The Forum

by Marie Reyes

  When she was real with him, and not trying to be perfect all the time, he liked it. He liked her without makeup, wearing one of his oversized T-shirts in the morning, when her hair was all over the place. He liked it when she was honest with him. Shit, why wasn't he just honest with her from the start? Of course, it was going to be a shock to see some message from a dating site. He should have deleted it already. It clearly was nothing to do with anything, as the other victim was unrelated, and did not frequent the dating site.

  "Let's start over, shall we?" He smiled, wanting her frown, and the hurt in her eyes to dissolve from her face.

  "I know it's totally irrational, and wrong, but could you stop using that forum, and those other websites. It scares me. You never know what kind of psychos are on the other end. I'm just worried about you. That's all"

  "Okay." The words leapt from his mouth before he had time to mean them or think them through. He just wanted her happy again. It was probably for the best anyway. He needed to concentrate on his career, which was flat lining. He had even asked his old boss for some shifts, as he wasn't earning enough with the comedy. Nadia laid her head on Aadesh's lap as she laid across the sofa. She twisted her head to look up at him with her big brown eyes.

  "We're okay, aren't we?" Something about her intonation, told him this was more of a rhetorical question, or a statement, than an actual question, but her voice wavered with uncertainty. Her deep eyes glistened in the lamp-light, and her long hair splayed out across his lap. Why was it, that when the end of a relationship threatened to strike, all the things that bothered you about them dissolved, and all you see are the wonderful things about them? He touched the end of his fingertips with hers and pulled a throw over her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  MAPLE RIDGE - BRITISH COLUMBIA

  Stood in front of the window, Martin watched the clouds swirl overhead. The cabin fever was already setting in, but his anxiety was stronger. There was something about being indoors, in his soft baggy sweatpants, that kept him trapped there. He imagined the harsh, biting wind against his skin, which furthered his resolve to stay inside. It wasn't fair. Dana needed to be walked. He let her out into the large back yard as often as she wanted, but it wasn't enough. He vowed to do better tomorrow and poured himself a drink; it was Christmas after all.

  Wistful Christmas songs crooned from the radio, transporting him to a different era. He had managed to avoid them so far, but it was inevitable. For a supposedly joyous occasion, he wondered why so many Christmas songs sounded so depressing. Low, nostalgic tones, and sad lyrics. It wasn't any song in particular, but all of them made him feel this way now. Christmas would never be the same and was now worse than all the other days of the year. Screaming of what he was missing. The thought of asking one of his friends for an invitation had crossed his mind, but he quickly decided against it. He didn't need a pity invite, and to wedge his way into their intimate family gatherings.

  To fight the urge to go rooting around in the basement for old Christmas home-movies, he turned on his computer, and sat at his desk with a whole carton of eggnog. The warm illumination of the screen replaced the glow of the roaring log fire. This was his life now. He took a sip of eggnog before logging in. The thick creamy liquid was filling enough that he wouldn't even need to bother to cook. It coated his throat as it traveled down and sat heavy in his stomach. His social media was flooded with pictures of his friends and acquaintances gathering around full tables for Christmas dinner, and photos of their children ripping open huge mounds of presents. #blessed.

  An inkling of an idea fluttered around in the periphery of his mind, but he couldn't quite make it out. Couldn't grasp it. He needed something to give him a good kick-in-the-ass. Something to get him out of this funk. All he could think of was doing charity work, or a change of scenery. He probably wasn't in the state to help anyone at the moment, considering he could barely look his work colleagues in the eyes for the last couple of months, and barely recognized himself.

  He couldn't see himself going on vacation either. Would he be just as depressed and disconnected on some Caribbean island? Of course, the warmth and the liberal flow of rum would help. Even though he doubted there was any update since last time he checked a couple of days ago, he had a look at the forum. To his surprise, there were two other members active, but he couldn't determine who they were. He considered posting a message asking if anyone was around to chat but concluded that to be a desperate move.

  No one had been on the forum, and he felt even more alone. They were all busy celebrating. The fact the killer had left them a message probably hadn't helped. Although, it may have just been a troll. As he took a sip of his drink, he noticed the red circle in the top right-hand corner of his screen and clicked on the notification. A group message.

  K-meister: Hiya. Making a private group. Just people we trust. I'm inviting Pipes, Shortstacks, Quicky_Mart and I'm considering inviting Pickletubs118. What do you guys think? They haven't made much input, but they did start the group in the first place.

  As soon as the post popped up on screen, Martin's heart lightened a little. He wasn't completely and utterly alone.

  Quicky_Mart: I'm in. Not sure about Pickletubs. Maybe worth inviting them. We can always block them later if we need to. How come you're not busy enjoying Christmas. Do you celebrate Christmas?

  K-meister: I used to love Christmas. This year it just feels wrong. My dad was the human embodiment of the grumpy cat meme, but he loved Christmas.

  Martin breathed in sharply, winded, as the grief came out of nowhere, punching him in the gut. He stepped away from his desk, gasping as if the room was starved of oxygen. He paced the room for a minute before returning to his chair.

  Quicky_Mart: Yeah, it sucks. You never know when it'll be the last time you'll see someone. You should enjoy being with your family, not on the internet with a sad sack like me.

  The self-pity was coming hard and fast now, and he was even shaking a little as he tried to keep it together.

  K-meister: U OK?

  Quicky_Mart: My dad died recently.

  At first, Martin felt strange being so candid, but what did he have to lose. Nothing. Literally, nothing.

  K-meister: Wow. So you know what I'm going through. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to open any wounds.

  Quicky_Mart: No. Not at all. You weren't to know.

  K-meister: Anything I can do?

  Quicky_Mart: Just have a good Christmas.

  K-meister: You too. Well, as good as you can in the circumstances.

  Martin smiled. There was something so strange about the exchange. Two people who have never met, with this one strange thing in common. This thing that still hung over them, unresolved. Maybe he could travel to Chicago, or Milwaukee. Follow the hunches of strangers that he had met online. Get his name in the paper. fifteen minutes of fame. A flutter of excitement. Stupid idea.

  What was the point of doing anything of note, when there was no one to be proud of your achievement? No one to give a shit. It's as if any bit of ambition, any last care, disappeared that day that his last living blood relative was lowered into the ground, only to have earth shoveled on top of them. It was in that moment that it really hit him. As great hunks of earth pummeled down over the coffin. He was basically an object at that point. No longer a person, and that fate awaited us all. So what the hell was the point?

  There was no tree in the house. Initially, he had convinced himself to put one up, to make it feel like it did in the past. He was glad he hadn't. There was only one present to put under it this year, and the sight of that would have been too sad to bear. The wrapping paper was so cutesy and girly, it made him chuckle a little. Glittery penguins against a blue background. It was from his best friend and ex colleague. He carefully opened the paper, not wanting to rip it, like that would somehow be disrespectful to the time and effort his friend had put into wrapping it. He slipped out the book. The ultimate Great Divide Trail guide. Mountains reflected in a perfectly still m
irror lake called to him on the front cover. They'd always talked about doing it one day, but commitments always got in the way. Maybe now was the perfect time. Well, late spring at least. That would give him a good amount of time to prepare.

  Chapter Fifteen

  SEATTLE

  She was outside, and the cold stung her nostrils. It was only now she was here in the park, that she realized how long it had been since she had left the house, and felt the fresh air bring the blood to her cheeks. The swing squeaked in the background, sounding like it needed a good oil. The sound of a rusty swing gave her the creeps, evoking images of empty swings moving of their own accord, or that little boy from the Omen. The sound of activity and laughter should have brought on positive feelings, but along with the abrasive breeze, it felt like an assault on her senses.

  Being outside was exhausting somehow, and she hoped it might give her a surge of energy in the end. She kept waiting for this burst of serotonin that exercise was supposed to provide. Trent had taken over pushing the swing, maybe noticing her tire of it. It was a strange feeling. It felt like a lifetime ago that they had worked as a team. The support felt foreign, but not unpleasant.

  She took advantage of the break and took a seat on the bench. The feeling of cold metal underneath her penetrated her jeans, and her muscles clenched. Stephen wanted to be pushed higher and higher, probably hoping that he could make it a full 360 degrees. This should have been one of life's pleasures but watching them left her with an uneasy feeling.

  Every time she looked at them, she felt a panicked fear, quite possibly the deepest fear she had ever experienced. A responsibility so great, that she couldn't handle it and the weight of it made her sick to her stomach. People were so vulnerable anyway, but her children. Anything could happen to them. Life was a crapshoot, and she was the one who had played the game, gambling with these fragile beings that she had dragged into this world. A world of poverty and sickness. It was dog eat dog and if she couldn't cope, how could she expect them to. Hopefully, they got Trent's personality. Nothing fazed him. If he wanted something, he went for it. No doubts or second guessing. He had what it took to survive.

  She had to stop herself from falling further into this black hole. If she could just be present in the moment, it would be fine. Right now, everything was okay, so why did she feel like something awful was going to happen all the time?

  Maybe now was the time to change, the time for new year’s resolutions. She took her meds like clockwork now Trent kept her on schedule. She could be different, better. There had been no activity on the forum, no murders. She could focus on her family and be the person she was incapable of being before. The vibrations in her pocket made her jolt on her seat; she had been so deep in thought.

  K-meister: Look what I found. The person that messaged us left a video on another group. Click on the link.

  Piper stared at the URL, wondering if she was going to click on it. It felt as if the simple act of looking at the video could send her life veering in a completely different direction. She could choose to devote herself to Trent and her children. Be a healthy, well-adjusted member of society.

  Somehow, it felt like if she pressed on that link, it would only lead her to a dark place, a place where she sat alone in her gloomy apartment, hunched over a screen. She pictured it like a narrow path, and the undergrowth was getting thicker, and it got darker, and blacker, but she just couldn't stop herself from being carried along.

  It seemed like a choice, but was it really? Deep down, she knew she was clicking on that link. It was a compulsion, an impulse even stronger than her need to drink, an instinctual, involuntary reflex she was powerless to control. She clicked on the link.

  Chapter Sixteen

  LONDON

  Aadesh wanted more salad, but he didn't want to ask for it. It was at the other end of the table. He could lean over, but that would seem strange. They would wonder why he didn't just ask them to pass him the bowl.

  He wondered what was wrong with him. Sometimes, even a simple transaction felt impossible. One day, he could be charming as fuck, the next, he couldn't look anyone in the eye, couldn't hold a conversation. Thankfully, Nadia's mother was in a constant stream of consciousness, narrating every little thing that happened. It was a welcome distraction until she brought the conversation back to him.

  "So how is the comedy going?" Every time she looked at him, he felt she was looking him over, judging him, weighing up his achievements, or lack of. Her X-ray vision could always tell when he'd lost a few pounds and she would try to fatten him up.

  "It's fine." He could tell his go to answer wasn't going to cut it. "A bit of a struggle at the moment. Going to pick up some shifts at the coffee shop soon."

  "Have some more salad dear." As if she'd read his mind, she passed him the ceramic bowl. "You know if you need a job, Miro can get you something. He's a manager now so..."

  "Thank you. I'll consider it." He put some salad on his plate with the tongs, and then some rice, and of course grains tumbled all over the place and made a mess on the table. He tried to pick up the individual grains with his fingertips and put them on his side plate. His phone buzzed against the table and although he knew Nadia's mother hated people using phones at the dinner table, he just couldn't help himself.

  K-meister: Look what I found. The person that messaged us left a video on another group. Click on the link.

  He wondered if he could get away with clicking the link. As long as his phone was on silent. Probably a bad idea. Nadia was next to him and had a habit of looking over his shoulder. It would have to wait until he got home on the toilet. That was the perfect time, his only alone time these days.

  "You should probably get in there quickly. They have vacancies at the moment, and who knows how long that might last, what with the economy the way it is."

  "I need the bathroom." Aadesh slipped his phone out of his pocket and pulled his chair out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  MAPLE RIDGE - BRITISH COLUMBIA

  Martin stood on the corner waiting, watching the mist of his breath dissipate into the ether. He couldn't believe he was doing this. His first time out of the house for weeks, and he was doing something he had never done before. This was the place, yet he couldn't bring himself to walk through the door. It felt pathetic. The people in there had it so much worse than him, but for some inexplicable reason he was frozen with fear. It's as if all his energy had been used up forcing himself to leave the house and he had none left. What a piece of shit, he thought, milling around by the entrance of the soup kitchen, avoiding eye contact with anyone that passed by.

  The last time he had spoken more than two words to someone that wasn't a delivery man, was the day he was fired. Surely these people won't be judging him, he reasoned. It's fine. The people running the operation had probably seen it all before and there was no way that they were strangers to mental health issues, but he was here to help others, not have the busy volunteers wasting their time trying to make him feel at ease. If he left, he'd probably be doing them a favor. He was always more of a hindrance than a help lately. It was like people said, put your own oxygen mask on before helping others.

  Maybe that was just an excuse to make himself feel better. He had a roof over his head, food, warmth, yet he just couldn't stop thinking of himself as a victim. This thought sent his mind spiraling down the drain as he contemplated what a waste of space he was. Just do it. Don't over think it. Just walk through the fucking door already. You're a grown man for fuck's sake.

  "Are you coming in?" A woman's voice almost made him jump out of his skin and released him from his negative thoughts.

  "Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, it's just, I've not done this before, and I am a bit hesitant. I thought maybe, I'd just end up being more of a hindrance."

  "Don't be silly. We can always use help. Besides, it's not exactly rocket science. You'll be fine." She had one of those sing-song voices which instantly put him at ease. She was probably used to all sorts. He follo
wed her through the door, and now he was present in the moment, he wondered what he was even worried about. Mild agoraphobia aside, he was glad he'd taken this step.

  She gave him a brief tour, and they finished up in the kitchen. Hot steam from a large saucepan billowed up into the air, and Martin could already feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "So, I'll leave you to wash your hands and put some gloves on and I'll see you in the dining room if that's okay?"

  "Yes. Of course."

  "Would you mind carrying this tray in with you when you come? I sprained my wrist and that one's damned heavy."

  "Sure. No problem."

  He squirted some runny dish detergent on his hands and turned on the faucet. Now he was alone again, his mind raced. It felt like he was just doing this one token gesture to make him feel better about himself, and then he would just go back to his old ways. He'd always considered himself a conscientious person. One of the good guys, but maybe it was all just a bullshit facade.

  He was privileged with loving parents and an amazing upbringing, yet he just took it all for granted while other people suffered. His self-pity made him sick, but it was like an addiction he couldn't quit. He pulled the tight gloves over his hands and grabbed the handles of the tray. She was right; this thing was seriously heavy.