A Broken Sunrise ~ Chapter 7
Another murder, and things are beginning to fall into place. But Shay doesn't know what to do.
In a daze, I grabbed hold of his hand. It was the only thing I could grab onto. The only thing that was real right now. And I still doubted it. I almost expected Jet to disappear in a poof of smoke. Or even fly away with those mesmerizing wings. We took off our shoes and socks and carried them as we walked down the shore in the soft sand.
"Guardian angel." I tasted the words. "I didn't believe in that kind of stuff. It's just not--realistic."
"It's not." Jet admitted. "And you're not supposed to know, either."
"Why not?" I asked him.
He shrugged. "Long story."
I looked into his eyes. And then I remembered--"Our same-color eyes. That's not just a coincidence, is it?"
He shook his head, smiling. "No. An angel takes on the exact shade of eye color as the person he is guarding. My eyes really aren't this beautiful a color as yours." He winked.
"I bet you were such a good boy when you lived." I said. "You're an angel now. You must have gotten so many afterlife points! So much more than I've gotten in seventeen years, i bet."
He laughed. "I wasn't so good all the time." He gave me a seductive smile.
I grinned. "So. You said you were... sent to protect me?? Who were you sent by?"
He sighed. "Listen. There's a whole load of details about this thing, and I'm new at this like you are. And, I've already told you way too much already. I would tell you everything if i could. But I just want you to know that I will be here to protect and guide you as long as I am here. That is my only duty, and I wish to fulfill it."
He squeezed my hand. My heart skipped a couple of beats and I was breathless. "I'm not... afraid." I breathed.
"Good." he said. And he leaned in with speed and surprise and kissed me long and passionately underneath the blackening sky, the stars twinkling. We rounded a lifeguard tower and then we headed back to the cemetery. He led me to his grave once again and pulled from behind it a bouquet of roses. "These are those immortal ones. I may not always be with you, but these will." I smelled in their aroma, and thought of wildflower golden meadow incense stuff.
Jet drove me home where Beck was waiting on the porch. I could see the subtle relief on his face that I was safe and sound. He was a great brother. He had pretty much given up his future to take care of the family. I gave him a hug as we went inside.
I knew Beck was feeling uneasy, so i said, "Jet's a great guy. Really."
Beck didn't say anything. He just hugged me tighter.
----
The next day, Kiana was home. I insisted that Beck and I give her balloons. She looked at them skeptically and said, "I didn't get this many balloons on my birthday."
I did a lot of thinking about the last note I had gotten from the "killer." I read his note over and over again. "Your sister and your pretty boy have been with me. But the longer you're not, the more people will get hurt. You know where to find me. The place where your life was once changed forever. And I'll make sure that happens again." It creeped me out, especially the "more people will get hurt" part. Who else could this killer hurt? Beck? I didn't want to think about this. "You know where to find me. The place where your life was once changed forever." This was probably the part I thought about the most. When did my life change? And then it struck me. The idea was like a baseball bet swung into my head. It was like a car rammed into me.
My parent's accident. I remembered some parts of it clearly, some parts of it vaguely. I was thirteen... it was four years ago. My parents were on their way home at about ten o'clock. They were on the freeway when a fast, black car with its lights off completely smashed through the center divider and hit them head on. It was going seventy miles an hour or so, and swerved when my dad, the driver, swerved. As if the black car wanted to hit our minivan. Both my parents were instantly killed, and it was a hit-and-run. That was the day my life was changed forever.
I gently tugged my Paramore poster off the wall, where a hole was hidden. I brushed away cobwebs and retrieved a small box from inside. It was my mother's jewelry box. Inside were some of her jewelry trinkets, and all the publicity I had found from my parents' death. There were only a few newspaper clippings. I found what I was searching for. It was the exact place of the accident, half a mile before exit 13. Half a mile. I couldn't think of what was at that place. All I knew it was a dense forested area. There had to be some sort of landmark there. Or maybe a clue of some sort... ugh. I was being crazy. This wasn't the movies. This wasn't Hollywood. This was my life.
I took the keys to Kiana's car. She was definitely not going anywhere. She was in her room, talking to all of her friends on the phone. Seriously, Kiana made up about 99 percent of our phone bill. I drove the old Chevy Camaro she had to the highway. It was about thirty minutes away. When I got to where I thought was the place, I noticed that the center divider for about a twentieth of a mile was a whole lot newer than the concrete around it. I also saw skid marks, which made me cringe, an echo of the grief I endured four years ago. This had to be the place. I could...feel it.
Something caught my eye on the side of the road. In the brush and straining to see, between a thick line of trees, I saw a small cabin in the brush. It was weird, I had never noticed it before, but suddenly it was like it was shouting at me. For the second I saw it before my eyes had to return to the road, I mentally took a picture. It was covered with overgrown plants , and there were closed shutters. I couldn't see much else, but it looked like no one had been there for a long time. Something about it just sent a chill down my spine.
When I got home, I went to see how Kiana was doing. She never liked me using her car, so I wanted to see if she knew anything about my trip. However, when I got into her room, I found that she was immersed by the television. Without looking at me, she furiously beckoned.
I ran and watched alongside her. Cheri Wilcox was just saying, "no arrests have been made and authorities still do not have any suspects, but a bystander did take a photograph with her phone of the attack. Here is the picture." The screen flashed a blurry image, but three things were certainly distinguishable. There was a man crouched against the wall, his hands up over his head defensively, and there was another figure standing over him, one arm raised with what looked like a knife.
"Shay, that was the man who attacked me." Kiana said, her voice trembling.
"Maybe not." I said. "The image is sure blurry."
"No." Kiana said firmly. "That's him."
Just then the photo was zoomed, and the man's pixelated face filled the screen. I could see brown hair and the dark outline of thick eyebrows, but the rest was unidentifiable.
The picture disappeared and Cheri's face appeared. "If you just tuned in, the body of a Mr. Martin Hendrickson was identified on sixth street. Slashed into his right arm were three letters, SLE. Coincidentally, these are the same letters cut into the body of Jayla Evans and victim Kiana Evans. Authorities believe these three deaths have been premeditatedly connected. Hendrickson is also a neighbor of the Evans, and was arrested last week for being a suspect in Jayla's murder, but was released..."
"S...L...E." Kiana said slowly. "How have the police not figured out that it's your initials? Maybe you should tell them."
"Used to be my initials, though. Don't you remember? Mom changed it like five years ago. From Louise to Andrea. I was so used to Louise that i guess I didn't realize it. I never even asked her about it. But I remember now. I'm SAE."
"This killer is targeting you, Shay. But he didn't know that your middle name was changed. By the way, why was it changed?"
"I don't know." I said, confused. "Louise was the name of my aunt. The one who died from lung cancer. I don't know who the hell Andrea is. Do you?"
Kiana shook her head.
An hour later, I made up my mind. I wanted to see Jet. I wanted to show him all the notes I've been getting. As soon as I opened the door, rushing so it wouldn't be too late to see him, I saw him standing on my porch, one arm raised to knock on the door.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
"Guardian angel." I tasted the words. "I didn't believe in that kind of stuff. It's just not--realistic."
"It's not." Jet admitted. "And you're not supposed to know, either."
"Why not?" I asked him.
He shrugged. "Long story."
I looked into his eyes. And then I remembered--"Our same-color eyes. That's not just a coincidence, is it?"
He shook his head, smiling. "No. An angel takes on the exact shade of eye color as the person he is guarding. My eyes really aren't this beautiful a color as yours." He winked.
"I bet you were such a good boy when you lived." I said. "You're an angel now. You must have gotten so many afterlife points! So much more than I've gotten in seventeen years, i bet."
He laughed. "I wasn't so good all the time." He gave me a seductive smile.
I grinned. "So. You said you were... sent to protect me?? Who were you sent by?"
He sighed. "Listen. There's a whole load of details about this thing, and I'm new at this like you are. And, I've already told you way too much already. I would tell you everything if i could. But I just want you to know that I will be here to protect and guide you as long as I am here. That is my only duty, and I wish to fulfill it."
He squeezed my hand. My heart skipped a couple of beats and I was breathless. "I'm not... afraid." I breathed.
"Good." he said. And he leaned in with speed and surprise and kissed me long and passionately underneath the blackening sky, the stars twinkling. We rounded a lifeguard tower and then we headed back to the cemetery. He led me to his grave once again and pulled from behind it a bouquet of roses. "These are those immortal ones. I may not always be with you, but these will." I smelled in their aroma, and thought of wildflower golden meadow incense stuff.
Jet drove me home where Beck was waiting on the porch. I could see the subtle relief on his face that I was safe and sound. He was a great brother. He had pretty much given up his future to take care of the family. I gave him a hug as we went inside.
I knew Beck was feeling uneasy, so i said, "Jet's a great guy. Really."
Beck didn't say anything. He just hugged me tighter.
----
The next day, Kiana was home. I insisted that Beck and I give her balloons. She looked at them skeptically and said, "I didn't get this many balloons on my birthday."
I did a lot of thinking about the last note I had gotten from the "killer." I read his note over and over again. "Your sister and your pretty boy have been with me. But the longer you're not, the more people will get hurt. You know where to find me. The place where your life was once changed forever. And I'll make sure that happens again." It creeped me out, especially the "more people will get hurt" part. Who else could this killer hurt? Beck? I didn't want to think about this. "You know where to find me. The place where your life was once changed forever." This was probably the part I thought about the most. When did my life change? And then it struck me. The idea was like a baseball bet swung into my head. It was like a car rammed into me.
My parent's accident. I remembered some parts of it clearly, some parts of it vaguely. I was thirteen... it was four years ago. My parents were on their way home at about ten o'clock. They were on the freeway when a fast, black car with its lights off completely smashed through the center divider and hit them head on. It was going seventy miles an hour or so, and swerved when my dad, the driver, swerved. As if the black car wanted to hit our minivan. Both my parents were instantly killed, and it was a hit-and-run. That was the day my life was changed forever.
I gently tugged my Paramore poster off the wall, where a hole was hidden. I brushed away cobwebs and retrieved a small box from inside. It was my mother's jewelry box. Inside were some of her jewelry trinkets, and all the publicity I had found from my parents' death. There were only a few newspaper clippings. I found what I was searching for. It was the exact place of the accident, half a mile before exit 13. Half a mile. I couldn't think of what was at that place. All I knew it was a dense forested area. There had to be some sort of landmark there. Or maybe a clue of some sort... ugh. I was being crazy. This wasn't the movies. This wasn't Hollywood. This was my life.
I took the keys to Kiana's car. She was definitely not going anywhere. She was in her room, talking to all of her friends on the phone. Seriously, Kiana made up about 99 percent of our phone bill. I drove the old Chevy Camaro she had to the highway. It was about thirty minutes away. When I got to where I thought was the place, I noticed that the center divider for about a twentieth of a mile was a whole lot newer than the concrete around it. I also saw skid marks, which made me cringe, an echo of the grief I endured four years ago. This had to be the place. I could...feel it.
Something caught my eye on the side of the road. In the brush and straining to see, between a thick line of trees, I saw a small cabin in the brush. It was weird, I had never noticed it before, but suddenly it was like it was shouting at me. For the second I saw it before my eyes had to return to the road, I mentally took a picture. It was covered with overgrown plants , and there were closed shutters. I couldn't see much else, but it looked like no one had been there for a long time. Something about it just sent a chill down my spine.
When I got home, I went to see how Kiana was doing. She never liked me using her car, so I wanted to see if she knew anything about my trip. However, when I got into her room, I found that she was immersed by the television. Without looking at me, she furiously beckoned.
I ran and watched alongside her. Cheri Wilcox was just saying, "no arrests have been made and authorities still do not have any suspects, but a bystander did take a photograph with her phone of the attack. Here is the picture." The screen flashed a blurry image, but three things were certainly distinguishable. There was a man crouched against the wall, his hands up over his head defensively, and there was another figure standing over him, one arm raised with what looked like a knife.
"Shay, that was the man who attacked me." Kiana said, her voice trembling.
"Maybe not." I said. "The image is sure blurry."
"No." Kiana said firmly. "That's him."
Just then the photo was zoomed, and the man's pixelated face filled the screen. I could see brown hair and the dark outline of thick eyebrows, but the rest was unidentifiable.
The picture disappeared and Cheri's face appeared. "If you just tuned in, the body of a Mr. Martin Hendrickson was identified on sixth street. Slashed into his right arm were three letters, SLE. Coincidentally, these are the same letters cut into the body of Jayla Evans and victim Kiana Evans. Authorities believe these three deaths have been premeditatedly connected. Hendrickson is also a neighbor of the Evans, and was arrested last week for being a suspect in Jayla's murder, but was released..."
"S...L...E." Kiana said slowly. "How have the police not figured out that it's your initials? Maybe you should tell them."
"Used to be my initials, though. Don't you remember? Mom changed it like five years ago. From Louise to Andrea. I was so used to Louise that i guess I didn't realize it. I never even asked her about it. But I remember now. I'm SAE."
"This killer is targeting you, Shay. But he didn't know that your middle name was changed. By the way, why was it changed?"
"I don't know." I said, confused. "Louise was the name of my aunt. The one who died from lung cancer. I don't know who the hell Andrea is. Do you?"
Kiana shook her head.
An hour later, I made up my mind. I wanted to see Jet. I wanted to show him all the notes I've been getting. As soon as I opened the door, rushing so it wouldn't be too late to see him, I saw him standing on my porch, one arm raised to knock on the door.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
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