by Willow Rose
Allan snorted irritably. This wasn't part of the plan. He scanned the area to see if anyone had seen him, then grabbed the man by the arms and pulled him behind the tent. The music coming from inside was so loud no one heard Allan grunt or the sound of him beating the unconscious tartlet-selling man senseless. Once he was done, he came out from behind the tent, straightened his expensive pants and slicked his hair back with his hand.
He walked to the stand, grabbed an empty tartlet. With his pulse still pumping wildly, he put it on a plate and filled it with the white chicken-sauce with carrots and peas. Allan took in a deep breath to calm himself down, then found a plastic fork. He closed his eyes enjoying the creaking sound of the crispy pastry as the fork penetrated it. He ate with great joy thinking yet again of the day when he had been told about the baby. It was the first time since then he had been able to stand the taste or even the smell of tartlets. If it was the anticipation of what he was about to do or just the time he had put between him and what happened back then, he didn't know, but the taste was intoxicating.
CHAPTER 13
CAMILLA WAS USUALLY a very confident girl. She had good reason to be. She had grown up in a very wealthy family living in Klampenborg, one of the most prominent and expensive addresses in the country. She had gone to some of the best schools in the country and always hung out with people of her own class. She had lived a very protected life and never met anyone who wanted to harm her in any way. Everybody wanted to please her, since they knew that the way to her father's heart went through his daughter. She always considered her parents to be smothering and too overprotective when they told her to not go out on her own at night, when they told her to be careful of whom she talked to. She didn't consider the world a dangerous place.
But during the last two days Camilla lost a lot of that confidence and trust in the world surrounding her. She was used to doing what she wanted to, since her parents were never home and when they were they hardly noticed her anymore, so she had done pretty much exactly what she wanted to the last couple of years. But for the first time something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong, she now realized standing with her friends listening to the band on stage, drinking the beer a guy named Kasper bought her, hoping he'd get lucky later. Camilla's eyes scanned the tent nervously. Maybe a hundred teenagers were present, the rest of the festival was at the big stage listening to that old guy with the guitar, Camilla had hardly heard of. She hadn't heard of Suicide Silence either, but two boys they met on the first day had told them that they "just had to be there." Camilla was a party-girl, she enjoyed to get drunk and dance, but she was more a fan of pop-music than this death core. She hardly noticed the music right now, though, since all she could think of was Amalie and every time someone entered the tent, she would gasp and look to see if it was her. The band had been playing for almost half an hour now and there was still no sign of Amalie.
Camilla had begun wondering if she should just pack her belongings and go back home, but how was she supposed to explain it to Amalie's father? That she lost her? He thought they were both on Camilla's dad's yacht sailing protected and guarded on the ocean around Zeeland, just like they did every year at this time. Was she supposed to tell him that they hadn't done it the last two years? That they instead had gone to the festival, smoking, drinking, dancing, out among "ordinary" people? Camilla shivered at the very thought of having to face Amalie's father. She was afraid of what he would do, to her, to her father. The man could ruin her father’s life and career in a matter of seconds. He could ruin their entire lives. And he would. In his anger, he would. That was the nature of Amalie's father. That was his way of dealing with things.
Camilla felt an anger rise inside of her as she drank more of her beer. Damn that Amalie, she thought. She was so selfish, always so egocentric. She was probably with someone else, someone she had just met, maybe even a guy and never thought to contact Camilla. She never cared about her emotions, about how she felt.
Camilla sighed deeply feeling the tears press on from behind. Camilla loved Amalie. She loved her more than you love a friend. She was in love with her. She had been for many years, almost as long as Camilla could remember. Amalie of course didn't know. The very first time Camilla kissed her at a party at a friend’s house, she had laughed and kissed her back, whispering Great idea, let's stir things up a little, let's give them something to talk about. Thinking Camilla had only done it because she was bored and wanted to shock the dull rich kids at the party, Amalie grabbed her face and kissed her passionately. Camilla enjoyed it more than anything in her entire life and to this very day she still remembered the way the kiss had tasted. The second time Camilla kissed her, Amalie hadn't taken it nearly as nicely. They were at Amalie's house watching a movie in the living room, when suddenly Camilla couldn't resist her lips any longer and had to taste them once again.
"What the hell?" Amalie had screamed.
Camilla had blushed, then pulled away not knowing what to say. Her desire to kiss her again and hold her tight, their naked bodies pulsating against each other, was overwhelming, almost overpowering.
"Why did you do that?" Amalie had asked. "Are you a fucking dyke?"
At that instant Camilla wanted to hit Amalie. Knock her down for not wanting her as badly as she wanted Amalie. For not loving her in the same way she loved her.
"No," she said, instead insinuating with her tone that a dyke had to be the worst thing in the world to be. "Are you?"
"Hell no," Amalie said while wiping her mouth with her sleeve.
"Just checking," Camilla had said.
Amalie stared at her for a long time. Then her facial expression changed. Then they both burst into laughter. Camilla had forced it through the feeling of her heart being ripped open. Since then she never tried to kiss Amalie again.
While standing in the tent listening to this infernal music, staring at the entrance like it was some sort of secret gateway to a magic place where they kept beautiful women who mysteriously vanished, Camilla slowly lost hope of ever seeing her beloved friend again. She tried hard to remember that soft kiss they once shared at the party, the salty taste of her red lips. Staring at the entrance she felt the tears beginning to run down her cheeks when her eyes suddenly met those of someone who had just entered the tent. He was wearing shiny shoes and expensive pants and a white shirt. That alone made him stand out. But that wasn't what caught Camilla's eye and made her keep staring at him. It wasn't his good looks either. It was what he was holding in his right hand. She immediately recognized the five thousand dollars cover with its twenty-two VVS1 diamonds, a total of three and a half carats.
It was Amalie's phone.
CHAPTER 14
ALLAN LOVED THE band. The music was intoxicating as were the lyrics to their songs, he thought as he entered the tent and walked directly towards the stage. This was wonderful, he thought. The perfect setting. He couldn't have chosen it better himself.
He marched right up to the stage and pushed aside some drunk longhaired dancing fans, just a small push was enough to make room for himself. He had come for Camilla, yes. But there was time enough to enjoy the music as well, he figured. Everything in its proper time. It was after all one of his favorite moments to it all, finding the girl and figuring the proper way to snatch her without anyone seeing it. Just like everything else about killing, it was an art form, really. Unfortunately not very many like him were very good at it. It aggravated him how loosely some would take this part of the killing. Like it wasn't of importance. They didn't understand that if you were ever to be taken seriously, if you were to go down in history and be admired properly for your work, you needed to attend to every little detail. Everything you did, how you comported yourself was of the utmost importance. Only the true artists understood that. There was no easy way to become something in this life. It was all hard work and talent. Allan was very talented. He was great at staging it, at orchestrating the disappearance of yet another poor innocent victim.
He clapped wh
en the band stopped singing and a new song started. He felt her eyes on him and her slowly approaching as he knew she would once she spotted the extremely expensive phone cover in his hand. No one else would notice, since Allan was the kind of guy who would buy such a cover, or at least Sebastian would buy it for him, but it didn't look strange in his hand. His appearance, his clothes matched it even if he did stand out in this crowd. But Camilla would notice. She was the only one who knew. She would come to him. Allan chuckled while singing along very loud.
"The ragged they come ... and the ragged they kill! You pray so hard on bloody knees ..." the band sang.
Allan closed his eyes while sensing her moving closer and closer. He kept his eyes closed and imagined her face, her eyes full of fear and dread. Oh the joy, oh the expectation. He opened his eyes and looked at the lead singer while he sang: "The ragged they come and the ragged they kill ..."
She was right behind him now. "I'm the one you wanted. Hey. Yeah. I'm your super beast," he continued to sing.
He was so certain she was there. He could almost hear her breath. She was probably wondering now. Debating within herself. Should she disturb him? Poke him on the shoulder and ask him outside and then ask how he got a hold of her friend's phone? Or should she wait a little longer? Observe him a little while longer before she confronted him? Ah a difficult dilemma, Allan thought to himself while dancing slowly to the music. He was waiting with great anticipation. What was she going to chose? Did she dare to talk to him? He could after all be dangerous. You never knew these days. Her parents had always warned her against strangers, and warned her not to go out on her own at night. But the parents weren't here, were they? And she was desperate now. She had to know what happened to her friend. She had only one day to figure it out before she would have to come clean. She was in a hurry to find her friend. Allan chuckled happily while thinking of Amalie in the plastic box in the cellar of his house. It had been many years since he had enjoyed something that much. Well come to think of it, maybe he never enjoyed anything as much as this. This was like the frosting on the cake. He had been preparing for this for years and years, eating the dry cake underneath and now he came to the best part. It was so sweet, so delicious even more delightful than he had dared to anticipate while dreaming of it, while fantasizing in the bed at night in the dormitory at the boarding school, when being raped again and again by the older students who thought of him as a freak who needed to be kept down. It was back then he had begun planning this masterpiece of his. It was going to be absolutely perfect.
The song ended and she still hadn't poked him on the shoulder. Chosen to wait, huh? He thought to himself. It told him a lot about her as a person. She was smarter than he thought. More calculating, even under pressure.
Allan clapped his hands, then turned around on his heel and looked directly into the eyes of Camilla. He noticed how she gasped as their eyes met. He felt a chill of pleasure across his skin and had to restrain himself from giggling with joy. Instead he pretended he didn't know her, gave her one of his most endearing smiles, then walked right past her.
He felt her eyes on his back as he walked out of the tent.
"Come on, little girl, follow the yellow brick road," he mumbled while walking, quoting one of his favorite childhood movies.
CHAPTER 15
CAMILLA FELT INDECISIVE. She had been looking at the man's back through an entire song now, not knowing what to do. He had Amalie's phone, there was no doubt about it. Once she had gotten a little closer to it, she was certain. Even if the guy looked like someone who could afford a phone cover like that, it wasn't his. Camilla knew Amalie's phone enough to also know that there was a diamond missing in the right corner on the back. This was also the case with the one the man was holding. That was hardly a coincidence. But then the man turned and looked directly at Camilla, smiled and walked out of the tent. It had taken her completely by surprise. His smile was nice and warm and as she stood watching him leave the tent, she felt compelled to run after him. He didn't seem like the type who could in any way hurt Amalie or even stolen the phone from her. But how come he was holding it? Had he found it somewhere? Whatever the reason, Camilla knew she had to talk to him. She had to ask him if he knew anything about where her friend could be. So she followed him outside. She walked a few steps behind him as he crossed the area and walked towards the Orange Stage where that old guy played his guitar. The man wasn't walking very fast and Camilla didn't find it hard to follow him without him realizing it. She had always been good at sneaking around.
The man jumped elegantly over a huge mud pile and Camilla did the same. The music from the big stage became louder. She had to react now, before he disappeared in the crowd of people and while she was still able to talk to him without her words drowning in the music.
"Hey!" she yelled.
The man kept walking. Was he pretending to not hear her? Or didn't he think she was talking to him. "Hey, you in the nice pants," she yelled and began to run to catch up with him.
He seemed to slow down a little. She ran towards him. As she was almost there, he turned his head like an owl and stared at her. Camilla stopped. Then he smiled widely.
"Are you following me, little girl?" he asked. "You shouldn't be running around out here all alone."
"I need to talk to you. I need to ask you something," Camilla said.
"How delightful," the man said. "To have the pleasure of such beautiful company. How may I be of service to you?"
Camilla smiled and blushed at his comment. Nobody ever called her beautiful before. Amalie was the beautiful one. Camilla was just, well more just the awkward friend. At least that was how she viewed herself. She relaxed slightly. The man seemed nice. Then she approached him. "It's just that ... well I couldn't help but noticing that you have my friend's phone in your hand."
The man looked at the phone in his hand. "Ah, you mean this?" He held it up so she could see it better.
Yes, that was Amalie's phone for sure. "That's my friend's phone."
"Well that's good then," he said. "I was wondering who it belonged to. I found it just before over there by the campground. It was on the ground between two tents. I thought with such an expensive looking cover that someone would be missing it. You say it's your friend's?"
Camilla sighed deeply. The man didn't know what happened to Amalie after all. But at least she now had an answer to why Amalie hadn't called her back or even replied when she called her. She had lost her phone. Maybe she was with someone she had met after all, but had no phone to call her friend and let her know where she was? The thought gave her some relief.
"Yes. She must have dropped it. I haven't seen her since Thursday and I have to admit that I have been a little worried about her."
The man tilted his head. "You say that you haven't seen her since Thursday?"
"Yes. I mean no. I haven't. I'm beginning to fear that something happened to her. That's why I needed to ask you about the phone. You said you found it at the campground?"
"Yes. Just a little while ago. I was walking across the grounds to get here."
"Can I see it?"
The man smiled, then handed her the phone. "Well of course. Here you go."
Camilla held the phone for a while then looked up at the man. He was still smiling. He was very handsome, especially when he smiled.
"Why is there blood on it?" she asked.
"Is there? Oh my. I hadn't even noticed. You don't think ..." The man gasped. "You don't think it's her blood, do you?"
Camilla felt the tears pile up, then swallowed hard to try and hold it back.
"Oh my, little girl. You're getting upset now." The man wiped away her tear with his thumb. "Here let me help you ..." he said and fumbled in his pocket. He pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped her tears with it. It smelled bad, Camilla thought and tried to pull away. Then the man grabbed her neck and pulled her closer, she let out a small shriek before he covered her mouth and nose with the handkerchief and soon Camilla saw no
thing than the stars of a deep dream.
CHAPTER 16
I RAN AS fast as I could across the festival grounds. I didn't care that mud splattered on my pants or that I accidentally pushed a guy to get him out of my way. I didn't even bother to yell that I was sorry when he yelled after me. There simply wasn't time. Camilla was somewhere out there and she was in danger. This man who called on the phone didn't want to do her any good, I just knew it. And I had given him exactly what he wanted, what he needed. I had told him exactly where she was. I could only hope I wasn't too late. Bruce Springsteen was singing Two Hearts from the big stage. The song all of a sudden woke an eerie feeling in me.
I went out walking the other day. Seen a little girl crying along the way. She'd been hurt so bad she'd never love again.
He was singing behind me as I ran towards the area with the smaller stages, where the smaller bands were playing at the same time. I stepped in another mud pile and soaked my shoe and socks. I cursed and pulled my leg free from it. Then I heard music coming from inside the tent where Suicide Silence playing. I turned and ran towards it. A stand selling tartlets was empty next to it.
I entered the tent and scanned it quickly. It didn't take long since there weren't that many people. A flock of teenagers were gathered in the corner, nodding along to the music while drinking beers. I approached them while the band sang on stage:
Make sure you take the time ... to put them down on their knees ... Make sure you take the time and listen to them beg and plead. We are violence at its finest! So take your precious time and pick your enemy, then you take the time to put them down on their knees. Now take a second look into their worthless eyes, now pull the trigger back, click, surprise! Now you are the victim of, my, my two hands. Now you are the victim of more violent circumstance. We are violence.
