Page 9 of Roses and Skulls

No problem,I type before heading towards the back door.

Jackson’s eyes follow me. “You’re not sneaking off are you?” He scratches his head, his brows creasing together.

No, I told dad I was going to Lanie’s. You do know I’m nineteen.I stomp out, letting the door slam shut behind me.

I wait for him to follow but he must believe me this time. He knows how overprotective my parents are. It’s rare they let me go anywhere without someone escorting me. It’s annoying.

I shut my location off on my phone. Quickly, I make my way down the alley, looking left, then right before dashing across the street. I jog the rest of the way there, pausing only to admire a rose bush behind a home along the way. I stick to the alleys because chances of running into a Skull in town are high.

When I get to the trees behind the bar, I crouch down and retrieve the key I hid under a pile of old bricks. I peek around the corner to make sure there are no cars out front and when I find none, I head to the back door.

I haven’t been back since that day. It’s dark inside, dust motes float in the light as the door falls open. When I step in, they dance around me in welcome but as soon as the door shuts behind me, they vanish. I click the light on my phone and make my way to the freezer, popping it open to find the container of ice cream that my grandpa and I used to make our floats still there. Nothing has changed. It makes me wonder if grandma even stepped foot in here after the day he died.

As I’m closing the lid, all the lights click on. I cover my mouth to keep my scream locked inside. Adrenaline charges every cell in my body, and I fight to stay where I’m at. Men’s laughter filters in from the front. Booted feet stomp through the bar, headed towards me.

Quickly, I dash into my grandpa’s office, ducking under his desk. Just like I used to do when mom and dad would be ready to leave, and I wanted to stay. I think they always knew where I was hiding, but they pretended they couldn’t find me. When they left, grandpa and I would share a root beer float and then he would take me home.

The door creaks open, and heavy boots stomp into the room. I hear the door close and then someone sets something on the desk above me. I hear a man sigh and the leather couch groans as he plops down on it.

My heart tries to beat its way out of my chest, clawing up my throat. Maybe I should just fess up. I’m sure the new owner will understand. I’ll just explain I broke in for sentimental reasons, not to steal anything. It’s not like they would press trespassing charges against me. Would they?

“You don’t have to hide. I know you’re here. I can smell you. Do you know you smell just like a bouquet of roses?”

My blood runs cold as the voice that haunts my dreams hits my ears.

“I’ve heard that you are a quiet little dove now. Why don’t you come out here and let me see how much you’ve grown?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. I’ve waited for years to run into this man, but this is not how I envisioned it.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Come on now.”

The couch squeaks again and soon I’m staring at his booted feet.

He crouches down until I’m pinned in fear by eyes as dark as night. It’s then I hear a loud squawk above me, making me jump out of my skin. I hit my head on the underside of the desk. What the fuck was that?

At this point, I’m sure I’m going to die. This is exactly how horror movies begin. I’m such an idiot. But how could I have known?

The man who killed my grandfather laughs. “Don’t be frightened, if you feed her, she’ll be your best friend.” He holds out his hand to help me out from under the desk.

What choice do I have at this point? I don’t take his hand, but I do scoot forward. He rises and takes a step back, giving me some space.

When I stand, his gaze slides over my body from head to toe. His dark eyes return to mine, and he smiles. “Very nice.” He reaches out to touch the scar on my neck but pauses mid-air when I pull my head back.

He’s just as frightening as he was all those years ago. He’s tall, medium build, mid to late twenties, with black hair that is cut short, and he has a full beard, not unlike the men at the club. But the difference between him and the men I know, are his eyes. I glance away, afraid of what I’ll see there. They are open pits that threaten to suck me in and then spit me out once he’s finished with me.

I have so many questions. So many. Do I give this man my words, my voice? I’ve had it tucked away for so long. My grandfather was the last one to hear me speak and I was hoping to keep it that way.

A sudden ruffle of bird’s wings and another loud squawk forces me to spin around. It’s a bird, a crow to be exact, in a cage. My grandpa’s words echo in my mind. Crow. It’s a fucking crow!

“Do you want to feed her?” he asks from behind me.

I shake my head as I slowly slide around the desk, putting it between us. The door is just a few feet behind me now. I could run. I should run.

He chuckles and walks over to the bird, rudely tapping on her cage. She backs away from him, poor thing.

“I’ve always loved crows. They remind me of my father,” he says before going over and taking a seat on the couch. He stares at me for a minute. “Go ahead, I don’t bite. Ask away.” He lays his arms across the back of the sofa, settling in.

Slowly, I pull my phone out of my pocket and type,Why did you kill my grandpa?

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