Red Ribbons (Chapter Four)

Posted on | Monday, July 18, 2011 | No Comments

Chapter Four

Paul watched as droplets of water rolled slowly down his body. He had been standing in the bath tub, staring at the wall, for what seemed like hours. The shower was turned off. There was no one home but him...it would so easy to...

The phone rang suddenly, making him almost jump. He grabbed a towel off the railing and wrapped it around his waist. The phone rang again. “I'm coming,” he muttered as he strode across the bedroom floor to the wall-mounted phone.

“What?” he barked into the receiver, angry that his moments of solitude were gone. He had worked to get numb, and now the pain came rushing back again. All because of one stupid phone call.

“What do you mean 'what'? Have you forgotten our date for tonight?” a female voice answered, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

“Who is this, again?” Paul asked, hoping he sounded as unbothered as he felt. He grimaced as he ran his hand through his hair. It must have been the broad from the night before, though he'd been so hung over that morning that he couldn't remember much.

“It's Kim,” the female caller said, sounding annoyed.

Paul stared at the receiver for a few seconds before hanging up. Relief and self-loathing warred within his chest as he walked to the bed and lay on it.

A soft touch on his left shoulder startled him. “When did you get this done? It's beautiful,” Alicia smiled as she ran her fingers down his tattoo. A shiver went through him and he reached out to her. His hands sank into nothing but air.

A solitary tear ran down his right cheek as he pounded the bed in frustration. She was gone to him now. Forever. All because of one stupid mistake.

He glanced nervously at the cell phone on the bedside table. Should he call the inspector? What would he say? “Hello, I found the body and I just happen to be her boyfriend. And by the way, it's my fault she's lying in the morgue.” He gave a short, sardonic laugh. It sounded false even to his own ears.

No, calling his superiors or anyone at work for the matter would be the final nail in his coffin. He wondered uneasily if he should go in to work the next day. He was fairly sure they he wasn’t on the suspect list, else he would be at the station this very moment. He had to lie low, and not show any interest in the case.

“So what are you going to do, Paul?” he said aloud to himself. He rubbed the space between his brows thoughtfully. There was only one thing to do. Tired, his back bent like an old man's, he got up slowly from the bed and opened the window. He climbed out onto the ledge and sat there, his legs dangling. 

It was drizzling now, he felt the droplets of rain wet his body. His room was on the second floor of his parent's split-level home. Not high enough for certain death, but enough to cause serious injury or end his miserable existence if he jumped head first.

His mother would be terribly upset of course. At least Alicia was going to have an open-casket funeral; if he jumped, he'd go head first just to be sure. That would devastate his mother, not being able to look at the son the way she last remembered him. No, he couldn't do that to his parents, death was out of the question, easy though it was. It was easier than having to live with memories and ghosts.

He had to do something more than ruminating within the four walls of his room. An idea struck him. He strode over to the closet and pulled out a random t-shirt. He grabbed a pair of jeans from the laundry basket and pulled it on. He stuffed his car keys and wallet into his jeans pockets and quietly opened the door.

The hallway was dark and empty. He disarmed the home alarm system and sneaked out the front door, closing it quietly behind him. His car was parked outside the house, so he could leave relatively undisturbed.

He arrived at the car park at quarter past two. He parked his car outside the building and climbed the stairs to the second level, using his torchlight to find his way. Visibility at the second level was better as the lights were on. He turned his torchlight off and walked over to the spot where he’d found Alicia’s body.

“Now, if I were a killer, where would I dump the murder weapon?” he muttered to himself as he scanned the floors of the parking lots for a clue, any clue really.

A light went off in his head suddenly. The stairwell! Neither of them had thought to search the stairwell, and if he was right, it was exactly what Alicia's killer had counted on. He went with his gut and began walking to the stairwell. He shone his flashlight down the stairs. Something silver glinted at the very bottom. It looked like a knife or maybe even scissors, it was too far down to tell. But if he was lucky, it could belong to the killer.

He fished around in his pockets for a handkerchief but came up empty. “Shoot,” he said aloud, remembering that he'd rushed out without one. There was a box of tissues in the car, that would have to do. He began running towards his car when a blinding flash of light stopped him in his tracks.

Paul held up a hand against the light and realised with horror that it was a car. Before he could move, it came into contact with his knees, sending him flying through the air. He heard a loud crunch as his body fell in a crumpled heap at one end of a parking lot. A shock of pain ran through his entire body, forcing a groan from his lips. He tried to move his legs, but there was only pain. He closed his eyes, biting down hard on his lower lip.

He heard footsteps somewhere ahead of him running down the stairs and then up again. A car door slammed and the engine roared gently as his assailant drove away. He forced himself to open his eyes, making out a “NW” as the car drove away. The world went black.





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