The Mysterious 'Ship

Chapter 9: Freedom

Lincoln had suffered their meddling for the last time. Sure, it was partly his fault for believing that this time would be different, that they knew what they were doing.

But if they were telling the truth, then it made it all the worse. They'd planned for him to get his ass knocked out right in front of their own house. Had they been in cahoots with Ronnie-Anne from the start, just waiting for this chance to humiliate him? Was Ronnie-Anne a willing participant, or had she been manipulated as well?

Of course not, he was just being paranoid, Lincoln told himself. Then Ronnie-Anne cleared that suspicion up when they finally got on good terms.

Still, their meddling had to be fixed, and now. He'd read up on black eyes and how dangerous getting punched in the face could actually be after Ronnie-Anne asked if he was really okay with what happened given what she knew due to her mother's job, and now some small part of him wanted to teach them a lesson. But it wasn't so simple. He had to make it count, to make it smart.

Not hurt.

He didn't want to hurt them.

Lincoln loved his sisters, all of them. Hurting them was the last thing on his mind.

They just had to understand there were limits, and he had to show them.

But how?

It was as he sat there in his room, his eye still twitching after all that time as it remembered the feeling of being punched, that the first inklings of the plan had popped into his mind. He'd considered it, rolled it around in his brain, but when he went to put it down on paper, he hesitated.

How could he keep his meddling sisters from finding out?

It took a few days to find the answer.

The blank pages in the back of a book! He could write his plan down there!

Of course, he realized right away this wouldn't do. There was only so much space in the book he selected, and he had much to plan out. So much to plan meant there would be too little space.

What to do, what to do?

Another idea occurred to him then.

And so, over the next few days he wrote out his ideas on notebook paper and kept it near him as he went to and from school. When he developed another part of his plan, he'd write that down in the back of the main book and destroy the paper he'd used. A few days during class he'd intentionally asked to go to the bathroom just so he could flush some shredded notes, worried that Lana might run across them if he did so at home and she checked the plumbing or went garbage diving.

He'd take no chances. Not for this plan.

When finally he'd finished plotting he decided to wait a bit to put it into action.

And when he did?

This is great!

He knew someone was following him, he could feel it. Of course, he had to act paranoid at times, and while he thought of explaining it to Clyde, the fact was if his sisters interrogated the boy he'd break in an instant.

Especially when Lori got involved.

When he'd learned about Luan's encounter with Ronnie-Anne and what "his weird ass sister" had done, a small part of him cracked up that Luan had been stuffed in a trashcan, glad to know it wasn't just him that suffered Ronnie-Anne's wrath, but only after he was certain Luan hadn't actually been hurt in the process.

But the greater part of him was happier to know his plan was working. It just needed a bit more of a push.

That was when he'd decided to lay some major bread crumbs right in the heart of girl country.

When he left the meeting, he had to force himself not to laugh. It wasn't until late that night, nearly the next morning, that he allowed himself to crack up and laugh about what was happening.

Now he was sure that his sisters would be listening in.

He knew it had been Luan who'd heard him first. He'd seen her shoes through the crack under his door. Those flowers on them were too hard to miss.

But then, things started taking a different direction, one he'd not planned for.

He'd only noticed it when Luan's wardrobe changed. You couldn't miss that no matter how blind you were. Why she changed it he hadn't a clue, but for some reason he couldn't help but wonder if it was connected to his plan. He watched his other sisters for any similar signs, but for the life of him he couldn't find any.

When he'd heard someone in the vents he continued exactly as the plan demanded. He wondered who it was as he went. Was it Luna? Lynn? It couldn't be Lori or Leni, could it? Maybe it was Lola or Lana? It wasn't Lucy, she'd not make such a racket.

But with worry for Luan and her recent strange behavior he'd tried taking time from his plot to talk with her, but for some reason she was avoiding him. And there was that time in the kitchen when she jumped clear up onto the counter out of surprise, too.

And then he began to wonder; was something else going on with Luan that wasn't connected to his plot at all? Sure, she'd said something about those books she was reading, but something still niggled at Lincoln's mind, like that wasn't really what was wrong.

Lincoln tried chalking it up to guilt over their meddling, but with it only being Luan? Was that even possible?

Don't think like that!

He'd wanted to ask her while they were caught up in the attic together, but when she looked back at him, the crazy look in her eyes made him drop that idea. Whatever he was, he wasn't stupid. He was locked in the attic with his sister who didn't seem the most stable she'd ever been at that moment.

When she asked him about this supposed secret crush, he'd figured to just keep going along with it if only to humor her.

And it seemed to work. Suddenly she was no longer crazy, and in its place she was laughing again. This brought a feeling of warmth to Lincoln.

But that warmth soon vanished. Luan seemed only to get worse by the next day.

Why?

It wasn't until he'd heard yet another eavesdropper and laid yet another clue that, after looking under and seeing his sister Luan flee from his door in what could only be terror, he came to the startling conclusion.

Whatever had been eating at her, he was the cause of it.

It occurred to him as he opened the door; had it been only Luan all this time? He'd been sure, so sure, that it was all his sisters. But what if it wasn't? What if Luan was the only one who'd taken the bait and, for some reason, took it badly?

And why would she take it badly, he wondered as he stood outside her bedroom door? His hand was poised to knock, but he couldn't figure out what to say or why it would be bothering her like this in the first place.

Whatever it was, however, he knew what he had to do.

His plan had to come to an end.

"Don't worry, I'll stay here and make sure she's okay," Lincoln said to his father when he'd reached the bottom of the stairs.

His mother and father exchanged looks, sighed. "Thank you, Lincoln," Rita said as she hugged her son. "She really does have a wonderful little brother looking out for her."

Lincoln wasn't so sure of that anymore. He was certain, however, that whatever was eating at her, it was because of him. Luna remarked that it must be because of those books that Luan had been reading, and their mother even suggested they should drop said books off on their way to the restaurant, but Lincoln didn't believe it.

For some reason, he knew it was because of him.

It had to be.

And so, after a quick trip back to his room to grab the book that held the plans he'd written out as proof, he took one huge, deep breath and walked slowly toward Luan's and Luna's bedroom door, raised his fist when he'd reached the portal, and knocked.

"Hey, Luan?" he waited for a moment, took another breath. "You awake in there?"

He was almost about to believe she was asleep when the sound of gentle yet hurried footsteps reached his ears. The bed creaked ever so quietly then, after another moment and just as he was about to call out again Luan said, "Yeah, I'm up."

"Can we talk? I have," he sighed to himself, looked at the book in his hand, "something important I need to tell you."

It took a bit longer than he expected, but she called out to him after a moment. "Come in."

That was it? Just, "Come in"?

He didn't look a gift horse in the mouth, though. Instead, he turned the knob, opened the door, and saw her.

She really didn't look too well.

Luan was huddled up in her bed, her back to the wall. Though she tried to look normal, it really wasn't working. One hand, the right, sat behind her back while the other seemed to suffer tremors for some reason. He didn't mean to, but he was sure she saw him cringe at the sight; his normally happy, funny, beautiful older sister had been turned into a shivering, shaking waif, her eyes following him no matter where he went. And why?

It was all because of him.

He was certain of that.

Setting aside the feeling in the air, a feeling he'd never felt before in his life, Lincoln gulped, closed the door behind him and stood there in the middle of the room for a moment before asking, "Can I sit down? I need to tell you something. About that crush of mine."

Luan noticeably clamped up. Her entire body closed in on itself and he knew, knew now it was because of him she was like this. There was no mistaking it.

He'd screwed up.

Of course I did, he cursed himself mentally, your plans always fail, it's like a requirement in your life!

When she didn't make a move, didn't say anything, he thought it was safe to sit down at the opposite end of her bed. When he did so, she didn't retreat, didn't make any move save for the small tremors he'd noticed earlier.

Looking down at the book, Lincoln bit his lip, wondered where to start, and decided to just go with the flow.

"So, you know how you and Lori and Leni and, well, everyone," he kept himself calm and watched Luan intently. He hoped she wouldn't be too angry with him now, "Wouldn't stop meddling in my life? How the last time you did, I got my clock cleaned out front by Ronnie-Anne?"

She didn't make a move. Was she even listening, he wondered?

But he continued.

"See, after that, I'd kind of gotten... well... angry. I didn't like having to constantly hide what was going on in my life just because I was afraid you'd all start meddling," he paused, sighed. "So, after my eye healed, I got to thinking," when she didn't say anything he looked at the book, chewed his lip for a moment, then continued. "I wanted you all to learn a lesson, so I figured I'd give you all something to meddle in, and when you got into it, I'd reveal the truth and you all would back off after we had a good laugh."

Luan didn't say anything, but he sure she was listening. With the way she was looking at him, there was no mistaking it.

"So I… well… I-" he hated to admit he lied. But he steeled himself, looked at her one more time as he opened the book, and leaned in to show her what he'd written down.

It was the last mistake of his life.

Luan let loose an animalistic scream, the hand behind her whipping out and driving the pen it held into Lincoln's shoulder. He screamed and tried pulling away, but Luan was too wild, too driven. Before he knew it, she had pushed them both onto the floor, his book bouncing and sliding away in a heap near the door, and while part of him tried to protect himself and received several stab wounds to his already injured arm for his troubles, the other part tried desperately to reach her and stop this madness.

He'd never thought it'd have these consequences.

"Luan!" her name was the only intelligible thing he'd managed to scream, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't stop her, couldn't fight her. That would mean hurting her, and he'd done too much of that already! So in desperation he did the only thing he thought would get through to her.

With his only good arm, he reached up as she leaned in to stab him in the torso now and grabbed her around the neck, hooked his arm and pulled her down onto him.

Hugged her.

Pleaded with her.

"Stop, please!" he gasped.

In reply, she tried to pull away, wrestled as hard as she could, and failed.

She wasn't listening.

No, instead Lincoln had realized something else as Luan went perfectly still.

His back was unprotected.

Lincoln did his best, begged Luan to stop while the pen drove itself once, twice, thrice and more besides into his back, but it wasn't enough.

And after a single minute, his world finally went black.


Luan sat there, shivering. The monster, her brother, had been slain. He didn't get to trick her into lowering her guard, didn't get to hurt her, not like he'd planned to. She was too quick for him, too prepared.

He'd died with his arms wrapped around her. Probably just wanted to fulfill his sick fantasy of feeling her up before he went!

Shaking, Luan wrested his arm from around her neck and slid out of his grip. When his body came to rest on the floor in the veritable lake of his blood, she looked from his face to the walls, then the floor, and finally the bed. Everything was streaked or speckled with blood and she was sure not a strip of hers' and Luna's bedroom was untouched.

Then she looked back to his face and saw it.

Not just physical pain, but something else.

Slowly, her mind caught up with her. She looked at the pen, dropped it when she realized that was her brother's blood, his flesh on it. Shaking, shivering, she looked around the room, everything so still you could hear Charles barking off in the distance. Even Walt was tweeting up a storm downstairs.

Finally, she looked at the book on the floor and laughed.

"He th-thought he'd fool me," she giggled nervously as she wiped her face and smeared some blood across its expanse. "S-sorry Lincoln, I'm too s-smart f-for that!"

But as she looked around the room, something hit her; what would she tell her family?

It looked like she just murdered her brother!

Not… not defended herself.

After all, it was self defense. She just had to prove it!

How, though?

"The trophies!" she squeaked, remembering earlier. Wobbling and shaking as she got up, Luan made her way to the door, leaving bloody socked footprints along the floor as she walked toward Lincoln's room. "I j-just have to f-find them and…" she paused completely for a moment, then gulped.

Why was she crying?

She forced herself onward after a moment and stumbled into his room which she began ransacking immediately. Top to bottom she went, pulled everything out, looked all over, scoured every last inch.

Nothing.

She shook her head. "Maybe downstairs?"

When she reached the ground floor she noticed some of the pets huddled nearby looking at her.

Why?

She ignored them and walked into the dining room then the kitchen and into the basement where she started looking around, wondering where he might have hid her things. She figured anywhere else was out for obvious reasons, but now that she thought about it, where the heck would he hide anything?

Then, she saw something.

Some laundry sitting on the washer and dryer.

And some familiar things in one of the piles.

When she walked over and inspected it, she realized finally what seemed peculiar about a few articles in the stack.

As she held up a pair of her panties, her head twitched, turned at an odd angle. "Why would he wash them?" she didn't know what the feeling was in her stomach, but for some reason?

She hated it.

Luan held her panties out in front of her, looked at the stack. All the missing ones were there, bras too. Looking back at the ones in her hands, she started for the stairs, stumbled near the middle, hit her shin and yelped.

And her breathing hitched.

"No."

Her entire body began shaking violently. "No," she said louder now. "H-he," but she couldn't finish her thought.

Luan burst up the stairs, heedless of any injury she might do herself. When she reached the kitchen she threw herself onto the floor, splayed her fingers out. She forced the vomit in her stomach to remain there, but only just.

"No, no, please, no, no," she shuddered, convulsed. She knew she did the right thing, so what was wrong? What was happening to her now?

The book!

He was going to show her it, show her how nasty his plot was!

That had to be it!

Luan couldn't run, she could barely stumble along as she crawled up the stairs, a trail of her brother's blood left in her wake as she went. When she reached her room again and saw his corpse Luan fought the urge to go and hug him. To cry over him.

He didn't deserve it! No way!

Not that monster!

Then the book caught her eye, sitting there on the floor between her and Lincoln. Charles came in and whimpered at the sight of Lincoln on the floor, then went over and licked him.

Luan ignored this as she reached for the book and opened it. At first it was just pages, nothing special, but then she flipped to the back, wondered if he might have left something inside.

And then she saw it.

She stared wordlessly, comprehending yet not comprehending what was written there. Noted the list of eight articles and who, or rather what,they referred to. She looked at Charles and zeroed in on what she was looking for.

Then her brother again.

The book once more.

Remembered her video camera.

Facing her bed, as usual.

Then her brother.

And when had she last checked it?

The screaming frightened Charles so bad he dashed from the room while Luan huddled against the wall, the book dropped and left to rest in the pooled blood.

After a moment, she started vomiting, unable to hold it in any longer. After she'd emptied her entire stomach she whined, cried and begged for it all to be a dream.

"Lincoln!" she screamed again, crawling over to him, bending over his lifeless corpse. "Lincoln, talk to me, please!" she whimpered as she shook him. "Come on, idiot! Dork! Yutz! Get up, hahaha! The prank was good, you got me! Really learned my lesson, so please Lincoln, wake up!" she started shaking him violently now. "Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up!"

Finally, she stopped. Pulled his body close, sniveled, hugged and rocked him, and remembered what he'd tried to do.

Just before she killed him.

He was trying to hug her, and she killed her little brother!

"Lincoln," she didn't know how long she'd sat there, cradling and rocking him. But she could feel something on her lips, wiped off her fingers on the last clean spot of her shirt then reached up and touched them.

What?

She pulled her fingers back, noticed the blood on them. She'd wiped them off though, right?

She looked down then, noticed several lip prints on his face.

"Wh-what the hell?" she didn't remember kissing him!

Had she done that earlier?

When?

"Help me," she choked. She couldn't recall planting those kisses on her brother's face, couldn't remember stabbing him over and over and over and over!

No, she could remember that.

She wished she couldn't though.

"Help!" Luan screamed, louder than she ever thought possible. "Help my brother! Please, somebody!" dashing from the room, she ran through the hall, to the stairs...

And slipped.