Paradise Island: Complete Edition (13 page)

“It was a place like no other Sophie had found herself in, and this place had a towering figure who oversaw everyone and everything. This man, Crow, took to visiting Sophie when moon overtook sun, and he did things to her that were unspeakable. This went on for years and years. Sophie’s mother was oblivious, or if she knew, she did not speak of it. For Crow was her hero, her Savior, her one and only, and he was even more precious to her than her own daughter.

“One day, after years and years, Sophie found herself standing on a cliff, thinking about ending all the suffering she had gone through. It was the day of her mother’s funeral, and Crow had told her that he wanted her to be by his side from now on, as his most treasured one. For Crow thought he and Sophie belonged together. As Sophie closed her eyes, ready to step off the edge, she heard the wind whispering in her ear. At first she didn’t really understand the words, but as she listened closer, the random sounds formed into a message. Would you like to know what that message was, Henry?”

Henry nodded again, with greater enthusiasm this time. It seemed my story had done its duty. I stepped closer to him until we were only inches apart. I could hear the deep breath he took, awaiting my next move. I came closer and closer until my lips were close to his ear.

“The wind whispered:” I whispered, and with one quick motion, as my left hand held his right, the one with the knife, I used my right hand, now equipped with a blade, and stabbed him in the neck. “NEVER AGAIN!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I fell on top of him and kept stabbing his neck over and over again. Blood gushed out everywhere. It was on the floor, my hands, my face, his chest, his face. “NEVER AGAIN, do you hear me you sick little fuck! Never again!” I screamed over and over as tears streamed down my face, washing the blood away. “Never again will I be at the mercy of a sick fuck like you!” I said between sobs.

Once I regained a semblance of control, I looked down on the lifeless, bloody body of Henry. I threw the knife away as far as it would go, really seeing what I had done. I screamed in horror at the bloody scene, wanting to wash the blood away. I ran from the room through the house until I reached the shore. I jumped into the water, rinsing myself clean. I scrubbed and scrubbed, until the red was no longer visible. It was only after I’d calmed down that I realized the water was ice cold. If I stayed there any longer, I would surely die. As I exited the sea, shivering, I looked up at the cottage of horrors that held a horror I made within. I slowly made my way inside, and searched for a fireplace. I found one and I went about making a fire, almost on autopilot, as I did almost every day when I lived with Lucy. I wanted to lay down and rest, but I needed to do something first. I got up reluctantly, leaving the warmth behind, and I made my way to the room where his body lay. I searched his pants and found the keys in his pocket. I closed and locked the door behind me.

I went back to the living room and took off my wet clothes and laid them as close to the fire as possible without setting them alight. I laid down by the fire, letting its warmth soothe me as I closed my eyes. The heat of the fire dried my tears, and I let it take me away, somewhere far away, where I didn’t have to think. Where I didn’t have to exist.

I let the warmth of the fire consume me and I welcomed the emptiness, the nothingness that followed.

I
woke from a dreamless sleep and saw that my clothes were dry. I put them back on carefully, still aware of the blood that must have dried with them. I hoped I had gotten most of it out. As soon as I got a change of clothes I was going to destroy the ones I wore to commit the unspeakable. I did now know what had gotten into me. All of those years of pent up rage had finally found an outlet, one that had the capacity to destroy me in every way. But as I got up, the tears long dry by now, I felt a certain sense of calm wash over me. There was no stone in the pit of my stomach, for in a way I had faced my greatest fear. Did I regret snuffing out one such as Henry from this world? No. The only thing that I regretted was that I had bloodied my hands by doing so.

I had a good idea of what would have happened had I not been able to fight back, and I felt no remorse, no sorrow for the life I had taken. I calmly walked and stood in front of the door that held my crime. The only thing I needed to figure out now would be how to get rid of the body.

I held the key in my hand and I stood there what seemed like hours, but must have only been minutes. I stared at the door in front of me, studying its every feature as if I was a detective looking for clues to the crime. But the only clue to the crime I needed was not to be found on the door, but behind it. Slowly, deliberately, I unlocked the door. I opened it, expecting the smell of rotting flesh, but finding not much difference. It was a chilly room, meant to keep his prey locked away, not comfortable it seemed. And once he got tired of them, I’m sure he thought how more convenient it would be for the room to be cold, to keep the bodies fresh for as long as possible. I looked for a light switch by the door but there was none. So he kept them in darkness all the time, the only light the one he decided to let in. I kneeled down by the body and observed the drying bloody mess I had made of it. His eyes shocked by the turn of events, by my craftiness. Girls like me weren’t supposed to fight. Girls like me were supposed to lie down and take it. No, Henry, I am not the kind of girl you thought I was.

I took a look around the room and devised a plan, but did not know if I should put it into motion just yet. A fire attracts attention. Even in the middle of nowhere, for doesn’t smoke rise up and up until the whole world can see it?

I left and locked the door behind me. Henry could wait. He wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

I decided to explore the cottage of horrors instead. A part of me wanted to run and never return, but another part of me was curious as to what I’d find.

I entered a bedroom that I assumed to be Henry’s for when he had late nights. What I found shouldn’t have shocked me. Pictures upon pictures, all no doubt taken by Henry, decorated the walls and the ceiling. Some alive, some obviously dead. The sickening air and atmosphere of the room got the better of me. I ran as fast as I could, and didn’t stop until I was outside. I breathed in deep, wanting to retch, but there was nothing to vomit. My stomach was empty. The bright, sharp-toothed sun shone above the trees, making the whole scene even more surreal than it was. I thought I could handle Henry’s darkness, but I could not. The pictures had told me all I needed to know: Henry deserved to die, and the death he got was far more merciful than he deserved.

I looked upon the water and saw the wooden dock that I barely noticed before. The boat was parked there, waiting. It mocked me, for I did not know how to drive the damn thing. Maybe it was time for me to give it a try. But how many girls had had their last boat ride in that very boat? How many of them woke up groggy, not knowing what was happening, and listened and waited as footsteps made their way down? How many had to look up into the smiling face of a monster without any hope for survival? I did not know, and I did not want to know. All I knew was that I needed to get as far away from this place as possible, even if it meant walking step by step until I found my way back to some semblance of a civilization.

I went back inside the house and sat down by the burnt out fire. Then I noticed the camera sitting on a table. I took it in my arms and after figuring out how to turn it on, I looked at the screen showing all the pictures it contained. Sunsets, sunrises, me, me, me, me, me. I could not believe how many pictures of me he had on there. There were even several of me and Jack together outside his house. Inside. I dared not look any further. I knew now that Henry was obsessed with me, but to know he was a part of so many of my private moments, lurking unseen in the shadows, made my skin crawl. I threw the camera hard against the wall and watched as it broke into pieces. Then I smashed the pieces until I was sure the memory disk or whatever it was called was completely obliterated.

I searched every nook and cranny in the house, but to no avail: I could not find any gasoline. Then I remembered the boat and I scolded myself for how stupid I was. I made my way to the little dock, which judging by its size and shape, I wouldn’t have been surprised was built by Henry himself, and unlocked the door. I looked and looked until finally I found two full canisters of gasoline. I took them one by one to the shore and after getting the second one and putting it on the ground, I was sweaty and tired. Then I looked up at the cottage ahead. I imagined it burnt to the ground.

Then I thought of all the girls that had met their ends here. Perhaps some of them had no one to miss them, but perhaps some of them did. I thought about their families and their sorrow at not knowing what happened to their sisters and daughters. I made a third trip to the house and went back for something I had already known was there. Henry’s phone. The reception was shit, but at least it was in my possession. All I had to do was walk until a signal had appeared, but I highly doubted one would. The island was well known for its shitty reception, much to the chagrin of folk like Lucy. Oh, Lucy, I hoped she was okay, but my mind could not figure out a scenario in which she got out of the explosion alive. Maybe Jack, but probably not Lucy. I tried not to think about all that and focused on the task at hand. I had a boat at my disposal.

I looked back at the canisters of gasoline and made my decision. I could not let this place stand, and I could not bear the thought of Henry’s body being found the way it was. I opened the door to the cottage and went straight for the dark room. I unlocked the door and, and as the light behind me shone on his body, I knew I made the right decision. I doused his body liberally with the gasoline and his surroundings, including that nasty mattress. Then I moved on to the picture room. I asked for forgiveness of all the girls in those pictures, and I hoped that if they could, they would understand my actions. I could not get involved in a high profile case involving a serial killer. I came to the island to get away from my past, to hide from the man who took so much from me, and if I were to end up plastered on every newspaper and television show in England, I had no doubt he’d find me.

I went back for the second canister and doused the rest of the house, including some of the exterior for good measure. I took the knife Jack had given me and put it into my jeans pocket after it cleaning as good as it could get. I did not want to risk Jack being tied with this. I lit a match, and threw it into the gasoline. The fiery blaze hissed almost immediately. I got as far away from the house as I could and watched as it burst into flames, seeing it burn making something in me a little bit better. I climbed onto the boat and put the key in the ignition.

According to the gas meter, I had more than half in the tank. I don’t know how I would have felt if it had been mostly empty. Probably like the biggest fool on earth. I took hold of the controls, and while it was rough sailing at first, I figured out how to make it move, more or less. I swung from side to side, but I was moving, so that was something. I took one last look at the house as it burned, the wood about ready to collapse on itself. I left the past behind, and very badly, took myself as far from the scene of the crime as possible. I did not know where exactly I was going. I just knew I wanted to get as far away as possible. A strange sight caught my eye, the blackened remains of a boat house, perhaps? I slowed down the boat as much as I could before hitting the shore. I thought I’d crash for sure, but amazingly I didn’t, though I did get thrown backwards hard when the boat came to a complete stop. I quickly brushed away any fingerprints from anything I had touched and quickly jumped into the water below. The shock of the cold water only made me more determined to swim to the shore and once I was there, I ran as fast as I could, until I reached the ruined remains of the boat house. Thankfully I did not find any burned bodies. I made my way the same way I had come in what seemed like a lifetime ago now. I was freezing, and the chilly wind wasn’t helping in that regard at all. My teeth were chattering so hard that I feared they would break. The only warmth I felt was from the hot tears that streamed down my face. I don’t know why I was crying. Maybe the shock was finally wearing off. Maybe everything that had happened had finally caught up to me, but as I continued walking down that dirt road, I could barely see through the tears until I had to stop and kneel on the ground. I gave up. There was no more energy within me. If I had to die right then and there, then that is what was going to happen. I could not take another step forwards. This was as far as I would go. As I laid in the dirt, barely able to move, I remembered the bike Jack and I had hidden in the woods. I looked around, but everything looked the same. Then I searched for the tracks, and once I found them, it was easy to see where the bike was hidden. I slowly got up and made my way into the woods, hoping against all hope that the bike would be there. At first, it did not look like it was, but then I saw something reflect the sun and I knew it was there. I don’t know how or why, but the bike was there. As I got closer to the location, I realized that I had been wrong. It wasn’t there at all. It was just a piece of metal reflecting the sun, and not the bike itself. I screamed at the top of my lungs and felt better for it. As I laid down on the ground against a tree, I felt Henry’s cell in my pocket. In the excitement of seeing the boat house I had completely forgotten about it. I turned on the screen and saw one glorious bar staring at me and thanked whoever was listening. I sighed in relief and looked at his contact list and was not surprised to find my name there. I had given him my number awhile ago, when I thought he was just a normal fellow with an interest in photography who just needed a friend. I pressed the call button and waited in unbearable anticipation as the ringing sound kept ringing and ringing in my ear. I had left my cell at Jack’s place and I hoped he still had it or that he was even able to answer the damn thing.