Saving Grace

Saving Grace

         The old sock is jerked from her eyes and she is momentarily blinded by the glare of the midday sun. He moves over the top of her, blocking the light, in silhouette she can’t make out his features. He rips open her blouse and with a knife, cuts off her bra. This is the moment she knows she is going to die. Before, in the trunk of his car, being dragged through the woods, being thrown to the wooden floor, she had hope. He slapped her with the back of his hand, splitting her lip. She didn’t move. He cut a chunk of her long red hair and began rubbing it all over his chest and down around his erect penis. He was naked. She hated herself for allowing this to happen. She hated herself for thinking he was handsome. But there was no denying it. He was not what she expected a monster to look like. He traced the curve of her breast with a knife, cutting deeply. The pain was hot. The floor cold. “Where is the roof?” She wondered.

         With a loud shot, his face exploded and splattered against the wall behind her head. She felt pieces drip on to her face. When his body fell across her, she saw the woman and shotgun. The woman kicked the body off to the side and yanked the tape from her mouth.

         “Don’t look at it.” She said pulling a cell phone from her apron. Holding the phone with her chin and shoulder, she grabbed the discarded bra and folded it, pressing it hard against the open would of the girls breast. “Yes, yes. I need to report a rape and a murder. We need an ambulance. We are off Route DD and Jordan. 15928 Jordan. About a half mile behind the house. Please hurry.” She let the phone fall to the floor. “I’m so sorry about this.” She began to cry. “What’s your name?” She asked, noticeably trying not to look at the splatter on the wall.

         “Grace.”

         “I’m so sorry, Grace. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

         “You got here in time. Thank you.”

         “Oh please, don’t be grateful to me. I don’t think I could bear it.”

         “I don’t understand.”

         “Do you think we can move you?”

         “I think so.” She helped Grace to her feet still holding the drenched bra tightly against her chest. They leaned on each other. Grace sat down beneath a tree looking out across the lake. It was beautiful. The woman was older, her mother’s age she thought. Her once red hair was now mostly gray. Mostly. But there was a definite trace of the beauty she once was.

         “Who are you?” Grace asked.

         “Anne.”

         “How did you…?”

         “He’s my son.” With that Anne lost her energy and fell back against the tree beside Grace.

         “I don’t understand.” Grace said.

         “I wish I didn’t understand, but a mother knows. A mother knows her children like she knows herself. We lie to ourselves about all those little things we do, that we know better. We lie to ourselves about our kids too.”

         “So he’s done this before?”

         “I’m pretty sure he did them all.”

         “All?”

         “Haven’t you been following the news? There were four before you.”

         “I didn’t know.” Grace recalled something about it, some teaser on an ad for the news, but she never seemed to be able to sit down at ten o’clock and watch. “Did you know?”

         “I didn’t begin to suspect until after the second one. You wouldn’t have known. He was so handsome. So charming. I don’t think anyone would have guessed. It all seemed to come so easy to him, but I knew he was suffering. He always suffered. Not that that excuses any of this! I’m so sorry.”

         “Please. Tell me. I need to know why.” Grace pleaded.

         “He was the middle child of nine.”

         “Nine?”

         “Six boys and three girls. I’ve thought about that a lot. My husband was a strict catholic. Though he never hit me, he never abused me or the kids, he never treated me with respect. I think my boys saw me as a baby machine and nothing more. Hold this.” Anne got up and took off her apron which she tore into strips. She carefully layered a couple of folded pieces over the bra and applied more pressure. “His father was distant with him. He looked more like my side of the family, all the other boys look just like their dad. I don’t know. They just never got along. They didn’t fight. They just didn’t connect. Ya know? I don’t blame him. I don’t…” Anne’s hand was shaking.

         “I can hold it, I’m alright. Really.” Grace said taking over the task of holding pressure against the wound.

         “I think the other kids were especially hard on him too. He was quiet, sensitive and the other boys could be quite a handful.”

         “I still don’t understand why?”

         “Maybe it was genetic, maybe it was my fault for trying to fill in, maybe I paid too much attention. Maybe it wasn’t enough.”

         “How did you figure it out? How did you find us?”

         “I guess it was just a lot of little things. He was hiding something, I knew that. I just didn’t know what. Then with the second one, there was a vague description. It could have been him. Some of the other kids even teased him that they were gonna come get him. But I just couldn’t… I couldn’t make myself believe it was him. After the third and then fourth it became harder and harder to ignore the possibility. All the bodies were found within a couple of miles of here. All places I knew, he knew. We used to live here.” A siren is heard. Anne stood. “I’ll run up and make sure they can find us.”

         “Wait, why?” Grace pleaded. “Why me?”

         “Don’t you see dear? You look just like me.”

Words: 1000