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Vandalized



 
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Dempsey Kasdeya

Dempsey stared at the bookcase in front of her, hand twitching by her side. She had been standing in the same position for more than an hour. There was something off, something had been moved and she couldn’t place what was different. Someone had moved something on her shelf, but the rest of the house seemed to be in order. Who would waltz into someone’s house just to move something so slight that would go unnoticed by most people? It didn’t make sense, and it was driving Dempsey insane. Dempsey was diseased in many different ways, her mind was a psychologist’s wet dream, but it hindered Dempsey in many ways. She wasn’t getting the help she needed to live a normal life. She had chosen a different path to follow, and without the help or medication she acted out from her detriments.

Today she was struggling with the ever-present OCD. Everything had a place, everything needed to be perfect, and clean and it needed to be just as she wanted. Another 20 minutes passed and the anger and frustration built inside her head as she looked and looked trying to pinpoint what had caught her eyes this morning when she had woken up.  She was still clad in her sleepwear, an oversized t-shirt, and socks pulled up to her knees. Her hair was a mess of curls and she had glasses resting on the edge of her nose instead of wearing the contact lenses she preferred.

Dempsey finally took a step closer and her gut wrenched when she saw the error of her bookshelf. Her favorite copy of Peter Pan was stuck with a bookmark. It stuck out more than two inches from the book. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. All of Dempsey’s bookmarks were flush with the edge of the book, any bookmarks longer than the book would be disposed of or cut down. This wasn’t right. Her finger reached out towards the book and grasped the spine before picking the book up and flipping open to the page that was marked.

  “But if she lies there,” Tootles said, “she will die.”

“Aye, she will die.” Slightly admitted.

The lines were highlighted in bright orange and the rest of the page was blacked out with a marker. No other words were visible on the vandalized page. As Dempsey flipped through the rest of the book the words she will die, she will die, were scribbled in hurried handwriting. Demp’s heart caught in her throat and her chest tightened as she let the book fall from her fingers, and an episode was building inside of her.  

Someone had come into her house and left this message. Someone must have been watching her, someone knew who she was and what she did. It was disconcerting. She had been so careful and she hadn’t killed anyone in months. She had been too distracted to even find a new victim to stalk. How had someone followed the trail she had tried so carefully to cover?

Tears filled her eyes before rolling down her cheeks. In a flash of anger, she ripped every book from her shelf, tossing them around the room till her shelf was left empty and her floor was scattered with damaged books. A scream ripped from her throat before she fell to her knees, hands were tangled in her hair and she pulled at the locks till they felt like they would rip clean from her scalp. Her breathing was ragged as she tilted her head down between her legs and rocked back and forth till she felt a smidge of clam creeping back into her consciousness.

“No, no, no.” The words continuously slipped from her lips till they were barely a whisper and stopped altogether. She would need to leave, she couldn’t stay here, not when someone had come into her home and ruined everything.

“It’s a mess, a mess.” Dempsey stopped moving for a moment before she slowly reached out to the nearest book. She held it to her chest for a moment and rocked a few minutes more before she finally came back to her senses. Her hands started collecting books and separated them into piles on the floor so she could box them up in the correct order.

The desecrated copy of Peter Pan still lay the furthest away and Dempsey couldn’t bring herself to pick the book back up off the floor. She needed to pack, and then she needed to leave and get away as quickly as she could. When she was content with her pile of books on the floor she went to her room, changed into presentable clothing and left the house, locking the front door and then double and triple checking it before she finally walked away in search of boxes and a van she could use to move her belongings.

This wasn’t the first time she had to pick up everything and leave, and she was certain that it wouldn’t be the last, but the move was stressful, starting over was always hard. But it was worth it, a life on the run was the consequences of her uncontrollable actions. 

June 08, 2018 12:55 pm

Christian Ford

Walking down the street I hear a scream as I look towards the house it's coming from . I notice the front door is slightly open . I tell myself it's doesn't concern me but I can't help it I want to help if I can so I start to walk down the sidewalk. I notice something Orange on the steps leading to the porch. It's a high lighter picking it up as I peek through the door. 

June 09, 2018 10:00 am
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