Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

the window and the girls jumped. Mallory began to laugh at them.

“You bitch. You scared me,” Amber said.

Janice stared at Mallory. “That was more sad than scary, to be honest. Billy could hear his mom and dad being hurt. He knew he couldn’t save them. You stole some stuff from Cold Mountain. Plus gas masks weren’t invented back then.”

“You see Jude Law’s bare ass in that movie,” Amber said.

Mallory glared at her. “I never said it was set during the Civil War. It’s an old story, I didn’t steal anything. My dad told me about it and he heard it off my grandma.”

“It's a good one. I'll tell my mom, see if she’s heard of it.” Amber looked at the window. “What was that noise anyway?”

“It’s the tree outside,” Mallory said. “Don't be scared.”

“So is that how it ends?” Janice asked.

“No, supposedly the men never reported back to their station. Nobody saw them again.”

“What about little Billy?” Amber asked.

“Nobody knows. But apparently, if you were hurt, the lumberjack will help you. My dad said in the same area, a woman got beaten by her husband and later that night, he was found hacked to pieces.”

Janice laughed. “The wife did it, obviously.”

“While she was in a coma?” Mallory quizzed. “My dad said the lumberjack protects families while they’re sleeping. If you hear a noise, don’t be afraid, it’s him patrolling. If you go and look for him, he stays hidden in the dark. He never appears to children.”

Mallory was proud of her chosen urban legend, she preferred it to the others. She enjoyed the layer of mystery and realism. She imagined that scenario happening back then and it made her shiver. She wondered about the real identity of the lumberjack, was it Billy? Was he strong enough to chop up three men? Was it somebody else?

After story time, they decided to head for bed. Mallory drifted in and out of her dreams. Sometimes, hearing things outside but her house creaked constantly, she was used to eerie sounds. The last thing she heard before she fell asleep was a quiet voice whispering, “Don’t open your eyes.”

The woman awoke with a sinking sensation in her belly. It constantly fed her insomnia. She checked on her daughter who was poorly with a cold and a high temperature. They had breakfast and she switched on the radio. During the infomercials, she gave her daughter some cough medicine. The news was on and she recognised the words and their meanings all too easily. Her stomach tightened when she heard the harmonic tones of Lorraine Thurman. “The bodies of Amber Black, Janice Francis and Mallory Grey were found brutally murdered last night. According to Black's parents, the girls were having a sleepover when they heard screaming from Amber's room. Police believed this awful crime is linked to previous cases such as the murder of honeymooners the Craigs, and the Roth family who were killed in their sleep last month. A case has been opened for the deaths of these high school students. A collection and memorial service will be held this week for the lives of the three beautiful girls. What is going on? Who is causing these tragic events?”

The woman clicked off the radio and tried to filter her thoughts with some gardening. Her daughter sat in the rocking chair with her white sun hat bobbing over her chubby cheeks. The baby bashed her tiny hands in a pool of water with her rubber ducks floating on the surface. The woman figured being outside and the tray method would hopefully lower her baby’s temperature. It certainly worked for her when she was a kid.

“Baa!” her daughter called out, droplets of water flying from her fingers.

The woman yanked a batch of weeds from the flower bed. “What's the matter, honey bunny?” Her daughter pointed at the tree, the one where the branches speared out into spindly fingers tapping her bedroom window. The woman rose to her feet and scooped her daughter into her arms. “Let's go and have a look shall we!” Her daughter touched the bark of the tree. The woman saw something stuck in the crevice behind one of the branches. It snagged for a fraction before falling into her palm, she stared at two red roses, they were wrapped in black ribbon. Her heart froze and she gazed around her neighbourhood. Why are you doing this?

She inspected the soil beneath her feet and nearly wobbled backwards when she saw the outline of a footprint, the dents of a sneaker. It was too big for anyone living in her home. How come she didn’t see it before? Her daughter grabbed one of the roses and ripped at the petals. She thought about the murders and those poor girls. I should’ve stopped this when I had the chance. Her daughter gurgled happily and the woman examined her dark hair and ice blue eyes. I'll never let him hurt you.

Part Two

We stopped looking for monsters under our bed when we

realized that they were inside us.

-Charles Darwin

Chapter Eleven

Summer 2017

I lied. I told you I couldn't stay away. My knees creak with pain as I hide in the closet. I unpicked the back-door garden lock and in a small click, I walked into the kitchen. It was pretty easy, too easy in fact. You have chains on the front door, but not the back. Why not? Do you not think intruders will break in?

Hello, I just have. I would’ve thought given your profession, what you’ve been through, you would’ve been extra careful. Plenty of thieves, robbers and all types like to gain access to a property from the back, where they can’t be seen. It’s ideal camouflage. I’m not saying this as a criticism, okay maybe I am, but it’s a thought for the future. You need to get better security on your home. You need to be more careful out there, especially with our child living in the world. Seriously. A novice could break in here.

The