You know what’s harder to get out of your clothes than blood? Stomach acid.
That may seems obvious but how many of you have actually gotten stomach acid on your shoes?
It may not even be stomach fluids. After all these years, I’m not as good at forensic anatomy as I should be. Maybe I should take a class. Really brush up on the human body. It really is fascinating. I already have all the tests subjects a girl could ask for – a whole city of them. Sometimes even beyond the city.
We treated Jason to a camping trip for his birthday. Well, we told him it was for his birthday but it was just an excuse to spend time together as a family. We really don’t see each other often, despite living together. Jason is always in his room, James is mostly working nights, and I’m dancing between a thriving double life and pure insanity. I swear someone was watching me a few weeks ago. Like, broke into my house to spy on me levels of stalking. Of course that’s crazy but it kept me up for a few nights.
Needless to say we all needed some time away from the house. So we packed up the car, rented a cabin for the weekend, and took off.
The cabin was actually quite nice: running water, electricity, no cell signal because it was fairly isolated. So of course, because it’s us, it stormed all weekend. We couldn’t leave the cabin all weekend. The electricity went out Saturday afternoon and given the raging lightning storm in the middle of the forest, we didn’t feel it was safe to drive home until the weather calmed down.
We ran out of board games and all of the books were boring so we had to find something else to entertain ourselves.
Unsurprising to any of us, Jason sat in the corner silently and started drawing what he saw outside. Anti-social and weirdly talented at everything. Sounds like him. James, on the other hand, got bored very quickly and went out into the storm to search for amusement. He pulled me outside a few hours later to present the hunter he’d lured over with the promise of shelter. The man even brought his own murder weapon: a shotgun. James brought a shovel which was so sweet so I used that instead. I love when my victims make it easy – sometimes; depends on my mood – but guns are so messy. And loud, good lord. So instead, James caught the man’s attention and I dealt a singular blow to the back of the head. Of course he didn’t die right away but we let him bleed out while we carried him deeper into the woods and dug his grave. By the time we’d finished, we was certainly dead.
It really was sweet of James to do that for me but I hated leaving Jason for so many hours. It was supposed to be family time.
The storm passed by Sunday afternoon and we were on the road before night fall. Didn’t even have to miss work. Life continued on as normal.
Except yesterday. I was sitting at the table after dinner, waiting for the dishwasher to finish. I was clearly bored and thought it was just me in the house – the boys were still at their respective jobs. Jason walked through the front door and straight to me, calmly placed a piece of paper in front of me and went up to his room for the rest of the night.
On the paper was a drawing – a pretty good one – of James and I carrying the hunter through the trees.
He has officially hit the trifecta: he’s been told about murder, he’s done it himself, and now he’s seen it. It’s been over a year since he killed Andrew and while I’ve never told him outright, I think he’s always known what I do. He was so calm; and not a speck of me think he would tell anyone but I never meant to bring him in to my world – either of the kids – but it’s happened. It’s official.
What do I do now? Do I do anything? What can I do? But continue.
As always, dear readers,