Page 9 of Trick or Treat

I arrive at a small park; the trees are stripped bare of leaves, and a ghostly white coating blankets everything in sight. It’s beautiful, in a desolate, melancholic way, mirroring the turmoil rolling within me.

Thoughts ofherflood my mind—the way her laughter lights up the darkest moments, how her eyes crinkle when she smiles, the warmth radiating from her even on the coldest nights. Each detail is etched into my memory, as if I am creating a mental shrine in her honor. But each memory is tainted by the agony of my choices—even though I’ve enjoyed every single fucking moment.

Settling down with someone—someone like Carly—feels like a fucking gravestone marking the end of my life. The chaos that has seeped into my existence is now rooted in something deeper—darker—from which I can’t escape. My heart doesn’t long for her; it cries out for the girl with the glossy black hair and the laughter of an angel.

I only wanted to get closer to her, yet my life spirals in ways I’ve never foreseen. I should have stayed away; I should have let her remain an untouchable dream. But the thrill of secrecy, the pulse of danger—it’s intoxicating.

I need to fucking see her again—now.

As the wind picks up, sending icy particles swirling through the air, I close my eyes, wanting to block out the reality waiting for me back home. Amidst the chaos, a voice—a soft whisper—breaks through.

“Why did you do it?”

Startled, I jerk up to see her standing there, her silhouette framed against the dim glow of a nearby streetlight. Snowflakes descend silently around us, creating an intimate space just for the two of us. I want to hide everything—my turmoil, my guilt, the truth—but something in her eyes urges me to respond.

“Do what?”I reply, my voice dripping with ignorance, fully aware of the question she’s truly asking.

She takes a cautious step closer, her breath forming small clouds in the air. “You know... her.”The simple question hangs in the frosty air, heavy like the night itself. I choke on my words, caught between the urge to confide in her and the instinct to shield her from the gruesome truth lurking just beneath the surface.

“Because I had to,”I finally admit, the words slipping from my lips before I can stop them.“It was the only way to keep you close.”

I see a tremor in her hands, her eyes widening with an emotion that I can’t decipher—fear, perhaps, or something deeper. I can’t hide from her. I can’t put on a mask because she’ll see right through it.

The snow falls softly around us, and suddenly, I blink, jolting back to reality where I sit alone in the park, lost in my thoughts—without her. Seeing people. Hearing voices. I’m losing my fucking mind.

Rising to my feet, I start to walk again, laughing at the momentary insanity that just gripped me. One thing could help me feel better, and I don’t stop walking until I’m outside of her apartment, gazing up at her window. The light inside intrigues me.

Thinking I might catch a glimpse of her, I climb the fire escape, attempting to remain as quiet as possible. Settling into my usual spot beside the small table, I peer through the window, my heart lifting at the sight of her dancing in nothing but a delicate black nighty.

But as soon as my smile breaks through the frown, it falters, and anger surges through me like wildfire. My heart sinks as a tall figure enters her bedroom, clad in low-hanging sweatpants and no shirt. He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close and kissing her lips, which are supposed to be meant for me.

My blood boils, and I retreat from the window, unwilling to endure anymore of the bullshit I’m watching. It feels as though my heart is being twisted, a torrent of knives piercing my back as I descend the fire escape, desperate to distance myself.

Maybe Blade was right when he said it was time to move. Knowing she has a boyfriend now, I realize that I can’t trust myself. She makes me completely unhinged, and I’m terrified of what might happen if I linger around and obsess over her any longer.

We need to leave Salem... but we’ll be fucking back.

four

Graduation & Death

Four Years Later, Halloween Night

Scarlett

It’s the night of our college graduation, a night we’ve all been anticipating since entering Salem State University. My friends and I received our degrees earlier, and as we did so, we bid a final farewell to the institution that had helped us plan our futures for the previous four or more years we attended. With my bachelor's degree in psychology, I intend to work in the prison system with convicts transitioning out of prison and back into society, as my father inspired me to do.

Melanie, Carli, and I slide out of the back of the Uber as it pulls up to the front of the apartment we share, stumbling our way to the steep steps that lead to the front door with a slight buzz already coursing through us. The guys can’t be far behind, seeing how their Uber was ahead of us, which means they should already be here, but we enter the building and opt for the elevator, not taking our chances with the three flights of stairs we have to take to reach our floor.

"What happened to Shawn and River?" Melanie asks, her words already slurred from one four loko.

"I was thinking the same thing. They need to hurry up, though. The party at the cemetery has already begun," Carli continues, applying anotherlayer of bright red lipstick to the fake lips her father helped her purchase.

I didn’t have wealthy, devoted parents to raise me, support me, or even hold me down. My mother was a prostitute who always chose a dick over me, leaving my criminal father to raise me until he couldn’t. Due to a murder that he claims he didn’t commit, one bad choice led to his life sentence. And although he’s my father and I know I should believe him, I don’t. He killed my mother, and I know it. Even though I claimed to have seen nothing of what happened that night to the police and the therapists I was made to see, I actually witnessed it. I lied just like my father had taught me to, and I became incredibly skilled at it. As a result, I moved around foster homes with caregivers who didn’t give a damn about what I did, rather than growing up with adoring, supportive parents. I raised myself and put myself through school, and I have to say that I am extremely fucking proud of myself for it all.

Inside our apartment, the girls and I get ready for the party that’s at Howard Street Cemetery, one of three famous cemeteries here in Salem that’s related to the Salem Witch Trials. We dress in slutty, black attire with matching makeup and straight hair. I run a brush through mine, perfectly framing my painted face, to the point where I don’t recognize myself when I spin in the mirror.

I hear a rap at the front door and a squeal as one of the girls opens it, and I assume the guys have arrived. I leave my room, double-checking that I have everything I need for the night, and find the group in the living room, already drinking whatever the guys brought. River approaches me and hands me four loko, popping the top for me because I just painted my nails.

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