Chapter 2 Kelcie
Kelcie
Sitting at my dressing table, I squeeze all the excess water out of my freshly washed hair before dropping the damp towel on the floor beside me. I’ll throw it in the laundry basket once I’m done blow-drying my hair.
Just as I reach for my brush, there’s a knock at my bedroom door, and Sage peeks in. “Are you almost done? I spotted chocolate cake in the fridge. Wanna share a slice?”
“My hair can wait,” I say while quickly getting up from the stool. “Chocolate cake always comes first.”
Laughter bubbles from her, and when we head downstairs, she asks, “So, besides work, how’s everything?”
Entering the kitchen, Sage prepares two cups of tea while I grab the cake from the fridge.
“You know me. Nothing changes much.” I cut a thick slice and plate it before adding two forks, then shoot my sister a grin. “Which is exactly the way I like it.”
I take a seat on the bench while Sage sits down on one of the chairs across from me, and I break a piece of cake off before popping it into my mouth. A crumb falls on the tablecloth, and picking it up, I drop it on the side of the plate.
“Are you really happy living here with Mom and Dad? You can always move in with me.”
I shake my head. “Unlike you and Jordan, I love living here. I’ll never be happy in the city, and I have my workshop set up exactly how I like it.”
She lets out a huff, her fork pausing right by her mouth. “It was worth a try. I’ve been thinking about getting a roommate and hoped it would be you.”
“Sorry.” I take in Sage’s beautiful face, then ask, “Why don’t you move in with Derek?”
She starts shaking her head before I’m even done asking the question. “No. We’ve only been dating two years.”
“That’s a long time.” I give my two cents.
Sage’s eyes lock with mine, and I can see she’s unsure about something.
Leaning forward, she drops her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad, but I broke up with Derek last Saturday. He started getting too controlling for my liking.”
“Dang, Sage!” My eyes widen at the unexpected news, and I reach across the table to give her forearm a squeeze. I look for any signs that she’s heartbroken but don’t see any. “How are you holding up?”
She spears another piece of cake. “I’m doing okay. I’m just struggling with the loneliness.”
“Last I heard, Marla was thinking about moving to the city. I can ask her if she still wants to go and would be interested in sharing a place with you.”
Marla was my best friend in high school, but when she left to attend college, life pulled us in different directions. Even though we’re not as close as we used to be, we still keep in touch.
“That would be great!” Sage exclaims.
“Hmm . . .” Dad playfully grumbles as he walks into the kitchen. “I hope you left some cake for me.”
Grinning, I reply. “Of course. We wouldn’t dare eat it all.”
Dad pulls the container from the fridge and gets a fork from the drawer before he leans back against the counter and starts eating.
“No, Harry!” Mom snaps. She makes a beeline for him and grabs the container from his hands. “Cut yourself a slice instead of eating like a barbarian.”
Dad steals another bite, and when she tries to slap his shoulder, he darts out of her reach.
With a playful scowl, Mom cuts two slices and places them on plates.
When they join us at the table, she asks, “What are you talking about?”
Sage gives me a panicked look, which has me answering, “I told Sage about my workshop. I want to get another table and more shelves.”
“I’ll have some time next month, then I can help you build the shelves,” Dad offers.
I nudge my shoulder against his. “That would be great. Thanks, Dad.”
“Do you still have enough space for all the shipping materials?” Mom asks.
“For now. But at some point, I might have to build onto the workshop.”
“How about we add a second floor because I’m not giving up more of my garden?” Mom replies.
“Oooh . . .” I smile happily. “I love that idea.”
Sage glances at Dad and changes the subject by saying, “I read in the newspaper that you’re clamping down on drugs and crime. How’s that going?”
Dad lets out a huff, a frustrated expression passing over his face. “You know how it is. You cut off one head of the snake, and two grow back. It feels like a never-ending battle.”
“You’re making a difference,” Mom says, her voice filled with pride.
Dad smiles at her before turning his attention back to the last piece of his cake. “I know. I just wish things would move faster and not at a snail’s pace.”
“You’re doing things for this town no one else has ever done,” Sage says. “And people are noticing.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
I lift my hand and rub Dad’s shoulder before gathering the empty plates. While I load them into the dishwasher, Mom says, “I’m calling it a night. I want to read a little before bed.” She presses a kiss to the top of Sage’s head, then comes to do the same to me. “Night, girls.”
“Night, Mom,” Sage and I reply.
My sister looks at me. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Sure. Just give me a few minutes to dry my hair.”
“Great!” She darts to her feet and heads for the pantry. “I’ll make popcorn.”
“You two enjoy the movie.” Dad gets up from the chair. “I’m going to lock up, then I’m turning in as well.”
“Night, Dad,” I say as I leave the kitchen.
“Night, buttercup.”
When I reach my bedroom, I shut the door so the noise of my hair dryer won’t bother my parents. I take a seat at my dressing table and pull the brush through my hair to get rid of the knots before I begin to dry the strands.
I have thick hair like Dad, and if I leave it to air-dry, I’ll end up looking like Hagrid from Harry Potter.
Halfway through the tiring process, I hear a sharp sound, and switching off the hair dryer, I frown as I listen more carefully.
“Noooo!”
Mom’s scream makes shock shudder through me. Dropping the hair dryer, I jump up and run out of my bedroom.
As I burst into the landing between the three bedrooms, where Mom’s bookshelves decorate the walls, I see a man with a ski mask grabbing hold of Mom’s hair and dragging her out of the main bedroom.
Paralyzing shock hits me so hard that the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh, and intense fear pours through me.
Mom’s face is bleeding, and she looks completely dazed as she tries to claw at the floor and walls to keep the man from dragging her with him.
Not thinking at all, I charge the man while a horrible-sounding cry tears loose from me. Icy pins and needles erupt over my skin, and as adrenaline fills my veins, it feels like I’m running down a long tunnel.
I lose all sense of time. Colors dim, and I swear my hearing sharpens until I’m able to hear every single sound in the house.
Dad’s grunts from downstairs.
Sage’s sobbing.
Mom’s wheezing.
My breaths saw over my lips, and as I jump onto the man, hooking one of my arms around his neck, another wave of shock saturates every fiber of my being.
“Fucking bitch,” the man growls.
He lets go of Mom and grabs hold of my arm, trying to shake me off. I have no idea how I’m able to function during the terrifying situation, but I repeatedly slam my fist against the side of his face and neck.
My breathing becomes harsher, and I’m unable to get a word out, only managing snarls. It’s as if I’ve been reduced to my most basic animal form and I’ve gone into pure survival mode.
The man ducks forward, and he manages to throw me off. I slam hard into the wall, pain shooting through my right shoulder.
I’m grabbed by my hair and yanked backward. The next instant, a fist connects with my nose. My face erupts with a pain so intense, I can’t think. My eyes instantly tear up, blood spills from my nose, and my ears ring.
“Kelcie!” Mom cries, her voice raw with panic.
Another blow hits my left cheek and eye, causing everything around me to darken and my legs to go numb.
“No!” It sounds like Mom’s screaming down a dark tunnel.
I’m pushed hard, and as I stumble backward, the ground suddenly gives way beneath me, and I tumble down the stairs. Somewhere in my stunned mind, unbearable terror registers, and I realize there’s an attacker in the house and we’re in grave danger.
I come to a groaning stop in the space between the kitchen and the living room, and as my sight focuses for a few seconds, I see Mom fighting the man.
He has her pinned against the wall, one hand clamped around her throat while he tries to dig something out of his pocket.
She hits and claws at the black fabric covering his face.
I force myself up into a sitting position. My body aches all over, and it feels like there are hammers slamming against my skull. When I try to call Mom, my voice comes out weak.
Dad lets out an agonizing roar, and my gaze snaps to the living room on my right.
As if I’m stuck in slow motion, I take in every single detail around me. The couch that’s askew. The overturned lamp. The shattered glass by the doors that lead to the backyard.
Another masked man is on top of Dad, stabbing him over and over, the sight of the blood-coated blade filling me with terror. Dad’s bruised face is twisted with pain and desperation.
A third man is kicking Sage, and she seems to be unconscious. There’s a deep gash on the side of her head, and her skin is deathly pale.
A garbled sound draws my attention back to Mom, and seeing blood gush from where her neck has been sliced open, I’m filled with unbearable devastation. It shreds through me until all that remains are the unrecognizable pieces of my once-happy life.
My emotions spiral into a turbulent mess, making it impossible for me to form a coherent thought.
When the man lets go of Mom, her body sags down until she’s sitting on the floor, lifting a limp hand to her neck while her eyes widen with horror.
Mom!
“Kelcie,” Dad groans, “run!”
The urgency in his tone has me shooting to my feet and running past the dining room and formal sitting room to get to the front door. Before I can reach for the doorknob, a gunshot rings through the open-plan living space, and pain slams into my back.
Shock ravages me once again, my entire torso consumed by severe pain. Somehow, I’m able to get the front door open, and I stagger out onto the porch.
Blue and red lights flash over me as my legs give way, and I sink down to my knees.
“Kelcie!” I hear Sheriff Williams shout. “Jesus.”
I slump to my side, and my vision goes in and out of focus. Here and there, I make out the sounds of the sheriff’s department moving into the house.
I hear two gunshots and a lot of shouting.
Slowly, everything fades away, and the last thing I see are the peonies Mom planted a week ago. Even though they always die, she keeps buying a bunch every year in the hopes that she can get them to grow.
“Hang in there.” I hear a woman’s voice beside me.
“Kelcie!”
Is that Colby?
“Keep everyone back,” Sheriff Wilson orders, his tone grim, then he asks someone, “How’s she doing?”
“We have to get her to the hospital,” the woman beside me replies.
Their voices are swallowed by a thick darkness, and I’m bombarded with flashes of Mom, Dad, and Sage being attacked.
The blood. The devastation. The brutality.
I fight to open my eyes, but all I see are blurring bright lights.
Then everything fades to black.
A few days later . . .
Sluggish and disoriented, it takes a few seconds before my sight focuses on a machine, and I watch as my heartbeat and vitals reflect on the screen.
“Kelcie.” I hear Jordan’s voice, then I feel his hand as he grips mine tightly.
I become aware of a dull pain in my back and midsection, and I feel too hot. My mind is a jumbled mess, and I struggle to focus on a single thought.
A cool hand settles against my cheek, and only then do I see my brother as he leans over me. His eyes are rimmed red, and he looks haggard. His skin is grayish, and his hair’s a mess.
“Jordan?” I whisper, my voice hoarse as if I haven’t used it for a while.
A trembling smile forms on his face, and a tear escapes. “Hi.” He clears his throat, then asks, “How are you feeling?”
“Sore.” My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and I taste something bitter. Antiseptic fluid? My mouth feels impossibly dry, and I add, “Thirsty.”
Jordan lets go of my hand, and I watch as he picks up a glass from the cabinet beside the bed. When he brings it to my mouth, I’m able to lift my head and take a few sips before dropping back against the pillows.
As the water hits my stomach, I begin to feel queasy, and a second later, I’m hit with one horrible memory after another.
“Mom! Dad!” My eyes fly to Jordan’s. “Sage?”
He sits down on the side of the bed and leans over me while gripping my hand in one of his. “Sheriff Williams told me three men broke into the house.”
My lips part, but no sound comes out as the flashes of the nightmarish memories begin to torture me.
Mom’s fingers fumbling in the blood spilling from her neck. Dad being stabbed. Sage’s body jerking with every kick.
“You’re the only one who survived,” Jordan groans, his tone thick with sorrow. He brushes his other hand over the side of my head. “Mom, Dad, and Sage didn’t make it.”
“What?” Even though I hear what he’s saying, my mind refuses to process the words. “Where are they?”
My gaze darts to the door, and instead of accepting what Jordan’s telling me, I take in the fact that I’m in the hospital.
“Kelcie,” Jordan says, his voice breaking from the heavy weight of grief. He waits for me to look at him before repeating, “They were killed. Only you survived.”
Heartache begins to creep into my bones, and I shake my head. “No.”
The sad emotion filling every inch of me begins to grow until it morphs into harrowing anguish. A sob bursts from me, making the dull ache in my torso turn into something so sharp, and I struggle to breathe.
“They’re gone,” Jordan says again as he leans closer to me, more tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto the white sheet covering me.
His palm repeatedly brushes over my forehead and hair.
The horrendous events of the attack assault me, and as the excruciating fact that my parents and Sage were killed shudders through me, I begin to weep uncontrollably.
I can’t handle the hell that’s my new reality, and at some point, a nurse enters the room and injects something into my IV.
With Jordan gripping my hand tightly and brushing his other palm over my hair, a medicated drowsiness drags me into an empty darkness.