Double Life: Enemy´s Letter

Nichole woke up in the middle of the night, just like she´d been doing since last time she left to be the monster, she tossed and turned on her bed but couldn´t go back to sleep. Her bedside clock read 1:03. She tossed her covers to a side and went to her bathroom to wash her hands, she always washed her hands first when she had the nightmares in which she was the monster, she knew water and soap wouldn’t clean the blood from her hands, the deaths she had brought, but she couldn´t help it. As she washed her hands she looked up and saw her reflection on the mirror and glared at her image feeling the impulse to break the mirror. It was scary how much her eyes resembled that woman that had taught her how to be who she was so she looked away.

Nichole went back to her bed and tried to sleep, she twisted and turned, tangled herself in the covers, so she gave up and sat and then turned on her bedside lamp, opened her drawer and lifted the lid of the hidden compartment in it, where the journal she´d taken from that enigmatic old lady lay along a single picture of her and her mother. She´d been intrigued by the journal since she got a hold on it but she was somehow scared of the information it could have but tonight it seemed to call her name, to wake her up, it demanded to be read. She had dreamed of its owner and the night when she had made her go away.

Nichole opened the cover of the journal; on the first page she saw a signature that read Mary Anne Ibsen. So that had been her victim, she looked away from the page. After a few minutes, she opened the journal on the last entry there was a picture of a younger Mary Anne, her hair was not completely gray, a young man Nichole thought she’d seen somewhere stood next to her, his arm hugged the woman´s shoulders, both of them with a smile. Nichole took the picture, it was dated five years ago. She put the picture back and read the date of that last entry, it had been written 3 weeks from that day.

She read that last entry and as she started to read she remembered the voice of the old woman, it was as if the woman was talking again right in front of her while her eyes had an intense but resigned gaze.

I can´t believe he´d want to kill me slowly like this. I have nothing more to live and I´m not strong enough anymore to find proof that it was him. I accepted when it was my children, I had after all helped to take his child’s life. I dealt with him taking my husband, my helping had taken his wife but then he had to go and take my grandchildren too. He is clearly on a mission: to wipe my existence without killing me, not yet. I will never believe that accident was an accident and I will never believe that a young man in his twenties can die of a heart attack, how could I? He had no right to take the last bit of my blood. I should´ve shot the girl when I could, now it´s too late, it´d be merciful of him to send her to me. I wonder if he knows she feels every bit of pain just like her victims.

He should be the one to die. I know you’d agree with it too. I feel excited to know you´ll be reading this, Nicky; you might be reading it right now.

At this part, Nichole blinked and threw the book away as if it had burnt her hands. Had this woman written this for her to read? Or was it just a coincidence?  “no, things are hardly ever a coincidence” she thought as she felt sick of her stomach but she had to know what else had this woman wanted to tell her, would she find out how she knew her or if she was lucky she´d find out that there was another Nicky. “Maybe it´s some relative that she knew would retrieve her things” but she knew that couldn´t be, Mary Anne had said that she´d been waiting Nichole and the journal said she had no relatives. Nichole observed the journal lying down on the floor; the picture had flown out of it. A long time went by before she finally took it. She had to know what else the woman had to say.

I’d be so good that he died and from your hands, he´s been using you and you know it too…

Nichole´s heart was beating slightly faster than the usual. She noticed the slight discoloration on the pages as if it had been wet, maybe tears.

Why, Nicky, why did you have to murder my boy? He´d never done anything to hurt you, you never knew him. Did you know his name was Ben? He had such a beautiful smile. Did you know he wanted to be a chef?

Nichole felt her heart sink. Ben, that had been the name on the name tag of the bartender. Had he been related to this woman? Had that been his only crime?

Did you know how much he suffered when you left him orphan? You probably do, we left you orphan. Cristina was a good woman, even as a child you looked so much like her. I know she would´ve never yielded to a murderer like Karl and this is what you are, a murderer, and you don´t even know why, do you?

I´ll help you, yes, I will help you because I helped you to be who you are but I was not alone and as you I´m also being merciless. Once Bellegarigue died of a heart attack I knew I was next , your father is smart, he is letting us fear we’re next except they all believe you don´t exist but I knew better and I told her you were after her but despite her preparations you got to her. I expected you to die at her house but it seems you are stronger than what we planned you to be but don´t worry I didn´t let know the others, they think that you died, just like your father wanted them to think so you´ll still be a surprise to them, I, too want you to find them and to do to them what you did to me, kill their soul first, kill them in fear first and then take them away. I bet you don´t remember me, Nicky but I do remember you.  We deserve this, we treated you like this. I´m rooting for you to succeed in taking all that they love but also know that I hate you and that I know your  hands are stained with blood… and one day someone will go after you, Nicky, and do what you did to us, to Ben.

Nichole´s heart was pounding. This woman knew a lot about her, about her father, about her mother, she knew her mother’s name. Nichole got worried, what if she knew her mother´s maiden name? She had said she knew her father had faked her death. She obviously knew her movements… if she knew her father, she could’ve known of Camille. She felt hyperventilating. She threw the journal back in the hidden compartment of her drawer and then she changed quickly into jeans and a t-shirt and wore a sweater and left her room, as usual, through her window, she was scared, so very scared, scared like back when she was little and her father left her to be take care by Tilly.

As Nichole ran through the woods she had flashbacks of the things she had lived with Tilly, the walk practices, the blood when her head was smashed against the glass, the cold water splashed over her when she wanted Nichole awake even after sleepless nights. She remembered the beating she´d received the one time she tried to escape running through a wood similar to the one in which she was running now. She remembered the panic attack she had back then that left her unable to talk afterwards.

Nichole jumped over the thick stone wall going deeper into the woods not stopping until she was gasping for air and her legs were trembling from exhaustion. She pushed her hands on  her temples while looking up but immediately closing her eyes.

She sat for a long time, her knees drawn to her chest. The sun came out but it was barely felt in the deep woods, it rained that afternoon, she remained on the same place until the day died and the rain disappeared.