DWYD- as Sal calls it. Part 8 is finally here and DWYD makes its first appearance in the new website. I’m sorry for making you guys wait as the middle portion fleshes itself out painfully, slowly. I’m grateful for the persistent emails asking when the next entry of DWYD is coming up (thankfully, no death threats yet), all those who read the series from the beginning and for those who just started reading the story now. If you want to relive the memories to when it all began, click here for Part 1. The other parts can be found below.
It took David a very long time to regain consciousness in the backseat of our still car. I was getting antsy from all that waiting.
His eyes flickered open and widened with realization as they gradually brought to focus the gun pointed at him. I held Susie’s watch above his face.
“Where did you find this?” I asked.
“I stole it from him.”
“Who?”
He simply looked at me. “You know who.”
The answer chilled me. My hand holding Susie’s watch started shaking.
“How did you escape from the asylum?” Charlie asked. He hadn’t budged from the driver’s seat.
“He busted me out. I was his next victim, you see. Drugged me but I managed to escape the minute he had his back turned. Kept moving and hiding. Hoping you’d find me first before he did.” The words rolled slowly from his lips as his tongue woke up. “And you did.” His voice lowered to a loving velvety whisper. “Blood’s indeed thicker than water.”
Charlie flinched at the sound of his brother’s voice.
“Where did he take Susie?” I asked.
“Where it all began, John.”
The farmhouse.
Susie’s old home.
“I heard him talking about how he was going to cut her and feed her bits to the pigs in his old place.” David laughed. “Just like what we did.”
I punched him.
His manic laughter reverberated in the car and reached into my soul and disturbed the skeletal remains of a past I didn’t want to remember. I grabbed his collar and shook him.
“No use, John. You, me, Charlie –we’re all in this together. Like it or not, it’s all going to end soon,” he said. Saliva dribbled from the wide grin on his mouth. “We’re all hurling down to our destinies like a car rushing downhill without brakes. We dug our graves, now we have to lie in them. No turning back, John.” The grin disappeared and his eyes became mercilessly cold.
“It’s all going to end soon.”
To be continued
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And so . . . I sense something horrible is about to happen? I shall see you at the farmhouse!
Indeed. Don’t forget to bring your hatchet! I’ll be expecting you.
Kate, with every new installation of this story, your writing is getting stronger, and your voice is really starting to manifest. Can’t wait to see what happens next, and I want to know what happened before. What happened at the farmhouse???
Thanks Melissa! I wish I could say this short post was easy but it wasn’t. Planning it was the hardest. What happened in the farmhouse will be explored in the next installment. Be there!