TW // DEAD ANIMAL

(62) Ludovico Einaudi - Giorni Dispari // slowed - YouTube

The path to your destination seemed like an endless road, bringing you closer and closer to doing something that you would prefer to encounter only in your nightmares.

You looked out of the window, to the extent of darkness, seeing the peaceful street with no vehicles and no people in sight. It was just as same in the car itself. You noticed how, here and there, Qi’ra glanced at you in the rearview mirror. You wondered what she was thinking about when she saw you looking like a zombie with your forehead pressed against the cold glass.

Did your reaction make sense? Was it right that you didn’t know what to feel or say? There. It started again. Those continuous questions only left you in the end with a headache and no answers. In movies, the characters would usually scream in disbelief. But not even a peep came out of you. Your mother could die, and yet it left you cold. Your face was like a piece of paper with one big question mark on it.

They ripped you out of your brief slumber when the car stopped next to a forest. You edged out of the seat and glanced around. At night, everything seemed so unfamiliar. The houses on the other street had all their curtains closed.

“Since I believe you won’t carry the body, you could lend us a hand,” Qi’ra implied. She placed a headlamp on herself and fixed a not too bright headlamp on you as well, pressing, in addition, two big shovels into your arms.

You scrunched up your face while trying to maintain the heavy shovels, both nearly slipping on your feet.

“I should have brought some damn gloves with me like you two did,” you rumbled, the wood stick aching on your hands.

You stood by the side, remaining still with eyes scanning for people as your mother and Qi’ra took out the missing carpet from the trunk.

“Is — the body—”

“Yes, he’s inside the carpet wrapped up in a plastic bag,” your mother mentioned, panting as she balanced the carpet on one leg while Qi’ra tried with all her strength to hold it on the other side.

You swallowed thickly at the thought of it. They really didn’t seem to know any risk of transporting a body inside a carpet in public. It’s not like people would actually believe they are some carpenters working at night. At least you wouldn’t have to see the man’s face again.

The deeper you stepped into the obscure maze with the rusty smell building up in your nose, the more the nature seemed to consume you. The once reddish-yellow leaves had now shaded, rustling with satisfaction through the ground with the wind howling over you, dragging you inside the depth of the forest. Your headlamp shifted from right to left and sometimes backward when you walked behind like a small duck. At every hidden noise, every rustle that didn’t seem to be yours, your heartbeat increased.

“You, doing alright, Honey?” your mother spoke a foot ahead of yours as she and Qi’ra dumped the body next to a large tree, taking a breath.

“Yeah, sure,” — you shrugged your shoulders with a half-smile — “except that we’re walking here in the woods under the full moon like some lunatics,” you added mockingly. “It’s as if we’re about to turn in some werewolves and have the dead guy for dinner.”

Your mother scratched her forehead, her wrinkles coming up, trying to understand your meaning by that.

“But besides that, I’m totally fine,” you combined, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“That means she’s not fine,” you heard Qi’ra remarking to your mother as she walked by, taking from you the shovels, and dropping them next to the body.

“Thank you, Qi’ra, for the clarification!” your mother beamed in dispute.

While Qi’ra propped by the tree, your mother notified that she wished to speak to you alone. Therefore, the femme fatale vanished into the darkness, giving you the privacy you so desperately needed after all those weeks.

Your mother stood in front of you, warming her hands in her jacket’s pockets. Although you clearly understood the rules and were ready to follow them, one question was still on your mind.

“Did Qi’ra force you to join” — you snipped with your fingers, seeking to remember the name—

“Crimson Dawn? God, no!” Her tone sounded absurd.

You nodded, pursuing your lips, sensing the awkwardness between you two as if she were a stranger that you didn’t recognize.

“I’m not proud of it. Although many criminal organizations would feel quite honored to be a part of the syndicate named The Shadow Collective… I’m not.”

“Then why can’t you just quit and let this all behind you? Then the bounty on your head would drop, and you wouldn’t risk getting killed!”

She scoffed. “Being a part of one of the deadliest and most powerful syndicates in the underworld is not a shopping mall where you just casually walk in and out.”

Her beautiful eyes gleamed with severity as she cupped your cheeks, the warmth of the glove’s texture warming you up.

“Once you’re part of Crimson Dawn, there’s no way back. You can’t leave! If you try to escape, they will notify The Shadow Collective, who will stamp you as a traitor, and hunt you down. But now that we know that someone more powerful put a bounty on our heads to take us down one by one until there’s none of us left? Once they’re done with the Crimson Dawn, they will slaughter the rest of the syndicate.”

When she noticed your doubtful face, she shook her head. “But you don’t understand…”

“Yes, mom, I do—”

“No, you don’t, or else you wouldn’t question why we had to kill this bounty hunter!” she scowled, letting go of you and stared at you down with bulging eyes. “No matter who attacks the Crimson Dawn, they automatically become a threat and an enemy to The Shadow Collective.” Her tone seemed to calm itself. “And if you don’t kill the enemy, you either risk getting taken by them, killed, or you even cause more problems by letting them run away with the newest information from you. It would be a disgrace to spare his life!”

“I understand,” you admitted. “I really do — but mom,” you licked your lips, your eyes slowly filling up with tears.

You hopelessly looked around as if you were trying to search for an alternate plan.

“What if we risk getting into more trouble because Qi’ra killed him?”

Your mother comprehended the empathy and the confusion in your voice and your urge to justify why this was all happening. Her face relaxed, her smile softened, and she caressed one of your cheeks.

“You’re not like Qi’ra or the rest of the syndicate. You would never murder…” you whispered. “I know you’re not a murderer…”

You stood close with your dilated eyes to her face, pleading that she would validate your words.

She pulled her hand away, taking a deep final breath before she said, “I never wanted you to find it out… especially not this way.”

And before you could continue to let her speak, you cut her off, “Mom, you don’t owe me an explanation—”

“I feel ashamed and disgusted!” she boomed, her voice almost rolling over.

“For not telling me the truth?”

“No, for all the cruel things I’ve done and for dragging you into this!” she proceeded, containing herself not to cry. “I promised myself to keep you safe and clueless. To keep you away from the mistake, I made years ago. And it worked so well until—” Her voice broke off, and a single, small tear flowed down her cheek.

You couldn’t look at her tearful face and the shame she tried so hard to swallow. You pulled her in a hug that you wish could heal her from the pain you weren’t aware of, even if it would mean you would spend the night in the forest. The pain she held deep inside her through her entire life without you letting her know.

She tightly squeezed your back and sobbed, her favorite perfume floating in your nose.

“Mom, it’s — it’s okay. I’m not mad at you for what you choose to do to keep me safe. You’re my mother, and I love you,” you assured her in an affectionate tone, stroking her back while you tried to comfort her and sound reasonable. “I don’t see you as a bad person.”

She pulled away, and the two of you fixed your gaze on the carpet lying next to you.

She blew her nose in her tissue and put her hand on her chest to control her breathing as she calmed herself. “Now that everything is going to change… I was blind to believe it would never come to this, and yet—”

“It always happens when you least expect it,” you finished her sentence, gaping up at her.

Her gaze jumped back to you, colliding with your words. But quickly her face hardened, and all the emotions and similarities disappeared behind her colors.

“I don’t want you to go down the same dark path I did,” she whispered.

“Mom, believe me, the only dark path I’m on right now is school.”

Your mother escaped a soft laugh as she gently took your injured hand.

“I don’t want you to see Qi’ra as a bad person either,” she added nearly in a hush, her eyes following her fingers on your bandage. “Or as you choose to say… a murderer.”

Like lightning, her eyes slid at you to not miss your reaction, but you quietly bit your tongue without pulling a muscle. Now was the moment where you would have preferred to draw your hand away, but this would mean that the loving connection would vanish away, and the pain from the injury would shoot straight through your arm. It wouldn’t be long before Qi’ra would decide to come back.

Did she ever murder too, and was therefore trying to protect Qi’ra? You weren’t sure if you were just afraid to ask or scared to find out if your mother could do this to another human. Another thing was the fact you already broke the rule of questioning everything. Deep inside yourself, you believed she would never do such a thing. But you couldn’t imagine that this hadn’t occurred in her unusual lifetime.

“Hey!” you heard Qi’ra’s voice, her light coming from the darkness. “Look what I found!”

Nothing could make you more fulfilled than being interrupted by the person you were talking about. Carefully, without hurting yourself, you slipped your hand from your mother’s grip and hastily advanced toward her voice, with the light pointed into the distance.

And that is where you were sure a branch hit you on the head as you saw Qi’ra stepping into the light.

In her arms lay a four-legged animal who didn’t seem to move its head or its tail.

A cat…

“What is with you and killing everything that comes in your sight?” you accused her in a hostile tone.

Qi’ra raised a brow. “I said look what I found, not what I killed,” she murmured in a huff. “Do you really think I’m capable of killing a kitten?”

“Well, I don’t know. You threatened to shoot me if I didn’t talk to the police, so yeah, I believe you would kill an innocent animal!” you yelled laughably.

“If you don’t keep your voice down, I’ll bury you with the body! And trust me when I tell you, it’s dark and dusty down there!”

You scoffed and reached out, carefully feeling the cat’s fuzzy fur that had the color of bright leaves when the night would not appear. There were no signs of injury or bite marks. You could smooch your face into her soft belly, yet her stomach and her chest weren’t moving. Her mouth hung open, pointing her sharp teeth out. She was staring at the moon like a bell ball.

Without hesitation, you shone with your flashlight in her wide eyes in the hope it would give a reaction from itself. But the pupils that appeared to be larger didn’t change the size. As you stroked past the cat’s neck, you noticed a tag attached to its black Gaber wool collar with a name on it.

Your jaw dropped to your feet, and your eyes widened to the size of the moon.

“Oh my god,” you released a sudden breath, slowly stepping backward. “This is the cat from Mr. Hux. This is — this is — Millicent!”

“Who’s Mr. Hux?” Qi’ra demanded.

“My math teacher.”

The inner corners of your eyebrows drew together upward, and your eyelids dropped, ready to shed a tear. Millicent’s nine cat lives had already ended. She looked peaceful, as if she were floating on a cloud, her soul probably dreaming of being reunited with her beloved owner.

“We need to bring her to my teacher’s home. He must know that his cat is dead.”

“And what do you suggest? To put the cat in front of his door, ring the bell, and run away? So that he then thinks somebody killed his cat on purpose?” Qi’ra argued in an undertone, her eyes burning at you with tension. “You certainly are not the smartest biscuit in the jar.”

“I don’t know, but there’s something we have to do!” you debated in frustration, trying to prove your point. “We can’t leave it here just like that.”

“Actually, the dead cat could serve us to our advantage,” your mother added confidently, stepping into your circle with her arms crossed over her chest. “We could bury the cat three feet above the body as a cover. And if the tracking dogs would get a whiff, the police would assume they barked because of the cat.”

Qi’ra and you both turned around and tilted your head, blinking several times. You weren’t sure if you should consider it as a good or a bad idea. But when you looked up at Qi’ra, who kept her head high, you could see the waves of pride glowing off from her.

“What?” your mother shrugged.

“Nothing,” Qi’ra smirked and walked over to the carpet. “I think your idea is brilliant.”

“You cannot be serious!”

“You’re right!” Qi’ra added. “We need to carve the cat’s name into the tree, so people will think there’s a beloved pet buried down here.”

She put the dead cat on the ground and drew a weird dagger from her belt.

“What? No, I mean, you cannot be serious in a way that we’re actually burying a dead cat on top of a dead body without letting the owner know!” You swung around with your hands. “Does no one here really see a problem?”

The others were just side eyeing each other in a puzzle.

“Why do I even —?” you stopped and rubbed your face in exasperation. You took one more deep breath. “Fine, forget about it. Let me do the carving.”

“Use every muscle,” Qi’ra implied, handing you the unique weapon.

You took a closer glance at it. It was a thin double-bladed bronze knuckle duster and probably the sharpest thing that you’ve ever seen. At first, you hesitated, but then you aimed your left fingers into the four holes. It actually scared you for a moment of how comfortable the weapon felt in your grip and how good it fitted you. Like it had been custom designed only for you alone.

While Qi’ra and your mother began outlining the grave, you marched over to the tree. You looked up through the dark crown and saw the clouds under the moon tightly bounding together. Compared to your headlamp, the moonlight was far more helpful.

And so, you carved the letters one by one. “Rest in peace, Millicent.”

Usually, the humans would carve the shape of hearts, three specific words, dates, or initials into the tree, showing a romantic gesture to the other person. The tree would observe the pain until one day it would heal. For people, those messages had a special meaning in their souls, to which they could always come back and remember the memories. The tree, however, only saw it as a fresh wound. And the years would pass on, and the humans would die, but the message would remain visible as a permanent scar tissue, wishing it could feel what the people did who carved it.

If only the tree could feel what you carved… Many people would be happy about it, getting the balance of revenge from the teacher they hated. But you couldn’t, and you most definitely did not want to feel happy about burying your teacher’s dead cat.

I’m doing it for my mother, you told yourself. I’m doing it so that she and her wicked friend who lives under our roof rent-free won’t die.

The razor-sharp lines were perfect. Not one sideline came off the track. You could see it as a work of art, to which you were proud of while carving it with tired half-closed eyes. The dagger was easy to hold and only caused a little stinging in your hand.

“There are so many places to hide a dead body, and yet we decide to do it in a forest,” you remarked.

The dirt and the sweat were staining on Qi’ra and your mother. They had already properly dug themselves one foot deep into the grave. To your luck, the ground was soft, and you got to do the simple part to which you could not complain.

“You have a better solution?” Qi’ra breathed, throwing the dirt on the other side.

“Why don’t we sell the body to a cannibal instead? The trace of the body would disappear, and we would even get extra cash for it.”

Your mother looked at Qi’ra the same way you did before when she came up with the idea of the cat. However, it was more of a worried look than a surprised one.

“Well, do you know one?” your mother asked.

You hummed in thoughts as if you seriously could know someone who had told you they were a cannibal. “No…”

Qi’ra smiled, “Well, there you have your solution.”

“But it’s not a bad idea, don’t you think?”

“It’s actually kind of scary to know what’s on your mind if you have such thoughts,” your mother said as she stepped out of the grave, dropping her shovel to do a break.

“Huh! Like mother, like daughter,” the femme fatale commented from beneath with a grin.

“Stop it, Qi’ra,” your mother sneered.

You let out a soft laugh as a shock freeze caused your body to twitch briefly. The smile fainted, and the discouraging voice in your head froze your brain.

“Nice job,” your mother complimented on your carving skills, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Thanks, I guess…”

Your mother stroked your arm and spoke in a soft voice, “You still think about what happened at home?”

“Right now? I’m thinking about the broken sliding doors. Anyone can step now right into our house,” you jested.

You expected your mother to laugh, but she just frowned, and you narrowed your gaze on your weapon.

“There is just something that makes no sense to me,” you revealed while scratching your head. “Every single bounty hunter gets a reward, but only when they kill one of you. And yet, this one said they did not send him to kill. What if he was actually some other special bounty hunter from another syndicate or an organization who actually came to help or warn you?”

“Well, then he did a terrible job by breaking through the slide doors for a more dramatic effect,” Qi’ra quipped as she continued to dig.

Your mother scowled at Qi’ra’s remark. “I understand what you’re thinking about, but don’t you think he would just knock at the door and talk to us?”

You shrugged your shoulders upwards.

“Honey, his last words were nothing but lies,” explained your mother in her soft tone. “Everyone does it. Lying and not trusting people is the only thing that keeps you going in the underworld. And now that you’re accidentally involved in it, it would be good for you to start too.”

You studied your mother in dispute. Everything your mother taught you in the normal world was now wrong. And everything you were about to learn from the underworld seemed now to be the right thing that could easily kill you if you would use it in the incorrect way. What once was up became now down.

“I wish I could erase those horrible images from your memory,” she mentioned and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

“And I wish I could prevent you from digging your own grave,” you implied with the corners of your lips moving up.

She escaped a burst of chuckle. “You already do. You are now keeping a dark secret, and even though you don’t like it, you are helping us. That’s already a lot.”

“Alright, cheesy mother-daughter talks by the side. We need to continue before the storm hits in,” Qi’ra notified, wrestling to jump out of the grave.

And even though you put a smile on your face, you felt like the tree. From your inner self came a scratching pain, as if someone carved something into you, which you choose to ignore.

“Ah, shit,” you raged, remembering a particular thing. “I forgot my hat!”

“You didn’t need your hat—”

“No, it’s not at home.”

“Then where is it?” your mother questioned.

“At — school,” you lied, trying to act normal by sweetening your voice.

Obviously, you couldn’t tell anyone about how you had recently left your hat at the house of a boy whose tongue you had in your mouth. And since they were asking you to get used to telling lies, this was a start. You would just have to figure out how to get the hat back without being embarrassed to see or talk to Vicrul.

“What happened today is going to repeat itself, am I right?” you changed the topic.

Qi’ra was wiping away the dirt on her clothes when she stopped and looked at her mother. “I’m certain I said no further questions.” But then she wiped the sweat away from her forehead and sighed. “But yes, it will. Many times.”

“For how long?”

“Until we find the one who is responsible for setting the bounty on us.” She pointed her leather finger at you. “And therefore, you need to prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

Out of nowhere, a dull thunderclap startled you. The tracks of a zigzag purple line appeared in the dark sky, which made you all look at it up, observing the phenomenal construction of mother nature.

“For the cold and heartless winter,” Qi’ra completed. “If there’s something I hate, then it’s burying dead bodies into the snow.”