Blood trickles off of the chair like a crimson-red waterfall, staining the cement floor underneath it. A woman with ginger-red hair and ocean blue eyes lies in the chair, motionless. Her face is fair, and her body is bountiful. Many men would have wished to have her, but no man could ever own this woman. A bloodstained dress, once the same shade of blue as her eyes, clothes her cold body. Her makeup has faded away and her face was ‘all natural’ as some would say. There were men here once, but they did not touch her. They came in all sizes, big, small, somewhere in the middle, but none could imagine why someone would do such a thing to the woman in the chair. “Horrible” is how they described it, those men with badges, but a tragedy is what it was.
Cuts that would have healed to be scars litter her face in a seemingly random fashion. But there is nothing random about how the cuts were carved into her delicate skin; it was premeditated. “He has motive.” One of the men that came earlier had told the others, thinking they know enough of the story to find the suspect. But the story they know is no more real than “Everything’s Eventual” by Steven King. They will never find out that not everything was ‘eventual’. The man they were discussing was wearing a suit made in Indonesia and had been here before them. He ran off not long after recognizing the mark that was carved into her face, something most men would not see.
These marks were not born of hate, carried no allegiance to Satan, and were long lost to most modern men. But the woman knew the secret few men knew. That secret is why she died after all. The marks look like two separate smiles, just the regular parted lip one, with an ‘X’ going right through the middle of them. To the untrained eye, it merely looks like random cutting out of hate. Few men have found the secret, the cause as they call it. Many men have searched for it, looking for it out of childish curiosity, totally unaware of what it really is. Few have found the cause, even fewer have been admitted to it. The men with badges didn’t have any idea that the mark even exists. They didn’t even realize that they’ve already found the human who marked this woman.
It was a human who chose to end this woman’s life, a hurt human, but still a human. This human spent its life feeling like it was trapped by society and went out seeking freedom. It found it along a dirt road on the island of lost dreams. The night that brought the end of this woman here, was a night spent living totally free for that human; no punishment would be found in the morning. At first the human did not know what to do with its newfound freedom, but it found the answer when a man angered it at a convenience store.
Now only the camera watching could tell the story, the human is gone and everyone is dead. There was a click, then a bang. The man fell to the ground, and some woman started screaming for help. “What was that?” An unknowing clerk yelled from the cash register. Blood ran out of the man’s heart like slaves running to freedom. The human looked down at the man, who was large and bulky, much unlike the human who had murdered him and freed his blood from its cell. Then there was another bang.
The woman who was screaming for help had begun to run away. It wasn’t fear that made the human kill her too; it was the empowering feeling that freeing the slaves gave that drove her to do it. The bullet ran right through the woman’s dyed black hair and flew through her skull like it wasn’t even there. Her face showed shock and faced the clerk, who realized what had just transpired. Fighting the urge to run, he pulled out his cell phone and started to dial 911. The human noticed the clerk holding the phone up to his ear. “Dammit!” The clerk yelled; the phone had just died on him. A bullet flew through the small hole in the bulletproof glass and pierced him in the stomach, a slow death that felt like forever.
This was the beginning of the human’s spree of freeing the slaves from the shackles that bound them. The woman in the chair was the final act of freedom. No rope was needed to keep the woman in the chair while the human carved the marks into her face. The woman was willing. She felt trapped by the world and understood what it meant to be free. To be truly free, you must be truly alone and in death, you’re alone. She was sick of being trapped by the world around her, and chose to escape.
The man in the suit knew the woman well. He had once been her husband, before the incident with the iron toe. She divorced him, but they both knew the secret and that bound them until death. The divorce happened no more than two weeks before her death. To most people, it seems like he killed her. But he had no such intentions; his intentions were not cruel. Police would find no evidence against him, just a motive and no alibi. He is innocent of murder, but knows who did this to her.
Just now, the men in badges have decided on the cause of death. They believe it was a loss of blood, but the woman was dead long before that could happen. She let herself die early, having lost the will to live. She was much alike the human who killed her, perhaps even the same. The knife was held by only one person since being stolen from a store in the city. That person was the woman; she carved the marks into her face carefully and seemingly painlessly.
The cause that she followed in life was simple. It was an underground railroad for the forgotten and trapped people of society. Those admitted to the cause brought freedom to others, then themselves. The men in badges will be surprised when they see the videotape from the convenience store and see the woman in the chair murdering people as if it was better for them. True freedom only comes in death, and now she’s free.
-Zero
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