The moment she was home, she swallowed one down without water and flopped on her bed. Tara went back to playing in her room without a care in the world. Sasha felt so much envy for the naivety of her daughter. If Tara were lucky, she'd never inherit Sasha's problem. Her eyelids began to grow heavy and she let her head fall against the pillow. In a matter of seconds, she was fast asleep.
When she finally woke up it was dark outside. Groggy and confused, she headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. The Xanax really helped her anxiety but she hated the way it made her feel. Zombie-like was the best way she could describe it.
The room temperature water did wonders for her dry mouth and she leaned against the sink in relief. Sasha looked over at the clock. It was seven in the evening. She felt guilty for leaving Tara alone for so long. She's being awfully quiet, Sasha thought. It may have merely been the talk of murder but she felt on edge. If fear were a monster it could be found digging its claws into Sasha's skull and planting itself in her brain.
She ran from the living room, dropping the glass on the floor. It shattered off in the distance but her brain was too preoccupied to hear it. Terrible images of death and horror flashed through her mind. She fought back tears as she turned the corner and into Tara's room. Lying there in the middle of the bed, face down, was her daughter. She had fallen fast asleep. Sasha let out a sigh of relief and slowly approached her daughter's bed.
Pulling the covers up over Tara, Sasha gave her a kiss on the head and walked out of the room. Relieved that nothing was wrong, Sasha made her way back to the kitchen and began to sweep up the glass.
The clearing in the woods behind Sasha's home was not empty. A masked man dragged an elderly woman by the hair through the dirt and fallen leaves. A thick piece of duct tape had been secured over her mouth and her wrists were bound by ropes. Her eyes were red and puffy from where she had been crying. A small stream of blood trickled from her eyebrow from where the man had struck her.
Even now, she cried and mumbled through the tape, begging her captor to let her go. He barely recognized her cries for help. To her, he didn't even seem human. He dropped her in the center of the clearing and began to search around. While his back was turned, the woman began to slither away like a wounded snake from a hawk. Before she could get far, she felt his hand wrap around her left ankle and yank her back.
Before she could react, she was spun onto her back and straddled by the masked man. In his right hand, he held a white knife which looked to be made of bone. She cried harder than she had ever done in her life. Urine streamed down her leg as the man brought the knife down on her chest. She felt the white-hot pain before she heard her sternum crack. Blood poured from the wound and soaked the dirt beneath her body.
A pain, unlike any pain she had ever felt before, erupted through her body. In an effort of survival, she desperately tried to flail her arms and legs. Terror gripped her as she realized she could no longer feel them. Her body felt cold and numb now. Her attacker stood over her with the bone knife clutched in his hand, her blood still dripping from the blade. His gloved hand was gripped tightly around the handle. Darkness seeped into her vision and she could feel herself slipping away. The last thing she saw before her world went dark was her attacker removing his mask and smiling down at her. It was a crooked and evil smile from a strange man she had never seen. In her final moment of life, she truly thought the devil had come to collect her soul.
Chapter Seven
Sheriff Harrison was a tough man. He had served in the gulf war, winning several medals. Some of the horrific sights still kept him up at night. The bodies of friends, innocent civilians, and enemies crowded his memories. Before him now was one of the most horrendous sights he had ever seen. Eileen Granger, an elderly woman who mostly kept to herself, had been stripped naked and left in the woods. Her chest hung open like a zippered tote bag, the bits of jagged skin substituting for the zipper. It was hard to tell at first glance because of the amount of blood and carnage but her heart was missing. Harrison would have suspected wolves had it not been for the bone knife resting only a few feet away from the body. Somehow, a person had managed this. It seemed almost inhuman.
Harrison swallowed hard, not wanting to vomit in the crime scene. The gray tape over Ms. Granger's mouth was stained with blood. Her eyes were frozen open in a look of sheer horror. Worst of all, they bulged out of her head farther than he thought humanly possible. Much like
