Page 23 of Unhinged Kallie

My eyes snapped open as the latest dream flooded my mind and danced around like a ballet. The rivers of red were so pretty, and the arms stuck up like reeds. They waved back and forth, asking to be pulled out, but I enjoyed watching them sway far too much. They were enticing and they called to me.

I was different, but the feeling of being alone had grown since my mom’s death. My dad tried, he seemed to understand and accept me, but he was quiet, sitting alone downstairs when he wasn’t cooking or teaching us.

I could still feel his hand in mine as we stood beside my mom’s small grave on the property. The dreams started shortly after and now came to me every night.

Dad pulled Carter and me from school and had been home-schooling us. We hardly ever left the property. Dad said it was too dangerous and that the rules outside our gates were different. We would never be judged as long as we stayed here. I loved my dad, but he was smothering me. I wanted to explore and experience the world.

Sighing, I sat up and grabbed the sketch pad beside my bed, flipping to my last drawing. The man tied to the tree was my latest work, and I loved the terror on his face. He looked a lot like the bully Chester at my school before I was pulled out. Chester liked to bully me on the bus and at school, but I knew he would get what was coming to him one day.

I caressed the paper, smiling. What would his skin feel like if I pet him like this.? Would it feel different from mine? Would he tremble under my touch? Would he scream? I shivered at the thought.

The detail in his wide eyes, as his mouth hung open, was stunning, but the axe piercing his heart was where I’d spent the most time. The fine pencil lines and shadowing gave the perfect accents to the large wound. I was very proud of this drawing, it was my best one yet.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are,” I softly sang and swung my legs out of bed. “Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.” Setting the sketch pad on my desk, I picked up my latest bug board. I called it my science experiment. The board was almost full of more dangerous and exotic bugs this time. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.”

A few of the insects struggled on the board as they slowly died. I tapped each of the pins holding my collection in place, some had fallen still, but others buzzed and struggled. I wrote the death dates on the back of the board. One deer fly, in particular, was struggling and tugging itself against the pins. I admired its resolve.

Is this what it would be like to capture Chester? I bet I could make him struggle like this. His arms and legs would flail as he screamed and begged to be let go just like Becca had. I didn’t with her, I wouldn’t with him. Chester would be as trapped as those on my board and I’d never let him get away.

Sitting my project down, I wandered the room, unable to sleep. Falling back to sleep after one of the dreams was nearly impossible. Giving up I cracked open my door and listened for any noise, but the house was silent. I tiptoed out into the hall, counting the steps to a squeaky board, then slowly stepped over it.

I’d asked Dad why he didn’t fix the noisy boards, and he told me it was because he wanted to hear if someone had broken in and walked up the stairs. I paid attention and memorized each board and what it sounded like when it did make noise. Now I not only knew how to move around without making a sound, but I would know exactly where the intruder was, based on the sound of the board.

Carter’s room was at the end of the hall, and as quietly as I could, I opened his door and poked my head inside. He was sound asleep on his back. His deep, steady breathing gave it away. Leaving his door open, I slipped inside, walked over to the side of the bed, and watched his chest rise and fall to a steady rhythm.

His room was the complete opposite of mine. I kept everything neat and orderly, nothing out of place, but Carter’s room looked like a storm had rolled in and scattered his clothes in all directions. He had an empty plate and a glass of chocolate milk beside the bed, and the books he used to study were open and spread all over his desk. It also smelled like a boy in here. They just had a smell to them, like sweat followed them around.

I was bored and couldn’t sleep, so I picked up the clothes and tossed them in his large hamper.

“Yuck,” I whispered as I grabbed the pile of smelly, crusty socks. What the hell did he do to these things?

Boys were gross. Turning my attention to the desk, I closed the books and binders, organizing them neatly before placing a handful of pens in a drawer. Once I was sure the room was spotless, I grabbed the dishes and snuck back out, closing the door behind me.

The house was dark, but I liked it that way and walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Placing the dishes in the sink, I let my mind wander to when I would find my mom in here humming and making pancakes. I loved blueberry ones with lots of syrup and whip cream. She made them all from scratch and would let me crack the eggs and beat the batter together.

“Watch yourself, Sweetie. The pan is hot.”

“I know,” I said, looking at my mom before turning back to the pancakes. I made sure each one had the same number of blueberries. One of the berries slipped from my fingers and landed on the pan.

I grabbed the berry before it got ruined.

“Ouch,” I hissed and put my finger in my mouth. I looked over at my mom, and even though she didn’t say it, I knew she was scolding me. “I’ll be more careful.”

I smiled at the memory, feeling like she was still here. I missed my mom so much. A cloud moved, and the moonlight poured through the window into the kitchen, landing on the large knife left on the counter. It glinted in the moon’s rays, and I picked it up without thinking about what I was doing.

What would Chester do if I pulled a knife like this out to use on him? I slowly waved the blade back and forth, like a sword, pretending to cut him up into tiny pieces. He’d never bully anyone ever again. Even though I hadn’t seen him for over two years, I could still hear his taunts and the other kid’s laughter. Carter would yell at him and tell him to shut up, but then he’d get in trouble, and I hated that Chester got Carter into trouble for protecting me. That wasn’t fair. He was the bully, he deserved to be punished.

“If you’re going to use that, then you’ll learn to use it right,” my dad said. I jumped, letting out a scream.

The knife clattered as I tossed it on the counter and whipped around, but he wasn’t behind me. My eyes scanned the room, and I found him sitting on a chair in the furthest corner of the kitchen. The clouds shifted again, and his eyes glowed like a cat in the inky darkness before he was hidden once more.

My heartbeat like a drum in my ears. “Dad, you scared me. How long have you been there?” I wrapped my arms around myself, embarrassed that I screamed like a kid. I was eight and hated feeling like I was still little.

“Long enough to know that it’s not Carter keeping his room clean.” I blushed. “You do know he has two capable hands and can do it himself?”

“I know, but I do it better.”

“Hmm.”