My body went numb as I blacked out.
CHAPTER 13
DECEMBER 13TH
Iwoke with a gasp, lungs burning, chest locked tight like someone had locked a belt around my ribs. My heart slammed against the inside of my body, desperate to escape. I was blacking out almost every day now, unable to control myself. It reminded me of when Colton Kilhouser had killed my family—how I felt back then, in a cloudy haze, believing it was all a cruel nightmare and nothing more.
I pushed myself off the couch, my legs shaky; the silence of my house was loud without Angela. The floorboards groaned as I walked towards the window, peeking out at the frozen, white wasteland. I pressed a hand against the icy glass, trying to slow my breathing, but it didn’t help. My thoughts were a chaotic mess—flashing images of the axe being thrust into George’s body, Clara’s body hanging like a haunted swing set, and the severed limbs that the Butcher had sent me.
It was all too much to bear.
A harsh knock at my door interrupted my jumbled mind. At first, I thought it was in my head, but then I heard footsteps walking away outside, the subtle crunch of snow being stepped on.
I gasped.It’shim.
Every part of me screamed not to move, so I didn’t. Fear took over, paralyzing me. I took a few deep breaths and calmed myself down. Then I forced my feet to carry me forward—they felt slow and heavy, like I was being pulled back by an invisible man.
I made it to the front door and turned the knob, pushing to open. That’s when I saw it—another wrapped gift box.
It sat neatly on the floor, wrapped in green paper and sealed with Christmas tape. My gut twisted into knots. When would it end? I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t stomach seeing another chopped-off limb or being ordered to murder someone.
But there it was—waiting. I couldn’t just leave it there, so I crouched down, my hands shaking, and picked it up. I brought it inside and shut the door. I tore it open, and inside was a pair of red Christmas underwear.
It belonged to Angela.
For a moment, I saw her warm face. I could see her so clearly—her infectious laugh, that teasing smile as she’d held them up to me in the retail store. “These are just for fun,” she’d said, her voice low and velvety. The memory hit me hard because she wasn’t with me, and I missed her dearly.
My stomach broiled as I realized that the Xmas Day Butcher had taken them off her; how embarrassing and humiliating that must’ve been for her. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to toy with me. I was growing extremely sick of it.
The air grew heavy in my house as cold filled my lungs. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I noticed the red envelope insidethe box. He never failed to send one. I took it out and tore it open. I didn’t want to read it, but I had to. I needed to know what was next.
CLUE #7:“Now that he’s dead, sleep tight in your bed. We will now learn about my doctor. This one’s a real shocker!”
The words seeped into me like a poison spreading through my veins. My vision blurred, my throat tightened, and I swore I could hear faint whispering in the other rooms in my house—shadows dancing along the walls, messing with my mind.
I didn’t know who he was talking about, but Doctor Thomas T. Tuttle did come to mind. He worked in the Gibraltar Institute. I wondered if there was a connection.
I stuffed the letter back into the box and tossed it aside with disdain. I was losing it. I knew I was. George’s murder was getting to me, and the guilt was strangling me. The faint whispers never stopped. They grew louder, circling me like screeching ravens, torturing my very soul.
These words came clear, slithering through my ears: “You know what you did... you know what you did…”
I sprang up from my couch, heart pounding in my head, wild eyes darting between the voices that seemed to take shape on the shifting walls. The shadows took on faces—they were strangely twisted and human-like.
“Who are you, Lenny?” it whispered, the distorted voice sounding like my own. “Do you know what you’ve become?”
I wasn’t sure; I didn’t know what I had become. I was losing sense of myself and sense of what was going on. I screamed at nothing, in a panic—raw and desperate.
“Find me in the old white church…find me there…”
I freaked out as I shut my eyes, wanting it all to go away and to never come back. “Who are you?!” I shouted. “Why are you doing this to me?! Who the hell are you?!”
There was no answer. When I opened my eyes, the shadowy faces were gone. I felt like a damn lunatic, shouting at nothing.
What the hell is the matter with me?
Another knock disrupted my thoughts. This time, I quickly raced to my front door and checked the peephole. It was a familiar face.
“Lenny? You in there, man? It’s Joseph.”
