Chapter 4 To Her Grave

Charles didn't come the next day, or the day after that. I thought that was it and that he had given up.

Violent banging on my door woke me up in the dead of the morning on the fourth day. Yes, someone was banging on my door like they wanted to push it down. The metal door was rattling and clanging, while my house shook as if an earthquake had hit it.

Before I could even open the door, someone slammed their foot into the metal and forced it open. The door crashed to the ground with a sickening thud and kicked up a cloud of dust.

Charles was at the entrance, while four men in black stood behind him. The blinding beam from his flashlight rammed into my face, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut in response.

"It's been three days." His voice was raspy, and there was an unhinged look in his eyes. The man looked like he'd lost sleep for days. "I've given you more than enough time. Where is Queenie?"

Rachel peeked her head from behind Charles, but there was no gloating grin on her face this time. She had the face of someone dragged down by an illness, and her lips were turning white. Her condition must have flared up again.

I noticed the look in her eyes. It was the same look someone would have when they were sure about an outcome. She knew Charles would do anything for her.

"She's dead," I repeated like a broken recorder.

Charles barged into my room and clenched my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Rachel needs that bone marrow right now. Tell me where she is, or my men will scour this whole town for her, even if we have to leave no stone unturned!"

"Go ahead. Maybe consider digging as well," I answered.

He let go of me and stepped back. Then, he ordered his men, "Search the place. Leave no room untouched."

The men spread out and rummaged through every single belonging I had, turning every drawer upside down and shaking every box for a clue.

The air was filled with the shattering of plates and the groans of my cabinets as they were shoved to the ground with a clatter. I heard my sister's picture frame falling to the ground with a hard thud, but I didn't move.

I remained in the living room, watching Charles go ahead with his choice.

He approached my sister's room and peeked inside. There was no one there. The only things standing inside were a wooden bed, an old cabinet, and fluttering curtains. Gusts of wind drew them back, and silvery moonlight spilled onto the empty bed.

Charles didn't move from his spot.

"She's not here," I said.

That lit something underneath Charles. He spun and darted right up to me. Then, the ingrate violently yanked me up by my collar.

My legs left solid ground, and the tightening collar was suffocating me. Charles shoved me against a wall, and the back of my head hit the hard structure with a thud.

"Where is she?" he roared, and I thought the roof would be blown off.

"Let me go…" The world around me was turning black. Ah, was this how it felt like, Queenie?

"I asked you a question!"

Behind him, Rachel was uttering a "Stop it, Charles" in a voice only mosquitoes thought was booming. The wretched, insincere, monster of a woman didn't even move a step closer.

Charles' hands were trembling, but not because of guilt. It was because of panic. Rachel's body was crumbling. He needed my sister's bone marrow right now. He thought my sister was hiding, and that her choice to hide would cost Rachel her life.

Rachel's death was not something he would accept. My sister was chopped liver, though.

Something cold coursed through my veins. My hatred was a festering thing, boiling and threatening to spill over. However, a wave of calm clarity washed over me before I could give in to the temptation of bashing his head right in.

I squeezed my voice out with all the strength I had left. "Let go. I'll lead the way."

He loosened his grip but didn't let go completely. "You're not lying?"

"Yes." I coughed as blood trickled down the corners of my lips. "I'll take you to Queenie."

He stared into my eyes for an uncomfortably long moment, then he let go. My knees hit the ground first, shards of shattered bowls tearing small gashes in my flesh. Blood streamed down my calves, but I pushed myself up and wiped the corners of my lips.

"Come on."

The tension in Charles' face eased up, and Rachel smiled.

"Where is she?"

"Under the tree on the hill behind the town."

"What's she doing there?"

"Waiting for someone."

Charles frowned but didn't press for more answers. He walked away, while Rachel followed him.

I was dead last in the procession. We passed through the yard and stepped onto the dirt road leading to the hill.

The winds were howling tonight, and my sister's favorite tree had nearly gone bald. Empty branches were extending themselves toward the sky. From afar, the tree resembled a withered person with their arms open.

My sister's final resting place sat underneath that tree. The soil had dried up, and blades of grass were peeking out of the cracks. The grave was nothing more than a small pile of stones I'd gathered.

There was no gravestone for her, either. Only a solitary piece of wood stood before her grave.

The line on it read, "Here lies Queenie Shayman."

Charles stopped in front of the grave, staring at the simple decoration. Then, he turned to me. "What's this supposed to be?" His voice was flat and calm, but his hands were shaking.

Rachel was standing a few steps behind him. Her sweet smile was nowhere to be seen.

I approached the grave and crouched to remove some of the weeds. "You wanted to see Queenie."

Then, I stood up and turned around.

My eyes were on Charles, my face blank. I didn't push my hair away even when the wind blew it into my face. I kept staring at him as I said, "Here she is."