Page 24 of Grave Possession

I drop down to my knees, the once unbearable throb now barely a twinge of discomfort. The pain my kidnapper has caused my body is nothing in comparison to the suffering tearing apart my mind. Another guttural scream echoes out around me. I heave in breath after breath, heavily expelling them with the tears now flowing freely down my cheeks. My body vibrates as anger and despair war with the numbness of dissociation that wants to take over and keep me safe. I push it away, I didn’t come this far just to float away into the fog that protects me from the worst of my memories.

I drag my broken and cracked nails over my exposed flesh, ripping and gouging at the skin. Welts form and blood blooms. The familiar warmth of self harm floating over me like a comforting hug. It grounds me, reverting back to the person I used to be. In a way, I know that I’m not lost, no longer spinning untethered through my tumultuous sea of unrestrainable emotions. It’s like falling back into an old familiar habit, a comforting routine that makes the chaos not seem so scary. My head clears, and my chest unwinds as I run my fingers through the crimson beads, smearing it across my skin. Its colour an alluringlyabsurd contrast against my almost paper-white skin. I feel like I can breathe again at the mere sight of it.

I inch my way back to the mattress, eyes focused on the way my palms are sticky with just a bit of blood as I sit clenching and unclenching my fists. What would it feel like if they were dripping with it? It would be warm and slippery until it dried on my skin. But what would itbelike? Blood is thicker than water, but thinner than honey. The desire to find out what it feels like pulls me under as I picture slicing open my captors chest cavity, harvesting the comforting fluid right from the source. Blood reminds me that I’m in control, I’m alive, still fighting, and I’m a force to be reckoned with.

Chapter Nineteen

Graves

The cell service at Mallory’s house is absolute shit lately, and waiting for this repairman to fix the internet is grating on my last nerve. After calling to set up an appointment, I was told the next available one was in two days, and I’d have to wait around all day for him to show up. They never give an exact appointment time, it’s a time frame, forcing you to stay put until they show up. I battled with myself over whether to get this stupid inconvenience fixed while Mallory is missing, but driving to the station takes too much time out of my day. My house is out of the question since it’s still a disaster zone from my melt down, and I’m pretty sure I damaged the internet modem in the process of rampaging through my living room.

I don’t know if it’s the storm rolling in that’s causing my phone’s internet to not work, or fate has just been working against me for the last forty-eight hours, but I’m ready to snap on someone. I have found nothing of note while scouring the trails through the woods to the east,working in a counter-clockwise direction, delving deeper and deeper into the forest each time. Pushing the limits of the ATV, the amount of gas in the tank, and the capacity of the extra jerry can I have strapped to the luggage rack.

I fixed the dent in the wall from my explosive episode while waiting for this guy to show up. Four hours later…he’s still here. Apparently the wiring was out of date and all had to be redone. I doubt it since Mallory moved in not that long ago. This guy, Ron, is just trying to drag out the on-site call to make the most money he can.

I throw on my police uniform, heading down to the basement to see what the hold up is. Maybe seeing me in uniform will speed up this process since I have places to be, and a killer to catch.

“How’s it coming along?” I say, rounding the corner to the utility room. Ron is standing there looking at his phone as the wifi router flashes a green light.

Without looking up, he replies, “Just waiting for the gateway to boot up, then I should be out of your hair.”

“How do you know when it’s ready?” I question.

“The lights change from red, to orange, and then settle on green.”

“Hmm…like that?” I say, gesturing to the modem sitting on a shelf to the right of the washing machine.

His eyes finally rise from his phone, locking with mine. A fraction of a second passes as he registers my professional appearance then he snaps into action. Pocketing his phone, he turns to the router and inspects it. Watching the blinking light and counting the seconds between flashes. After about two minutes he turns to me, “Looks like you’re all set, Officer. The wifi name and passwordare written on a magnet I stuck to the fridge. Sorry that took longer than we anticipated.” He rifles through his pockets then pulls out a business card. Extending it, he says, “If you go to our website there’s a survey you can fill out. After you finish it, you’ll be entered into a draw to win fifty dollars off your next bill.”

“Sounds great,” I reply curtly. He nods, gathers up his tools, and heads out of the basement. Following him upstairs, we part ways and I watch as the company van heads out of the driveway.

Thankful to be alone, I go snag the magnet off the fridge and plop onto the couch. I enter the new wifi info into my phone and laptop that was sitting unused on the coffee table. While waiting for it to connect, I head to Mallory’s room. I strip off the uncomfortable uniform, sliding on a black t-shirt with CCPD printed on my right pec and black light-weight joggers. My phone chimes once, then again, calling me back to the tv room.

Settling back into the soft cushions, I check my notifications. There’s messages from my uncle checking in on me. Letting me know he will be patrolling the mill this week so if I need anything brought out to me to let him know. A text from Victoria asks if there’s been any progress with the case. No, you incessant woman, not since you asked me ten hours ago. A headache begins to bloom, the pounding starting in my temples and shooting behind my eyes. I don’t want to deal with either of those people right now.

Ignoring the texts, I open my email. Watching wide-eyed as the number of unread messages climbs as the page loads. Forty-seven. There’s forty-seven new ones.How is this possible? There’s no way I’ve missed that many replies. What the fuck?

Shocked and annoyed beyond comprehension, I open the most recent one. I didn’t know the internet was fucking up this badly. Why wasn’t I getting notifications on my phone at least?Focus. Worry about that shit later.Most of these replies are from the different message boards I’ve posted on. Asking about the locations of cabins, hunting blinds, and any other places of note that are good for hunting. I claimed I was new to the area, and looking for a place to grab a deer when the season starts, having to put up a front so no one caught on I was a cop fishing for information.

Weeding through the emails has new hope igniting within me. Some of these replies have pictures included, as well as GPS pinpoints of the locations. Most are to the north, which is why I haven’t come across them yet. The forest is so dense up that way, I was worried the quad would get stuck as most trails are for hiking. I assumed whoever took Mallory wouldn’t have been able to get a vehicle that far into the bush. However, based on what I see in these pictures, my theory has been wrong this whole time. Trucks, trailers, quads, dirt bikes, side-by-sides, and even golf carts have been hauled through the woods to the north.

Damn it all to hell, I’m a fucking idiot. I should’ve known he would take her where the trees are so thick the wind barely gets through. No one will hear her scream in a forest that impenetrable.

I take screenshots of all the information, knowing that I won’t have any cell reception once I enter the thickforest. Messaging my uncle, I ask him to drop me off some more gas for the quad before I head out for one last ride before dusk sets in.

Uncle G:

Let me know when you’re back.

Graves:

Yes sir.

Hauling myself out of bed the next morning is near impossible as the astronomical weight of Mallory’s disappearance threatens to crush me. Dragging my ass to the kitchen, I prep a pot of coffee. The memory of Mallory sipping hers in the early morning light, leaned back against the cabinets, while eating me up with her eyes knocks into me. Such a beautiful memory, I hate that it feels like a lifetime ago. I vow in this moment to never stop making memories with her. I’ll do whatever she desires, take her anywhere she wants to venture. When I get her back we are going tolive.

“Why haven’t you found me yet?” she whispers, putting the mug to her lips.What?My heart stops and drops out of my ass and onto the floor. She hums in appreciation as the steaming liquid warms her from the inside.

This isn’t real. This never happened. I’m imagining things.

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