934 Evernham Street

“Four”, she murmured. He had stabbed her mother four times. She’ll never forget because she counted out loud. She had watched him slowly shuffle around the kitchen, opening all the drawers, looking for just he right utensil. He finally settled upon the cutlet knife. Beth’s heart dropped as he turned to her and grinned. He knelt down and got face to face with her, “Can you count to four?” Tears streamed down her face as she nodded. “Well show me how good you can count, sweet-heart. If you don’t think you can do it just ask. I’m pretty sure I remember.” He wiped the knife with his gloved hand and smirked again as he stood up and moved toward her mother. The only consolation she had was that her mother clearly passed away after the knife sliced through the left side of her chest. She knew this because she felt her stop wriggling.

Her mother never said a word after he flung open the door and pointed the gun in their faces. Never screamed, almost as if she was accepting her fate. Beth would never understand her mother’s lack of contest, but would also never try and think about it. Beth soon realized that was easier said than done. He put the gun in his belt and slid the new roll of cellophane wrapped duct tape off his wrist and told her it was just to keep them out of the way, and proceeded to guide them into the kitchen. She knew that was a lie. She also knew there were probably going to be few truths out of this mans mouth. He forced them to sit in the middle of the floor with their legs out in front of them and back to back.

Beth had closed her eyes after that first fatal wound but heard every other one and counted just as she was told. Her wrists throbbed from the charm bracelet her mother was wearing. He had bound their wrists together so hard that it was beginning to cut into her. Now she was leaning against her mother’s heavy lifeless body. The warm blood pooled around her legs and soaked into her socks. Beth had come to a point of numbness. There’s only so much a person can consciously accept. Beth had reached her limit.

She heard the man walk off the old linoleum of the kitchen and into the newly carpeted hallway. She heard her bedroom door swiftly open and, after hearing a few minutes of rummaging, assumed he was thoroughly inspecting for another victim. After she heard Nina’s door open she knew he had her mother’s room and the bathroom left and opened her eyes. She looked through the open doorway in front of her into the living room saw her baby sister.

Nina was five years younger than Beth at six and still crouched behind the big maroon and green striped chair in the living room. She was still in the fetal position on the floor with her head tucked in her arms as she had done when she heard the side door’s window break. Beth hoped that her normally stubborn sister had kept her eyes closed through her mother’s murder. Beth managed a whisper, “N-Nina.” It came out just loud enough for Nina to peek up at her. She imagined how hard it was going to be to explain the kitchen covered in her mother’s blood to such a tender imagination. “Come here.” Beth watched as Nina promptly scooted out from behind the chair and timidly walked into the kitchen. Tears swelled in her eyes, “What’s wrong with momma?” Beth lied, “She’s ok, Nini but I need you to help us.” She had been calling Nina “Nini” since she was born. Nina had always responded better to her sister’s pet-name. She told Nina to hurriedly grab the pink scissors from the top drawer. Luckily it was still open from the man’s exploration as the drawers were normally extremely noisy. Nina went and slid the scissors out from under all the papers and pens that had been stacking up for years now. “Hurry up and cut the tape, Nini.”

It sounded like ripping paper as she stripped her hands away with no regard for the pain of the industrial adhesive on her bare skin. She scooped Nina into her arms and sprinted out of the kitchen and through the front door. It was so bright outside. It made her squint and the July heat was searing, but it was such a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. The girls and their mother were supposed to go the park that day. Nina had just gotten a new bike and they planned a trip to test it out at the park. All of them would ride together. They didn’t get many chances to do things as a family.

Now the girls ran. They ran across the normally busy street with no caution. Officer Holcomb had lived directly across the street from the girls for about three years now and had a young daughter of his own. Beth knew he was the answer. She ran to his front door and jiggled the handle, which was normally unlocked during the day. To her relief it was and she opened it and stumbled into the officer’s living room. She and her sister stood in front of his whole family. Beth’s reddish-brown still blood-soaked socks were bleeding into the carpet as she stood at the threshold. The Holcomb’s turned, shocked, from the TV to the sisters. Beth fell to her knees and wept on his floor as Nina told Mr. Holcomb that a man had broken their window and her mother was hurt. He didn’t say a word and ran to his bedroom. He came back through the living room with his shiny polished handgun and told his wife to lock the door behind him and for everyone to stay put. He loaded his gun as he was jogging through the yard toward 934 Evernham Street. Beth knew Mr. Holcomb would stop him. It was over. Beth cried as she pulled her baby sister to her, her tears falling into the Nina’s curly brown hair. She wouldn't ever get to tell her mother "I love you" again, and Nini wouldn't either. She pulled Nini closer, and whispered it to her instead, still weeping.