"Don't Miss," He Said (New romantic Story series)

[romantic_story]

I had always thought it odd that one who had probably met the deceased should give the eulogy. If I had given it, though, I would have been too cynical. I was eight when it happened.

I opened the thick oak front door, heavy for me at that age, and stepped inside, then dropped my schoolbag and headed for the kitchen. Usually, my father was sitting at the table reading the paper, and my mother would be washing dishes or some other mundane chore. Now that I reminisce about them, there was something pleasantly 1950's about this routine. I sat down at the table, and sensed something was off. Usually my mother would have a drink for me on the table (some cold juice in the summer, or some hot cocoa in the winter), but that day, my glass was empty. There was still some at the bottom of the glass.

Where were my parents? I looked back into the bedroom hall, and saw their door slightly open. I thought it would be clever to try to sneak up on them, so I removed my shoes, and padded down the hallway. I looked up at the walls, and it looked like someone had drawn on the one wall.

I thought back to when I had done that once. This drawing looked similar. I had taken my mother's nail polish bottle and splashed it on the wall. Boy did I get it for that one. I hoped that whoever had done it this time was being punished for it too.

Why didn't I realize what it was on the walls?

I continued down to my parent's room, and found that all the shelves and cabinets and drawers were a total mess. I thought that they must have been in a hurry to find something. Maybe my father had misplaced one of his ties again. He really liked wearing ties, and I had even offered him my school uniform tie, when he once lost his favorite tie. He laughed at my cute gesture.

I still won't forgive myself for not realizing what had happened when I saw the state of their room.

Their bathroom light was on, so I went up close to it. I knocked, as they had reminded me constant times to do. No answer. I opened the door, and found my parents...asleep?...on the floor.

Why didn't I call the police?

I looked up at the mirrored door to the bathtub, and saw that the 'nail polish' had gone there too. Except this time, it was words.

NEXT TIME. YOU TOO.

Then I tried to rouse my parents from their slumber. No luck. I panicked. Why wouldn't they wake up? I shook my mother, and tried to roll her over. Eventually I got her over, and saw that she had, what at that age I could only describe as, a big boo-boo on her neck.

Someone slit her throat. Stupid kid, why didn't you call for help?

*************

Eventually, I got my neighbors to help me. The truth still didn't sink in till the police tape went down. My parents were murdered by a serial killer. The police said that this case fit the killer's profile; a killer who called himself Judas.

To this day, I follow news on the killer, hoping that someday they'll catch him.

[romantic_story]

"Alphonse, you missed it!" Elena exclaimed, tugging my arm and my thoughts back to the road. I had missed the exit to her house. Damn you, highway hypnosis.

"I'm sorry, Elena. I was...thinking."

"It's ok. We can U-Turn here. Just one thing Alphonse:"

"What's that?"

"Don't miss."

"Only slightly funny, Elena."

She laughed then. It was the first time she had laughed in weeks. It was infectious, and I laughed along with her. It was odd, laughing about something connected to that day. Maybe we really could get past this.

Our giggles were on and off until we reached Elena's house, both of us seeing who could say 'don't miss,' with a more badass inflection. As I drove us down Elena's driveway, our laughs turned to sighs. "Back to reality I guess," Elena said, sinking back in her seat.

I turned to follow the driveway as it made a turnabout in front of her house.

"Elena," I began, as I shifted into park, "would you mind if I came in for a little bit? Just to sit and talk?" I had low hopes of doing anything romantic with Elena so close to the funeral, but I figured it was worth a try, what with the recent light mood.

"Would you please," she responded, with a strange mix of worry and confusion on her face.

"What's wrong, Elena?"

I followed her glance to the front door of the house.

"That door isn't meant to be open. Come with me?" Indeed, the door was half-open. I set the emergency brake, and walked with Elena to the door. She pushed the door open, and kicked some of the leaves that had blown in back out. "Could you close the door," she asked me, hanging up her scarf.

I pushed the door closed. The wind made it feel...heavy. We walked up a staircase, and I peered inside an ornate frame at a young Elena. She looked to be about sixteen in the picture, and was wearing her school uniforms.

"And here I thought it was impossible to look good in a school picture," I called to Elena, who had turned the corner into the hallway. "You look nice in this one, Elena."

"Elena?"

Thump. It came from the hallway, and I bum-rushed the stairs and turned the corner to find Elena in a crumple on the floor. I approached her, and she looked unconscious. I gathered her up in my arms, trying to wake her. 'Elena, have you not been eating? It can cause you to pass out, you know," I lectured her, as she came to.

I expected her to regain some color in her face, but she remained pale.

"Let's get some food in you."

She merely nodded her head, and walked towards the kitchen, as though in a trance.

I lingered at the staircase again, looking into the past as I saw the other pictures of Elena. I looked down at the entrance to the kitchen, and figured she had already entered. When I reached the kitchen, Elena was already sitting at the table, staring blankly at a half-eaten muffin.

"Wow, you must have been hungry, eh?"

She shook her head.

"What? That's not yours?"

She shook her head. I shook my head in disbelief, backing up with the wall catching me. "No."

Elena looked at me. "Alphonse," she said, letting her eyes look upwards, as though upstairs.

Again, in disbelief, I mounted the stairs. I turned the corner into the hallway, and looked to my right. I t looked like Elena's bedroom. "Clear," I told myself.

"No, no, no, no, no." I turned to the left wall, and saw a splash. This time, I knew it wasn't nail polish.

"Not again, no." I bolted down the hall to the end, finding a disheveled room. This time, there was no bathroom. This time, they were on the floor, there among the discarded items from the drawers, and cabinets, and shelves.

I fell to my knees. I looked at the two figures, lying together; slashes to the throat. Then I looked past them, and beheld the writing on the wall.

NEXT TIME. YOU TOO.

"Judas."

[romantic_story]

"I'm sorry, Elena." It was the only thing I could think to say to her.

"You didn't know this would happen. You're not at fault, so don't apologize."

I hated seeing her like this. She wasn't sad, but she wasn't happy. She was just like this on the day of her parent's funeral. I asked her why she didn't cry, and she simply responded that she spent all her tears on Catherine.

I try not to cry at funerals. After my parents were buried, I promised my brother that I would be strong; strong like Albrecht. Albi, I called him back then. He hated that.

*************

I drove Elena home after yet another day of school at Creekmount.

"Alphonse," Elena said, as she watched the scenery go by.

I responded, looking away from the road only long enough to make eye contact with her. "Yes, Elena?"

"Do you think...that ghosts exist?"

I looked past the road, past everything, and thought for a moment of how best to answer. "Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't," I finally said.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, sometimes I can feel my parents still watching over me and protecting me. And, sometimes I can feel them haunting me about not finding their killer. In the former instance, I like to think that it's their ghosts that are with me. The latter...well, I chalk that up to my own guilt."

"I think I must be the opposite. I feel the ghosts of those four men; usually in my dreams. They're horrible, horrible dreams. That's why..."

"Go on."

"That's why I was wondering if I could stay with you for a little while?"

I hesitated. She must have sensed my hesitation.

"I promise I won't be a bother. I can even help out with chores, if they need doing."

All of a sudden, my instinct took over. Instinct said, "self, here is a beautiful girl, she's of age, her ass is so high and tight that it makes marine's heads look scruffy, and those little tits of hers seem to defy gravity. Not to mention, she's looking for someone to latch onto. Vulnerable is what she is. Now is the time to strike!"

"Shut up a second," I said to my instinct.

"Excuse me," Elena said, quizzically.

"I'm sorry, not you, Elena."

I thought further. This would be the gentlemanly thing to do for her. She is seeking a strong hand to grasp hers and lead her through. Why not?

"Thank you, Alphonse. I don't think I could handle being alone in that house again."

"It's no trouble, Elena. Anything I can do to help you during this time, let it be done."

"So, when can you come over? Tonight, maybe?"

I closed my eyes, and thought. I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair. "I don't think I could do that. No, it just wouldn't work."

Elena looked downtrodden at my comment.

"No, I think you're just going to have to move in with me."

Elena's eyes lit up when I gave the suggestion. "Really!?" She suddenly realized how happy she sounded, and in an effort to seem less eager, "I mean, is that okay?"

"It's fine by me. I dislike eating alone, and Himeko doesn't count in that respect."

"Hime...ko? Who's that?"

"Oh, you'll find out. I'm sure she won't mind."