Blood Ties

Chapter One:
She awoke on a small cot surrounded by four dirty gray walls. Her head hurt beyond imagination. She looked around her. All that she could see through her glossy eyes was a small window high in one wall. It was barred over.
She tried to lift her arms, but they would not budge. Looking at them, she saw that they were restrained with large cotton straps. She pulled hard, but her arms only lifted about 3 inches off of the small cot.
She saw that her legs were also strapped down. She kicked and trashed. She wanted to know just how she could have gotten into this position in the first place.
The last thing that she remembered was having dinner with her boyfriend, (her husband did not know about it, if he did, she would not have ended up HERE!), and they were about to leave, and that was the last thing she could recall.
She finally gave up struggling, and tried her mouth. At first only a squeak came out. She wet her lips, noticing that they were as dry as sand paper, and almost as cracked. She tried again, and this time a louder sound came out. “Help!” She croaked. She blinked, then tried again. “Help!” This time it was loud enough to be heard inside the small room.
She tried one last time, and hurt her own ears with a yell she did not know she even possessed. “HELP ME!” The sound bounced off of the walls a few times, and she was sure it could be heard outside the room.
A few moments later a clicking sound was heard, and a rather handsome man came in. He was about 6' and was built like Josh Hartnett. His hair was a dark brown, almost black, and was cut to the nape of his neck. There was a light gray streak in part of his bangs. He was wearing khaki pants with a black long sleeved cotton shirt. The I.D. tag on his shirt read: Dr. Ryan Wilson.
“Now Sarah,” He said. He has a very thick Irish accent. It made all the more handsome. “You don't have to yell like that.” He touched her head softly, almost lovingly. She pulled away, and began to cry. “Why am I here?” She said between sobs.
Sarah Ann Wilson, formally Carter, was 32 years old and had been married to Ryan for 10 years now. They had a child together. Elizabeth-Jean. She had passed away three years prior. Someone had taken her, raped and murdered her, and left her body behind their house, nailed to the garage.
Since then, the marriage had been rather strained. Sarah had contemplated suicide many times, started drinking, began cheating, and just down spiraled. Ryan tried to help her, but she would not be helped.
“You are here because, we found you wandering around the lawn of our old house, covered in blood.” He said, looking at a clip board he had been holding. He read something, moving his lips as he went.
“It says here that you were mumbling something about, “She's here, she's here!” He looked up at here, and set down the clip board.
“Whom where you talking about?” He set a weathered hand on hers, making her shiver noticeably. “I don't know. I can't remember anything after . . . “ She stopped herself, not wanting to tell him about Jimmy.
“After was Annie?” He said, calling her by her middle name like he always did when he was trying to be affectionate. She shook her head, and sighed heavily. “I don't know.”
She had been seeing James Anderson for the last year and a half. He was just as handsome as Ryan, if not more so. He was 35, a cop, and Ryan's best friend since they were both five years old. If Ryan knew, he would have been furious. She couldn't tell him.
“Well,” Ryan said, standing up. His back cracked loudly. It always had when he sat too long. “When your memory decides to get any clearer, I will be here.” He picked up the clip board, and walked out, leaving her alone, and still strapped to the small cot.

Chapter Two:
It was about three hours later when she had any more visitors. A female nurse came in with some kind of pill in a little cardboard cup. “Well sweetie,” She said, obviously from somewhere down south. "It looks like its time for you ta take yer pill." She said. She looked at the restraints, and shrugged. She set the pill container down and undid one strap, then turned back to the pill. This gave Sarah the opportunity to undo her other strap.
When the nurse came back, she grabbed her around the neck, making the pill and the cup fall from her hand. “Where are the keys?” She said, squeezing the nurse's neck tight. She only pointed at a pocket on her white dress she was wearing.
Sarah picked them out of the pocket, then let go of the nurse. “Much obliged honey!” She said, then headed out of the door, locking the nurse in.
Outside the door, it was as quiet as a graveyard. She looked up and down the halls, and there wasn't a soul to be seen. She slowly headed down the south hall, trying not to make any sound. She passed the receptionist’s desk, ducked and crawled like a snake.
She made her way to the last door on the right. It was the stairs. She opened the door, and suddenly an alarm went off. The receptionist looked up from a magazine she was reading, saw Sarah, and yelled for security. Sarah cursed under her breath, and started to head down the steps.
She made it to the second floor landing, breathing hard all the way. She stopped to look behind her, when the second story door opened up, hitting her hard in the back, knocking her down the last few steps to the basement. As she hit the landing, a wave of nausea came over her, and she threw up onto the cement floor.
When she regained her composure, she began to stand up, but something strong and invisible slammed her against the wall, causing the cement to chip, and the back of her head to bleed. She slid down the wall. The last thing she saw before passing out was black and a flash of white.

Chapter Three: Seeing Things
“Oh nuts.” She said, slapping at a hand that was groping the back of her head. “Easy on the merchandise.” The hand pulled away. “Well, if you had not tried to escape, this would not have hap'nd.” Ryan said tossing a blood stained towel into a metal garbage can. They were in a larger gray room, this one filled with cots, and other people, some hurt worse than her.
“Who hit me?” She asked him, lying down, going easy on the pillow. He only shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe 'twas the Ghost of Christmas past come back to bite you on the arse!” he said, trying to be funny, but she was less than amused. “Don't even start that nuts with me, some jerk off hit me with that door, and I want to know who did it!”
He stood up fast, his back making one loud 'snap'. He groaned heavily, gripping his back. “nutse on a shingle with piss on top for flavor!” He said between gritted teeth. She smiled a little, some for the little saying, but mostly for his pain.
“Oh wipe that smug arse grin off yur face!” He let go of his back, and turned away from her, then made a rude comment about her. She glared at him, but said nothing back.
She put a shaking hand to her head, and closed her eyes. Immediately flashes of red and black shot before her eyes, making her eyes shoot open. She sat up with a start, pain shooting along the back of her head, and down her back. She let out a quiet moan.
“Do ya need an aspirin my love?” He said with a smug look on his face. This time she flicked a middle finger at him. “Oh how wonderful!” He turned and walked out of the room.
She looked at some of the other patients. Some were restrained with cotton bands, others with handcuffs. There was one in particular that was cuffed kept looking about the room in a dazed state. Her eyes rolled back and forth, her mouth opening and closing, drool just running like a river down her chin. Sarah kept watching, when the young woman suddenly sat up, cuffs gone.
She pointed at Sarah accusingly. “You pregnant dog, why have you done this to me?” Her eyes rolled back in her head so far only white could be seen, then they turned bright red, and blood ran from the corners. The blood streamed down her face and onto her hospital gown. It pooled into her lap and then disappeared.
Sarah screamed so loud, her ears hurt. She closed her eyes tight, and fell back onto her cot. “What the hell is going on here?” She said out loud. “What is wrong with me?”

Chapter Four: The Picture
Ryan sat back in his desk chair, looking at Sarah's file. He sighed heavily. This was just too much for one man to handle. First the loss of his only daughter to an unknown assailant, and now his own wife going off the deep end. How could this happen?
He read over the file once more. “Sarah Ann Wilson (Carter) found covered in blood, owner unknown, walking incoherently in the backyard of 1250 Maplewood Drive. Only two words said on site. “She’s here.” Repeated multiple times. Residence checked, no she found, but body of one James Robert Anderson WAS found in master bedroom and bathroom”
Pictures were enclosed, but Ryan had already looked at them enough. Half of James had been in the bedroom and half in the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. All over the walls, the bed, the shower curtains, the curtains, everything was covered. A literal blood bath.
Ryan set the file down and sighed again. Well, at least she was off of the streets, and not hurting anyone else.
As he was about to get up from his chair, something struck him as odd. He could not place the feeling, but there was something. He turned the back around and looked at his desk. Everything was normal, nothing had been moved. So what had haunted him a moment earlier? He scanned the desk a second time and caught sight of the file, and it hit him.
He grabbed the folder and ran out of the room as fast as his Irish legs could carry him.

He made his way to Sarah’s room and threw open the door. “I need to ask you something very important.” He said sitting down hard in the chair by the window. She sat up on the cot. They had not restrained her this time, maybe all the Valium they were giving her now was the reason.
“Ok, what?” She crossed her legs Indian style, and waited. He wagged the file in front of her like a carrot in front of a race horse. “There is a photo in here that caught my attention. Could you explain it to me?” He set the file on his lap, rifled through the many photos, and handed one to her.
It was a picture of the bedroom wall. The CSU team had cleaned it rather well, only a few drops of blood were left on it. But what had interested Ryan was the window directly in the middle of the room. It was dark out, and the drapes were only partially open.
“Could you tell me what you see?” He said pointing at the photo. She looked first at him then at the picture. She looked at it like she was looking for Waldo. Finally her eyes grew wide. Her eyes slowly lifted. “There is a face in the window.”
He shook his head emphatically. “Not just any face deary.” He pointed directly at the window. “It is your face, and that is impossible!” They both locked gazes. “You were already locked up here when these photos were taken!”

Chapter Five: Gotta Get Away
Sarah sat there looking at the photo Ryan had left her. Someone is trying to drive her crazy, and doing a d**n good job off it.
Ryan would not let her see the other photos for some reason no matter how she begged. She just wanted to know what went on there. Ryan told her: “Now is not the time for this morbid shite.”
She just had to get out of this place. She had to get to that house and see what went on. She wasn’t remembering anything from that night with Jimmy. If only something would pop into her head, a smell, a sound, a taste. Nothing!
She tossed the picture across the room and stood up. She looked at the door. It was steel, and did not even have a window to look out of. The only other way out was the barred window, but it was too high even when standing on the bed. She would have to wait for Ryan to come back, and try to get out again.
She sat down on the bed, and closed her eyes. The flashes of black and red came back, this time a lot clearer. She watched as the flashes turned into blob like shapes, not much to look at. They may have looked something like people, but she could not be sure. After a few moments, the flashes began to dim, and then disappear all together. She closed her eyes tighter, trying to get them back, but was unsuccessful.
She opened her eyes and looked around, unhappy that she was still in the gray room. “Well Dorothy, looks like Kansas is gonna have to do for now!” she said with a smile on her dry lips. She looked at the door again, and as if she had willed it, it opened.
“I have some news for you.” Ryan said. He was wearing a brown weathered bomber jacket. It had been his father’s. “We are going to let you go to the house to help you remember what hap’nd, under one condition.” He took a pack of semi-beaten cigarettes out of the breast pocket of the jacket, shook one out and popped it in his mouth in one fluid motion. She watched him do this for so long it was imprinted in her memory. She knew that he would now use his Harley Davidson butane lighter, flick it twice, just for fun, and then light it cockeyed, and then take one long suck the cancer stick.
Just as she remembered, out came the biker butane, the thumb flicked twice, the head cockeyed to the right, and he took a long drag. She laughed a little at his funny habits. He had so many, that it was hard to keep up. He was maybe a little obsessive compulsive at times she thought.
“So what is the condition” She said leaning back again the gray wall behind her bed. The wall was almost as cold as their marriage had been for the last three years.
It was not her fault any more than his that Elizabeth -Jean had died, but all the pain had fallen on her shoulders. The police had searched for more than two years trying to tie someone to the murder, but it had later been written off as a rape gone bad. Sarah and Ryan knew that was bullshit.
Ever since then, Sarah had been drinking the hard stuff, Jack Daniels whenever the mood hit, and that was often. She would drink tequila straight from the bottle, and then she met Jimmy, and she stopped drinking, but then she began drinking coffee with him, then having dinner, then staying at his place for hours on end. It got physical only two months after they met. They had been seeing each other for six months now.
That was until whatever happened, happened. She could only remember having a nice quiet dinner with Jimmy at Giorgio’s. They had just finished their creme brulee, he wanted things to get serious, VERY serious, then they got ready to leave minutes later, then she could remember nothing.
“Well, we are going to have guards around, just in case anyone comes around at any time, or in case YOU try to escape.” He pulled a set of cuffs from his back pocket and dangled them at her. “I am going to put these on you, and I do not want any fuss.” She nodded, and got up. He turned her around, and pulled her arms behind her back. She allowed him to cuff her. She knew she was innocent, so why fight him.
He turned her back toward the door, and let her out. “I hate to do it like this, but you never know.” She nodded.

They made it to the house about 25 minutes later, Sarah riding in the back of Ryan’s Nissan Altima. The road there was bumpy most of the way, making Sarah hit her head on the Nissan’s roof quite a bit.
They stopped in front of a rather old house. There was a wraparound porch, a gazebo, gingerbread woodwork, and a wonderful widow’s walk on the roof. From up there you could see everywhere in all for directions.
As Ryan helped Sarah out of the car, she spotted the garage, and the same wave of nausea that she had felt after the attack with the door, hit her hard. She doubled over, static flashing in front of her eyes. Ryan bent with her, putting a reassuring hand on her back, and tried to sooth her. She looked at him, and her face was as white as new fallen snow.
“You weren’t there, you didn’t see . . . ” She did not get to finish, because she fell into a clump at his feet beside the car.

Chapter Six: Back Again
She awoke on the grass beside the garage. Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Her hands were no longer cuffed, and lying beside her was Ryan’s badge, covered in blood. She shot backward, her eyes open wide. It was happening again. How could this keep happening? How could she keep forgetting?
She looked around her, not seeing much of anything in the darkness. She sat there a moment, trying to figure something out. Suddenly a sound was heard behind her. The only thing behind her, which she knew of, was the garage. She did not want to even think about that garage any more after what she had seen there three years ago.

It had been a sunny summer day in July, and she had been hanging clothes on the line behind the garage, when she heard some scuffling coming from inside the garage. She thought it was only Ryan trying to fix the car, again, so she ignored it. She went on about her business, and about 15 minutes later heard a scream so loud it could have risen the dead. She dropped her laundry basket, and ran for the house.
When she hit the steps of the house, something made her turn to look at the garage wall. She did not know what made her look, but whatever it was, she wished she hadn’t.
There, nailed to the wall like Jesus himself, was her 6-year-old daughter, Elizabeth-Jean, her neck slit from ear to ear, blood pouring down her cut naked body, pooling onto the cement walk. There was a broom handle lying beside her, blood on one splintered end. She had been noticeably raped.
Cuts littered her young body as if someone had just gone completely insane, and taken it out on her. There wasn’t a place a blade hadn’t touched.
Sarah had run to her and grabbed her. She knew she was dead, but she held her just the same. “Ryan, Ryan!” She had screamed, praying he was still at home. He had come running from the house, dripping with sweat, shirtless, and holding his hand in a blood-stained towel. He had claimed that he had cut himself working on the sink, but Sarah refused to believe that, even after she saw the good size cut on his left hand.
She looked at the wall of the garage now, and the flashes came back now in thunderous waves, making her double over in pain. She threw up numerous times. When the nausea and pain subsided, she glanced at the wall again, and saw blood smeared on it. Shivers racked through her body. “Oh God no!” She yelled out loud. “What did I do?” She touched the blood to see if it was real, and pulled back her hand in disgust. Her hand was covered in wet, red blood.

Chapter Seven: Revelation
Inside the house was completely dark and silent. She tried the lights, but they did not work. She was going to have to search for Ryan in the dark.
She searched through the downstairs and found nothing but a torch to use. She flicked it on, and thankfully it worked. She headed upstairs, and got the shock of her life. There was blood going up the stairwell. She followed it into the first bedroom and saw more blood covering the entire room. There was blood on every little thing in there, the bed, the lamp, the dresser, the closet doors, the walls, the curtains, everywhere.
Another trail led into the bathroom. It was the same in here. Blood was everywhere, on everything. She was about to leave, the blood was too much for her, when there was a rustling sound coming from the tub. She flashed the torch at it, and the shower curtain was moving.
She slowly walked toward it, the torch shaking with every step. She reached out with her right hand, but pulled back. She did not want to know what was behind curtain number one.
She stood there just looking at it, then just pulled it back so fast, it tore off of a few of the rings. What she saw made the torch fall from her hands and roll into the bedroom.
In the tub was Jimmy, or rather half of him. His head was leaning against one end of the tub, arms dangling out of the tub, blood dripping from the fingers. He had been chopped off at the middle, repeatedly. It was as if someone could not get it with the first few wacks, or just wanted to wack at him for fun.
His intestines were tied to the shower pole, holding him up some, giving him the appearance that he was morbidly soaking in the tub. His neck had also been slit, making his head sit at an odd angle.
Sarah put her hands to her mouth, stifling a scream. She could feel the vomit working its way up her throat, but she forced it back down. She closed her eyes so tight they hurt. When she opened them, Jimmy was gone, and all the blood was gone. Only small drops were left. She began to hyperventilate. She grabbed her chest, and fell to the floor.
The flashes hit her again, harder than ever. This time they WERE people. They were Jimmy and she at dinner. Her in red, him in a black suit. They were talking about getting serious, and she was touching his hand and laughing a little. Jimmy was not very happy with her doing that. She told him it would never happen, and that they were only having comfort sex. He got pissed, smacked her, and told her too pay for the bill. He called her a very rude word then walked out.
He got to his car, dropped his keys, she was behind him. She hit him with the tire iron Ryan always made sure she had. She drug him into her car, and drove him here to the house. When he woke up and tried to get away by running up the stairs, she hit him with the torch over and over, then drug him into the bedroom, and then got the ax from the garage, and went to work.
Her eyes opened. Her breathing slowed some. She stood and headed into the bedroom. She had work to do.

Chapter Eight: “Private”
She opened the garage door and saw the ax. It glistened in the moonlight. She touched it softly, and smiled. What must be done, must be done. She grabbed it off of the rack, and headed back to the house.
Inside Ryan was strapped down to a chair in the dark, cold basement. His head was bleeding pretty badly. He had been knocked a good one. All he could remember was someone coming up behind him and pushing him headfirst into the garage wall. Then there was nothing but blackness. The next thing he knew he was strapped to this chair.
He looked around, and was unable to see much except for what was right in front of him. There was a furnace, a stack of newspapers, and a box marked “Private.”
If he could only somehow cut the rope, or slip out. He wiggled this way and that, but it just made the rope cut into his wrists more and more. He sat back on the chair, defeated.
That was when he remembered he always carried a pocket knife in his back pocket. If he could reach it, he might be able to cut the rope. He wormed his hand down far enough to his back pocket and felt cold metal. The tips of his fingers caught onto it, and he could just grip it. He worked a little more, and grabbed it.
He thumbed the knife open, and it made contact with the rope. He started slicing the rope. Back and forth, back and forth. He could hear the sound of nylon being cut to bits.
After a good five minutes, he finally got it, and the restraints slipped away easily. He rubbed his sore wrists. Slipping the knife back into his pocket, he slid off of the chair, and pulled the box marked “Private” toward him.
There wasn’t much in here that he hadn’t seen before. Clippings on Elizabeth-Jean’s murder, the investigation, others similar to it, things like that, he was about to push it aside, when a smaller box at the bottom caught his attention. He picked it up and moved the bigger box aside.
Written on this one was “Property of Carrie Leigh. Do Not Open!” Ryan looked at this oddly, but did not really regard it as anything important. He opened the box, against its warning, and there were pictures, clippings, letters, and other pieces of paper mixed among them. He picked up the first paper, and read through it.
It was a note written by Carrie to a Cassandra. It simply said: “Get me the hell out of here.” Where was here, and who where these people?
He picked up a clipping and this one struck him a little funny.
“Madison woman sent to Madison Mental Institute. Declared mentally insane by state. Sister makes statement, saying, “She has been crazy for a while now. I can’t believe it took you this long to put her away!” State baffled by statement.
The next thing he picked up made his blood run cold. It was a picture. The picture was labeled: Carrie & Cassandra Carter at family picnic, July 4th ‘92.
That did not have any effect on him, it was the two women in the picture. The two women were identical twin sisters, and they looked just like his wife!

Chapter Nine: The Encounter
She headed for the cellar door, the ax in her hand. She threw the doors open with a bang. Ryan sat up with a start, the box falling from his hand. She stared down at him, a sad look on her face. “So you found the box I see. I was afraid this was going to happen.” She slowly walked down the steps, the ax at her side. “You do realize what this means don’t you?” She picked the ax up, and placed the sharp end in her left hand. Ryan watched the blade closely.
“Sarah, please put that down.” He said, picking up the papers he had dropped. They could come in handy later. She only kept only kept on walking down the steps.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she started to raise the ax. “I am so sorry to do this, but it must be done.” She swung the ax over her head, and struck it at the wall beside her. It connected with a thin white cord. “There,” She said, leaning the ax against the wall. “Now she can’t call out.” She looked at Ryan who was in shock. She smiled, and laughed.
“I guess you don’t get it do you?” She said walking toward him. He backed away, knocking over the pile of newspapers. He glanced at them, and noticed that, they were all for murders like Elizabeth-Jean’s. He picked one up, and gasped.
The date was only one month ago. Their anniversary. July 10th. It was also Elizabeth-Jean’s birthday, and murder date. He read the story, and it played out just like Elizabeth-Jean’s death. Same pose, same neck wound, the broom handle, the cuts, everything. All the stories, in all the papers were like that, it was always the same date, July 10th.
“That was the day I gave birth to that beautiful little girl.” She said, a tear slowly falling down her face. “But I never got to raise her. My sister took her from me when I was in the hospital. After 20 hours of labor, that pregnant dog took that child from me to raise as her own.”
Ryan looked at her. Her eyes were full of tears now. Things were starting to fall into place for him, except one thing.
“Did she do it?” He asked her. Carrie looked at him and sighed. “Yes, that pregnant dog killed my little Elizabeth-Jean, oh how I hated that name. I had named her Tamara, but she thought that was too modern, so she changed it, along with her own name.” She turned her back on Ryan. “The reason she took her was because she could not bare children. Whenever she saw women who could, she would become enraged. That is why she killed them, and they always looked like me in some ways. The funny thing is,” She laughed a little. “She was killing herself every time that way.”
Ryan stood. He walked over to Carrie and put a hand on her shoulder. “Why Elizabeth . . . I mean Tamara?” She turned to him and shrugged. “I guess that she saw too much of me in Tamara, and she could not take that, so she had to destroy any part of that. You see, my sister is the crazy one, not me. She had me locked away so I could not tell.”
Ryan turned back to the box marked: “Property of Carrie Leigh,” and handed to her. “I think this belongs to you.” She took the box. “Thank you.”
The started up the steps, when the doors crashed shut. They were shut in total darkness. “nutse.” Ryan said, trying to find a light switch. He finally found a pull chain in the middle of the room, but nothing happened when he pulled it. “Well, what do you suggest?” Carrie grabbed the ax from beside the wall. “Never leave home without it.” She headed up the stairs and began chopping at the doors.
They finally broke free, and moonlight poured in on them. “Well, that takes care of that.” She said, her back turned. Ryan nodded, then his eyes went wide. “Carrie, look out!” She turned just in time to see Sarah come flying at her with a tire iron. “You pregnant dog!” Carrie yelled. She swung the ax at Sarah and almost caught her in the stomach. Sarah jumped back, laughing. “You think you can beat me?” She swung the tire iron at Carrie and hit her right arm, hard. She dropped the ax with a loud thud.
“Get to the house Ryan, now!” Carrie yelled. He nodded, and started running, then stopped. How the hell did she know his name? He did not have time to think, because the tire iron connected with the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

Chapter Ten: Looks Can Be Deceiving
“You have to be careful who you trust Ryan my boy!” Sarah said, shaking the tire iron at him. He was submerged in the tub. He tried to look down, but his head was strapped to the tub. “You won’t get away with this Sarah. You can’t.” He said, water sloshing into his mouth. The water tasted like salt, and he spit it out.
“Where’s Carrie?” He said, spitting out salty water as he spoke. She pointed to the bedroom. Sprawled across the bed was Carrie, unconscious, with a nice knot on her head.
She started to lean over him, when she hit the floor with a noticeable thud. Standing behind her was Carrie, one hand holding her head, and one hand holding remnants of a vase. “She should have hit me harder.”
She unstrapped Ryan and handed him a towel to cover himself. “Thank you so much.” She only nodded.

They headed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, when there was a shuffling sound coming from the bathroom. “Maybe you should have hit her harder.” Carrie nodded, and grabbed a nearby lamp. Sarah stood in the doorway. “How dare you.” She sprang at Carrie, and knocked the lamp from her hands.
Ryan tried to pull Sarah off of Carrie, but she was amazingly strong. She knocked him to the ground. The girls hit the floor as well, and rolled back and forth, hitting each other. Ryan wanted to grab for Carrie, to help, but now did not know which one was which.
Carrie pulled away and tried to crawl to Ryan, but Sarah grabbed her ankle, and twisted it hard. Carrie yelped, and kicked her with her good ankle.
Sarah got up and kicked Carrie in the stomach. “How does it feel?” She walked over to Ryan. “That should be enough.” Ryan looked at her, and tried to tell who it was, but in the darkness it was impossible.
Carrie sat up. “You aren’t Carrie you pregnant dog. I am.” She jumped at her. Sarah, darted out of the way, and headed out of the bedroom. They both headed for the attic, for the widow’s walk.
Ryan followed after them, wanting to make sure the wrong one did not get hurt.

Carrie limped up the ladder to the widow’s walk after Sarah, and grabbed her leg. “How does that feel?” She pulled herself up, and stood over Sarah. “We fight to the finish.”
Sarah stood up, now limping as well. Ryan got to the top of the ladder to see this, and was even more at a loss.
She grabbed a nearby 2x4, and hit Carrie hard in the ribs. Carrie’s breath came out in a loud ‘whooshing’ sound. She turned to her left, and held her stomach, making retching noises.
“I guess you just can’t take the pain, huh sis?” Sarah said, still holding the board over her head. She started to swing again, when Ryan jumped her from behind. They both went flying into the side of the widow’s walk, narrowly missing the spikes that surrounded it.
She reached out to grab him, but he got her first. His hands wrapped around her neck, holding on tight. She grabbed at his hands, nails biting into his flesh. She tried to speak, but his strong hands were cutting off any chance she had.
“I will not let you kill anyone else tonight, or ever again.” He started to grip tighter, then something made him stop. He was no murderer. If he killed her, he would only be lowering himself to her level. “No, I won’t do it. I just can’t.” He let go of her and turned away.
Carrie sat up, still holding her stomach. “Yeah, but I can.” She stood up, and ran at her sister. Sarah’s eyes went wide. She threw her arms out in front of her trying to block the oncoming attack, but Carrie would be undaunted. She sped at her, knocking into her at full speed. Sarah rocked back a little, her shirt getting caught on one of the spikes.
“This has to end now.” Carrie said, and she grabbed her sister around the stomach, and began to lift her over the spikes. Ryan ran up to her to try and stop her, but it was too late.
Sarah’s screams could be heard all the way to the ground. Then there was a sickening thud as she hit the cement sidewalk below. Her head had cracked open, and blood was pooling into the grass, turning it to a dark brown.
Carrie turned away from the awful scene, and hit the roof floor. Her body was racked with sobs. Now that it was all over, all the emotions from all the 10 years, hit like a ton of bricks.
Ryan rushed over to her, and held her close. “I am so sorry, so sorry.” He whispered in her ear. He pulled back a little and looked at her face. It was so weird how much she looked like his wife. The dark hair, the green eyes, the slender body, even the scar on her neck . . . He stopped and looked again. There it was, a long jagged scar. There was not way that Carrie could have THAT scar. Sarah had gotten it when they first moved here when she tripped over a barbed wire fence and got caught in it.
He let go of her, and his eyes open wide. He could not think of anything to say. She only looked at him, and smiled.