Homicide detective Robert Winters, clothed all in black, knelt over the still body. A tear fell onto his sister’s lifeless face. How could it be that Katherine, just a day before, had been going about her life as a mother, a wife, and his sister? And now… now she wasn’t anything. He let himself cry, despite the presence of his peers behind him. They would understand, he knew. Each of them had suffered loss, too, and knew the sting of it, the wrenching pain of the unacceptable. It came with the job, unfortunate fact though it was. And yet… they made no noise, no move to console him. Oddly strange, he thought, for his compatriots knew him well, and there was hardly a time he did not receive comfort from at least one of them when he needed it.

He turned around, wondering what was the matter. Had they gone?

The three officers — Lauren Johnson, Charlie Ramirez, and Isabella Cho — were there all right, but the reason for their silence soon became apparent to the detective. Gags covered their mouths. Ropes bound them together. Robert was shocked. How had he allowed this to happen, under his own watch? Yes, he had been distracted, but it was a rule he knew well that one was not to let their emotions interfere with their duties.

The detective hardly had time to consider the situation, however. A whizzing sound reached his ears and a moment later, he felt a sharp pain in his arm. Dizzy, he looked down at the bloodstains spreading from his forearm and a knife embedded in the tree trunk behind him. Pieces of bark fluttered to the ground. Robert remembered another rule he obviously had ignored: always be alert. He recalled when he had been so excited to start his job, to actually be a detective. He was so young and naive.

He felt his blood pulsing in his arm. His meager medical knowledge prompted him to rip off the bottom of his shirt and tie it about the wound, but it did not do much to ease the pain or the bleeding. Robert immediately ran to his friends to free them, trying desperately to control his arm as it shook with pain. He managed to release his friends with no damage done.

“Where is it?” Lauren cried as soon as she pulled off her gag.

“What happened?” Robert asked.

“I — I saw it come out of the woods,” Lauren whispered, “But before I could warn you, before I could move, it hit me, and I blacked out.”

“And then it got the rest of us,” Isabella added.

“What did? What was it?” the detective implored.

She answered, “I couldn’t tell, I just don’t —”

“I’m coming for you,” a voice from the forest wailed. “I’m coming to get you.” A shadowy figure emerged from the woods.

“Run!” Charlie screamed.

“I —” Robert said, his voice breaking, “I know where to go. Follow me.”

The four raced among the trees, tearing through the dense branches, and, as they would later discover, sustaining multiple scratches all over. The forest was green and lush, but they could hardly appreciate its beauty what with the terror they were experiencing. Instead, as they ran, an old fear and sadness resurfaced for the detective. It was nearly a year ago that Robert had lost his beloved wife, Ellen. He had since visited their woodland cabin only thrice, and each time it had been terribly painful. Robert had been, in fact, heading to the cabin for a fourth time when he received the call regarding the murder. How ironic that his home of miserable remembrance would become his haven of safety.

Ellen had been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, prettier than any actress or any figure of a Greek goddess made by some sculptor. He thought if one were to try to make a likeness of her, it could never compare. Her eyes were the deepest brown, and when Robert looked into them it was as if many secrets hid inside, and when they looked back at him he could hear his heart: ka-bump, ka-bump. Her hair was as black as midnight, and her skin was a beautiful cocoa brown. Even as he remembered her the tears came back, having only been recently dried by the adrenaline he felt after the appearance of the knife. His beautiful Ellen, gone. He sobbed. An old wound had been reopened.

But this was not the time to fret over his lost wife. They had reached the cabin, a cozy wooden establishment with shining windows and a very homey feel. Robert fumbled for the keys, all the while feeling the shooting pain in his arm, before unlocking the door and flinging it open. They scrambled inside and he slammed the door shut, bolting the lock. Robert collapsed on a couch, sinking into the fabric. He was too weak to care about the red stain spreading across the cushion. Thinking about it, he realized that it was doubtful he’d live long enough for it to matter.

The four were silent for a moment, panting, their hearts racing. Robert willed his breathing to slow. In-out. In, out. In, and out. In… and… out.

“What do we do?” Lauren whimpered.

“What is there to do?” Charlie shot back. “We’re trapped. We’re going to die. The best thing we can do is accept it and steel ourselves.”

“No!” Isabella protested. “We’re not going to die. We’re going to get through this together.” She glanced at Robert’s arm. “Is there a first aid kit here? The most important thing right now is making sure Robert is okay.”

“Yeah, there’s one over th—there,” the detective stammered, wincing in pain as he pointed to an cabinet above the sink.

Isabella ran to get it, pulling out a bandage and disinfectant as she sat down next to Robert.

“I’m no doctor,” Isabella ventured, “So I’m really sorry about this.” After gingerly untying the piece of cloth around the wound, she poured a drop of the liquid onto Robert’s arm and he stifled a scream. His breathing quickened, and he began to sweat.

“I’m so sorry, Robert.”

He squeaked out, “It’s fine.”

She placed a piece of cotton over his wound and wrapped it in gauze. “I don’t know what else to— to do,” Isabella stuttered, feeling her lunch making its way up her throat. She let go of his arm and he relaxed, though still wincing in pain.

“Um, guys,” Charlie began, “Where is… it?”

“Good question,” Lauren murmured. The four turned their heads slowly toward the door.

“Why is it taking so long?” Isabella cried, “Why isn’t it here?”

“What, do you want to die?” Charlie snapped.

Isabella answered, “No, I— I just want this waiting to —”

Knock, knock, knock. The four jumped.

“Let me in,” a voice drawled, “This is my house after all, honey.”

No. Robert’s heart stopped. No, she was dead. She had to be! She’d gotten lost one day and he couldn’t find her and — there was just no way! He had searched for her, then cried for her, and he’d finally accepted that she was gone. But as he peered out the window, his world flipped. There she was, scratched and battered, yet just as beautiful as the Ellen he knew. Her eyes stared into his, the pools of deep brown filled with fear. Robert could feel tears dripping down his cheeks. He lunged for the door, moving to open it, before reconsidering.

“How?” he cried.

His wife motioned for him to open the door, tilting her head to one side. He could hear, muffled through the window, “Come out, dear.”

Could he trust her? There was no way, absolutely no way, that she was the one who had killed Katherine. Ellen loved his sister almost as much as he did. This was not the killer, the one who had been chasing them. It obviously wasn’t her, and she was in danger! The true murderer would come out at any moment and kill her, too! He couldn’t lose his beloved wife again.

His hand on the lock, he stopped. Was he sure? Absolutely sure? He had to be. If he couldn’t trust her, he couldn’t trust anyone. He unlocked the door.

“Are you sure?” Charlie called.

“I have to be. She’s my wife.” And he stepped outside.

“Honey, it’s — it’s you! I can’t believe I found you again!” she cried, her hands outstretched. Robert ran to her and took her in his arms.

“My Ellie,” he sobbed. He caught his breath. “No,” he cried, “No, please, you can’t…”

She pulled it out, that same knife he had felt the sting of earlier that day. “Yes, I can,” the love of his life hissed. “I can, Robert. You abandoned me. I was lost and you didn’t find me. I was in the forest for a year. A year, Robbie! And you didn’t look for me.” She was crying.

“I did, Ellie, you know I did! I’d never leave you! I died inside because I had looked for days and hadn’t found you. I couldn’t accept that you were gone, but what else could I have done?”

“You should have looked harder,” was her response. She paused, and then, “Did it hurt, Robbie? Did it? To know that your sister, someone you loved beyond anything, had abandoned you? That they were gone forever?”

“Yes, yes it did,” he cried. “But I already knew how that felt. I’d known it for a long time, ever since I lost you. I loved you more than anything, Ellie.”

“I loved you, too,” she sobbed. “I did. That year in the forest, I still loved you. But now that I’ve found you? I hate you.”

But there was obviously some love left in her heart, for as his eyes closed, Robert could see the realization of what she had done begin to spread across Ellen’s face.

And he saw black.

---

Born in La Sierra, California, Natalie Brooks has lived in the Inland Empire her whole life. She enjoys playing with her cats, who are named after two literary characters, writing, baking, and reading. She has been an avid reader since the age of four. Her favorite genre to read (and write) is fiction.

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