The Blue Rose

6. Aster

SIX

ASTER

W aking up groggy a couple hours later, seeing it is already dark outside, I grab my phone and see it's 6pm. My stomach drops, my body is still exhausted from Gary. Normally I feel reenergized after a kill, practically bouncing around my property until the high wears off. I’ve never slept through preparing for my newest lamb.

Rushing to get up, still naked, I only have two hours until I meet Tori, and I need to prepare everything. Preparation usually takes me three hours, but I have to hurry since I slept through it. I throw on some clothes and head back to the shed, grabbing my burner phone. I have a missed call and text from Tori.

Tori

Hey I’m on my way, GPS says I’ll be there a little before 8, hope that’s okay! See you soon.

I curse and shoot a text back

Aster

That’s fine, that just gives us longer to be together.

Fuck . I scramble to get my kill space ready, rushing through my routine with shaky hands. After the table is set and my tools laid out ready and waiting, I grab her rose and place it in the vase, my nerves settling once I complete this step.. It’s always the last thing I do to prepare for my slaughter. Before I leave, I grab the burner phone and a syringe prefilled with ketamine from my desk and make my way back home. As I’m buttoning up my shirt I see another text.

Tori

The Uber just dropped me off, where are you?

Aster

I’ll be there in twenty minutes, see you soon.

Tori

See you soon.

The bar is deserted when I get there. I walk in and see Tori sitting at the bar in a little black dress with her legs crossed and martini in hand.

I walk over to her, plastering my panty-dropping smile on my face. Giving her a hug before I sit down. She holds me longer than I’m comfortable with, letting my mind wander back to Serena, I release her. I ordered a Moscow mule, the same one Serena ordered, sipping on it slowly, imagining her lips around the straw.

We talk for twenty minutes about nothing remotely interesting. I see a flash of dark hair in my peripheral, heart pounding. Serena? When the woman turns towards the bar, my excitement shifts to rage. It’s not her . I take a deep breath. Relax. Focus . I ask her if she wants to go back to my place, adding interest I don’t feel into my gaze. She nods, quickly finishing her second martini, and we head out the door.

It's a ten minute drive from my house and she sits in silence the whole time. The silence pulls me back to thoughts of ocean blue eyes, red lips, in a sinfully red dress. I adjust myself, gaining a giggle from Tori. Great, she thinks my boner is for her. I ignore her reaction, focusing on the road ahead.

Pulling up, she stares at my house in admiration. “You sure do have a beautiful home, and a lot of property. I thought the road here was never going to end.” She laughs, the noise grating and only causing impatience to rise.

“It was my parents home. They left everything to me, and I just can’t seem to leave it. Too many memories.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Aster,” she says with a remorseful tone, gently resting her sweaty palm on my arm. She starts to say something else but I get lost in a memory of my mother, completely forgetting why I brought her here in the first place. I lay my hands over the steering wheel, and stare at the kitchen window.

“Aster.” my mother calls out from the front porch of our farm style ranch home. “It’s time for lunch, I made your favorite.”

I drop my toy trucks and race towards the house, stopping at the door when Mama scolds me for forgetting to take off my shoes.

“Now, Aster, how many times do I have to remind you to take off your shoes before coming into the house? I don’t want you tracking mud on my freshly mopped floors.”

I bow my head, mumbling, “Sorry Mama,” and take off my shoes, leaving them on the porch in a haphazard pile. I walk over to the round table next to the dining room window and sit down.

Mama walks over to me and places a plate filled with four hotdogs cooked in butter, on a bun drizzled with ketchup, fries, and an assortment of fruit on the side. My stomach grumbles in anticipation, my mouth watering as I wait for her to sit and begin eating before I dig in. She places a tall cup of iced tea down next to me, condensation already dripping down the side.

“To wash it all down with,” She smiles, kissing my forehead and walking to the other side of the table to join me for lunch. She takes a bite of her hot dog, a spot of ketchup clinging to her lip, and takes a sip of her tea. She sets her glass down with a soft clack on the worn table. “Daddy and I have a lamb to slaughter tonight, so we need you to be a good boy and stay in the house and watch your show.” She gives me a stern look, resting her chin in her hand. “It’ll be after dinner, but I will make you some chocolate chip cookies if you’re a good boy like last time.”

I slink into my chair and cross my arms.“Why can’t I help you slaughter those lambs? Mama, I swear I won’t get in the way!” I whine. Mama and Daddy always go to the shed without me, it’s not fair.

“Now, Aster, you know you’re not old enough yet.”

I huff, grunting without caring about my manners. “Can’t I just watch? I want to learn, Mama, Please! Just this once.”

She smiles sweetly at me. “How about on your next birthday, when you’re ten. We will let you join in and teach you everything there is to know about the slaughter. Plus you’re learning without watching, with the movies I show you, and lessons we have.”

“But my birthday isn’t for another 3 months, and it isn’t the same,” I grumble.

“Patience, my little fox. I promise you the wait will be well worth it. Your father and I will pick a perfect little lamb just for you. A special gift, for our special boy.”

With a nod of my head, and the promise of my birthday in my mind, I finish the rest of my hot dog. Stuff the fries in my mouth, gulp down my tea and start to leave the table when Mama stops me. “Aster you didn’t even touch your fruit. Have a couple pieces, and then you can go back to playing.”

Grabbing my fork, I shovel all my fruit into my mouth, looking like a chipmunk with bulging cheeks.

She smiles at me, her eyes twinkling,“Thank you.”

After dinner my parents leave me in the living room, with a bowl of popcorn and Courage The Cowardly Dog playing on the TV. They each kiss my forehead with a warning to stay inside, promising fresh baked cookies after they’re done.

After about an hour of waiting, I decided I can’t wait any longer. I could watch cartoons all night, but I really want to see Mama and Daddy in action, learn by watching. I put on my shoes and walk to the shed where my parents are. Walking up, I hear screaming, I panic, worrying about Mama, sprinting to the shed and peeping through the little hole in time to see my parents slaughtering a girl strapped to the middle of a table.

I gasp, stumbling back in shock. Tripping over my feet, I sprawled out on the ground, scared they might hear me. Quickly using my hands to cover my mouth, I silently pant, unable to take a full breath. The girl screamed again and I considered myself lucky. They couldn't hear me over her screaming. Slowly, I crawl back to the shed, unable to shake my curiosity. Peeking through the wall once more I watch, mesmerized, as my parents turn this girl into a work of art. Taking her heart, and placing it in a jar, to be stored with the rest of their victims organs. Each victim they take, they always choose a different organ. Each caress of their blade a delicate dance with her skin. Each drop of blood a new addition to the collection scattered around the barn.

Once they start cleaning up, I run back to the house and pretend to be asleep on the couch. When they walk in, I feel my Mama kiss my forehead, lifting me up to carry me to my room. She lays me in my bed and brushes the hair out of my face, her fingers gentle against my skin. I feel her sitting there, staring at me, before finally getting up and shutting the door, leaving me in the dark with flashes of steel and stained red filtering through my mind.

That was the first time I saw my parents slaughter a little lamb.

Since that night, I would sneak to the barn and watch them work every time they had a new lamb. The bright red against the barn floor burned in my memory, causing my heart to race. It was all I saw when I closed my eyes every night until the day of my birthday.

The day I've been waiting for.

My parents woke me by singing happy birthday. I open my eyes to a small angel food cake with a knife through the middle of it stretching out to me. “Aster, this is your knife. Your father and I picked out just for you and all your little lambs.”

Gleefully, I take the knife out of the cake, enjoying the weight of it in my hand. It’s a curved blade with a wooden handle that’s difficult for my fingers to wrap all the way around. I start to jab the air practicing the stabs Daddy taught me during one of our many lessons, before my lamb is laid before me.

Daddy holds out the case it came in. “Let's keep it in here for safe keeping until you’re ready to use it tonight.” He ruffles my hair with a soft smile on his face.

I place the knife back in its box, and we all walk to the kitchen to enjoy my birthday breakfast. Mama made my favorite, chocolate chip pancakes with a side of scrambled eggs and bacon.

In the middle of having breakfast, we start to hear cars driving up our gravel road. I look out the window and see cops and F.B.I. pull into the grass surrounding our home. My parents show no movement to run or hide. Instead, they continue eating breakfast, as if it was any other morning.

I, on the other hand, was panicking knowing I’ll never get to slaughter my first lamb with my parents.

The door gets kicked open. Chaos erupting in our kitchen. My father is tackled to the floor. My mother is dragged out of her chair. Neither make a single noise as they’re both handcuffed and walked out of the house.

The little lamb my parents picked just for me was being carried to the ambulance by a pissed off looking man in a uniform I didn’t recognize. She looked like an adult around my parents age, bigger build, with dark hair. Tears of frustration pool in my eyes, I will never get to see her beneath my blade. A young woman, with blonde hair flowing around her face, introduces herself as the social worker and takes me the opposite direction of my parents.

I'm kicking and screaming, desperate to get to them, when I hear my mother say, “Please, let me just say goodbye to my boy.”

The cop sighs and nods towards the social worker who is holding me by my shoulders. She walks me over, and I hug my Mama for dear life. I didn’t fully understand what was happening, but I’d seen enough on TV to know it wasn’t good.

Mama whispers in my ear “Your birthday gift is in your secret hiding spot, when you’re eighteen go back and get it. You can use it on your little lambs.” She kisses my cheek, resting her forehead against mine. “I love you, little fox.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I love you, Mama.”

The social worker takes me away, shepherding me into the back of an idling squad car. The cop shuts the door and drives away, taking me from them forever. I was so stunned, I didn’t say a word for eight months after my birthday. They thought it was because of what my parents did.

But it wasn’t.

They took me from my parents, and stole my chance to slaughter my first lamb. They took everything from me in an instant, all I wanted to do was the same in return.

I eventually did speak again. I was never adopted from the foster homes the blonde woman constantly bounced me between. No one wanted to take on the burden of the boy with the notorious serial killers as parents. Who could blame them? They all whispered about me being just like my parents. It’s not like I stopped them or tried to prove them wrong. When I turned eighteen, I got the fuck out of there, changed my last name, and started my own legacy of killing, finally putting my birthday present to use for the first time.

Mama and Daddy would be so proud.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when I hear my name being said over and over again in a voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

“Aster, are you okay? I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes now,” Tori whispered.

I shake my head, forcing my lips into a small smile I hope looks apologetic. “Sorry, little lamb. I’m okay. I was just remembering something,” I say with a sad smile.

“Oh yeah? Wanna share?” She smiles, fluttering her lashes as she nudges me, taking advantage of the opportunity to stay pressed to my side.

I don’t answer her, instead I get out of the car and she follows suit. I start to shepherd her away from the house.

Her eyebrows draw together as she looks back at the house. “Where are we going?”

Grabbing her hand, I pull her another step away from my parents house. “I have something special just for you, it’s out back” I look down and see she is wearing stilettos, my lips thinning at the realization. “It's about a ten minute walk from here. We can walk, or I can drive us over.”

She smiles shyly, “I would rather drive, I’m not wearing the right shoes for a hike.” She gestures to her outfit, flexing her core as a way to make her seem smaller. Less significant. Less important.

Tugging her over to my other vehicle I open the door and allow her to climb into the green Dodge Ram before jogging around the hood and jumping in.

“Nice truck.” She looks down, an impish look in her eyes. “I hope you’re not compensating.”

All I do is smirk as we make our drive out to my shed.

We pull up to the shed a few minutes later, and I help her down, before escorting her to my work space. She hesitates, looking at me as if I was going to kill her. If only she knew .

“What’s so special about… this?” She motions at the little house, clearly not impressed.

Reaching over her head, I open the door and smile down at her, ushering her in. “This is where all the lambs go for slaughter.”

She looks up with confusion in her eyes, but before she has time to process what I just said I slide the needle into her neck, quickly injecting the ketamine. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she falls into my arms without so much as a scream.

I shut the door behind me and begin to play.

It’s well into the night by the time I’m through. Instead of my normal routine, preparing my lambs to be displayed, frustration won over. I burned her. Every piece was set to flames.

Presenting her just didn’t feel right when I already had a new lamb lined up. I need to see her, but she’s bringing feelings out in me that I don’t understand.

I pull out my phone, searching for her name, even though I don’t know her last name, yet. I find her pretty easily. She posts her whole life on social media.

Not the smartest, we’re going to have to change that. Looks like she’s staying in tonight. I click the video she just posted, smiling as I watch her.

She’s in overalls, paint is smeared on her cheek, she looks completely enamored by the piece she’s working on. She paints, just like me. Loving that we have that in common, I do a deep dive into all of her accounts I can find.

I need to see her again.

Hopping back in my truck, I speed towards the house, ready to find out where she lives. I come to an abrupt stop. What am I doing? Completely dumbfounded by my actions, I close my phone, and decide I can’t see her anymore. No matter how badly I want to lay her on my table, I can’t.

Walking back into my house, I lay down in bed. Closing my eyes, I dream of the northern sea, and red waves.