Am I doing the right thing by wanting to leave? But why would I stay when I can’t even remember thereason I belong here. Without my brother, I really have nothing left.
I close my eyes, let out a soft sigh and whisper, "I know dad, I love you too."
And then, I walk away.
2
OLIVIA
“We survive by remembering. But sometimes we survive by forgetting.” — The Uninvited (2009)
Igrab the pieces of mail from the mailbox before heading into my apartment. I normally just toss everything in the trash, not caring about the pre-qualified offer on a personal loan or the extended car warranty letter for a car that I don’t even own. But as I sift through all the junk mail, tossing them in the trash one by one, I see something that pulls my interest.
A black envelope with no addressee or return sender information on it. I lean against my kitchen counter as I decide to tear it open, finding an invitation tucked inside.
My heart thuds as I pull it out and read it.
Come One, Come All.
Is what the first line reads in bold black lettering.
Olivia, join us for a Halloween tradition likeno other.
I stare at it confused, because I know what this is, but I don’t know why it was sent to me.
Invitations for Thriller Nights have been scrapped since the murders took place. Unless they started it back up again this year, but as I hold the paper in my hands, a sense of disquietude washes over me.
I flip it over to see if I can tell who sent it, but the backside is blank. As I continue to read over the invite, reaching the bottom, I get an eerie chill when I read the rather lurid closing statement.
Let’s have a weekend to die for.
I immediately decide to throw it in the trash, wanting to scream or vomit or both at the same time. This has to be some kind of sick prank to evoke a reaction out of me or just someone who thrives on the opportunity to be a barbaric asshole.
And even though the eerie feeling I get and the urge to disobey that feeling collide and tangle in my head, I can’t help but feel a little curious as to why someone would seek me out personally to extend me an invitation.
It’s almost likesomeonewants me in the Pines this weekend.
The noise in the bar ricochets loudly.Kryptoniteby 3 Doors Down plays from the vintage, coin-operated jukebox as regulars gather around the tables and high-tops for their normal night of drinking and watching reruns of whatever college games are on. Normally, we'd have the MCU game on if they're playing, but this weekend, just like every Halloween weekend, they have a bye-week. Don’t ask how they manage that.
"Come on, sweetheart. Don't you like bending the rules just a tad? What's one more gonna harm?"
I sigh at the old man's request, trying not to appear too annoyed with him because he is one of my best tipping customers.
"It’ll hinder your ability to drive home, Walter. You know the rules . . . you're cut off." I swipe my dish towel across the bar to wipe up the melted ice as I grab his glass from in front of him. He gives me a displeasing look before managing a tipsy smirk while slapping down his wadded-up cash.
"You're too good to me, little youngin'. I'm sure my wife thanks you for looking out for me." He performs a sloppy salute over his brow with two fingers, before drunkenly sliding off his stool.
He, like everyone else in this joint, is an every-damn-day customer. Every spare minute of his life that he has to offer, he spends here. Doesn't live too far to walk home but for some reason he insists on driving and getting near the edge of blackout drunk. Every night I cut him off at the same number of drinks but I'm sure of it now . . . he definitely drinks his weight in beer before he enters the bar every night.
Why do I care, though? I can onlydo so much.
I give him a sarcastic smile before turning around to start making the drinks for the table that Alli just took the order for.
"Here's another," she says as she slides in behind me, reaching down for some glasses to fill with soda. I look down at the piece of paper she drops onto the bar top as I shake the margarita shaker.
"I don't know why you even bother bringing them over, as if I'm actually going to entertain any of them one day." I pop the top to the shaker and pour the mixture over ice, just as she reaches down to grab the glass from my hands to place on her drink tray.
"You never know. One of them might stick." She grins, and I rush to top the margarita she took with a lime wedge before she speeds off to deliver the drinks.
