Never mind the blood; dig deeper.

Rough, rough, ROUGH draft.

Heidi Hayes was born for her father, who wanted a little girl two years after the birth of his son. Heidi’s mother, in a desperate attempt to save an already failing marriage, began flushing her birth control, enabling Heidi’s entry into this world. Unfortunately, this did not preserve the union of Heidi’s parents, nor did it enable a strong bond between mother and her children. Seven miserable years passed before Heidi’s mother finally called it quits, initiating the long overdue divorce and moving out.

            Nothing noticeable or significant, aside from their mother’s absence and their father’s lack of attention, accounted for the relationship between Heidi and her brother. The occupation of Heidi’s father kept him absent the majority of the time, forcing his children, who had opted to live with him after the divorce, to stay with their mother for extended periods of time. Thus Heidi and her brother Wayde developed an unbreakable bond, partially because the two of them were keenly aware of their parent’s failures, and partially because Heidi needed her brother’s support before she killed again.

            The first time Heidi killed was the day her mother moved out.
            October 30^th, 2010.

            Heidi and Wayde were walking hand-in-hand up the road to their mother’s new home, a tiny rundown trailer in a lower-class, and sketchy area of town. The wet gravel crunched beneath their feet, shriveled leaves danced across the ground and skittered into clogging clumps in the gutters. The cold, rainy breeze slithered in through the holes in Heidi’s hand-me-down coat, and she shivered, gripping Wayde’s hand more tightly. It was the day before Wayde’s 10^th birthday, and Heidi had spent the day rudely jamming her finger into his ribs, asking him if he was excited, because she was. She considered doing this again, but remembered him snapping on the bus ride home, grabbing her little hand in his fist and squeezing until she thought her bones were going to succumb and snap under the pressure, bringing fat tears popping out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Heidi sniffed, partially from the cold and partially to fight the hot tears that attempted to return, and Wayde looked down at her from the corner of his eye.

            “I’m sorry if I hurt you on the bus.” He loosened his grip on her hand.
            “It didn’t hurt,” Heidi lied, “so it’s okay. Sorry for poking you. But it’s your birthday tomorrow!” Wayde’s grip tightened again, gently, and an amused smile played at the corners of his mouth. They were passing by the neighbor’s house, a one level shack of a place that smelled faintly of sewage and was in urgent need of repair. The day’s earlier downpour of rain had caused massive puddles to form in the small alleyway between the neighbor’s house and a long deteriorating brick wall next to their mother’s trailer, and the neighbor’s kids were splashing around in them. Heidi watched this with mild annoyed enjoyment until her interest was drawn toward the back of the alley where one of the youngest of the neighbor kids, near the overflowing dumpster, was poking at something beneath it with a stick. Heidi tugged on Wayde’s hand, nodding toward the scene and pulling him toward it. Wayde glanced wearily in the direction she was pulling before conceding and following her into the dank alley.

            “Whatcha got there?” Heidi asked, startling the little boy, who dropped the stick and turned, wide-eyed, toward the two of them.

            “Izjustafugginkittykat,” he mumbled, staring down at his feet. His shoes, dirty and soaking wet, were untied, the laces black with grime and dirt. Heidi pulled her hand from Wayde’s and stepped closer to the boy.
            “Why don’t you get out of here?” she said, clenching her fingers into balled fists. The kid’s eyes shot upward, bouncing back and forth between Heidi and her brother, who leaned against the neighbor’s peeling house. A weak mewing wafted up from beneath the dumpster, which, as though it was the last straw for the boy, sent him running out of the alleyway at full speed. He glanced back over his shoulder to check if he was being followed before tripping over a shoelace and sprawling to the ground. Heidi, now uninterested in the boy, bent down and grabbed the stick he had dropped. Crouching near the bottom of the dumpster, she eased the stick into the darkness.
            “Here, kitty kitty,” she whispered, waving the stick slowly, until she felt it land against something and a small mewling squeak confirmed her target. Putting pressure against the kitten, forcing it to move, Heidi eventually got the kitten near the edge of the dumpster. She hovered in her position, considering her options before looking pleadingly up at Wayde, who was still standing against the yellowed, sagging wall of the neighbor’s house. Heidi’s eyes locked on Wayde’s and he blinked, sighed, and rolled his eyes before walking to the side of the dumpster the kitten was near and crouching down. He held his hands out in front of him between his bent knees, ready to catch the kitten.
            “So do it already,” he said, and Heidi gave the kitten one final nudge with the stick. A tiny ball of once orange, now matted, filthy brown came spilling out from beneath the dumpster, into Wayde’s open hands. Heidi leapt up, anxiously surveying the situation. Wayde nearly let the kitten escape as frantic, terrified claws tore at his hands. His jaw tightened and he held the kitten out to his sister while it struggled to be free. Heidi cocked her head at the kitten, observing its terror.
            “I don’t know what you want with this, but here you go.” The kitten was screeching now, and Heidi stared at it for a moment longer before taking it by the scruff of the neck and holding it as near to her face as safety would allow. The kitten clawed at Heidi’s hand, desperate to escape.
            “Aw, kitty, why are you hurting me? I saved you from that boy’s torture, and here you are, clawing at me. Just look at all this blood! This will never do.” Heidi’s gaze drifted from the kitten to her shredded hand, blood running in small streams down her wrist, staining the cuff of her coat sleeve. Mom’s going to kill me, she thought, before returning her stare to the kitten. Heidi’s eyes narrowed into slits, her eyebrows drawing closer together. She clenched and unclenched her jaw in jagged, rapid movements. Her innocent interest in the abandoned kitten had now bubbled into blind hatred, red, boiling rage. Her grip on the kitten’s neck tightened. Briefly, she glanced out at the street where the neighbor kids were still playing. The little boy she had frightened off seemed to have forgotten about them; he was busily tossing pebbles into a puddle. Heidi’s attention returned to the kitten, the pain in her hand almost unbearable. A devilish grin smeared itself across her pale young face. As hard as her seven-year-old body would allow, Heidi threw the kitten against the rotting brick wall. Wayde immediately stepped back as the kitten fell to the ground near his feet, his stare moving at once from the kitten, who was now wailing and pawing at the air as streams of blood gushed from its nose, to Heidi, who quickly moved forward and in one swift movement slammed the heel of her shoe down on the kitten’s head.

*          *          *

            October 31^st, 2019, at around 5:00 PM, Heidi was sitting in her father’s living room, finishing her brother’s birthday card and occasionally glancing up at the television. Their mother, who they saw less frequently now that they were old enough to stay home alone, had taken Wayde, having recently passed the test he had failed the first time, to get his driver’s license. Their father was at the grocery store, picking up the necessary ingredients for Wayde’s birthday dinner: steaks, mushrooms, potatoes, etcetera. Heidi glanced at the clock, restless, signed her name in the card, and began putting her materials away just as her father came in. He looked tired, ragged, his thinning black hair disheveled, his brows drawn together.
            “Hey, kiddo. Can you help me with the groceries?” he asked, heading toward the kitchen, his arms laden with grocery bags. Heidi finished placing her markers, pens, paper, and other scrap booking material in their box.
            “Sure, dad. I’m all over it. Just let me take this stuff to my room.” She picked up the box and the card she had made for Wayde and galloped up the stairs, two by two, to her bedroom. As she came back down the stairs, she glanced into the kitchen where her father was sorting the groceries, talking to himself under his breath. Amused by her father’s quirks, Heidi smiled to herself and headed back through the living room to the entryway. She slipped on her shoes before opening the door and walking out to her father’s 1971 429 Torino Cobra, which was parked in front of the garage. That’s odd, she thought to herself. Dad always puts his baby in the garage. Making a mental note to ask her father about this oddity once she got inside, she pulled open the trunk, marveling at the perfect creaminess of the white paint. As she was hauling out the last remaining bags of groceries, a car pulled into the driveway next to her father’s. She automatically recognized it as her mother’s 1992 Chevy Blazer; the rusting side panels and the obnoxious whining of the loose fan belt making it a dead giveaway. She waited until her mother and Wayde exited the vehicle, and then headed toward the front door in front of them.
            “Hey there, punkin’ head,” her mother said to Heidi’s back.
            “Hi, mom. Happy Birthday, Wayde! How awesome is it to be licensed, finally?” Heidi asked over her shoulder, pulling open the screen door with the freer of her hands and holding it open with her foot for her mother and brother.
            “It’s cool, I guess. It would be better if I had a car,” Wayde grumbled, walking past Heidi into the house. Her mother’s pursed lips and downcast eyes as she passed Heidi told her that her mother wasn’t pleased with Heidi’s shortness toward her. Heidi couldn’t help it. The disdain she had for her mother paled in comparison to the disdain she had for the idiotic and childish nickname her mother insisted on calling her. The affection her mother expressed with using it only made Heidi weary, impatient. Sighing again, she let the screen door fall shut behind her as she entered the house. Wayde had plopped down into one of the overstuffed chairs in the living room and, apparently not satisfied with Heidi’s choice of CNN, was flicking through the channels with lightning speed. Heidi entered the kitchen to a hushed conversation between her parents, which immediately ceased.
            “But Kevin, she’s-” her mother’s sentence trailed off when Heidi came in and put the groceries on the counter. She looked at her mother for a moment, taking in the sagging puddles beneath her eyes, the baggage of wrinkles collected on her forehead and the corners of her mouth, the hideous and oversized chartreuse sweater poorly masking her obesity, before turning to her father.
            “Daddy, why is the car in the driveway? Don’t you usually put it in the garage?” her father grinned at her, tearing open a package of steak. Heidi glanced down at the chunk of bloody meat, briefly, before clenching both hands into fists and looking back up at her father.
            “Well, I was thinking that maybe after dinner, I’d let your brother take it for a spin. You know, since he’s a licensed driver now. And it is his birthday.” All other urges temporarily suspended, Heidi felt a wave of excitement for her brother.
            “What?” Wayde scurried into the room, the television controller still in hand. “Did I just hear you say you’re going to let me drive the cobra? Seriously?” his usual ambivalence had melted away, and Wayde was standing, transfixed, waiting for his father’s response.
            “Well, yes. I mean, if you want to. I just though it might be something nice I could do for you since I didn’t have time to get you a real present. Well, I mean, aside from what I left in your room.” At this, Wayde’s entire body tensed, and, tossing the remote control on the kitchen counter, pounced at the stairs with Heidi at his heels. Rather than following him directly to his room, though, Heidi veered into her own, hastily grabbing the card she had made for him earlier. She spun around, intending to run across the hallway into Wayde’s room, but in doing so, she nearly slammed into him. Wayde was frozen in his doorway, staring into his room. Heidi could hear him repeating something under his breath, so quietly that she had to stand pressed against his back for a few moments to understand him.
            “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. No way. Holy shit. Holy shit.” Heidi tugged at his shirt.
            “Lemme see, Wayde! What’d he get you? What is it? Move!” she tried standing on her toes to see over his shoulder, but the foot of difference in their heights and the broadness of his shoulders prevented this. Poking her head around his sides didn’t give her a wide enough view of his room for her to be able to tell what her father had put in it, and even if it had, Heidi had no idea what she was looking for. Finally, Wayde started forward, zombie-like, and Heidi dashed into the room around him, her eyes flicking about until they landed on what had her brother so mesmerized. Next to Wayde’s queen-size bed was a brand new drawing desk, complete with a projector and what appeared to be several different sets of pens, pencils, erasers, rulers, and other drawing utensils. Wayde wandered slowly toward his gift, shaking his head.
            “Well, what do you think, buckwheat?” their father asked from the doorway, a grin plastered across his face. Wayde didn’t even turn around.
            “Dad…this…is…fuck.” His left hand went to the back of his head, his fingers spasmodically fingering chunks of his thick black hair. Wayde plopped down into the chair in front of the desk, letting both hands sprawl out on the smooth white surface of the desktop.
            “Wayde, watch your mouth,” their mother started, peering into the room over their father’s shoulder. No one acknowledged her.
            “Thanks, dad. Thanks a lot. This is…this is fantastic.” Wayde spun toward the doorway, a delayed smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
            “Dinner’s just about ready. Why don’t you kids wash up and meet your mother and me downstairs?” their father said, turning from the room and heading toward the stairs. Their mother followed, wringing her hands and shaking her head. Once they had gone, Heidi started to comment on Wayde’s gift when the image of the bloody steak her father had been preparing flashed through her mind.
            “Wow, Wayde, this is…I…shit. It’s happening again.” She gripped the corner of Wayde’s bureau, leaned against it. She began to tremble violently, her free hand clenching and unclenching, and Wayde stood.
            “Heidi, it’s only been a month. Can’t you hold off? Heidi?” Wayde’s words sounded fuzzy, distant. Wayde quickly stepping forward to catch her was the last thing Heidi remembered before everything went dark.

            Shortly after she regained consciousness, Heidi felt Wayde pulling her up from his bedroom floor.
            “Are you okay?” he asked, placing a hand on the small of her back and maintaining his steadfast grip on one of her hands. Heidi rubbed her eyes with her free hand.
            “I have to, Wayde. It’s the only way to make this stop.” Lowering her hand from her face, she held it out in front of her, palm down, fingers slightly spread. Wayde looked down at her shaking hand and sighed.
            “Well, let’s at least eat dinner and wait until mom leaves. Can you wait that long? We’ll figure it out after that.” He let go of her hand and put pressure on her back, guiding her toward the door. Heidi took a few deep breaths and ran her fingers through her long black hair, wet with sweat, before stepping forward into the dark hallway. She turned, heading down the stairs, with Wayde close behind her in careful watch. The two entered the dining room, where their mother and father were already seated. Once again, as Heidi came into the room, the conversation her parents had been having was cut short, and her mother’s eyes fell to her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap. Heidi eyed her mother briefly, and then looked at her father. When no information was offered, she pulled out a chair and sat.
            “These steaks look delicious, daddy-o,” Heidi noted, picking up her fork, spearing a slab of the meat and letting it slap onto her plate. She glanced across the table at her mother, who was still staring at her hands, flicking her eyes upward from time to time.
            “You gunna eat, mom? Or are you going to spend your son’s birthday dinner staring into your lap like you’re retarded or something?” Heidi raised an eyebrow at her mother while spooning sautéed mushrooms onto her steak. Her mother’s head shot up at Heidi’s remark, her eyes wide and aimed at Heidi’s father. Her father shrugged.
            “Wow, these potatoes are really good,” Wayde said, shoveling a forkful into his already full mouth and giving Heidi a look that told her to keep her mouth shut.
            “Well, thanks, kids. But thank your mother. I made the steaks, but she made the potatoes. And Happy Birthday, Wayde. I’m glad you like your present.” Their father was busily cutting his steak, his right hand holding the fork, his left hand sawing, tearing, making ragged, bite-sized chunks of the meat. Heidi stared at her father’s plate with rapt attention until Wayde, looking from his mother, who had finally started dishing up her own meal, to Heidi, whose eyes were glazed. Her jaw hung open, revealing a half-chewed wad of meat and mushrooms. Wayde quickly swung his foot under the table, connecting with Heidi’s shin. She jerked back in her chair, closed her mouth, and began chewing as though nothing had happened. The rest of the meal proceeded, as most that involved the whole family, with mostly silence, save for when someone commented on how good something was or when Heidi’s mother would clear her throat and shoot glances at Heidi’s father. Once everyone had finished eating and Heidi had cleared the table, Heidi’s mother abruptly stood, her chair almost toppling behind her. Everyone stopped talking and stared at her, stared at her loud green sweater, stared at her disheveled blond hair, stared at her sagging, tired face.
            “I need to go home. Happy Birthday, Wayde. I hope you enjoyed yourself. May I have a hug before I go?” her eyes, glistening as though she were on the verge of tears, focused on her son. Wayde stood.
            “Sure, mom. It’s been good seeing you. Thanks for everything today.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his shoulder. Heidi thought she heard a sniffle and rolled her eyes. Wayde released his mother and smiled at her.
            “Absolutely, it has been nice, Caroline. Hasn’t it, Heidi? Aren’t you glad your mother came over for Wayde’s dinner?” her father turned his entire body toward Heidi. One arm was in his lap, the other was planted on the table, his chin cradled in his hand. She frowned at him, and stared at the edge of the table in front of her.
            “Yes. It’s always good to see you mom.” Her father cleared his throat. She glanced at him, sighed, and rolled her eyes. “And sorry I called you a retard.” Her mother, seemingly satisfied, stood a little straighter, and heading out of the room, gave a nod over her shoulder to her ex-husband.
            “Thanks for dinner, Kevin. I love you kids. Call me some time!” Heidi waited until she heard the front door close before mumbling,
            “Yea, the phone works both ways, fuckin’ cow.” She heard her father sigh and saw him shake his head before standing and motioning to Wayde.
            “Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting to take the car out for a spin now, eh? Why don’t you take your sister and go get some ice cream? Here’s some cash.” He had made his way around the table and was walking toward the kitchen, one arm slung around Wayde’s shoulders, the other digging in his back pocket for his wallet. Heidi shifted her stare from the edge of the table to the dining room’s wall of windows opposite where she was seated. The sun was just above the mountains, moving downward, casting enveloping shadows across the town below. Even her father’s home, she noticed, was cast in transforming darkness; the various flowerpots and sculptures inhabiting the grassy area in the center of the circular driveway seemed to move, changing into ominous, terrifying shapes.

*          *          *

            Wayde pulled the cobra to the side of the road, and killed the ignition. He twisted in the seat, one arm resting on the steering wheel.
            “I thought we talked about this, Heidi. You’ve got to stop. It’s not right.” He tapped his thumb on the wheel and stared at his sister.
            “I know,” Heidi whispered, picking at her thumbnail, which was already raw at the edges. “I know. But I can’t just make it stop. I don’t know how to make it stop.” She turned her head, returning Wayde’s stare.
            “Well, what do you want to do?” Heidi knew he was asking what she wanted to destroy. Since the kitten in the alleyway so many years ago, Heidi had kept her killings constrained to animals. A year after her first murder, it was a large Tom-cat in her mother’s neighborhood that yowled and kept her awake at night, two years after that, a stray mutt, mangy and wandering an uninhabited cul-de-sac near her father’s home. Since the dog, which had been much more bloody and difficult than the felines, the frequency of Heidi’s need to kill had increased substantially. Wayde, who always accompanied his little sister to make sure the proper steps were taken to conceal her deeds, had grown weary, nervous, once Heidi hit fifteen and the time between her cravings dwindled from half a year to three months. She knew this because of his constant warnings and his anxiousness for her to finish quickly. Such behavior had increased, she noticed, when just last month, he had followed her from their mother’s house into a nearby pasture where she brought an axe down as hard as she could on the bovine’s head. The coyotes had come and finished up, keeping suspicion to a minimum, but Wayde had worn then the same expression he had now, a guilty frown riddled with terror and affection for Heidi. Heidi smiled slightly, her love for her brother welling up inside of her.
            “Animals aren’t enough anymore, Wayde.”
            “Oh, Christ, Heidi!” Wayde slid his arm forward on the steering wheel, bent at the elbow, and brought his hand to his face. Massaging his brows, eyes closed, he sighed. “You want to kill a fucking human being?” he didn’t look at her.
            “I don’t know, Wayde. Something new. I think maybe if I do this…maybe if I kill a person…”

            “You think that a deviation from killing animals is going to suppress your need to do this so often? Or even all together? Are you fucking kidding me, Heidi? You’ve been doing this shit for ten years! Ten years, Heidi!” Wayde’s head snapped up, and he spun toward her. Heidi pressed herself backward into the seat, her eyes falling to her lap, where she had picked her thumbnail to a bloody stump.
            “Maybe. I don’t know, Wayde.”  
            “Well, who, Heidi? Where? How the fuck do you plan on doing this and getting away with it? This isn’t like a stray cat, Heidi. I can’t cover your ass if you’re not smart about this. I’m not even sure I want to in the first place.” Wayde sighed.
            “I thought maybe a bum or something. You know. Someone…someone no one will miss?” she rolled down the window, breathing in the cold night air. “We could go by the park. There are always a lot of homeless people there.” Heidi tucked her bottom lip between her top and bottom teeth and began gnawing gently, eagerly staring at Wayde, who sighed again, straightened in his seat, and started the car. It roared to life, and Wayde glanced at his sister from the corner of his eye.
            “How do you think you’re going to do this? With your bare hands? You don’t have any sort of weapon. And what the fuck am I talking about? This is madness, Heidi. I don’t know why I don’t just turn you in or something. I’m a fucking accomplice. Shit, Heidi!” wordlessly, Heidi leaned around her seat and began feeling around on the floor in front of the back seat. She knew it was there somewhere.
            “What are you doing?” Wayde hissed, his irritation more than obvious.
            “Ah ha!” Heidi’s hand connected with the smooth, cool object, and she pulled herself back into the passenger seat, her father’s metal baseball bat in tow. “You know dad keeps this in here just in case.” She gripped the bat close to her chest, both hands sliding around on the handle. Wayde stopped under the glow of a stoplight, cleared his throat, and looked at Heidi.
            “Just how do you plan to do this? Are you just going to walk up to some homeless dude, who’s going to ask you for money, and pummel him to death instead?” Heidi giggled.
            “That sounds wonderful.” She said, twisting the bat eagerly between her sweaty palms.

*          *          *

            “Never again. Never again! I’m never fucking doing that again! What the FUCK!” Wayde’s normally deep voice had transformed into a high-pitched shriek. His hands, white-knuckled on the steering wheel, were smeared with blood. Heidi watched her brother in silence, the soft glow of streetlamps illuminating the car; off, on, off, on, off, on. Her brother’s fear was building a bubble inside her. Every passing moment made it swell and grow within her chest, until finally Wayde drifted around a corner much too quickly and all at once the bubble popped and it came spilling out of her in the form of giddy, uncontrollable laughter.
            “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Wayde screamed, leaning forward over the steering wheel, heaving in long, ragged breaths. Heidi attempted to acquiesce her brother’s request, placing a blood-soaked hand over her mouth. But her body still trembled with maniacal giggling, the same ceaseless chortle she had while the man’s skull had exploded, his brain spilling out onto the wet grass. Wayde threw the car into a hard left, pulling into an abandoned parking lot and slamming the car into park. Heidi’s laughter finally abated when Wayde shoved the door open, swiveled in the seat, and leaning out of the car, vomited violently onto the ground. Heidi’s eyes widened, and she pressed herself against the passenger door, dropping her hand from her mouth and hugging her father’s baseball bat to her chest. She listened to her brother wretch a few more times before crawling forward and tugging on the back of his shirt.
            “What are we going to do with the body? Why’d you put it in the trunk?” she pulled a chunk of matted hair, a jagged piece of scalp, from the bat and tossed it over her brother’s shoulder into the gravel of the parking lot. Wayde sat up slightly, the back of his hand wiping at his mouth.

            “There was so much blood. Oh my god. Heidi, what did you do? What the – ” he shot forward, a solid stream of terror rocketing from his mouth. Heidi leaned back into her seat, her eyes focused through the windshield away from Wayde. She didn’t have the stomach for such things.