20. TWENTY
TWENTY
SNOWMAN
I once heard someone say that some people die at twenty-five, we just wait until they're seventy-five to bury them. Looking at her now, her shattered pieces scattered like glass—I could see it. She was dying, and she was only nineteen.
I knew that feeling too well. I’d died a long time ago, back when I learned how to abandon my feelings and start over. I knew what it was like to wake up each day not remembering who I was yesterday, let alone what I’d done to make today any better. The truth was something I’d buried deep, waiting for someone else to dig it out of me.
But her? She was so fragile, so painfully breakable. I caught myself wishing—just for a moment—that her pain was on the outside. If only there were wounds on her skin instead of the ones carved into her heart. At least then I could patch her up with a bandage and tell her she'd be okay. But a wounded heart isn’t that simple. It takes time, and I... I needed her now.
A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I brushed it away with my thumb. Her skin was cold against my hand.
"Erik can take you to the hospital," I said softly. "To see Mel. She made it."
"She did?" Her voice trembled, disbelief clouding her face. But then, just barely, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, fragile.
"Do you want to see her?" I asked, my hand gently cradling her face. "We reached her parents. They’re taking her home on Friday."
Her gaze dropped to the floor, her smile fading as quickly as it had come. "Maybe I shouldn’t," she murmured. "Maybe… maybe it’ll just hurt her more."
I leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "How about you decide later?" I said, my voice low. "I need to finish something first, but I’ll be back soon. Okay?"
She nodded, her eyes still fixed on the floor. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay."
"I know I’m not the person you wanted or needed," I whispered against her lips, my voice breaking. "But I’ll try my best to make you feel better. Fuck, Bree, I’ll try."
She leaned back against my chest, her eyes fluttering shut as if the weight of the world was finally pulling her down. I let her rest there for a moment, breathing in the quiet between us before I gently pushed her away. My gaze drifted to the wall, to the sticky notes plastered in uneven rows. One caught my eye, a memory I wished I could burn, and it sent a shiver down my spine. Swallowing hard, I pressed my lips to her forehead one last time, and then I turned and left.
I had to leave. I just had to.
The door creaked as I approached, its worn wood carved with grooves and scratches, traces of a childhood I had spent trying to forget. The faint scent lingered with the cold air seeped through the cracks, and Lena and Erik were waiting outside.
Lena rocked in an old chair, her pipe glowing faintly as she exhaled, the smoke curling like a ghost against the midnight sky. Erik leaned against the fence, staring into the barn, his face as blank as the snow around us.
"What’s the plan?" Lena asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked me over. "We’ve gotta be smart about this."
"No one is coming for him," Erik said without looking at her. His gaze shifted to me, his head tilting slightly. "You know that, right?"
I met his eyes and nodded.
"So?" I said. "Shall we?"
Without waiting for an answer, I started to walk toward the barn.
The snow blanketed the property in a suffocating white silence, broken only by the crunch of our boots as we trudged through the dirty path leading to the barn. The only tracks were ours from moments earlier when we dragged Joe here. Now, we were leaving a second set, marking our way.
Inside, the air was foul. The stench of pus hit me first, nauseating, forcing my stomach to flip. I winced but kept walking. None of us spoke, we didn’t need to. This wasn’t the time for words, more for answers.
The barn had the weak light from the open window casting long, uneven shadows across the frozen floor. Joe sat slumped in a chair at the center, his shirt half-open, his skin pale and slick with sweat despite the cold. Blood dripped from his face, staining the wooden boards beneath him, but he still managed to grin. A twisted, mocking stretch of his lips sent rage boiling in my chest. His half-lidded eyes fixed on me as I approached, unblinking, defiant.
In the corner, Laura was crumpled and still, her wrists tied in knots and her face slack. She hadn’t woken yet—hadn’t seen what was coming. I swallowed the lump in my throat and clenched my fists. I wasn’t hesitant. Not anymore.
As I stepped closer, Joe let out a jagged laugh. It was mean, cruel, and utterly devoid of guilt for anything he’d done. Lena moved silently behind me, shutting the barn door with a heavy thud. She moved to the old heater beside the stalls, a piece of trash from when this barn held cows and horses, and turned it on. Joe's laughing drowned out the slight click and hum of the heater.
I laughed with him, folding my arms as I stared down at his broken face. For a moment, the sound of our laughter tangled with the cold. Then he stopped, his voice cutting sharply. "What's so funny?"
I tilted my head, mirroring him. "What's so funny?" I repeated, mocking him.
His body moved against the ropes, muscles straining as he spat out, "I’ll kill you!"
"I’ll kill you!" I repeated, crouching low. My hand hovered over his knees, a knife glinting in my grip.
"Fuck you!" he snarled, trying to jerk away, but he was tied too tightly.
"Fuck you!" I said, my voice calm as I plunged the blade into his knee.
The scream ripped out of him like a wild beast, primal and shaking through the barn. I twisted the knife, seeing the sorrow spread through his body, the way his head swung back, veins bursting at his neck. Behind us, Laura screamed through the chaos, begging to stop.
"Now," I said, pulling the knife back an inch before leaning closer to his face, "tell me." I tilted my head back and forth, watching the beads of sweat streak through the pores on his skin. "Why did you come back?"
"Why would I tell you a damn thing?" he shouted, saliva flying from his mouth as he glared up at me.
"Why not?" I chuckled, standing and strolling toward the heater Lena had turned on.
Its coils glowed faintly now, the heat pouring outward in shimmering waves across the chilly barn air. Joe's face was covered with sweat, and his body trembled. I let the heat develop while I crossed the room to where my father's branding irons stood on the wall. My fingertips brushed over one of them, the chilly iron imprinted with the words "Property of T.K."
I pulled it down, firmly gripping the handle, then dragged it back near the heater and rested the branding iron against it to allow the metal to absorb the heat. The scent of rust and growing warmth soaked into the barn. Then I bent down again, my knife striking his knee once again.
"Why are you here?" I asked with a low voice, almost bored, as I pushed the blade in deeper. His scream came immediately, jagged and high-pitched. Blood poured from the wound in thick, dark streams, pooling beneath his leg. He was shaking now, his body failing him as consciousness began to slip away.
Before he could say anything, a desperate voice cut through towards us.
"We were called!" Laura screamed. "Please, stop!"
I froze, my head snapping toward her. Her face was pale, streaked with tears, her tied hands trembling as she tried to sit up.
"By who?" I demanded, my eyes still fixed on Joe, who was slumping forward, his head lolling. His breaths came shallow and uneven, his eyes rolling slowly back as his body sagged against the chair.
I leaned to the side, my eyes narrowing on Laura. Her sobs echoed faintly in the barn, breaking by hiccups and gasps. She was a mess but was awake, and most importantly she had answers.
"I don't know," she said. "There was a riddle, and an article from 2006 showing us with Mel and Bree. Whoever sent it threatened to publish our address if we didn't come back."
"Why did you kidnap the girls?" I asked and slowly moved closer to her.
Her gaze dropped, her voice barely above a whisper. "Their parents were the ones who left the cult. Joe wanted them to pay." Her breath hitched as tears streamed down her face. "But he changed after." She broke into sobs. "He gave them blue pills… brought other cult members into their rooms."
I froze, her words slicing through me. "What the fuck, Laura?" My voice cracked. "And you just watched ?"
Her quivering fingertips reached up to her shoulder, exposing a familiar jagged scar. My breath seized my throat, I recognized the mark. It was my father's mark.
"You…"
The memory surged forward, her face, younger, softer, in the sunlight at the park. She was the one who wanted to play with me when I was twelve.
"How?" The question escaped before I could stop it. Behind me, Joe’s gurgling breaths grew louder, stirring faintly to consciousness.
Laura's body shuddered as she spoke. "Ivar branded me. He kidnapped me the day after I saw you at the park in '94." Her voice cracked, barely holding together. "From then on, he fed me with human meat and tortured me. And when he got bored, he handed me to Joe." She collapsed into sobs. "After that, I had no choice. I depended on Joe. The only food I could eat… was what he gave me."
My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. "You," I growled, barely able to contain the fury coursing through me. "You, who knew firsthand what it was like… why the fuck did you let him hurt them? Huh?" My voice exploded in a roar. "You disgust me."
"Because I wanted them to pay, all of them!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "Every. Single. One of them. No matter who they were!"
I turned to Erik, his eyes meeting mine. Without a word, he grabbed Laura by the arm, hoisting her off the ground. She thrashed and screamed, but he dragged her to the door and left, closing the door behind him.
Lena stepped forward, her lips curling into a smile. She picked up the red, hot iron brand and pressed it into Joe's cheek with a sickening sizzle. His scream ripped, and all I could smell was burning flesh in the air.
I grabbed a pair of frayed cables hanging near the window, my mind racing. Sparks flew when I brought them near the heater, crackling. Joe's body shook fiercely as I put them on his neck, his eyes flying wide.
"This," I said, leaning in close, "is what I call shock therapy. Minus the therapy."
Lena laughed. "Be quick, son," she said as she strode to the door. "The pigs are hungry." She slammed it shut behind her, leaving us in the darkened barn.
Joe’s eyes darted frantically. "Pigs?" His voice cracked with panic. "How? You wouldn’t—"
I crouched down, grabbing him by the collar. "Answer me first," I hissed, my voice cold. "Do you know who sent the letter?"
"I don’t!" he stammered, his face pale, his words tumbling over each other. "But I... I can tell you what was in it!"
"Then speak, idiot!"
"I know where you dwell, where you wander and stray, At the end of the road, far, frosty homes lay. Two diamonds you claimed, their gleam met your eye, But their truth bears a weight — do you know why? Before snow's first knock, the prodigal must roam, Back to where it all started, to finally call home."
He recited each sentence, his voice cutting through my thoughts like a knife. With every word, something deep inside me woke up, something I had tried to suppress for so long. Could it be? Could I have been the one to send the letter? Had I lost the control I fought so hard to keep?
The thought clawed at the edges of my mind, but I pushed it down, telling myself I was fine. I had to be. In a twisted way, I felt grateful. If I hadn’t done this, I wouldn’t have met Bree. I wouldn’t have known about her. And now, it felt like everything was finally coming to an end I never dared to imagine.
"Do you know who it was?" I asked as I reached over and turned off the heater.
"I don’t know!" he said, panic written into every line of his face. "But you have to let me go—you have to !"
I laughed, low and bitter. "And why the fuck would I do that?"
"Because…" He grinned, the corners of his mouth curling. "I met someone, a long time ago, who talked just like that." His tone dropped. "Someone who, just like you, couldn’t help but spill the truth… Dad."
Every word landed like a punch to my face, but he wasn’t done.
"I know you know. But so do I. So what's the point?" I said, my breath hitched as he began to sing, his voice was haunting me.
"?h, sjung till tallar, l?t din rost fly. D?r snon faller mjukt i vinterns sky." 1
"Stop."
My hands flew to my temples, pressing hard, but my thoughts were just like a rising tide.
"Skogen talar sitt urgamla spr?k. En saga om livet i koldens vr?k," 2 he continued, his tone rising and falling like a taunting lullaby. "Korpen skriker d?r skuggorna g?r. Vargar ylar djupt d?r vinden r?r. Men h?r i stillhet, d?r hj?rtat sl?r. Hittas friden i skogens sp?r." 3
"STOP!" I shouted, my vision blurring. My hand found the axe propped against the hay bales before I even realized I’d moved.
In a blind rage, I swung it with everything I had. The blade connected with a sickening crunch, biting deep below his shoulder. His arm fell in one clean piece, hitting the floor with a loud thud.
His face twisted in pain, his eyes wide with disbelief. Blood gushed from the jagged cut, pooling and spreading like a scarlet flood. His body flicked life draining from him as he fell unconscious.
"Dra ?t helvete," 4 I muttered.
Turning, I saw Lena standing in the doorway, her face cold like nothing happened at all.
"Laura’s gone," she said, her words a sigh of frustration. "Erik’s searching for her in the forest."
"FUCK!" I spat.
Lena's lips curved into a faint smile, "You know," she said, "pigs go crazy at the smell of blood."
1. Oh, sing to the pines, let your voice fly. Where the snow falls softly in the winter sky.
2. "The forest speaks its ancient language. A tale of life in the cold,"
3. "The raven screams where the shadows go. Wolves howl deep where the wind blows. But here in stillness, where the heart beats. Peace is found in the tracks of the forest."
4. "Fuck off,"