I arrive at Harpers Island not in my jimmy choos, the stilettos would have immediately caught onto the spaces between the planks but my sneakers sail over them. I barely take the time to look around before I run gracefully to my side of the island. The air is misty, scented with pine and the stale odour of dead fish. I can only fathom some ridiculous why he likes this place so much. But the greenery was dense and overwhelming, you could get lost in there, disappear for hours in solitude.
It wasn't exactly a tourist spot after the murders. The body count as high as a small war. Nine years ago, a man named John Wakefield came to the island with the intention to slaughter. That he did with glee but then, he strung them up like Christmas lights on this old oak tree.
I let my eyes run up to the top of the leafy canopy to the base. I traced the spots or at least imagined them where he marked the tree as his, John Wakefield's tree. I wanted to see it of course, just give it a passing glance but I found myself arrested to the spot. I gingerly licked my lips, slightly amazed that so many bodies could be so easily hung from the branches by him. It made him seem capable of feats of strength and wonder. That was the part that haunted the very core of this island, but that didn't scare them away. No, it was the next murders after seven years, an innocent wedding party turned into a blood bath that saw only four survivors.
The sun filtered through the leaves but only darkness fell on my face and a bitter chill like his quick caress. Forcibly, I had to turn myself away. Now was not the time to relive in the past, as sacred and important as it may be.
The gravel crunched under my sneakers; somehow I felt I was stepping on the dried bits of blood, frozen to mark the path of destruction. A smile crawled to my face and laid waste to my imagination as I tried to conjure up the exact chain of events. I couldn't. It resembled more of a B grade horror movie than anything remotely what he was capable of and I knew wholesomely what he was capable of. The house loomed in the distance, partly closeted by trees and the surrounding white fog; the mountains themselves appeared to divert attention away from the simple structure. I ran the rest of the way there, carefully bouncing on the steps as by routine. Sweat glistened on my skin waiting to be singed by his tongue.
The knob twisted in my hand; tentatively I took a step inside. Ardent need hammered in my chest for his embrace, my body would be taut and wrung like a knotted cord until I could see him again. "Henry!" I called, eyes roving over the place. "Here! Lilac." A grin broke on my face and I marched to the upstairs bedroom where his voice originated. He was waiting there in his bedroom, glossy toned and all relaxed ease so typical of him. He slid off his bed on seeing me, happiness shinning in his eyes. Genuine and pure like a six year-old boy and candy. I walk into his arms and let myself be held sedentary for a long while, his breath tickling my ear and his lips grazing my forehead. He didn't need to say it but I could taste the greeting in his voice, 'I missed you, Lilac!'
The earth-shattering ring of the phone shattered the peace into tiny pieces. I heaved an angry sigh, frustration evident in the growl from the back of my throat. "Give me a second!" I yanked the phone from my purse and pressed it to my ear, "Hello!" My voice reverting to the sugary-coated, sweet laced politeness I had grown accustomed to over the years unless my foul mood was beyond overcoming. "Yes, This is Blair Waldorf." I nodded though the person couldn't see it so it responded with a yes. I could Henry's eyes on my face, waiting patiently for me as I had for him and we had arrived at this moment. I clicked the phone off. "Who was it?" "Serena, she wants to know when we are going shopping for costumes for the ball!" "The ball!" He repeated glibly, "Is that anyway related to football!" A mock chuckle burst from my throat, "No! It is a dress-up party." I retorted playfully, "Would you like to come?" I injected some seriousness into my voice. His brows slackened back into the calm unreadable expression I became so accustomed to when he was pensive or depressive and sometimes I could read them. During those times he would not be very responsive to me.
"I do not know Lilac!" A dark look shrouding his face. "You have to get out of here." An underlying plea in my tone, I usually didn't beg, there were very few times that I did and achieved anything from it. His brows knit in consternation, lips pursed in a thin, mutinous line. "I will introduce you to Serena!" I breathed sultrily into his ears. A tremor rippled the surface and I felt a spurt of triumph. "You have to come Henry! How long are you going to be trapped in this island? Until hell freezes over!"
"Maybe that is what I deserve!" His face bearing a remote and shuttered expression, shoulders hunched with the weight. "The doctor said you have gotten better and that the impulses are controlled." "I know what he said!" He cut in coldly, I absorbed my pained look before it could be revealed. 'I believed in him-why didn't he!'
"If you are worried what Serena would think-don't be-she has slept with con-artists, liars, thieves and drug-addicts! Another emotionally unstable and destructive man will not upset her track record." Smiling brightly, though something did tug agonizingly at my heart because of the betrayal. Something light like a thin needle. He held his back to me and I reached out to touch, "Please Henry, We need to try." He had his shoulders squared to her then changes his stance, to gaze upon her with a question poised on the edge of his lips. "Yes, you deserve it!" An aggrieved tone despite the swell of uncertainty that came and go as it pleased. The sharp retort was ready to strike her but he swallowed it, quelled by the depth of feeling in her eyes, the retort pricked his throat like a cushion of pins and needles. "I believe that you have changed." Straight into his ear, my voice solid and sure. "You are no more John Wakefield than he is alive." My tone turns severe and he tenses due to it and comforting, endearing persona shrouds me. "Move one with your life and leave our father out of this." He turns to meet my stare and I jump with mild jubilee. The air is terse with unspoken words with bittersweet consolation. "If I do agree!" A glint in his eyes, "Can I be the fisherman from 'I know what you did last summer'!"" A faint smirk tugging at his pouty lips while his smooth, sharp features softened measurably, sloughing away the layers of his distress. I mastered a lop-sided grin. "No! You will go as Zorro." I chided, waging my finger, "I already got the costume!" Then, he pulls me into an embrace and I am momentarily stunned by the fresh intoxicating smell of him. His thumb darted out to trace my collarbone, and a sigh escapes my lips, "You will like it. We will be playing a game called clue." I am mesmerized by the melting chocolate of his beautiful orbs, "And you will help me find the murderer." His grin falters, fear drops like lead into the pit of my stomach because of it. Then he loosens, "Sure that will be fun." His reassurance lightens my heart. It was so wonderful to have a brother like him and to see him like this after the devastation her father engendered. I stand on my tiptoes to deliver a much deserved kiss to his lips, they are chapped and taste oddly salty but it the texture I much adore. "I will pick you up at six tonight."
Reluctantly breaking away from his embrace, it is like all the warmth and purity has seeped out from my bones as I readied myself to join the façade that was the upper-east side. I completely understood his hatred for pretension; I felt the revulsion congealing in my blood for a long time and until now, I had nobody I could trust my secret with. I give him a smile mingled with pleasure and gratefulness as I leave. "By the way!" He calls, the words stop me in my tracks, "It is John Junior now!" Watchfully, awaiting my reaction. I smirk indulgingly, "As you wish JJ." "Bye Blair witch project." There was no ill-intent or deliberate meanness in him, it was done for sport. "And I am looking forward to meeting that ex-boyfriend of yours. Nathanial Archibald." I stiffened, a sizzle descending my spine, an electric charge. There was a humours intonation yet I had this unsettling feeling. No, it was me. I hated the gray-eyed beauty for destroyed my heart. I could vent to Henry, instead I plastered a fake, joyful smile. "He prefers Nate. Nathanial is too formal and we are not going out anymore." The last part was difficult to say the least. "I understand!" Nodded meaningfully, his eyes bearing his strength into mine. "Bye Henry." I mummer, louder and higher than I originally intended. Then I leave. As the air of Harper's island tickles my nostrils and cools my face, I cannot help but allow a small smile to flit across my face as I inhale deeply the smell of freedom, the life of unrestricted living off the land without the soft silks and decorum. I brace my face to the winds and command the spirits of the land to take my soul into their favour so I may experience the emancipation of nature to do as the winds tell me.
I laugh giddily, excitement trickling into my veins.
I mimicked the voice of the dirty harlot of gossip and deceit, praying blindly that they would see urge to strike her down and rid the world of her putrid slurs of ruin.
"Hey Upper-east siders. Welcome to the annual mask ball. They are all covered tonight, The serial daters, the serial-kissers, the serial-lovers and the serial-womanizers. However, this special starry night, to satisfy your fiendish delight-we have a serial-murderer." Then a wild, obscure array of giggles flooded from her lips to dance with the pounding of the waves.
Hello, loved Henry. He was just too delicious with the insane status and all. Anyway, want more then five reviews will do. Was extremely disappointed when he died. Wished the Abby to hell. Anyway, xoxo Reviews mean love.