Part 2

"You hear about those poor women Trevor?" my sister asked one day while we were over at our parent's house together. We did not get together often, but Mom and Dad thought it would be nice to have a barbecue for once.

"No. Can't say I have Arie. What happened to them?" I asked trying my best to mask my lack of ignorance.

"They're saying someone is going around and branding these poor girls' faces. A couple of them have recovered the best they could and corroborated stories. Some sicko has been paying them to say horrible things and then gets pissed about it. He always uses the hotel's iron." Arie explained. I needed to change the subject because I was becoming equal parts excited and nervous.

"You're right, those poor women. Hope they catch the guy!" I feigned. My beer was getting warm from neglect, so I chugged it and then went to grab another from the fridge.

"Hey Trevor, remember that camping trip? Kinda ridiculous, but I feel like I relate to those women in a way. Like I understand that fear, ya know?" she said.

"I thought we were never going to talk about that again Sis. I was only five! I felt terrible then and have regretted it ever since." I was lying through my teeth trying to deflect.

"I know, I know. Geez man! You don't have to get all defensive." she responded with a punch to my arm. "Besides, it's quite a leap from duct tape to a hot iron. I wasn't trying to say it was you, silly goose!"

I laughed at that but thought I saw a look of doubt in her eyes. This was a problem. A very big problem. "Oh look! Dad's done at the grill." I said, grateful for the reprieve from this conversation.

"Time to eat everyone!" Dad yelled as he walked through the sliding glass door.

During dinner, I kept playing eye pong with my sister. I would be staring at her, trying to read her body language and whatnot. She would then look in my direction and I had to quickly divert my gaze. Bounce. Bounce.

There was a sinking feeling building in my gut and starting to ruin my appetite. Survival instincts were beginning to drive my thoughts darker toward Arie. Where once was a glimmer of brotherly affection, now was replaced by a growing certainty she needed to be taken out. Something switched in my brain with the last glance I took at her at the dinner table. She was no longer my sister, but now an impending victim. My mouth started to salivate at the fantasies I was conjuring and my appetite returned.

Our parents insisted we stay the night after we all got carried away with our beverages of choice. While they cleaned up the kitchen, I offered to take out the recycling to the garage. I knew without a doubt if I did not act tonight, I might not get the chance again before Arie started to wonder and put more pieces together.

There was a corner in the back of the garage with all our old camping gear huddled together. Without much time, I rifled through Dad's fishing gear and found what I was looking for. Taking the bright orange filet knife in my hand, I reminisced about slicing open fish when we were young. It grossed me out back then having to gut fish like that to have dinner, but now it gave my head a rush. I hid the knife in the waistband of my shorts and clicked off the garage light as I went back inside.

Everyone retired to bed shortly after and I lay there waiting. Mom and Dad only had one guest room with two twin beds. It was as if we had never grown into full adults for them or something. No matter, it allowed me to once again listen for Arie's snoring, then count to one hundred.

Turns out, slicing a trachea feels very similar to gutting a fish. Well, the part where you remove the head from the body anyway. Arie rose to scream, but no sound came out. Her eyes were wild and she brought her hands to her throat. When she saw me standing there, I watched her eyes grow wide with disbelief and tears started to stream down her face. It was a brief moment shared between us and soon she keeled over onto the floor. I knew my secret was safer now so I smiled. The feeling now returned with a vengeance never experienced before. The forever silence of death shined as bright as a diamond.

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