thirteen

So, Close Addison

I continued to coach myself, to think after all these years he was only  a few feet away. I had walked in the cold for nearly half and hour I could barley feel my hands  but it would all be worth it, in the end.

Enjoy your last peaceful night  Roger,you will go to helI and I will be sure of that.

Roger’s home was large and looming ,A unique architecture of mismatched shapes and hanging shingles, the house  appeared stacked uneven and uncared for. Not a single light was on. I imagined him sleeping peacefully, not expecting what was only a few feet away from his front door.

I had sensed for a while that  Ms. DeLune had followed me, she was slow in the daunting weather but determined, more so than I ever recalled.

The Oak door on Roger's house barely hung on it's hinges,  the door broke easily underneath my weight. I hit it twice till the door splinted open, by then Ms. DeLune  had managed to make it down the path.

In an almost serene moment I entered the house of my murderer, it was an average almost beautiful house, it smelled strongly of something I couldn't detect, the fire place was burning down to it's embers.

“Grandpa ! Grandpa”, Clara yelled as she had now made it over the threshold. She was trying so hard to protect him , "Where are you"

She began to look for her grandfather in his usual haunts; not noticing as   I made my way up the creaky uneven stairs.

Roger slept peacefully, in a simple room with all the necessities and more. There were numerous photographs, awards honors, instruments dictating his charmed life. The room would tell the story of his life and his death.

“I’ve been waiting”, he sat up and began moving towards me,,

We were face to face for the first time in 50 years, he appeared very calm. Perhaps he beloved himself to be dreaming, or having a nightmare. One I hopped he had numerous times in the past.

I began to consider where I should strike him first. Clasped in my hands was the knife I had taken from Ms. DeLune. The same knife I always kept close at hand in my home.  It was very similar and almost  perfect match to the knife Roger had stabbed me with all those years ago.

His face was worn with age his hair still appeared youthful, his eyes opened and turned just his head to look at me.

“You think killing me will make you better, it will make the bitterness go away.”, his voice was grating as he spoke down to me.

“I know it will”, I remained cordial and optimistic

“Wouldn’t you rather have me rot in prison, humiliated,  disgraced ?”, he now sat up, looking at the knife in my hand.

That would not longer do, I wanted to tell him but did not.

“Remember this”, I asked him showing him the knife “They stopped making them the year. . . 1955 was it.”

“It was an accident”, he said moving slowly towards me.

His skin appeared tough it was dark and waxy, almost like a man who actually worked for a living.

“Was it ? You stole my life without a bit of remorse.”

“I put you out of your misery, you were pathetic you were never going to amount to anything. I saved you, Addison."

The old man attempted to reach for the phone, he was so close to me and something came over me. I reached out to stab him  the smooth and sharp edge of the knife skimming across his face just barely missed his eye, The thick traction of the knife hitting his skin was like music to my ears, he didn’t move, he didn’t react.

He laughed .

Roger's voice began taunting and encouraging me to strike him again and again and I did so, till no one would ever recognize him

With each slash across his face I thought of how he killed me because he could, he got away with it because he was smarter, stronger his life would always be worth more, and now his precious blood lay spilled on the ground.

Then he became silent

“Please, stop”

The voice  stopped me in my tracks

Something was wrong

I blinked and a new reality emerged in front  of me.

The true reality

 Roger was lying on the bed, his eyes closed with a blanket still wrapped around him. I expected to see the grotesque red marks that I had inflicted covering his face, but there were none.

He was cold.

He was dead.

Fate seemed to laugh at me, so desperate I had been to seek my revenge and here I finally was ready to take it  and he was dead.

Roger had passed peacefully in his sleep, from the looks of it weeks ago.

He had died alone in his home, his fire place had continued to burn in his absence.

Still, there was so much blood on the knife in my hand.

I turned to face the mirror behind me not finding my reflection at all. Instead  I found Lucie peering at me. She still appeared pale her eyes dark and unwavering. She seemed so real. A very knowing and telling look on her face with just the slight nod of her head confirmed my worst suspicions


"What a terrible trick, Lucie", I said

My hands were soaked in the fresh blood, I reasoned Lucie had tricked me into stabbing myself.

I reached down expecting to feel a wound or blood but there was nothing.

“Stop”, the voice begged again.

The voice came from the floor by Roger's bed

“Clara ?”

She kept her hands over her face, streams of blood spilling through her fingers. Her wounds pulsing as she called for Roger, she stood stumbling over books and shoes to reach her grandfather. Not yet realizing he was dead

“Grandpa”, she shook him, “Grandpa wake up. . . I'm okay. It's okay. . . I'm home.”

My God, what have I done

“Clara”,she looked up  at me removing her hands from her face  revealing the wounds I had inflicted, 13 bleeding red lines across her face, her expression fell as she continued to shake her grandfather, begging for him to awaken.

Years of harbored bitter revenge and in truth what I believe would have granted me peace was taken.

Roger was dead and suddenly it did not matter, nothing. Years of bitter hate and vengeance has resulted in nothing

"Leave him alone", she shouted reaching underneath the bed, screaming in frustration or pain.

"Clara, he is dead"

"No", She now had a gun in her hand.

“Now are you happy”, she snapped and I realized she too could see Lucie in the mirror. Then just as quickly she turned her attention to me, “you promised to save me but the truth is you don’t know how.”

The corner of my eyes, caught  the start of something emerging  from the mirror, a hand it appeared.  Without warning Ms. DeLune began to shoot at the mirror behind me. The slide snapped over her finger she dropped the gun and fell on her knees in front of her grandfather's body.

I felt a jagged pain on my right hand, it was painful but strangely bearable. My hand began to   shake and I realized I was missing a finger.

My injured hand fell limp and I  found my ground walking out of the house, carrying the tip of the knife in my left hand an innocent woman's blood still on it. Outside The sun was about to rise.

I refused to believe a good man had lived here. A life had gone on after me. A man who raised and cherished the same woman I love.

“Are you leaving. Are you done ? ", Ms. DeLune called to me

Ms. DeLune had managed to follow me out of the house, she was still in shock and full of fear

"Is this not what you wanted”, she said in between tears

“I am going to keep my promises.”

I promised Lucie I'd be hers forever, I promised Clara I woulds save her. I held the knife steady with both hands now. I had never intended for her to watch or to know what I did next. I held my breath plunging the blade deep into my chest, I could feel her cold blood dripping into my wound.

I staggered a few more feet in the woods, before I could not longer move.

I was ready to face my eternity


It hurt to move, to smile or even to speak. It all happened to fast. A loud 'no" had escaped my lips before I could stop him.

I cursed and followed him through the woods, I tripped over a tree and landed only feet from where he was lying, the knife still plunged into his chest.  I dragged myself over to where he lay, the fresh wounds on my face still dripped on to the clean white snow.

He was still breathing

“Addison, wake up”, I shook him.

“Lucie ?”

“No, -“, I let a tear fall, "it's me"

“Clara, of course”, he touched my cheek it stung.

“You weren't supposed to. . . why ?.”

“I'm afraid you and I are always just a little. . . to late for each other.”
.
I bent down to kiss him , my hand covered the wound he had inflicted on himself.

“No, not it’s not please stand up.”

I fell back into the snow trying to help him up, my hands were so cold I fell again. I hovered over him feeling helpless.

He turned and I followed his gaze, I saw her. The woman from the mirror, She appeared less than real almost apart of the scenery than really in it.  A compassionate look on her face.

 I turned quickly away from her as I saw Emile emerge from the trees, shocked at what he had come across.

“Clara”, Mr. Fierro spoke so quietly, “This is only way you will ever be at peace . . . if I join her, just like I promised."

“No”, I turned towards Emile, “Emile help me.”

"Don't", Mr. Fierro managed,  "Please"

Emile stood firm,as if he were prepared to follow whatever his friends last wishes. I hated him for it.

“Come on Clara”, Emile tried against his will to pull me away, “There’s nothing we can do”.

I looked back at Lucie, for the first time thier love and friendship seemed so real. The salt in my tears made the cuts on my face sting but I could barely feel it. I could hear the sirens in the distance. I wondered how long it would take for them to find Grandpa in his house. How long till they came looking for me ?

The thought rejuvenated  tears that felt as if they would never dry.

I felt Mr. Fierro’s hand stroking my hair, a swift chill from the last drops of the cold winter.

They would truly be together forever, just as promised

“Listen”, Mr. Fierro whispered, “The sweetest, the purest kind of love is that which slips through your fingers . . .”

“No, it's not”

“You are very beautiful.” He smiled as his hands left my face

I reached down to kiss him, he still felt warm but it was too late to get help. His eyes closed, in that moment I believe he realized that though his revenge had gained him nothing it cost him everything.

As quickly as he was in my life he was gone again.

Lucie had her closure, she too now could move on.


Blue and red lights broke through the waning night, blocking the path to Roger DeLune’s house.

Sheriff Rainer had not been prepared for the scene that awaited her when the alarm on Roger’s house was triggered.

Though Rainer had a thing for faces she would have never   recognize the missing DeLune girl. The girl had been found covered  in blood clinging to her dead grandfather’s body. She was cold and wet as if she had been outside, but more importantly she was safe and at home.

It did however make Rainer feel good to see the girl now wrapped in her parent’s arms, the paramedics had to hold her still as she kept her eyes on the woods. She remained quiet with no explanation as to where she had been.

It would be Rainer’s’ biggest and most bizarre case. Roger had been dead quite some time before he was found, the last thing he had done was light his fireplace. Clara claimed to have no recollection of where she had been or how she had hurt herself.

“It’s a shame”, Deputy Morrisey said coming over with an umbrella to guard  her from the flurries while watching the reunited family.

“That no one get’s the reward”, Rainer said

“That and . . .she was the pretty one. It’s a shame”


“Damn You”, Father shouted to the Sheriff, “Look again,I’m tell you that son of a bitch-sociopath took my daughter. He lives on the house down Olds Mill Road..”

Father pulled me closer to him, his voice filling the halls of the empty sheriff's station.

“Sir’, the Sheriff warned him, “The Fierro house has been abandoned for decades. Honestly the entire place looked as if it had been looted, it’s standing on it’s last leg except . . . ”

“Nonsense, Clara dear tell the officer, we’ve been there. Tell her. A grandson or something moved in, tell her.”

I kept quiet

“Sir”, Sheriff Rainer cut in,”The Fierros never had any grandchildren I used to know them it was  just a woman and her brother. They only had a foster child”

“Yes, it must be—“

“He died years ago”

“This man had  pale blue eyes and “

“White hair”, she finished. "Yes he died probably before you were born, hell before I was born. I'm surprised your father never mentioned it.”

Rainer placed the 1955  file on her desk with the details, Father was speechless to see his father's name listed. While he was busy Rainer turned her attention back to me.

“Clara, please tel us where have you been.”

“I don’t remember”, I said through my bandages

Secretly I had started to cry, I was quiet so Father wouldn’t notice. I’d only  had a quick glance at my injuries in the ambulance, they were hideous and the scars and the memory of this night would never go away.The paramedics said the healing would be the hardest part and I should be thankful to be alive.

“Clara”, Father pulled me to look at him through the gauze, “Tell Rainer about Mr. Fierro do you remember sweetheart ?”

Sheriff Rainer looked at me expectantly

“I don’t know who you’re talking about”

"CLARA", he threatened

I slipped from his grasp and  excused myself to the restroom as Rainer and father continued to bicker.The front door of the station opened and I saw Emile by the front door.

I motioned for him to meet me by the backdoor. It felt like years even thought it had only been hours since I'd seen him.

“Emile, are you alright ?“

“Yes. I  just want you to know that  I took of took care of everything. . .everything will be okay”, Emile said , “Maybe if I hadn't gone back.”

I noticed Emile's shoes were covered in dirt and snow and I realized he had been digging.

“ . . . what about Victor ?”

“He and Joshua are missing”

“Oh”, was all I could say.

“Here”, He pushed an envelope into my hands, “This was all the money he had access to, I figured you could use it to start over.”

I could hear my father raise his voice and continue to argue with Rainer.

“ I think I’ll give it to my father, I understand he needs the money. I’ll tell him my grandfather left it to me.”

Emile flashed me a weak smile and we embraced.

"Merry Christmas, Clara"

"Merry Christmas, Emile"


By the end of the night father was equally silent and unsteady. After spending hours lying in bed with my mother and sisters each of them trying to recall my memories.

 I finally sat alone in my bedroom. I dug underneath my bed till I found a silver lock box.

In the bottom I found the picture from my the August charity. The photograph was very dark but I could make out my white dress and my dance partner. In the privacy of my room I lit a candle and burned the tip of the photo waiting for it to catch on and then snuffing it out till it was chard ash.

I blew the candle out and went to sleep

I could take the endless question from my father, I could take the sad looks my mother gave me when saw my face, I could almost take the nightmares I occasionally had, I could even--almost-- take my heart breaking all over again every night.

It was the rumors I couldn't handle.

Some believed my grandfather had taken me hostage, he used me to get money from my father and that I had killed him to escape. It was imaginative but there was no evidence. Others reasoned that I had gone insane or I had simply runaway and was to afraid to admit it.

The truth was no one would ever know what really happened, I was sure of that.

Sheriff Rainer had driven herself mad after where they  found the body of a reverend, blood in the upstairs room and even stranger a house of cards that had survived the rubble. Nothing indicated the house had been touched since Mrs. Fierro's death 15 years ago.

What was now dubbed the 'Christmas Eve Miracle gained Rainer a promotion  to the NYPD, but she would never leave the case behind, she would never leave me alone.

When the New Year came Emile and I met late one night and drove out to the house. We didn't go inside or get to close. Silently we promised one another never to venture near the house again, a promise we would always keep.