 The first one was in my cereal. I was sprawled on the couch, absentmindedly chewing a mouthful of stale frosted flakes, when I suddenly bit down on something hard. My stomach lurched. Was it a rock? A piece of plastic? I spat it out and looked at it. There, glistening in my hand, was a small white tooth. A wave of nausea sent me dashing to my toilet. After a few painful minutes of dry heaving, I was in the kitchen sifting through the box of cereal, looking to see if there were any other disgusting surprises waiting inside for me. I didn't find any, but that didn't stop me from throwing the box in the garbage. I considered calling the company's number and screaming at a customer service rep, but honestly I couldn't be bothered. I ended up resuming my morning routine and vowing never to eat a Kellogg's product again. However, that was far from the end of it. Over the next week, I began finding more and more teeth. A molar nestled in the back of my medicine cabinet. A chipped white incisor under my bed. My mind reeled at the insanity of it all. It was a relatively new apartment. Had they been there from the very start? No, that didn't explain the one in the cereal. Despite my numerous attempts to rationalize the situation, I eventually had to admit what was happening. Someone was putting them in my apartment. The thought caused an electric burst of dread in my chest, not just from my current disturbing situation. But because of my past, you see, almost nine years ago to the day, my family was devastated by the loss of my sister Julie. After a long arduous investigation that turned up no body, no weapon, and no suspects, the police eventually concluded that she'd simply gotten lost in the woods. Despite that, my young mind remained convinced that some boogie man had taken her. I spent the rest of my childhood terrified of the day the man who took her came back to finish the job. Eventually, with the help of a little counseling and more than a little booze, I put it all behind me. But with each new tooth I found, I felt that fear returning, settling back in its place like an old friend. Needless to say, I immediately called the police. They collected the teeth for testing. About six or seven and strongly suggested I get the locks changed. I immediately called my landlord to have him do just that, but was greeted by his wife instead. Uh, hey, I said awkwardly. I'm Alex, one of Donnie's tenants. Is he there? Her voice was harried and tired. I can answer any of your questions. I've been handling everything while he recovers. Recovers? What happened to him? Well, she said, dragging out the word. There was an incident last week. He was mugged on his way to his car. I brought a hand to my mouth. Jesus, it will be okay, right? He's got a mild concussion, but he should be fine. I felt a burning in my chest and realized I'd been holding my breath. I let it out but still felt a sense of unease. Donnie had been attacked last week. Exactly when I'd found the first tooth, I had an awful thought and asked her a question on a hunch. Can you indulge me for a second? Was a master key one of the things that were stolen? No, of course not. She paused. When she spoke again, it was with less conviction. I don't believe so. If you don't mind, can you please double check with him? She obliged and came back a few minutes later, relaying Donnie's message. He says yes. He may have had a copy of the master key at the time. Why? Did you have a break in? I told her the situation and she agreed to send someone over to change the locks as soon as possible. By the end of the day, I had a shiny new keypad on my door. It did wonders for my state of mind, but the whole ordeal still left a black cloud of dread that persisted over the next few days. Had someone stolen a master key just a break into my apartment? The thought made my skin erupt into goosebumps. In an effort to shake off the constant anxiety, I ordered a few motion detectors online. When they finally arrived, I remember thinking the box felt lighter than it should have been. Unfortunately, I didn't think anything of it and opened it up. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found inside. Two severed ears sat in the box, browned from decomposition. My stomach shifted violently, and I dropped the box in disgust. I sunk to the floor and stared at it, trying and failing to decipher why on earth this was happening to me. The cops were there in minutes, snapping pictures and asking a barrage of seemingly never-ending questions. I was eventually pulled aside by the lead detective, a dark-haired man in a tweed jacket. He had an absurdly gravelly voice that sounded the way sandpaper feels. We're gonna need to search the apartment for any sign of who's been harassing you. Are there any relatives you can stay with for the night? Yeah, I said shakily. My parents lived down by the city. I can stay with them. He frowned. Is there anyone a little closer in case we need to ask you some questions? I hesitated. Well, I guess my sister is just a half hour away. I'll give her a call. I was hoping I could get through this without having to contact Luca, but it seemed I didn't have a choice. The end of my relationship with my big sister hadn't been loud or flashy. There was no massive argument that drove us apart forever. There was just the quiet, unspoken agreement that we didn't need to be in each other's lives. Despite all this, I eventually found myself on Luca's front porch overnight bag in hand. I winced when she opened the door. Luca and Julie had been twins, you see, and even after nine years I couldn't look at my sister without being taken back to that day. When she saw me, she looked puzzled before quickly replacing it with a sort of strained excitement. Oh my god, Xander, what a… she trailed off, wringing her hands together. How have you been? I've been better, actually. I said riley. I tried calling, but yeah, I got a new phone. The silence hung heavy between us. I felt like I should have been offended that she hadn't bothered to tell me, but I honestly wasn't. Listen, I'm sorry if we're just showing up, but some things happened. My apartment's been broken into. I left out the more colorful details of the story, not wanting to freak her out. Now, looking back, maybe she should have been. Oh my god, were you hurt? No, it happened while I was gone. Either that or while I was sleeping, I thought to myself. I know it's short notice, but do you think if it's not too much trouble? She smiled and rolled her eyes. Yes, Xander, you can stay. I smiled and followed Luca inside. She set me up in her guest room, telling me I could stay as long as I needed. After I was settled, she plopped down out of the bed next to me with two Bud lights holding one out to me like a peace offering. For the nerves, she said, I happily accepted one drink turned to two and two turned to three. And eventually we were both pleasantly buzzed and talking with an ease that I never thought would have been possible. We laughed and joked and just generally caught each other up on what had happened after we'd last spoken about four years ago by my count. However, the conversation eventually ended up where it always did. Julie. God, you're just like her. I said, well, duh, she said grinning, we're twins. It's not just that. It's everything. The way you talk, the way you carry yourself. I smiled and nodded at her dice earrings, flashy and red, even your weirdo fashion sense. She punched me playfully and gazed out the window. Yeah, I see her every time I look in the mirror. She sniffed the month she went missing. I'd wash my hands with my eyes closed just so I didn't have to see myself in the bathroom mirror. How stupid is that? I realized her eyes were shiny with tears and I laced our fingers together. Not at all. I said, everyone said it'd get better, but it never did. It's been nearly a decade, and I still just want her back. She took in a shaky breath and I slowly realized it was from fear, not grief. And the worst part is, I think he's back. I snapped to attention. The mysterious he she was referring to needed no explanation. Our parents dismissed it as nonsense. But my sister and I had never quite let go of the suspicion that Julie's disappearance had been more than an accident. Why? What happened? She needed one hand and the other nervously. About a week ago, I went on a spa day with a friend from work. After we'd gone our separate ways, I caught the bus back home. A few stops before mine. This guy gets on stained dress shirt, scraggly hair. I smelled the BO on him from five feet away. There's no empty seats, so he asks in a mumble to sit with me. I start making up an excuse, but he just plops down next to me anyway. Everything's fine for a few minutes, but he starts rambling to himself. I was about to put my headphones in when I hear my name, like my full name. I'm afraid asking the driver to stop the bus might make the guy more agitated. So I decide to just wait for the next stop. Meanwhile, the guys going on and on about how it's not his fault and how he didn't mean to do it to her. When the bus finally stops, I quickly get up and start scooting past him. I'm almost out when he grabs my arm. I pull and pull, but his arm is like a vice. Luca rubbed her arm absentmindedly, eyes glassy, brow furrowed. He looks at me with big bloodshot red eyes and says, don't worry, I'll make this right. Then he finally finally lets me go and I stumble off the bus. I still remember the way he stared at me as it drove away. The tears were back in her eyes now. I can't stop worrying about it. She said, I can't get it out of my head. I opened my mouth to speak. But there was nothing to say. The boogeyman who'd haunted our childhood was finally back ready to finish the job. He'd started nine years ago. In the end, I just hugged her and she hugged me back. It was the last normal moment we'd spend together before she flipped my world upside down. What if he breaks in? What if he carves me up the way he did her? It took a moment. But when I did, I broke into a cold sweat. Carved up. Was Julie carved up? Her eyes flashed like she'd suddenly realized something. Yeah. I mean, maybe. I hope not. Her body was never found. How'd you know she was carved up? She blinked. I just assumed it. She said a little too quickly. How else would he have killed her, right? I stared at my sister, studying her face carefully. Even after all this time, I still knew when she was lying. He could have done it lots of ways. I said sharply, how'd you know that? She held my gaze and for a second I considered giving up. But something in her seemed to deflate and she came clean. Luca spoke quietly, barely audible over the roar of the fan. They found her body. The shock made me nearly drop my bottle. No. When? A few years ago. No, that can't be possible. Why didn't the police release that? They didn't want to tip their hand. They were hoping to catch the killer coming back to the dump site. Disbelief had seized my lungs, making it impossible to speak. I'd spent years agonizing over what happened to my sister and Luca had known the whole time. I didn't want to make you upset. She said quickly, I promise it was for your own good. Oh, spare me the big sister bullshit. You lost that right when you decided to keep this from me. I turned away from her instead staring out the window into the night sky. She walked toward the door inside. I've got the late shift tonight. I'll be back in a few hours. Julie's file is in the drawer in my room if you want to read it. I'm sorry. I continued to stare out the window and she walked out, her footsteps fading in the distance. I knew I'd been harsh, but my blood was still hot with indignation. After I heard the door open and shut, I went and got the file she mentioned, a manila folder with a few simple documents inside. What else had she kept from me? I scanned the pages hungrily, not really knowing what I was looking for. I was going to give up when I spotted something in the coroner's report that made my heart drop. Extracted teeth. I read on, dread creeping through my body like an infection. Whoever killed Julie hadn't been content on just taking her life. He'd taken parts of her body as well, her teeth, her ears, and her eyes. I thought back to that first tooth. It'd been small, childlike. In an instant, I had no doubt in my mind that whoever had done this to my sister was the same one tormenting me now. I heard the door open and shut again, the sound of Luca returning. Listen, I called. I read the file and I think what's been going on with my apartment is tied to what happened to Julie. We might not be safe here. She refused to respond and I felt a stab of guilt. No matter how often it'd been of her to keep that secret from me, she was all I had left in the thought of losing another sister terrified me far more than any stalker. I'm sorry. I called getting up to meet her in the living room. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Honest. I turned the corner into the hallway and froze in my tracks. The tall, disheveled man standing at the door was not Luca. Almost as frightening as the glistening knife in his hand was the vacant look in his eyes. I would have expected rage or mania. But instead, there was just an animalistic coldness, a sort of icy determination. He was framed by a black rectangle. The door swung wide open behind him. Well, don't just leave the door open. I thought for one insane moment, you'll let out the AC. Then he took a step near me in his heavy work boots. And I broke from my trance. I spun on my heels and made a break for the door nearly tripping on my own feet. The man steps thundered behind me, getting closer. I searched wildly for an escape. I had mistakenly run deeper into the house rather than towards the back door. I'd hit a dead end any second. Finally, I spotted a bathroom. I dashed inside and swung the door shut. The lock clicked just as the man slammed into the door like a freight train. I sank to my knees as a barrage of slams and bangs began raining down on the door. However, it was heavy oak and held fast. I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking like a leaf, and began calling 911. And then the smell of gunpowder, a ringing in my ears. The door was suddenly wide open, a gaping chasm where the doorknob used to be. The man stood before me, a pistol in hand. I blinked as my mind finally registered what had happened. He'd shot off the doorknob. I just lost. I watched as he holstered the pistol and unslunged something from his back. In my terror, I hadn't noticed the satchel he'd been carrying. He began rummaging through the bag with a sort of grim determination, a carpenter looking for the right tool. The metaphor wasn't too far off from the looks of what was inside. I felt the color drain from my face as I watched him sift through various kitchen knives and scalpels and pliers, terrible possibilities flashed before me like a magician's deck of playing cards. What was he planning to do? However, he eventually settled on a small wooden box like what you'd keep jewelry in. He held it out to me almost delicately. I looked into his eyes and I caught a glimpse of something. Was it remorse? Then he finally spoke. Although I was grateful for him breaking the nerve-wracking silence, the jumbled mess of ideas that poured from his mouth did little to shed light on what was happening. I just stared at him, trying to make sense of the incoherent mess of nouns and verbs. However, after a while, I began noticing some repeats. Words like sorry and forgive were very common. I also noticed phrases like I saw wrong and wrong one. Seemingly noticing my confusion, he paused. He took a deep breath and said simply one word, atonement. I wanted to slap the box away. I wanted to throw it into the deepest darkest pit in the world and run as far from it as possible. But I knew the best way to not end up with a knife in the gut was to do what he said. I picked up the box and reluctantly opened it. Inside were two white lumps the size and texture of rotten eggs. I might even have been able to pretend they were if it weren't for the dark black pupils that dotted each of their centers. The man looked at me expectantly and I slowly stretched my face into what I desperately hoped passed as a pleased smile. Childlike satisfaction color the man's face like a toddler getting a gold star. He put his knife back in the bag zipped it and stood up. I was feeling my heart rate slow when the man turned around slowly. I'll be better from now on. He said, I'll do better. And then he disappeared into the hallway the stomps of his work boots fading into the quiet house. I felt something wet on my face a look in the mirror revealed tears streaming down it. What just happened? I noticed I was still holding that awful box the box of what was left of my sister. Did he think this would make me feel better? In some twisted way, he thought he'd been doing a good thing making things right. This explanation helped a bit. But there was still a dull twinge at the back of my mind. There was more to it than that, right? Wrong. Wrong one. I'll do better. Then I finally realized something that shattered my entire world. Luca and Julie were twins. He hadn't been sorry for killing my sister. He was sorry for killing the wrong sister. I stumbled to my feet on shaky legs and called Luca. It went straight to voicemail and I belted out a stream of curses. Luca, I screamed into the receiver, get in your car, go straight to the police station now. He's coming for you. I white knuckled the steering wheel, swerving in and out of the different lanes like a madman. Horn sounded up angrily all around me, but I barely heard them. Getting ticketed was the least of my concerns. How much of a headstart did I have on that psycho coming for Luca? Was he already there closing in on her blade in hand? I put the awful questions in a box and pushed them to the back of my mind. I turned a corner and finally caught sight of the bar where she worked, its tacky neon lights flashing in the night. I screeched to a halt in the packed parking lot, nearly scraping the truck beside me. Throwing open the thick wooden door of the building, I scanned the place for any sign of my big sister. It was Saturday night and the bar was packed with bodies screaming, dancing, and laughing. I pushed my way to the back where I found a short redhead wiping off a shot glass from behind the counter. Shouting over the drone of people, I asked, is Luca here? The girl gave me a skeptical look, probably put off by my frenzied, scattered appearance. I couldn't blame her. Who's asking? I'm her brother. It's urgent. I saw her suspicion give way to concern. I haven't seen her. She never showed up to her shift. It was like a punch in the stomach. The cops were there in minutes, although it felt like an eternity to me. By the time they'd arrived, I chewed my nail so far down it drew blood. The same gravelly voice detective from earlier stood in front of me, flanked on both sides by stone faced police officers. I relayed everything that had happened, the break in the man, the twisted present he'd given me. I tried watching his face to gauge his reaction, but his expression was unreadable. I had just finished when another officer walked up from the parking lot, turning to the detective. We just found her car, sir. No sign where she may have gone. Something grim seemed to pass between the two men, and in one terrible instant, I realized my sister might not be coming back. About a half hour later, I was squinting under the harsh fluorescent lights of the station. I sat across from the detective, whose name I now knew was Vince Severson, and stared at the photos he'd laid out for me. I scanned each picture, looking for the man who'd attacked me. I tried to conjure an image, but his face eluded me. I was on the verge of losing all hope of finding him when I revealed the last page. When I saw the man's sallow cheeks and sunken eyes, my brain immediately lit up with recognition. For a moment, I was in the bathroom again, backed against the wall, staring into the man's vacant eyes. I took a deep breath and said, that's him. He's the one who broke in. Severson narrowed his eyes. Are you sure? We don't want you throwing an innocent guy under the bus. I looked at the image again and shuddered. Yeah, that's definitely him. Who is he? He smiled, showing 22 perfectly white teeth. You know, I can't tell you that, right? It's an ongoing investigation. What if I recognize the name? It might spark a memory. I looked at him pleadingly. I was grasping at straws, and we both knew it. Sorry, son, no can do. I was going to try again when his phone began vibrating. Excuse me one minute. Severson listened intently for a few minutes, bushy eyebrows furrowed. He scribbled a few things down on a legal pad, and then turned to me. Sorry, but I'll be right back. You stay put. And then he was gone, shutting the door quietly behind him. A minute went by. Two minutes. I looked at the desk and suddenly realized something. There was no window on the door. I could look at those papers and no one would ever know. I wanted so desperately to put a name to the face of the man who terrorized my family for so long. I jumped up and began rifling through the papers, taking care to leave everything back where I'd found it. I flipped through the pages of the legal pad Severson had been writing on. It seemed like a list of the evidence they'd found at Luca's house. Size 15 boot print, approximately 10 three inch black hairs. Trace amounts of animal fur. Severson had underlined in question mark that last item apparently not knowing what to make of it. I didn't either. Luca didn't have any pets. Where would the fur have come from? I kept looking until I found a document with all the faces I'd seen earlier, as well as their names underneath. A few seconds of quick scanning and bingo. Ben McLaren. I said the name aloud to myself, committing it to memory. Footsteps. Damn, I thought. I put everything back in its place and hopped in my seat just in time for Severson to return. The whole thing couldn't have taken longer than three minutes. Everything okay? You look a little nervous. I smiled at him. Everything's fine. True restless to sleep. I spent that night finding everything I could out about Ben McLaren. Severson had promised to do everything he could to find Luca, but I didn't trust him for a second. Law enforcement had spouted that exact same line nine years ago, but they still never found Julie. I'd be damned if I was going to trust them to find Luca. After a few quick searches, I found an article detailing the turbulent life of Ben McLaren. He'd been institutionalized at the Webmeyer State Hospital after a psychotic episode that ended with the murder of his mother. However, despite this, he'd been recently discharged for his excellent recovery. Couldn't have been that excellent, I thought. It seemed to me like he'd reverted back to his old self, the second he stepped foot out the door. I looked for more information on the murder of his mother, but the article was sparse on details. Further searches were also useless. I put my head in my hands. All the momentum I'd been building up was beginning to evaporate. In one last ditch effort to get more information, I emailed the author of the original article, explaining that I thought Ben might be killing again. I glanced out the window only to find the sun peeking out from behind the horizon. It was already dawn. I'd been awake nearly 24 hours. I put my head down on the computer desk, not having the strength to walk to my bed. I awoke at around noon the next day to the ding of my phone. To my surprise, lounge had already responded, saying he'd be happy to meet with me. A few hours later, I found myself at Mel's diner, sitting across from a tall, spindly man about my age, mid 20s. He wore thick glasses and a blonde bun that just oozed millennial. So you really think McLaren's killing again? I nodded quickly. Does that surprise you? Not at all. He said coolly. I just figured he'd be able to wait a year at least. How could they let someone like that out so soon? I asked. Trent shrugged. It's more common than you think. The violence was solely based on his delusions. The psychiatrist must have figured that he's perfectly safe as long as he takes his medication. And if he decides not to, he gave me a grave look. Then situations like this happen. You send in your email, you believe he's taken your sister. I nodded. I want to see if there are any parallels to his previous murder. What happened to his mom? I can't find any information on it. He leaned in. The police tried their best to keep it on the low. Didn't want to cause a scare. Oh, I said. Disappointed. So you don't know. He flashed me a smile. I said they tried to keep it low. But I have my ways. One thing you need to know about Mrs. McLaren is that she was mean. Real mean. Ben started showing symptoms of schizophrenia early around 15 or 16. Whenever she caught him talking to people who weren't there, she'd beat him. And she constantly berated him, calling him psycho and retard. Now you'd think he'd want to get as far as possible from her. But not at all. He never moved out, lived with her until he was about 32. What happened? I asked, already fearing the answer. Well, they screamed at each other all the time. But one day it was particularly bad. This argument must have been the one that sent him over the edge, because he just snapped. Trent seemed to hesitate. He blinded her with his fingers, jabbing his thumbs into her eye sockets. Then he cut out her tongue with a kitchen knife. In her ears, he uh... Trent began fumbling over the words awkwardly. He finally settled on making a stabbing motion and saying, pencils. I shuddered. Was this what was in store for Luca? Had it happened already? God, that's awful. Why would he do something like that? He stared at his coffee. Did he do it right there in the house? Trent shook his head. No one knows where he did it. We just know where we found the body. He furrowed his brow, remembering something. They found animal hair on it. There was again, just like on Detective Severson's list. What kind? I asked. Don't know. Nothing from around here, though. Not a bear or a wolf for anything like that. I mulled over everything I'd heard so far, trying to make the pieces fit. What he'd done to his mother is more or less what he'd done to Julie, only minus the tools. It's like he's disarming them, I said. He blinds and defends them so they can't judge him and he removes their teeth or tongue so they can't make fun of him. Trent was nodding slowly. Almost like the three wise monkeys. I gave him a questioning look. You know, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. My eyes lit up. Exactly like that. I felt so close, maybe if I got inside McLaren's head, I could figure out how to find him. I thought back to the animal hair found at both crime scenes, then I had an idea that made me nearly drop my coffee. Trent, I said. Just a hunch, but did McLaren work at the zoo? Trent put a hand to his chin. You know, actually he did. It was that old one that closed down a few. He trailed off, coming to the same conclusion as me. He's obsessed with the three wise monkeys, right? There's no better place to kill in their honor than the monkey habitat. He finished. All right, let's let the police know. But I was already putting my coat on. He called out to me as I made a break for the door. Where are you going? To get my sister. The steel fence that surrounded the zoo towered over me like the walls of a prison. If my suspicions were correct, if Luca really was being held captive inside, then I guess technically it was a prison. I tried taking a step forward, but found myself frozen. The adrenaline that had carried me here was already beginning to burn itself out, leaving behind a thick cloud of dread. The thought of McLaren lurking somewhere deep in that zoo made me want to get back in my car and drive away as fast as possible. But I knew I couldn't do that. Who else was going to save Luca? The police? The theory Trent and I had cooked up was solid, but I knew telling the police would get me nowhere. They'd failed to save Julie all those years ago, and I had no reason to think this would be any different. I took a steadying breath, jumped up, and grabbed the top of the fence. After a few moments of struggling, I dropped down into the main plaza. My heart sank the second my feet touched on the cracked pavement. No turning back now. I began making my way deeper into the zoo, scanning it for any sign of McLaren. Eventually, my eyes settled on a section of the property that was dense with trees and bushes, a gate in front of it, red monkey exhibit, and large silver letters. I was hit with a mix of relief, vindication, and fear. It was finally time to see if my theory was true. I reluctantly headed inside, allowing myself to be swallowed into the foliage. One thing I noticed as I jogged down the winding dirt path was the complete absence of noise. Besides the faint whistle of wind going through the trees and the light thumbs of my footsteps, the habitat was almost silent. Even more troubling were the trees. They grew more and more sickly the longer I walked. By the five minute mark, they were so dry, they were almost petrified. It didn't take long for me to find traces of McLaren, a cigarette butt here, a broken beer bottle there. I just found what looked like a discarded candy wrapper when I heard it. It was a muted high-pitched whale coming deep within the habitat. Although it was barely audible, I immediately knew it was Luca. I broke out into a sprint towards the noise withered trees flying past me on either side. My chest burned from the sudden exertion, but I didn't slow down. When the path suddenly ended in front of me, I leapt over the small fence and charged deeper into the dead forest. The deeper I went, the louder the screams got until eventually it was all I could hear. The trees began thinning out until I found myself at the edge of a small clearing. Luca was at its center, lying on her back. After looking a little closer, I realized that her wrists and ankles had been tied to four separate trees, pulling her body into a strained X shape. And there, hunched over her, stood Ben McLaren. The sight of him made my blood run hot with rage. For a moment, I wanted to storm right in and wrap my fingers around his neck, but I knew better. McLaren wasn't particularly muscular. In fact, he was rather lanky, but I remembered from my previous encounter with him that he was armed. Charging in all gung-ho would only lead to a bullet hole in the chest. I was mauling this over when McLaren knelt down next to Luca, making her tense visibly. I'd been so focused on him that I hadn't noticed what he was doing. He grabbed her face roughly with one hand and used the other to jam something metal into her mouth. I didn't have to see it to know what it was. It was a pair of pliers. He was already starting. Luca belted a panicked scream as McLaren began pulling. I instinctively began running toward them but had to stop myself. McLaren would certainly see and shoot me before I got close enough to attack. I was no use to Luca dead. An idea suddenly popped into my mind and I dug my phone out of my pocket. I cranked up the volume to max, set an alarm for 10 seconds, and chucked it as far as I could. I stood there with bated breath, my sister's agonized psalms reverberating in my ears. The seconds seemed to stretch into eternity, and for a moment I feared the phone had broken on impact. But just as I was about to give up and start thinking of a new plan, I heard the wail of my ringtone coming deep from within the forest. Luca went quiet and McLaren jerked his head towards the noise like a dog. He glanced between my sister and the forest, seemingly doing some internal calculation. Then he reluctantly set down the pliers, unholstered his pistol, and began making his way into the woods. The second he was out of sight, I made a dash for Luca, knowing I'd only have moments before he found the phone and realized what I'd done. I'd known Luca would be in terrible shape, but actually seeing her up close made my heart sink. She was only in her late 20s, but she looked a decade older. Her hair was greasy and unwashed. She was wearing the same clothes she'd last been seen in, which were now filthy with mud and grass. She gazed up at me with an exhausted vacancy that made me look away. What are you? She began in a scratchy voice. I held a finger to my lips, and began frantically trying to undo the tangled knots holding her down. However, the rope was so firmly tied, it might as well have been metal chains. They were so tight that Luca's hands were tinted a pale blue from the cutoff circulation. I heard a twig snap coming from somewhere in the woods, and I realized that I had only seconds to think of something. Looking around, I noticed the satchel McLaren had been carrying in the bathroom. It was filled with all sorts of rusted tools, some stained or reddish brown. I plunged my hand inside, wincing as I did, and pulled out a knife. I quickly began cutting one of her hands loose. Another twig snap. My heart skipped in my chest. I severed another rope, then a third, a fourth. And then we were running. Branches scraping our arms and legs, sweat pouring down our faces. I had to practically drag Luca behind me, as she was barely able to walk, let alone run. At first, I told myself that McLaren hadn't seen us, but the heavy footsteps behind quickly shattered that illusion. His ragged breathing sounded more like some sort of rabid dog than a human. The forest stretched out endlessly in front of us. I was beginning to think we may never make it out when the trees finally began to disperse. Luca and I burst out of the monkey habitat, emerging onto the bare plaza of the zoo's entrance. Although my body ached, I forced myself to sprint to the steel gate and give it a hard push. It didn't budge. At first, I just stared at it stupidly, but the sound of McLaren crashing his way through the forest brought me to my senses. I picked Luca up by the waist and desperately tried to raise her up and over the fence. She just begun pulling herself up when a horse shout broke the silence. You two get away from there. Fear froze my body, and I slowly lowered Luca back to the ground. Turn around. He screamed. Meeting the gaze of this monster was the last thing I wanted to do, but I reluctantly obeyed. His eyes, bloodshot and intense, stared daggers into me. You can't take her. I haven't fixed her yet. Despite myself, I felt familiar anger begin to bubble up inside of me. Fixed her. And you were going to do that how? By carving her up? Ben's eyes flashed with anger, and he pulled something out from behind him. Before I knew it, I was staring down the barrel of his revolver. No, no, you don't get it. He boomed. She's broken. Now let me fix her before I get angry. My rage evaporated instantly. I suddenly realized that my number one priority needed to be keeping him calm, at least long enough for me to think of a way out of this mess. What? What do you mean broken? Right now she's deaf and blind. She's just stumbling around in the dark. But if you just give her back to me, if you let me fix her, then I can let her see beyond the veil. She'll see the world for how it really is. I raised an eyebrow. And you'll do this by mutilating her. He narrowed his eyes. No, by releasing her. Now step aside and let me finish my work. Ben, I said calmly. I think you're very sick. You need to come with me so we can- No! He shouted, the gun shaking in his hands. You want to have me taken away, don't you? You think I'm crazy? No, I said quickly. I don't think that at all. I'm just worried about you. I don't understand why you need to fix my sister. Why do you want her to, how would he put it? To see beyond the veil. The gun in his hands lowered slightly, and some of the rage in his face seemed to drain away. Well, I've always been able to see things that other people couldn't. Beautiful things, things that would amaze you. I want someone else to see them too. I just want someone to- Understand you? He broke eye contact, staring at his feet like a child. I let go of Luca's hand and slowly made my way toward him. She yanked me back and whispered, Are you nuts? Trust me, I mouthed. I once again began closing the distance between us. Listen, McCl- Ben, I understand you. He glared at me, training the gun on me once more. How could you understand? You don't know me. See? I froze. You're right, but I do know about your mother, about what she'd do to you, about what she'd call you. He seemed caught off guard by this. Listen, I can't possibly imagine what you must have gone through, but I do know that hurting more people isn't going to make anything better. I was now just a few feet away from him. I reached out my hand, palm up. Give me the gun, Ben. He eyed my hand skeptically. After a long moment, something in his face seemed to harden, and he cocked the revolver with a sickening click. I'm sorry, Alex. My heart sank. Wait, I screamed. You don't have to do this. But it was too late. I squeezed my eyes shut, as a thunderous bang reverberated through the air, making my ears ring. I opened my eyes, and frantically padded myself down, looking for where the bullet had hit me. That's when I saw Ben. He was standing in front of me, hands held around his bloody neck. He staggered backward, gurgling and wheezing for a few moments before collapsing to the ground in a heap. My first thought was that he'd shot himself, but a quick glance behind me proved that wrong. There stood Detective Severson, his pistol still trained on Ben's unmoving body. You two get out of there. Luca and I were already on it, scrambling up and over the fence as if Ben were going to get back up at any moment. It wasn't until I was on the other side that I began considering what had happened. How did you know we were here? I asked. Glad to see you too, Alex. He said, Well, I'd like to say I pieced it all together on my own, but it was actually your friend who tipped me off where you were headed. My friend, he nodded behind me and I turned to see Trent jogging up from toward the parking lot, his bun bouncing in time with his steps. I tried calling you and when you didn't answer, I told the cops about our theory. They nearly laughed me out of the station, but Severson over here actually believed me. Severson pulled me aside and motioned at Luca. She sat on the curb, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at some spot on the ground. The ambulance is on the way. If there's something you want to say, now's the time. I nodded and walked over to her. She didn't seem to notice my approach, not even giving me so much as a glance. As I got closer, I noticed the full extent of her injuries. There were ligature marks all along her wrists, crimson slashes covered her battered arms and legs. I sat down on the curb a few feet away and tried to come up with some words of hope. In the end, I just settled on. It's finally over. No response. On closer inspection, I saw she was watching an ant slowly marching across the pavement. I sighed. Listen, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I never expected any of this to happen. If you want, I can start moving my things out of your house. She shot me a wry smile. You don't really think I'm about to let you go back to that dirty little apartment, do you? You're staying with me, at least until you can get a place of your own. Really? I mean, don't you need space to, you know, cope? She suddenly wrapped me in a bear hug so tight I thought it would break a rib. I just got you back. She laughed. There's no way we're going back to being strangers again. I almost wanted to laugh. It seemed fitting that the man who'd ripped Luca and me apart was the same person who'd brought us back together. We spent the next few moments in silence, just enjoying each other's company. Eventually, I sighed heavily and said, I can't believe he's really dead. It's exactly what Julie would have wanted. No, it's not. Luca said softly. She grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together, just like how we'd done at her house nearly 24 hours ago. It had taken seven years, but the two of us were finally back together. This is what she would have wanted. Hey everyone, remember to like and subscribe if you enjoyed the video, and a special thank you to TP Savage for an amazing story. Make sure to go check out more of the author's work. If you'd like to support me further, there's a link to my Patreon in the description, and I hope you have an amazing start to your week. Thanks for listening.