Only a few miles away, a young man cursed under his breath while his right
hand fumbled with his apartment's keys while the other was trying to keep
grasp of bills, junk mail and perhaps a lottery notification with a picture
of Mr. McMann telling him he's just won one million dollars.
A couple inches shy of six feet and not exactly agile in nature, he managed to bumble his way through the doorway and stand in the sea of the single male syndrome: mess and pride. Stubborn enough to refuse hiring a cleaning lady at his mother's bequest, Benjamin Harris suddenly regretted throwing a stag party for his best friend the previous night. Still slightly hung over, the strewn pizza boxes, beer bottles and confetti only made his oncoming headache worsen. Kicking the mess aside, he lay the mail on the newly furnished and newly scratched wooden table and hobbled towards his bedroom, not meaning to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror but doing so nonetheless.
If there was one insult that had stuck to him from the childhood playground beatings to manhood, it was the phrase "pretty boy". With deep summer blue eyes and somber chocolate hair with frosted blonde tips, he was the envy of his friends and the mistake of his ex-girlfriends. His build was rangy, hinted of tough in the muscles of the forearms showing under the rolled up sleeves of his work shirt. His face was the kicker however; Ben, no matter how hard he tried, was not one to pick fights with his angelic face and dimples.
He groaned as he saw the flashing red light on his answering machine. He knew who at least one of the two callers would be.
"Benny." cooed a raspy feminine voice, " Benny, I know you're screening. Just pick up. Please? You're not going to make me beg, are you Benny? Listen, Wednesday evening was just a big misunderstanding, we can work this out. Oh, don't be pigheaded, you know very well this has been quite the difficult time in my life. The vet's diagnosed Tiffy with depression and now it's gotten so bad she won't even play with her favourite chew toy. I've been loaded down with Geri's surprise party, I did tell you her mother asked me to coordinate, right? .Oh, don't be such a.such a boy! Call me! Benny..we are still together right? I mean, we have to keep up ap-"
One hand at his temple and the other on the forward button, Benjamin couldn't help but wince everytime his ex-girlfriend teased him with his pet name. He released the button and sat back down.
"Ben, you son of a bitch. You went to work. You're a braver man than the rest of us. Thanks for the party, it was..damnit, it was my last sense of freedom altogether."
Benjamin couldn't help but laugh.
"Anyways, Eric, Matt and I were thinking of one last night at Teddy's. You in? Drinks on me. You know the number, you cheap bastard."
There was a click and the machine whirred to a halt.
Ben was grateful for the moment of silence as he managed to walk to this bathroom cabinet and down an aspirin for his throbbing head.
A month after his twenty-first birthday, he had packed up and moved away from his roots in South Carolina to be as far away from his former life as possible. He had managed to stay in touch with his family and the best of his friends, but still successfully balanced his social life here in Washington. His father had been part horticulturist, part business man as he, his wife and two children had lived a very comfortable life in Charleston. Alfred and Rena Harris were at the top of every guest list for VIP parties, social events and charitable causes. Unlike his female twin, Ben shied away from the spotlight that shone so magnificently on the Harris's back in that hometown. With her debutante style but modern wit, Christine had always acted as Ben's most loyal companion through childhood and his painful shyness. Expectedly, however, their paths changed around the adolescent years when Christine discovered boys and Ben discovered he had a voice of his own and acquired many other friends.
But it still had been Christine who had stuck around and soothed Ben back to sleep whenever he had suffered from another nightmare, which happened frequently and often, painfully. It had been their little secret since it only seemed to happen when it was just the two of them, alone. The earliest memory Ben had of it was when he was only five years old and to this day it could remember it vividly. How the August wind had cooled the air, blowing dark clouds across the already ash brimmed sky. How the air smelled like rain, as it always seemed to do no matter where you went in South Carolina. Somehow, the air seemed even more damp that afternoon, as if it was a mist of sorrow or mourning, a heavy fog of sadness.
Rena Harris had put down both her children for their daily nap and had stepped out of the room to have a cigarette. Closing the old nursery door, she left Christine and Benjamin in darkness. While the young girl dreamed of fairy princesses and horses, Ben's dreams, like the room, began to fade into the black. He tried to focus back to his adventurous reveries but failed, as the images blurred together until he could make out vague shapes.
He saw rain. He felt rain. It was as if the line of reality and dreamlike apparition had blended together as Ben shivered in his sleep at the chill in the air. He could see where he was, a side road from his nursery school. Ever the vacant street with the thanks of modern day vehicles. Charleston, afterall, was an old town, though rich in culture and appearance. Along the roadside the trees appeared more yellow than green, and touches of bright flame and scarlet were beginning to surface. Nothing out of the ordinary, until he saw her.
As her silvery blond hair whipped in the wind, the slender woman scolded herself for not pinning her tresses at the nape of her neck. She was new to Charleston and if her car hadn't broken down 2 miles ago, she would have most likely been at Ashley's house by now. She wrapped her arms around her and continued walking. Suddenly, as if the great fates had pulled the plug, the wind eased down to absolute stillness. The woman suddenly wished it hadn't as she had always feared complete silence. Complete loneliness.
As she approached a thrush, she sighed. It would've been easier if Ashley had visited her in Progress, but no, her best friend of eleven years never eased up on her bullheadedness.
The woman suddenly heard a crack of a branch and made a sharp turn. She saw no one behind her and turned back, quickly taking in a deep breath.
"Are you lost, Miss?"
His eyes were charcoal black, complimenting his hair. He wore faded denim and plaid, the markings of a farmer. His face wore a look of pretense but the woman decided to look beyond that as of now, it was not what she needed.
"My car broke down 2 miles ago. My cell doesn't seem to be working at this proximity. Would you happen to know how to get to the Evans' mansion from here?"
There was a pause and the woman knew he wasn't listening to her. He was tall, perhaps a foot taller than herself, and there seemed to be something wicked in his face.
"I think I can help you." He leered. She began to feel frightened.
"Actually, I think I'll make my way back now. But thank you anyways." As she began to walk away, she could hear his footsteps follow. When she stopped, they stopped. When she began to speed up, so did they. She soon found herself panting, out of breath but still running from someone that could only described as threatening.
Heart in throat, pulse pounding, she couldn't keep up speed and shrieked as he grabbed her about the waist and dragged her back into the thrush.
It was a vacant road, but only Benjamin heard.
Benjamin woke up crying, drenched in sweat and tears, calling out for his mother, who had made her way downstairs. Christine opened her eyes and hopped off her bed, concerned for the well-being of her brother. When born, Christine had been the older twin by 27 seconds but always acted as protector of her twin as sometimes their mother, still adrift in her own world, would seem less than competent.
Making her way over to Ben, Christine had wrapped her arms around him and tried to lull him back into his calmed, sleeping state.
"Something bad .I saw..something bad."
It would be two days later that the local police discovered Gina Fowland's raped and strangled body in the thrush, her intended visit to friend Ashley Evan's place haven taken a turn in a monstrous direction.
In present day, Ben's muscles tensed and he shivered as beads of sweat began to form on his brows. Raising his head slightly, he glared at the image he saw in the mirror, chastising himself for one of the two occurrences he hadn't been able to control.
He shook the feeling of regret and stood up straight. The past was the past. He had a wedding to attend.
A couple inches shy of six feet and not exactly agile in nature, he managed to bumble his way through the doorway and stand in the sea of the single male syndrome: mess and pride. Stubborn enough to refuse hiring a cleaning lady at his mother's bequest, Benjamin Harris suddenly regretted throwing a stag party for his best friend the previous night. Still slightly hung over, the strewn pizza boxes, beer bottles and confetti only made his oncoming headache worsen. Kicking the mess aside, he lay the mail on the newly furnished and newly scratched wooden table and hobbled towards his bedroom, not meaning to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror but doing so nonetheless.
If there was one insult that had stuck to him from the childhood playground beatings to manhood, it was the phrase "pretty boy". With deep summer blue eyes and somber chocolate hair with frosted blonde tips, he was the envy of his friends and the mistake of his ex-girlfriends. His build was rangy, hinted of tough in the muscles of the forearms showing under the rolled up sleeves of his work shirt. His face was the kicker however; Ben, no matter how hard he tried, was not one to pick fights with his angelic face and dimples.
He groaned as he saw the flashing red light on his answering machine. He knew who at least one of the two callers would be.
"Benny." cooed a raspy feminine voice, " Benny, I know you're screening. Just pick up. Please? You're not going to make me beg, are you Benny? Listen, Wednesday evening was just a big misunderstanding, we can work this out. Oh, don't be pigheaded, you know very well this has been quite the difficult time in my life. The vet's diagnosed Tiffy with depression and now it's gotten so bad she won't even play with her favourite chew toy. I've been loaded down with Geri's surprise party, I did tell you her mother asked me to coordinate, right? .Oh, don't be such a.such a boy! Call me! Benny..we are still together right? I mean, we have to keep up ap-"
One hand at his temple and the other on the forward button, Benjamin couldn't help but wince everytime his ex-girlfriend teased him with his pet name. He released the button and sat back down.
"Ben, you son of a bitch. You went to work. You're a braver man than the rest of us. Thanks for the party, it was..damnit, it was my last sense of freedom altogether."
Benjamin couldn't help but laugh.
"Anyways, Eric, Matt and I were thinking of one last night at Teddy's. You in? Drinks on me. You know the number, you cheap bastard."
There was a click and the machine whirred to a halt.
Ben was grateful for the moment of silence as he managed to walk to this bathroom cabinet and down an aspirin for his throbbing head.
A month after his twenty-first birthday, he had packed up and moved away from his roots in South Carolina to be as far away from his former life as possible. He had managed to stay in touch with his family and the best of his friends, but still successfully balanced his social life here in Washington. His father had been part horticulturist, part business man as he, his wife and two children had lived a very comfortable life in Charleston. Alfred and Rena Harris were at the top of every guest list for VIP parties, social events and charitable causes. Unlike his female twin, Ben shied away from the spotlight that shone so magnificently on the Harris's back in that hometown. With her debutante style but modern wit, Christine had always acted as Ben's most loyal companion through childhood and his painful shyness. Expectedly, however, their paths changed around the adolescent years when Christine discovered boys and Ben discovered he had a voice of his own and acquired many other friends.
But it still had been Christine who had stuck around and soothed Ben back to sleep whenever he had suffered from another nightmare, which happened frequently and often, painfully. It had been their little secret since it only seemed to happen when it was just the two of them, alone. The earliest memory Ben had of it was when he was only five years old and to this day it could remember it vividly. How the August wind had cooled the air, blowing dark clouds across the already ash brimmed sky. How the air smelled like rain, as it always seemed to do no matter where you went in South Carolina. Somehow, the air seemed even more damp that afternoon, as if it was a mist of sorrow or mourning, a heavy fog of sadness.
Rena Harris had put down both her children for their daily nap and had stepped out of the room to have a cigarette. Closing the old nursery door, she left Christine and Benjamin in darkness. While the young girl dreamed of fairy princesses and horses, Ben's dreams, like the room, began to fade into the black. He tried to focus back to his adventurous reveries but failed, as the images blurred together until he could make out vague shapes.
He saw rain. He felt rain. It was as if the line of reality and dreamlike apparition had blended together as Ben shivered in his sleep at the chill in the air. He could see where he was, a side road from his nursery school. Ever the vacant street with the thanks of modern day vehicles. Charleston, afterall, was an old town, though rich in culture and appearance. Along the roadside the trees appeared more yellow than green, and touches of bright flame and scarlet were beginning to surface. Nothing out of the ordinary, until he saw her.
As her silvery blond hair whipped in the wind, the slender woman scolded herself for not pinning her tresses at the nape of her neck. She was new to Charleston and if her car hadn't broken down 2 miles ago, she would have most likely been at Ashley's house by now. She wrapped her arms around her and continued walking. Suddenly, as if the great fates had pulled the plug, the wind eased down to absolute stillness. The woman suddenly wished it hadn't as she had always feared complete silence. Complete loneliness.
As she approached a thrush, she sighed. It would've been easier if Ashley had visited her in Progress, but no, her best friend of eleven years never eased up on her bullheadedness.
The woman suddenly heard a crack of a branch and made a sharp turn. She saw no one behind her and turned back, quickly taking in a deep breath.
"Are you lost, Miss?"
His eyes were charcoal black, complimenting his hair. He wore faded denim and plaid, the markings of a farmer. His face wore a look of pretense but the woman decided to look beyond that as of now, it was not what she needed.
"My car broke down 2 miles ago. My cell doesn't seem to be working at this proximity. Would you happen to know how to get to the Evans' mansion from here?"
There was a pause and the woman knew he wasn't listening to her. He was tall, perhaps a foot taller than herself, and there seemed to be something wicked in his face.
"I think I can help you." He leered. She began to feel frightened.
"Actually, I think I'll make my way back now. But thank you anyways." As she began to walk away, she could hear his footsteps follow. When she stopped, they stopped. When she began to speed up, so did they. She soon found herself panting, out of breath but still running from someone that could only described as threatening.
Heart in throat, pulse pounding, she couldn't keep up speed and shrieked as he grabbed her about the waist and dragged her back into the thrush.
It was a vacant road, but only Benjamin heard.
Benjamin woke up crying, drenched in sweat and tears, calling out for his mother, who had made her way downstairs. Christine opened her eyes and hopped off her bed, concerned for the well-being of her brother. When born, Christine had been the older twin by 27 seconds but always acted as protector of her twin as sometimes their mother, still adrift in her own world, would seem less than competent.
Making her way over to Ben, Christine had wrapped her arms around him and tried to lull him back into his calmed, sleeping state.
"Something bad .I saw..something bad."
It would be two days later that the local police discovered Gina Fowland's raped and strangled body in the thrush, her intended visit to friend Ashley Evan's place haven taken a turn in a monstrous direction.
In present day, Ben's muscles tensed and he shivered as beads of sweat began to form on his brows. Raising his head slightly, he glared at the image he saw in the mirror, chastising himself for one of the two occurrences he hadn't been able to control.
He shook the feeling of regret and stood up straight. The past was the past. He had a wedding to attend.