Other Voices, Other Tombs

by Joe Sullivan

Caytlyn Brooke

  The large bonfire popped and cackled as a group of rowdy guys threw in their aluminum beer cans, cheering when a shower of vibrant orange sparks hissed in response. It was close to midnight, several hours after senior prom, and as was tradition with the graduating class, all the popular kids hiked through the woods to the same spot where their predecessors had celebrated before them. Mostly the party was an excuse to get drunk and partake in one last fling before everyone packed up and left for college. The night was brisk and smelled of dirt and burning wood, but there was also the lingering scent of anticipation, that the possibilities for that evening—and for the foreseeable future—were endless.

  Charlotte sat down, a half-empty beer in her hand, laughing while her boyfriend, Ryan, attempted to jump the licking flames in his rumpled tux. “Ryan, cut it out!” Charlotte squealed, smacking his leg playfully. “You’re going to catch on fire.”

  Ryan bent over and craned his neck, kissing her sloppily. He was already having trouble standing. “I’ll be fine, my queen,” he joked. He started to back up to build momentum for another go at the fire, but his sneaker rolled on a large branch, sending him crashing to the needle-strewn forest floor. The other guys roared with laughter and handed him another beer.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and took a swig of her own beer, grimacing at the unfamiliar taste. Across from her, sat her best friend, Ava. She was the only one not drinking, Ava being a firm believer that sewer water tasted better than Keystone Light. Charlotte stood up and wobbled over, her petite frame already feeling the alcohol. “Hey, are you having fun?” she asked.

  “Loads,” Ava replied sarcastically.

  Charlotte frowned, sensing her friend’s disappointment. Raising her hand, she tucked Ava’s hair behind her ear, raven black like her own. “Come on. It’s not that bad,” Charlotte whispered. “The fire is nice, and Cole is here. You should talk to him.”

  Ava scoffed. “Cole Michaels is not interested in me. I don’t even know why I came. I don’t like any of these peacocks and they hate me. The only reason I’m in this vain little circle is because of you.” Her words came out harsher than she intended, but it was the truth. Charlotte was the most popular girl in school. She was gorgeous, wealthy, had an adoring, (albeit stupid) boyfriend, and a perfect future paved in gold. Ava felt the familiar feelings of jealousy and resentment roil inside her, but she pushed them away. She needed a clear head. Tonight was going to be special for her regardless…

  Instead, she let her gaze wander from the fire to Charlotte’s crown. Of course, she had been named Prom Queen, and the bedazzled rhinestones sat glittering on her head. If Ava relaxed her eyes, it almost looked as if Charlotte’s crown was ablaze as the stones reflected the curling flames. Ava wondered what it would feel like to burn to death.

  “That’s not true,” Charlotte retorted with a giggle, dispelling Ava’s concerns. “Just because you prefer emo black hoodies to polo shirts doesn’t mean they think anything less of you.” She slapped her friend’s dark jeans, also the only one of them who thought to bring a change of clothes after the dance. “Let’s go for a walk,” Charlotte suggested excitedly. “I’m tired of watching these losers.”

  “And by losers you mean, Ryan?” Ava pointed out.

  Charlotte waved her hand. “Yeah, especially him. Did I tell you that he slipped his hand up my dress at dinner? Like in front of everyone at the table!”

  Ava cocked her head. “Did you let him?”

  Charlotte pursed her lips. “Only for a few minutes,” she admitted with a naughty smile.

  “Have you guys done it yet?” Ava asked.

  Charlotte didn’t reply as they wandered further into the woods. “No,” she said. “But I told him…tonight I would.”

  Ava stopped walking. “Tonight? Seriously? But he’s drunk. You really want your first time to be with him like that?”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know. Part of me is hoping he’ll pass out. I’m a little nervous.”

  Ava shook her head. “Not that I have any experience in that area, but if you’re not ready, maybe you should wait. Don’t do it because Ryan wants to. He’s a guy, that’s all they ever want. And besides, it should be more special than a stupid prom cliché.”

  Charlotte laughed, loving her friend’s candor. That’s why she and Ava had remained so close. She always said what was on her mind, without sugar coating it and Charlotte knew she loved her for who she was, not because of what she had.

  Linking her arm through Ava’s, Charlotte pressed her body against her friend’s. They were a good distance away from the rest of the group, the bonfire now a small glowing ember from their vantage point. The only sound was cracking twigs and the sigh of damp leaves as they wandered further into the forest. Without the heat of the fire, the night turned frigid and Charlotte shivered, cursing her gorgeous, but impractical pink gown.

  “How are you by the way?” Charlotte asked, dropping her voice. Away from all the raucous partying, the mood took on a more somber tone.

  “I’m fine,” Ava replied quickly.

  “You know you don’t have to do that with me,” Charlotte teased.

  “Do what?” Ava asked, as she led the way, deeper into the woods.

  “Act all tough, pretend you don’t feel anything,” Charlotte continued. “Your parents died, just three months ago. Aren’t you sad at all? I’d be a wreck.”

  “Of course you would be,” Ava answered. “Your parents adore you. It’s kind of tough to miss people who treated me like garbage. To miss a mother who was always absent from my art shows because of her lame migraines, a dad who constantly pressured me to get better grades, to go out for sports, to be more like you.” Ava tasted the venom in her words, but no longer felt the need to apologize for how she truly felt. Since she had hit puberty, her parents were obsessed with molding her to be just like Charlotte. Her mother would buy her tiny tennis skirts, make her salon appointments for caramel highlights, and decorate her bedroom with frilly pink flowers. They tried so hard to ignore who Ava was, hoping that if they dolled her up enough, she’d become the daughter they dreamed of raising.

  Ava smirked, fingering the paring knife in her back pocket. If only they hadn’t driven home drunk that night, unable to face their disappointment of a daughter sober. If only they had waited, their forbidden dreams for Ava Rice would be realized.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte whispered. “I know you guys fought a lot, I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

  Ava watched the way her friend frowned. Her perfect bow lips turned down, puckering just slightly as her eyes closed, her dark lashes kissing her high cheekbones.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Ava sighed. “It’s not right to take my anger out on you regarding the past, especially since I’m about to have so much more to be sorry for…”

  Charlotte tilted her head, her crown glistening in the pale moonlight. “What do you mean?” she asked, stepping out of her friend’s embrace.

  Ava smiled, committing the movement to memory. For so long she had wanted this. For so long she had bided her time, studying, modeling facial expressions in the mirror, aiming for perfection. It would be so easy to play the part, to step into her shoes. Ava slid the knife out of her pocket, gripping the handle. So many times she imagined this moment, and now that it was finally here, her heart raced, not with fear, but with excitement.

  “Everyone always wonders what it would be like to have the perfect life, the perfect guy, the perfect family. Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be me? Teased, forgotten, and breaking a little more on the inside every day? I want more than what you have, Charlotte,” Ava paused. “I want to be you.”

  Ava stepped forward, closing the distance between them while brandishing the blade.

  Just one swift cut, she told herself as she stared at the jugular vein pulsing at the base of Charlotte’s neck. Ava’s lips parted in a wolfish grin. She loved the way Charlotte’s chin trembled when she was scared. She’d have to rememb
er that nuance.

  “Ava?” Charlotte began, but before she could finish, Ava dragged the knife across her friend’s creamy throat, carving a deep smile into her flesh. Charlotte’s brown eyes widened in shock as her hands fluttered against her neck. She attempted to push the blood back inside her body, but Ava knew what she was doing, having practiced... Dark red blood splashed over Charlotte’s lips as she fought for breath, but she only managed to inhale the warm liquid as her heart pumped harder and faster, succumbing to fear.

  Ava frowned, watching as more blood trickled down Charlotte’s chin, staining the pale skin cherry red. She hadn’t anticipated it’d be so messy, so soon, but she was sure it’d be an easy enough fix.

  Charlotte fell to the ground, her body shaking as blood puddled around her, not quite able to soak into the still thawing earth. Her hand clawed at Ava’s pant leg, painting her jeans with long red streaks. Her eyes gazed at Ava with unrestrained terror and confusion. She tried to mutter a last word, but her severed throat made that impossible. With a choked gurgle, Charlotte collapsed on her back, her eyes wide and glassy, staring at the gathering clouds. In all the commotion, her crown had become crooked.

  A full minute passed since Charlotte’s last shuddering breath and all Ava could do was stand there, watching, waiting. In all her imaginings of how the night would play out, Charlotte always put up a fight, in attempting to wrestle the knife away or at least scream for help. Her friend’s lack of enthusiasm and will to live was quite a letdown. Before Ava could savor Charlotte’s pathetic last gasps or terror-filled gaze, it was over. Moments later, her friend was nothing more than an empty husk of bones and flesh. Ending her life happened too quickly. Ava would be sure to appreciate every second taking Charlotte’s life would yield going forward.

  Letting the knife fall to the ground with a muted thud, Ava stripped out of her jeans and baggy sweater, then set to work ridding Charlotte from her obnoxious prom gown. A delicious shiver climbed Ava’s spine as she slipped on the sparkling fabric. The dress smelled of Charlotte’s blood, along with her signature perfume. Ava pressed the tulle skirt to her nose and inhaled. She could practically taste her new life.

  Shimming her jeans up Charlotte’s cooling thighs proved a little challenging. She was heavier than she thought. Maybe her perfect friend was lying about being one hundred and ten pounds. Next, Ava fitted her sweater over Charlotte’s pale face, oddly careful as to not disturb the tiara. Once her friend was dressed, Ava glanced around at the ground for her knife. She spied it several feet away, the blade submerged in blood.

  Ava picked it up and wiped the blood on Charlotte’s rigid leg until the silver blade shone clean once more. She swallowed and exhaled. She needed a steady hand for her next task, but the adrenaline pumping through her body caused her hand to shake.

  “You did it. You killed her,” Ava spoke aloud. “Just like you always wanted.” Exhaling again, she strained her ears, listening for any sound that they had been followed. Off in the distance, she could hear the echo of loud cries, but they sounded boisterous, not suspicious. The fire was nowhere to be seen. Only a thick blanket of darkness stretched before her and Ava smiled. She belonged in the dark, had grown accustomed to its endless terrors. Now, she was one of the nightmares. “Get on with it,” she told herself, aware of her limited window.

  Crouching besides Charlotte’s head, Ava placed the tip of the paring knife just under her friend’s right ear and started to cut. She was careful to drag the blade beneath Charlotte’s jawbone, keeping her movements smooth and fluid. Surprisingly, the flesh detached from the bone easily, as if it hated being associated with Charlotte almost as much as Ava.

  Pressing the blade deeper, Ava continued to slice, curling the knife up past her other ear, keeping as close to the hairline as possible. The skin along her forehead was so much thinner than her cheeks and for a moment, Ava forgot to lighten her touch. A second later, the knife scraped across bone as it dove beneath the thin facial muscles, causing Ava to grit her teeth at the grating sound.

  Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her hold and resumed cutting, slicing the skin away without grinding against the skull again. At last, she reached her starting point, completing a perfect oval. Without thinking, Ava tried to deposit the knife into her pocket, but it slid against the satin material and fell to the ground instead. Ava wrinkled her nose and left it there. She needed two hands for the next step. Her annoyance faded while she gently fingered the thin edges of skin resting against Charlotte’s forehead. Ava bit her lip, a behavior Charlotte was famous for, and slowly, slowly began to pull down.

  At first, the skin didn’t cooperate, holding tight to the skull and tissue beneath, but as she kept pulling, blood from the raw muscle and sinew beneath dripped down, greasing the inside of Charlotte’s face. “Come on,” Ava stressed. She wished she could rip it off rather than pull inch by inch, but in the end, she knew all her hard work and patience would be worth it.

  Slowly, slowly, Charlotte’s face peeled away as Ava stole her eyebrows, her eyelids, her cheeks until the skin completely gave way. A final sucking sound echoed in the night as Charlotte’s chin detached, announcing Ava’s victory.

  “I did it,” Ava whispered, holding up the beautiful face. The large gaping holes where Charlotte’s eyes should have been stared at her hauntingly, but Ava dismissed the creeping feeling in her gut and imagined her own brown eyes filling the voids instead. “Soon, everyone will envy me.”

  Withdrawing her phone from Charlotte’s jeans, Ava clicked the little button on the top right and noticed she didn’t have any service. Unlike most teenagers, she wasn’t concerned with posting to social media, all she cared about was the time. Ava glanced at the screen and cursed. 1:13. Killing Charlotte had taken longer than she had planned. If this was going to work, she needed everyone to stay at the bonfire, and in the past, the party typically wound down around 2am. She needed to move fast.

  With one last glance at her best friend, Ava looked at the grisly remains of the Prom Queen. Her flesh was raw after her butchery, the gash on her neck shining like a treasured choker. Ava wished she could close her friend’s eyes, but her eyelids were in her hands. Her clothes were soaked with blood and her hair lay in a perfect halo around her head, a stark contrast to the shredded tissue below. A silver glint caught Ava’s eye and she balked when she saw the crown.

  “How could I have forgotten you?” she cooed, carefully disentangling it from Charlotte’s hair. Ava stared at the faux diamonds, anxious to try it on. “Wait just a little longer,” she told herself. “It’ll be so much better.”

  Ava snagged the bloody knife by Charlotte’s shoulder and started back through the trees, the crown in one hand, and her future in the other.

  #

  Fifteen minutes later, a small house emerged over the hill, a sloping silhouette beneath the moonlight. Ava’s Aunt Cindy’s dinged Nissan Maxima sat content in the dirt driveway. Ava’s heart leapt at the thought of what was about to happen.

  Rounding the untamed bushes toward the back of the tiny ranch, Ava breezed through the screen door, letting it slam behind her.

  “Aunt Cindy? Aunt Cindy, I’m back!” Ava called, disrupting the quiet stupor enveloping the home.

  Footsteps danced atop the wooden floor, the excited tempo rivaling Ava’s fluttering heart. Her aunt’s shadow stretched across the threshold into the living room, followed by her wispy graying hair.

  The older woman left the den and the moment she saw Ava, her face alighted with anticipation and awe. She had never doubted her niece’s hatred, but the sight of her in the bloodstained prom gown, made her heart sing.

  Ava’s mother, Cindy’s perfectionist sister, never wanted a daughter and was further enraged when the poor girl rebelled against her unrealistic dreams. Cindy was the one Ava stole away with at all the horrid family gatherings. The one she poured her heart out to when her parents forced her to attend another bland social event. Under her parent’s roof, Ava was no more than a piece o
f furniture, dressed up and positioned perfectly for each holiday or social call.

  It wasn’t hard to tail them that night. Cindy’s ex was a mechanic and all those joyless nights she spent watching him tune up the line of luxury cars that flooded his garage actually came in handy. With one simple cut, she disconnected the brakes to her sister’s Mercedes SUV and sat back, patient to watch the scene unfold. Cindy had waited years for this moment. She had grown so tired of the condescending looks, the piercing laughter every time her name was mentioned. All that she could have lived with. Held her chin high and buried her feelings deep, but that all changed when she witnessed the way Melissa had treated Ava at her seventeenth birthday party. It was like watching the past, only now, she had the power to do something about it.

  Her brother in-law was partial to whiskey, indulging in the smooth liquor to cope with his social elitist wife. Cindy had paid the bartender to kindly pour Robert a double each round, careful to never let the bottom of his glass show. Robert wouldn’t refuse. He wouldn’t correct the mistake. All he knew how to do properly was imbibe, drunk on his own affluence.

  Melissa was wasted on expensive chardonnay as always, laughing too loud as she stumbled through the parking lot in her designer Jimmy Choos. They didn’t live far from the country club and Robert was too insecure to admit he was incompetent to drive.

  Cindy watched as the couple climbed into the SUV and pulled away, narrowly missing the bumper of the navy Volvo parked beside them. Cindy smiled as she pictured the road ahead. The lanes were paved smooth, but the curves would prove deadly.

  Turning her key, Cindy’s engine roared to life and she eased out of the parking lot. She was confident what awaited her a few miles up ahead. Why rush? Ten minutes later, her Nissan reached the first curve. Just as predicted, the black Mercedes lay upside down, several yards into the surrounding woods. Glass sprinkled the asphalt along with numerous pieces of crushed metal. One of Melissa’s heels was standing upright, the satin fabric submerged in a greasy puddle of oil.