This better not be her damn head or something.
I opened the drawer of the table and pulled out a box cutter. I flipped the blade out and carefully tore the wrapping paper along the top, where the ribbon was. I ripped it off and lifted the lid to the box.
The smell was immediately apparent; a noxious scent of sour ham and metal attacked my nostrils.
I saw the white note first, embedded in some giant round ball of…flesh?!
I grabbed the note and then read the words that were scrawled in jagged black ink:CLUE #3: “Learn who I am, or Angela becomes a Christmas ham.”
My stomach dropped to the floor.
In the gift box was a ham—gray and slimy with mold, stinking of rot. As I examined it closer, there was something stuck inside it, like some kind of twisted garnish. It was a metallic Christmas star.
I stumbled back, choking on the horrific smell. My body began trembling, and I could barely hold my composure.
That star—five-pointed, sharp, golden—it wasn’t random. It meant something. This monster definitely knew who I was—he knew this was the weapon that was used to butcher my family. I was being tormented, played with…but why? Why me?! What had I done?! Why punish Angela?!
The image of the severed foot flashed again in my mind as I fell to the floor. I remembered the painted nails: red and green. I could almost see a masked monster chopping off Angela’s foot as she screamed—a sharp axe plunging downward into her ankle, the bones crunching, the blood spilling out of the fresh wound like a crimson fountain. A twisted man dressed as Santa Claus, having his way with her, to destroy me.
I tightly shut my eyes, tears flowing out of them, my gut broiling with fire. I curled into a ball, feeling hopeless and helpless. I had no idea how to help my poor, dear Angela. The idea of her being butchered—of what might be left of her when I found her—was enough to make me dizzy.
I angrily slammed my fist against the cold floor, pain erupting along my arm. Whoever was doing this wanted me ruined forever. They wanted me to remember them. It was happening all over again—allthe suffering and the anguish that I had felt when the first Xmas Day Butcher slaughtered my family, all those years ago.
I couldn’t take it—I couldn’t handle it. I closed my eyes even tighter, secretly hoping it was a cruel nightmare that’d be over as soon as I woke up.
I jolted awake to the sound of banging on my door. I was in my lounge chair, my legs sprawled out, the taste of air on my tongue—I had fallen asleep. I quickly checked my watch—it was still December 6th.
I rubbed my dry eyes and slid over to the front door to see who was there. When I checked the peephole, Detective Castillo was standing there, with a concerned look on her face.
I swung open the door and steppedaside so she could enter. “Jesus, Lenny. You look like hell. Are you okay?”
I sighed heavily, hanging my head. “My wife’s missing, and there’s a man named the Xmas Day Butcher cutting up body parts and parading them in front of the town. What do you think?” I asked aloud. “I got another gift, by the way.”
When she saw the ham, her stony expression changed to complete horror. She reached inside her pocket and put on gloves to examine it. She lifted the note first, eyes narrowing as she read it. Then she looked back at the ham.
“Christmas ham, yellow Christmas star,” she murmured. “That’s not random.”
I knew what she was getting at, but I wanted to see what she said. “What do you mean?”
Shehesitated, glancing at me with worrisome eyes. “I didn’t want to accept it, but it might be what we’ve been fearing since this whole thing started. Colton Kilhouser is dead, but this has to be a copycat killer. AnotherXmas Day Butcher.” I paced back and forth. “I also didn’t want to accept it, but here we are—dealing with someone who’s just as twisted as the original, huh?”
Castillo shook her head, confused about what was going on. “He’s been dead for years; this doesn’t make any sense. Why now?” She looked at me—square in the eyes. “Why would someone be sending this to you now? How did they even find you? I still haven’t figured it out.”
I nodded. “It has been a very long time. I was 12 when Colton killed my family, and I’m 32 now. My hair changed after I buzzed it. It used to be wavy and a lighter shade of brown. I have facial hair now, and after a while…no one recognized me anymore. Somehow, this copycat found me, after so many years.”
I sighed, taking a seat on the armrest of my lounge chair. “A lot of people moved out of this place when that happened. I wanted to do the same, but…I just never did. I lived with an old lady named Corita. I met Angela in high school, and she didn’t want to leave, so we didn’t.”
I got up and stared at the ceiling, quietly wondering how I ended up in this hellish predicament. “I just tried to forget it ever happened, and I pretended it didn’t. It workedfor a while, but now…it’s come back to haunt me.”
Castillo just stared at me—stunned. “That case is a tragedy. I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
“It’s alright. I’m trying to move on,” I said softly.
She shook her head, pursing her lips together. “This copycat needs to be found.” Castillo dug her hands into the ham, trying not to breathe it in too deeply.
I looked at her curiously. “Shouldn’t you take this back somewhere official? To be examined?”
She glanced at me, clucking her tongue. “I’d be doing the same thing at the station, it’s fine. Not sure if we’d be able to get any DNA evidence in time anyway. Roads are still blocked off, and the best lab is in Gravestone, the town closest to us.”
