken knife, I had to find a better replacement, and I could hear Charity at last speak up. I don’t want to do this, I can't do this anymore! “Charity, we’re doing this for the good of this world.” I say, “Besides, the bitch deserves it, she has done so much to hurt that boy-I’m sure he’d thank us if he saw what we did.” You’re wrong! This is wrong! “Look, all of those deaths were long overdue, and you know it as well as I do.” I say. It’s been almost a year now, when are we going to stop this…when are you going to stop this? “I’ll stop when you’re safe again.” I explain calmly, as I cover up the body of a man whose date was canceled due to the attempted assault on her friend. “You’re hurting, and you’ve been hurting ever since we left home.” I say. That doesn’t give you the right to kill all of those people. “You’ll get use to it…or maybe you already have, and you just can’t accept it.” I taunt coldly, our eyes trailing elsewhere as the blade in our hand begins to slip and switch back over in our palm. Playing with knives was fun for me, it calmed me down after the fits of rage subsided, and the blood was washed from our hands with river water.
A year passed, two more and then a third came and went. We were very close to the edge of Canada, says a local brochure person on the cover, his words bolded but nothing special. I could hear less and less of Charity’s thoughts as soon as I was in control over her body. She sleeps whenever there’s an attack, and when I’m burying the body, she is still speechless. I feel a little bad about how I might have made her even more distressed than before, but I quickly got over it. It’s not my fault, I would say to myself, they were just bad people, and we were unlucky to meet them. When we slept in the woods, I found a large tree to rest my blade into for the time being. That was when Charity finally spoke out. I’m done! I can’t take this anymore, it’s time to go home! “What?!” I yelled, turning towards her, eyes locking with hers. This was the first time we spoke to each other since the day we left. I could see her, shaking and her eyes beginning to tear up. I’m done running, and I’m fed up with closing my eyes as you continue to kill people that didn’t even do anything to us! “They did do something, Charity!” I laughed back, my laughter came in a barking sound that gave the both of us chills down our backs. “They killed, they tortured, they hurt so many people…and they thought they got away with it unpunished.” I growled, “But then we came, and their pathetic lives were over the minute I could see through their wretched lies.” “Lies?!” Screams Charity, and I take a step back due to sudden shock. She was no longer just a voice in our head, but a girl standing before me. Her brown eyes were flowing with tears, and her lips quivered as her voice grew soft again. “This isn’t about their lies, and what they did…this is about taking your anger and frustration to a new level-you’ve been bottling it up when we were home, so now you’ve found an outlet at last.” She explains to me, as if she had figured out my mind all together. “All of this?! For an outlet?” I say, lifting our arms with exasperation, “I doubt that, Charity, I really do.” “Then what do you think this is all for then? Because it’s not for protecting me, so stop telling me that every time I doubt you!” She yells. “But Charity-I thought the truth hurts?” I taunt, and this makes her go silent. I continue, our lips curling up into a smile, having found her flaw in her argument. “Remember all those lies mom and dad would tell you, calling you those names, feeding you those words that would bite so hard and so painfully, you’d run into your room crying?” I say sing-song taunts getting louder, “I knew that they were lying, but sometimes I’d look at you and wonder…we’re all of those words really lies?” “Stop it!” She yells, but I continue. “You really are a wimpy girl, a cry baby, you’re so naive-that you think everyone deserves your kindness, that everyone would one day treat you good-when they’re just screwing with you!” “Shut up!” She screams, running towards me with her arms in front, ready to grab me. But she runs right through me and disappears from view, and I never flinched, just stared in front of me waiting for her to reappear. But she stays in our mind, tired and broken. “You can fight me all you want…we’re never going back, why would you even consider it?” I groan, finding a tree branch to sit on as I said these words.
The words started to stir in our mind, and all of a sudden, I heard something from her train of thoughts. The fog has finally cleared and I found out her truth at last! “Ohhhh.” I laugh, our eyes lowering to the ground, “You were going to go back…because of them.” I quickly stand up and walk back to the tree where the knife was buried into the wood. “You told me since you could speak-that you hated them-but you really didn’t, did you?” I asked harshly, our hands clenched into fists, “You love them…huh, I wonder why.” Don’t. “Don’t?” I ask, “Why? What do you expect for me to do? You offered to go home, right?” I could feel her voice start to rise as I grasped hold of the knife in the tree. Please! Don’t! You can’t! I won’t let you do this! Not them! Not now! I pull swiftly and with all my strength, and the knife breaks free from the tree. “I would say that I really did hope it wouldn’t come to this.” I mutter, “But that would be another lie, and I wanted this more than you’d believe.” You can stop this…you can’t just go and kill our parents-they’ll find us and arrest us for the other killings before you could even get close enough. “Um, no.” I correct, “They’ll try to arrest you, Charity.” I laugh a little when I add, “This isn’t my body-I don’t have one of my own-this is all you.” Stay away from them! I swear, I won’t let you do this. “Oh right…you can swear all you want, is that really the best you can do?” I taunt, “But maybe you’re right…I was kind of thinking it over, I’ve killed so many, this would probably feel no different.” I jump up just as an idea pops into our head. “However, you’ve always shut down during those times…maybe, yes!” I perk up, “Yes! That’ll be a show indeed, I could see you doing that-and enjoying it too.” What are you talking about? What are you saying? “You’re right, I shouldn’t be doing this.” I answer back, “You’ll do the deed for me-I want you to kill them.” Like hell I would!!! I’m not going to do that, I won’t! “But Charity? What are you supposed to do once we get there? I mean, you’re too weak to kick me outta the body now that I’ve been in control for a year.” I argue with a smile. I won’t, I’ll turn us both in! “Fine!” I sigh, lifting up our hands in fake-defeat, “Fine-fine-fine, don’t kill your parents, see if I care. Maybe-just maybe, I’ll find someone else to…oh, I’ve got it! I’ll just kill your brother!” You’re insane! You’re not the person I remember-you’re something else. Stop it! “It’s one or the other Charity~!” I yell, “You’re brother or your parents-which one means more than the other-we both know the correct answer!” Stop doing this! You’re a monster! I hate you! I laugh when she continues to scream, it was a pleasure that overtook my mind that I couldn’t describe. This free will for me was an oppressive foot for everyone else, and now I’m stomping all over the world with it. And it felt right, it felt amazing. Alright! Stop it! Please-my brother-please don’t kill my brother. “Changed your mind, then?” I ask, waiting for her to admit it. Begging her to admit it. Okay…I hate my parents, and you’re going to protect me still. “Forever, and always-I will do everything I can to protect you.” I warn coldly, “So don’t fight me…you’re not the one who’s suffering the blows from this-I’ve done everything for you, suffered with you, and this is what they deserve-so let me show you the truth.” I lift the blade up to our face, gazing at its elegant edges. The light from the sun was glinting, and the handle flowed and flickered with each swift grasp and dropping motion I made with it. “You’re going to do this…not for me, but for yourself.” I explain, “You’ll finally understand the lies that were spilling over, and you’ll bring truth to stab it in their heart.” I begin walking through the woods, leaving behind the backpack of food and water that we no longer needed. “We’ll be free!” I exclaimed, but what I should have said was that I’d be free.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
We walked for miles, days, and finally the smell of home was close. The driveway was newly paved, the house redone and remolded. For a second, I thought that they had moved away, but the cars in the garage were still there. “We’re in luck!” I whisper to Charity, “They’re asleep right about now.” It’s better that way, I guess. At least there won’t be time to talk. “That’s the spirit!” I whisper, smiling and laughing a little under my breath when we reach the garage door. After we walk inside, I be-line to the kitchen, and open the fridge. “I’m thirsty, we can’t kill your parents with low energy.” I say softly, as I open up the water bottle and take a few swigs. “Can you believe we traveled so many miles to get here?” I whisper with a small laugh barely making its way through our vocals, “I mean-is that funny or what?” Nothing about this is funny…let’s just get this over with. “Geez, way to be a buzzkill about it.” I sigh, tossing the water back into the fridge. I walk to the end of the hallway, near our room, the parent’s room beside it. Our room was open, but bare to the bone. I guess they didn’t waste time wanting to wipe us out of existence. How I wished that this would make up for it all.
I opened the door, stepped inside, and slowly, I started to swim back into the mind, my control was almost entirely gone back to Charity. She took the next steps to the bed, where her parents were sleeping soundly. She pulled the knife from out of her belt, and slowly crawled up onto the end of the bed. Her parents didn’t stir, not even when she was kneeling so close to them. This is it! Soak it all in, Charity, the glory of it all. “I’m not soaking it in.” She whispers, “I’m not here for that.” Okay, then do it. We don’t have all night! “Plenty of time…” whispers Charity, she lifts the knife above her head, ready to plunge it down. But I couldn’t hear her after that, the wall built up, higher and farther. Fog engulfs the mind, and I’m cut off from control. Charity, I know what you’re doing, do you? This is wrong, you can’t stop this from happening. Her hands were shaking, her breath coming in gasps. Her parents began to stir, but they were not awake yet. The next thing happened so fast, I almost didn’t see it coming. But looking back, I probably knew what she might do. I just didn’t expect it, I didn’t see her being that strong enough to do what she did. Maybe she was strong all this time, but she didn’t want to be. The moment the blade went down was the moment her hands stopped shaking, and the fog barely started to clear. I could hear only one sentence from her, before the world around us darkened. “I’m sorry, we deserve this.” The knife strikes and hits directly into her fleshy heart. I was in so much shock, I couldn’t comprehend anything. She was shaking violently, holding the knife and then pushing it deeper into her heart. I didn’t scream, I didn’t even move. She fell forward and stopped moving all together. By the time her parents woke up, the bed was soaked with blood and I was barely conscious. The last thing I could register was Charity’s soft breathing.
I could feel my mind begin to clear, in the darkness of her subconscious. It was cold, but in a comforting way. I didn’t know or remember anything, and by the time I woke up, it wasn’t any different. I woke up with a very aggressive jolt of pain running through her body, shaking me awake. I was trying to catch my breath, trying to remember. I couldn’t believe what I saw, the room, the bed, the window. Everything was white and light blue, the window covered with a beige curtain. I was laying on a stiff bed, in a white hospital gown with tiny pink flowers on it. The dried up blood was blooming from where our heart was, but by the smell of it, I’ve been bleeding for about a few hours. I toss our legs over the edge of the bed to get up, trying to run for the life of me, even as I fell to the ground. I grabbed hold of the bed to push ourself up, calling out for her to help me. “Charity.” Nothing. “Charity!” Nothing. I kept calling her name out as I pushed ourself up. “Get up…Get up! Charity-answer me, goddamnit!” I hear our ears ringing, and suddenly I felt a cold realization seeping in with the memories bordering the fog and breaking through. Eyes were on me now, and I heard screams. Already pissed off, I turned her head sharply towards the doors, and watched as the nurses fell to their knees and bleed out. I stumbled past them, our bare feet slipping over the blood puddles. I walked down the hallways, and everyone was running from one place to another. They were blocking my way, screaming, yelling, even crying. I was so angry at this, I don’t have any other way of putting it-but the amount of rage I had felt at that moment can’t compare to anything I have ever felt before. This goes beyond my rage for the parents, beyond my rage for the people I’ve killed. But the truth was…all I could think about was Charity. By the time I reached the stairs to go down, the lights were flickering from behind me. The smell of blood and intestines grew stronger with each step and the sounds of the people inside the hospital grew quiet. The scraping of metal against flesh and bones, the sound of glass breaking and then slashing through wood and concrete barriers, all of this was so heavenly and beautiful to our ears, but at the same time…it was all too stressful.
Bursting from the doors, out from behind me flew all these silver and clear flashes, like bugs from an enclosure set free. They shot up and disappeared into the unknown, leaving me behind and standing in the fresh air. I storm in the direction of a parking lot, ducking and passing through the empty cars. “Charity, I need you to answer me right now!” I whimper, grasping hold of a door handle only to burn myself and pull back with a swear under my breath. “Charity Aulett Cozbi, Charity, Charity-how many times do I have to call your name?!” I cry out, stumbling further towards the edge of the woods. How come every time I’m running, it’s always back to the woods? How is that even possible? Some cruel fate led me to these woods, what does it want from me now? “Charity! Are you in there? Is that what you want? For me to find you?” I call out, reaching forward to the nearest tree to keep me from falling again. Our legs were oddly tired and weak, our body trying its best not to break, even the bones in our body felt as if they were asking for me to stop moving so much. “What are you?!” I hear from behind me, and I turn around slowly. I saw a few feet away from me, two adults, the man was holding the shaking woman, whose finger was pointed at me. “You are not human…I can see that now…you are not our daughter-she’s dead!” She cries. “You’re a monster.” Says the man with a growing anger coming low from his voice, “A demon from hell, go back to hell! Leave us be!” I watch them for a while, moving closer, shuffling every so often. It looked as if the woman would fall on her face a couple of times, the shock starting to weaken them. “I’m not Charity. I don’t know where she is…so leave me be.” I say, a cough escaping my last words to them, and when I look down, I see blood. I’m dying, maybe? But our body doesn’t feel as weak as it was in the hospital. I turn to walk through the hidden trail, wincing as our feet start getting pricked by the thorns of bushes and shrubs. “I hope you get what you deserve, you witch.” Calls the mother of a girl who loved her at one point. That girl was not here now, and I don’t know why. I’m glad she wasn’t there to see the hidden blade from the ground rise up and slice off the finger pointed at me.
As I’m running, I hear the breaths coming back, the soft breath from that night, mixing with mine. I could hear her voice telling me to stop. But it wasn’t her, she’s not here-it’s only a memory. That voice wasn’t real…so where is she? I stop to catch my breath, our hand grasping a large branch to keep me up on our feet. I hear running water in the distance, and start towards it. The small creek was one of few that flowed from a specific spot in the center of the woods. It was familiar, I remember passing it a couple of times when we traveled to the northern states. I didn’t think I ran that far though, wasn’t it only minutes that I was home? I see the tree, it’s dead, but it was there for what I assume to be centuries, considering how big the trunk was. There, in the center of the tree, was the mark of my knife from where I dug my knife into it. This was the last place I saw Charity, so of course, she should be here waiting for me now. I washed her face with the water beside the tree, just after I looked into the reflection. What happened to our eyes? They weren’t brown anymore, these eyes were different. On that note, everything about our body looked different. Yes, the familiar features were there-but her skin didn’t feel familiar at all. These hands, these blood stained feet, these arms, these legs, everything looked normal, but felt alien. I felt this cold realization again, like I was still in the hospital bed being strapped down and buried away. No amount of fresh air could help me accept that I was cut free, I was still trapped somehow. The blood was starting to drip from down our chest and through the hospital gown. I began to panic. “Charity.” I call out, “I think we’re dying.” Nothing. “C-Charity, I think-I don’t know what to do, I was there in the house with you, and we should have killed-the parents are still alive, why?!” I yell, and still, nothing. “Charity-for christ sake-answer me!!!” I jump from the water and look up to the clouded sky. “Charity! Charity answer me! I know you’re here! You have to be here! You led me here-so talk! Speak! Scream! Do something!” I yell, and then I scream as loud as I can until our voice goes sore.
It was hours that passed, and I sunk to the ground with our back against the dead tree. The truth was that she was gone. She was dead, and I was dying. What cruel irony, as she had hoped to kill me in the process. “How could you?” I sigh, tears starting to break from our eyelids. “How could you? How could you? How could you?” I echo, until I started with a new set of questions, “Are you happy now? You left me, are you happy? Are you scared?” I tilt our head to the side, staring at nothing. “I think I’m…I’m hurt that you left me…makes sense, I’m dying, and you’re the only one who would see me.” I kept talking, the pain started to fade. And even after the words stopped coming out of our mouth, one thing was said as a solid truth. “You never shared your heart with me, did you? I can’t hear it. It’s only when you’re here…that I hear it.” We shared a body, we shared a mind, but her heart was always hers. And I was never given one. For that, dear Charity, I hate you. But for everything else, I forgive you. Be at peace. I know I’ll never find it…not even when I was given a second chance to live.
It wasn’t long after I had given up, that the flickering of red and dark black skies started appearing around me. The trees shifted, swayed and then reappeared in different places. I found the ground around me vibrating, and keeping me from squirming away. I could only look around, craning our head this way and that in a confused motion. Then there was a silence in the air, so silent that my mind and the ears were both burning and ringing. I felt cold all over, snakes with solid black scales ran across our shoulders and cheeks. They wisped and swiveled around me, guiding our head up towards the faceless figure in front of me. I could have screamed, I could have begged, I couldn’t move-but I wished I would. This figure was calling for my attention and for my silence, so I complied. They started with inviting themselves into my memories, their darkness sweeping over and counting each one. When they were done, they called me by my name, and told me what I was going to do.
I can’t remember the exact words, because they were said in such a horrific manner, that I refused to remember that moment. All I could say is that they granted me a purpose to live. I was not yet ready to become what they called their followers, proxies? Something like that, I mean, after all, I didn’t understand just yet how my powers worked. That wasn’t entirely shocking, I knew that there had to be an explanation for how I killed those people in the hospital. The figure said that I had this ability to control sharp objects, but my powers are still fairly new and had only awakened when Charity died. Her vessel, they explained, was not meant for her, but for me. Now that I have attained it with her death, I could move forward on the very mission I started long ago. I could kill those who deserved to die for the lies and crimes they’ve been destined to be buried alive in. I was their only hope to keep the blood spilling over the world. Without bloodshed, there is no purpose for my second chance. If I refused…I would rather not say the consequences they spoke of. It’s not that I can’t remember, again, that specific memory of that moment was so haunting and dangerous that if I strained to remember it, I fear that it would tear me apart on the inside. After we spoke, I agreed, because I was desperate to keep living. They offered a hand to lift me up from the ground, and hesitantly, I took it. A jolt of life swarmed my empty heart, and at last-there was the sound of beating. Only this time, it was my heart that was beating. My lungs breathing, my body moving, my hand feeling colder and then nothing at all. There were no more shadows, no more snakes, no more faceless figures. I was alone, and I was once dead, but at that moment…I really don’t know what I am.
I go back to the reflection in the water, and gasp at the sight of myself. I didn’t see much of her at all in me, not her combed hair or her olive skin. My skin was a shade darker, and my hair was a mess of waves and oily tangles I so badly wanted to cut off. No, I didn’t see Charity in me at all, I saw only similarities, but what I truly saw was something a bit more grand and different. I saw the face of Scout Cozbi for the first time. It's a shame I will never look at myself the same was as I did before.
I grab some sharp sticks and stones and set them around the tree. With a few sparks, it was on fire, and burning quickly. I summoned as much courage as I could, and cut open my heart with a pocketknife I summoned from far within the woods. I cut open the center of the heart, and there-nestled in the organ, was a piece of my soul. A small, little orb, barely lit with periwinkle light. I tossed it into the flames, and it glowed a blood curling red. I placed the heart back into my chest, and took some time to fix it up.
When I was ready to walk away, the flames stopped and disappeared. I walk into the lighter parts of the woods, my feet hurting every so often from the sticks and sharp rocks on the ground. It got to the point where the rocks were pissing me off and I tried to practice using my powers to summon them up from the ground. However, only a few came up and flew in different directions, hitting the trees and shrubs. I heard a noise from the left of me, and the sharp rocks shot up beside me, waiting for me to send them flying left. Instead, I walked to the noise and pushed back the bushes that hid the creature. It looked like a silver and black wolf, its crème chest puffed out and her silver back matted with grime. The poor thing was lying down with its body tangled in sharp branches. “Huh…weird looking wolf you are.” I remarked, pulling away the branches as she licked my hands. “Stop that, I’m not a fucking ice pop.” I mutter, just as I pull away the last branch, and set her free. She barks and scampers around me, but stops when she’s near the bushes she was once caught in. A whine comes outta her after a while of staring at me, panting and begging for me to look back at her. Hesitantly, I give in and kneel down to pet her neck and head. She kept leaning her head against my hands, even lifting her paws to hug my arms. “You’re pretty young, maybe a year old or so…I know you’re a dog, just never seen a silver one like you.” I say, swaying from foot to foot so they don’t fall asleep. I jump up and quickly move to leave, the dog following closely. “Alright, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a hunting dog…makes looking for food a lot easier.” I say out loud, so that she might hear me, “I’m Scout, and you need a name.” I stop to look at her, and she sits looking back up at me, panting and showcasing her sharp white teeth. “You…look like a Hilda-so I’m calling you Hilda now.” I say, before turning back to the trail. “I think we’re in for a long and tedious trip, Hilda.” I smirk, stopping to rub my feet every so often, because they hurt, “I hope you can keep up.”
Four years have passed since those days. I’ve been walking through the trails that seem a little less familiar than before. After all, it’s been a long time, and I haven’t visited the tree since I met the faceless figure. I accepted that it was just a dream, perhaps a hallucination, and left it at that. I’ve grown older, and I would argue, a bit wiser. My hair is shorter now, just barely reaching my shoulders, and still has a lot of tangles I have yet to cut off. I’ve stolen a couple of things, clothes and supplies here and there from stores, making sure that the cameras were off when I was there. Don’t want to be the center of attention for the police again. Besides, my goal was set in stone, and so far, my kill count has reached its peak of twenty seven. I wasn’t exactly an expert with my power, but nobody really is when given the powers to control all sharp objects. It ranged from knives to daggers to razors to needles, to branches, to rocks, to even nail clippers and screw drivers. Anything with a sharp edge, whether it was made of metal or organic. It could be the very bones that break in a person’s body. I look to expand my collection of sharp objects, but settle for the knives and daggers I attached to my belt and hid in my boots and arm pockets. I still kept Hilda, she’s been plenty of help and a wonderful companion. Besides hunting, she’s trained to attack any person I aim to kill, heck-she even found a couple of spots to bury the bodies. Hilda is not a replacement for Charity, but she’s a better friend than I could ever want. I made sure that she is protected, safe from those who were as dangerous as me. So far, I don’t have a competitor to oppose that theory, but I digress. I’m not in the mood for asking for trouble just yet. Four years…not even an inch closer to finding me. The investigation has gotten colder by the years, and too many cases were piling up with different disappearances. I guess I wasn’t the only one making a scene.
The parents were sent to a mental hospital by now-and hopefully they’re suffering for all that they’ve done to us. I won’t give them the satisfaction of killing them to end their pain. They’re not even worth scaring if I visit them. No, it’s better to leave them to die alone and insane. I, on the other hand, will not die until the deed’s done. I’m set for life with…well, life. I’ve got my own body and mind, nothing to share. And I’ll leave with that in mind. This tree was my birthplace, my real home. I’m grateful for my gifts, and now, it will be my confirmation grounds. Because now, I will become what many will fear, my time has come to burn away the rest of my humanity, or at least the tiny bits that were not burned away. Another piece of my soul will go into the flames, and with that, my powers will grow from there. So, for those who remembered Charity, this is a permanent goodbye. For those who remember Scout, my final warning. If you see me, you’ll wish you hadn’t stepped into the path of the Blade Witch…ugh, that name is cheesy-I’m going to change it at some point, it doesn’t suit me well. I mean, I can control blades, sure, but I control a lot of other sharp things besides knives.
I’m overthinking it-I’m Scout, and that’s that. I’ve got work to do, and a purpose to fulfill, I don’t have all night to keep writing this sad story, so I’ll wrap things up quickly.
Besides…there’s someone else who wants to see me…I’d hate to be late for our little meet and greet, and who knows?! Maybe things might get more interesting once I have the razors paint a few more scars onto their face…