Page 63 of Snowman

The barn had the weak light from the open window casting long, uneven shadows across the frozen floor. Joe sat slumped in a chair at the center, his shirt half-open, his skin pale and slick with sweat despite the cold. Blood dripped from his face, staining the wooden boards beneath him, but he still managed to grin. A twisted, mocking stretch of his lips sent rage boiling in my chest. His half-lidded eyes fixed on me as I approached, unblinking, defiant.

In the corner, Laura was crumpled and still, her wrists tied in knots and her face slack. She hadn’t woken yet—hadn’t seenwhat was coming. I swallowed the lump in my throat and clenched my fists. I wasn’t hesitant. Not anymore.

As I stepped closer, Joe let out a jagged laugh. It was mean, cruel, and utterly devoid of guilt for anything he’d done. Lena moved silently behind me, shutting the barn door with a heavy thud. She moved to the old heater beside the stalls, a piece of trash from when this barn held cows and horses, and turned it on. Joe's laughing drowned out the slight click and hum of the heater.

I laughed with him, folding my arms as I stared down at his broken face. For a moment, the sound of our laughter tangled with the cold. Then he stopped, his voice cutting sharply. "What's so funny?"

I tilted my head, mirroring him. "What's so funny?" I repeated, mocking him.

His body moved against the ropes, muscles straining as he spat out, "I’ll kill you!"

"I’ll kill you!" I repeated, crouching low. My hand hovered over his knees, a knife glinting in my grip.

"Fuck you!" he snarled, trying to jerk away, but he was tied too tightly.

"Fuck you!" I said, my voice calm as I plunged the blade into his knee.

The scream ripped out of him like a wild beast, primal and shaking through the barn. I twisted the knife, seeing the sorrow spread through his body, the way his head swung back, veins bursting at his neck. Behind us, Laura screamed through the chaos, begging to stop.

"Now," I said, pulling the knife back an inch before leaning closer to his face, "tell me." I tilted my head back and forth, watching the beads of sweat streak through the pores on his skin. "Why did you come back?"

"Why would I tell you a damn thing?" he shouted, saliva flying from his mouth as he glared up at me.

"Why not?" I chuckled, standing and strolling toward the heater Lena had turned on.

Its coils glowed faintly now, the heat pouring outward in shimmering waves across the chilly barn air. Joe's face was covered with sweat, and his body trembled. I let the heat develop while I crossed the room to where my father's branding irons stood on the wall. My fingertips brushed over one of them, the chilly iron imprinted with the words"Property of T.K."

I pulled it down, firmly gripping the handle, then dragged it back near the heater and rested the branding iron against it to allow the metal to absorb the heat. The scent of rust and growing warmth soaked into the barn. Then I bent down again, my knife striking his knee once again.

"Why are you here?" I asked with a low voice, almost bored, as I pushed the blade in deeper. His scream came immediately, jagged and high-pitched. Blood poured from the wound in thick, dark streams, pooling beneath his leg. He was shaking now, his body failing him as consciousness began to slip away.

Before he could say anything, a desperate voice cut through towards us.

"We were called!" Laura screamed. "Please, stop!"

I froze, my head snapping toward her. Her face was pale, streaked with tears, her tied hands trembling as she tried to sit up.

"By who?" I demanded, my eyes still fixed on Joe, who was slumping forward, his head lolling. His breaths came shallow and uneven, his eyes rolling slowly back as his body sagged against the chair.

I leaned to the side, my eyes narrowing on Laura. Her sobs echoed faintly in the barn, breaking by hiccups and gasps. Shewas a mess but was awake, and most importantly she had answers.

"I don't know," she said. "There was a riddle, and an article from 2006 showing us with Mel and Bree. Whoever sent it threatened to publish our address if we didn't come back."

"Why did you kidnap the girls?" I asked and slowly moved closer to her.

Her gaze dropped, her voice barely above a whisper. "Their parents were the ones who left the cult. Joe wanted them to pay." Her breath hitched as tears streamed down her face. "But he changed after." She broke into sobs. "He gave them blue pills… brought other cult members into their rooms."

I froze, her words slicing through me. "What the fuck, Laura?" My voice cracked. "And you justwatched?"

Her quivering fingertips reached up to her shoulder, exposing a familiar jagged scar. My breath seized my throat, I recognized the mark. It was my father's mark.

"You…"

The memory surged forward, her face, younger, softer, in the sunlight at the park. She was the one who wanted to play with me when I was twelve.

"How?" The question escaped before I could stop it. Behind me, Joe’s gurgling breaths grew louder, stirring faintly to consciousness.

Laura's body shuddered as she spoke. "Ivar branded me. He kidnapped me the day after I saw you at the park in '94." Her voice cracked, barely holding together. "From then on, he fed me with human meat and tortured me. And when he got bored, he handed me to Joe." She collapsed into sobs. "After that, I had no choice. I depended on Joe. The only food I could eat… was what he gave me."

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