Chapter 2 #2
Out of the two of us, she has always been the messy one.
Maybe because I always indulged her, taking care of her as if she were my own child.
Our parents weren’t bad by any means. I value how they both worked multiple jobs to provide for us and sustain our household.
It hasn’t always been easy for them, considering they moved across an ocean with us when we were little.
But that also meant they were too busy and tired to be overly present in our lives.
Since I was the oldest, I always put Carmen’s needs above my own.
She needed a role model, a person who could take care of her.
And I’ve always been that person.
On her nightstand, I find a photo of us as kids, and I can’t help but smile. She can ignore me all she wants, but she has me near her when she sleeps.
“What are you doing here?”
I turn around on my heel and face Carmen, standing with her hand on the door handle. Judging by her slightly widened eyes, she’s clearly stunned to see me. A frown wrinkles her forehead. Her lips are pressed together into a thin line, the same way they always do when she’s unhappy.
Tough shit, sis.
I scrutinize her with squinted eyes, checking if she’s truly in one piece.
Carmen has her curly hair pushed back from her face, presenting her flawless skin.
She wears a short black skirt and a blue crop top that contrasts perfectly with her light brown skin.
In her right hand, she holds her phone, confirming my suspicion that the little brat has been avoiding me.
But my muscles still release some of the tightness I’ve felt since I got the pink envelope.
She’s okay.
“I don’t pay your phone bill for you to ignore me when I text you, Carmen Lucía.” I use her middle name because, while it annoys her, it makes her fall in line. It’s something I’ve always done since I started taking care of her.
Carmen rolls her eyes and turns to close the door.
“Aren’t you being a little dramatic? I was busy. You didn’t need to fly all the way from LA just because I missed one text, Jesus.”
“One text? Try thirty.”
“Whatever,” she mumbles, and walks past me to lay her things on the bed. “Did you come to scold me, or did you want something?”
“I’m worried about you,” I confess.
“Because I didn’t answer your texts? Psycho alert,” she singsongs. “No wonder you never got a boyfriend.”
I disregard her words and dig into my backpack, pulling out the pink envelope.
The edges have started to peel from my constant touch through the flight, but it’s still in one piece for her to see.
I pull out the contents, revealing the folded letter.
Handing it to her, she unfolds it without bothering to fake interest. Her expression falters for a split second.
Short enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable to the average person, but enough for me to know she’s been taken aback.
It’s a single photograph of her, taken from outside her window while she was getting changed.
Her underwear covered the essentials, but it was enough to make me concerned, even without the red writing scribbled over it.
Someone had been stalking my sister, and she hadn’t noticed.
But the cherry on top is the two words written over the image. She’s next.
“Dude, you’re such a creep,” she whistles under her breath. “When did you even take this?”
“Me? I didn’t take anything. Someone sent this to me,” I argue. “Carmen, you have a stalker.”
She snorts and shoves the photo back into my hands.
“Now you’re being overdramatic.”
“Overdramatic?” I echo, aghast. “This room is on the second floor. It’s not easy to spot from outside, yet someone managed to take this intimate pic of you. What do you call that?”
She shrugs.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Mabel. Yes, it’s a bit creepy that someone took a photo, but what do you want me to do? College is full of creeps.”
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip.
“I want you to come stay in LA with me for a few weeks until we can disregard this threat.”
“Threat?” she croaks out. “C’mon.”
“What do you think the message means? She’s next?” I snap. I refuse to let her brush this off as if it were nothing, because it’s not nothing. “Carmen, I believe this message came from the killer.”
Her dark brows shoot up high on her forehead. “The killer?”
“Brian’s killer.”
Her expression transforms from slight amusement to anger.
“Now you’ve truly lost it,” she spits out. “Maybe you should take a break from working on shitty horror movies and think about what you’re really doing here.”
“Shitty horror movies?”
I almost want to laugh bitterly, I feel it simmering in my system along with my own anger.
Carmen has always had a spitfire mouth, but I’ve never been the target of her ruthless tongue.
Until now. It stings right in my chest, and my heart speeds up, pumping hot blood through my burning veins.
I want to understand where she’s coming from, but I can’t make sense of it.
Yes, I’ve been exposed to horror. I spent my college years creating short horror films for class and I loved every single second of it.
They’re what got me my current job at BSIX.
Pride doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel for my accomplishment because being able to work alongside important horror figures while being so young in the industry is a big deal.
Yet she’s minimizing my labor only because she doesn’t like what I’m implying here.
I might be a hardcore fan, but this entire scenario is one step away from becoming a slasher film. And while they can be fun to watch and create, I can’t say I would want to live it, especially when my sister appears to be the next target.
My eyes travel across the room to the window, where I can spot the statue in the fountain where the killer hung Brian’s body.
It might only be a matter of time before the next body shows up, and I don’t want it to be Carmen.
Bile rises in my esophagus, and I swallow it down.
“Listen, let’s leave the screaming match for another time. I don’t like the idea of someone stalking and threatening you. That’s all.”
“You’re being silly. This is clearly just a prank or something.” She shrugs again, and there’s something about the way her muscles stiffen that makes me wary of her words.
“A prank?”
“Yes, senorita. A prank.” She opens her nightstand drawer and pulls out another pink envelope. “I received this some time ago and I ignored it, like any sane person would do.”
I snatch the envelope from her hands, pulling out a photo.
However, this time the object of the photo isn’t my sister.
It’s me. Very similar angle, taken from a distance when I was still a student here at Westbrook and a Kappa.
I’m wearing a wet Kappa shirt and some shorts. This was taken last year.
Someone has been watching me since last year.
“You ignored this?” I hold it at her eye level. “Are you insane?”
“You’re being stupid, Mabel. I know how your mind works; you always let yourself get carried away by these silly horror plots, but this isn’t a movie. This is real life, and you could absolutely ruin mine.”
“I’m not trying to ruin your life, I’m trying to save it,” I correct her. “I’ve always kept you safe.”
Carmen glares at me.
“It’s not your job to keep me safe. You’re not my mother,” she snaps back. “As much as you would like to be, you’re not.”
I take a step back as if she slapped me. She might as well have punched me in the gut. It would’ve hurt less because, right now, my ribs ache and my lungs are constricting. It feels like the oxygen has completely abandoned my body with no intention of returning.
Her words hurt. They hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced before.
Carmen’s right, I’m not her mother. I haven’t pretended to ever be her mother, but I have taken care of her.
I’ve worked my ass off to help her pay for acting lessons so she could completely focus on her studies.
Growing up too fast to ensure she had the life I didn’t get to have.
Supporting her dreams meant more to me than she could ever realize.
I doubt she’ll ever know. I’ve never expected her to be grateful, but the way she stomps on my effort like it’s worthless ignites a flame of anger.
“I’ll stop acting like it when you stop behaving like a child.”
I regret the words the second they come out of my lips. My wounded pride only wanted her to feel as hurt as she’d made me.
“Get the hell out of my room,” she mutters through gritted teeth. “Mabel, I mean it. Get the hell out!”
Nodding, I swallow back all the words I still haven’t said, and push both letters into my backpack before leaving her room.
No longer having the energy to fight her on this, I might need to take a step back and re-evaluate my approach to get her to a safe place.
While I’m angrier than I’ve ever been with her, I won’t let her be killed.
I would rather die than live a day knowing she’s gone.
Keeping my head down, I rush out of the Kappa house. I’m so caught up with my thoughts and trying to get out of there fast that I don’t notice the barrier of human flesh standing in my way. It’s solid and unyielding, almost knocking me on my ass if it weren’t for the strong hands holding on to me.
“Whoa, easy there.”
That voice.
No, it can’t be him. Perhaps I am losing my mind, because there’s no way he’s standing in front of me. He shouldn’t be on campus. The last time I saw him, he was walking across the stage to receive his diploma. We didn’t even talk. Our interaction consisted of one long glance before leaving.
Slowly, I raise my gaze to his face and, when I’m greeted by soft, caramel-colored eyes, I confirm it’s him.
Danny.