"Pretty girls like you get lost in these woods all the time, Alexa."
On the night of Sebastián's annual Beginning of Summer Bash, amiable and adventurous Melody Tryniski went missing. What might have appeared as a juvenile escapade - a casual incide...
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THE SCHOOL'S GYM SMELLS of desperation and denial. There's also the overwhelming scent of cheap perfume, musty alcohol and musky weed. It's different from the usual stench left behind by the sweaty jocks after they use the place.
There's a small, built-up stage on the far end of the gym. It's where the DJ is with all of her equipment, alternating between fast-paced and slow songs. Two, long tables stand on either side of the dance floor, both covered with snacks and spiked punch juice. A real cliché. Tacky Halloween decorations hang from the ceiling --- evil-looking pumpkins, creepy mummies, furious werewolves, blood-thirsty vampires and the classic monsters.
My grip tightens on the clipboard as I check out everything that's in the party. It's my job to supervise the students and keep things in order. Teacher's orders. Translation: smile and dance, so no one feels uncomfortable with the memory of Melody. As if she never existed, her death just being an inconvenience.
A huge crowd stands in the middle of the dance floor. Weird lights shoot from somewhere in the ceiling to the crowd, revealing in orange and red colors horny, drunk and drugged teenagers. They're all dressed up, as per tradition. There's a little bit of everything: serial killers like Jason from Friday the 13th, Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street, and Michael Myers from Halloween; slutty nurses, teachers, cats, angels, insert-here-any-profession-animal-character; and handsome celebrities, firefighters, policemen, you name it and it's here.
Teenage girls love Halloween for this reason. They're excited to show off their ever-growing bodies by using costumes that enhance their best features. Hence, the overwhelming amount of slutty costumes. I can't really judge, though. Melody and I were just like them, before...
A flash of something sparks in my mind, like a long-forgotten memory that's slightly distorted and unfocused. It's a suppressed memory, resurfacing from the darkest part of my mind.
The slash on Melody's neck, too deep to have been an accident. The blood splashing like a fountain, moving like a river that ends in Melody's agape mouth. I can see my hands trying to cover the slash, but the blood continues to pool between the cracks that separate my fingers. The feeling of soft, sticky matter turns everything inside of me cold.
Melody was a victim. Beaten and tortured, head trauma and external hemorrhage. She was dying under the watchful eyes of her killer.
She died alone, as a victim.
I flinch as though being stricken and shake the thought away. The image soon retreats to darkness, the place where it belongs. Its home. Despite it being gone for now, a bile of vomit gets stuck in my throat. Ever since I found Melody, I've been able to suppress the memory of my finding her, the image of her dead body looking like a porcelain doll. A ragdoll, something playful to shake and beat and strangle until it no longer is of use. Discarded, as if her life doesn't matter.
