Red

Chapter Seventeen: the Boogeyman

The castle was covered in dust and fire. I had an eerie feeling, like I'd been there sometime in the past or future, but I couldn't quite place it. 

"You liar," the witch whispered, scuttling across the marble floors, clumps of her ebony hair raining down to the floor as she pointed a grizzled finger at me. "You liar!" 

"What have I lied about?" I gasped, inching away from her. "I hardly know you, I swear!" 

"You let your past blind you in the future. You let your old fears manifest in your work. You know what you have done, liar." 

"I swear, I have no idea what you're talking about," I promised, even though I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly what she meant.  

"As witches burn, so do liars," the witch declared. She jerked her arms upwards, and hundreds of crows exploded from the ground, attacking me, pecking at me, eating my flesh. I fell to the floor. The dirt of the ground burned my skin, searing it. 

"No!" I screamed. "I'm sorry! I'll fix it!" 

The birds froze as the witch advanced to me. She grabbed my chin with her gnarled hand and yanked my head up, forcing me to look her in the eye. "Find me," she hissed, her lips the colour of blood, her skin waxen and pale like a corpse. Or like snow. 

I remembered something and dizzily, I tried to stand. 

"Find me!" The witch pushed me and I fell, landing on my back. 

I woke up gasping and drenched in sweat. I wasn't fully certain of what the dream meant, but one thing was true: we'd arrested the wrong man. And if I didn't find the right one he'd be burned for his crimes. 

I jumped out of bed and threw on leggings and an old sweatshirt. There was no time to waste. 

After writing a letter to the kids that I set on the dining table, briefly explaining where I'd gone, I sent a text to Gran. I didn't expect him to wake up and help me. This was my mistake, and I had to fix it. 

I straddled my bike and rode off to the penitentiary. I had a theory, and only Aunt Imelda could help me prove it. 

Once arriving, the mirror guard greeted me again. 

"The time is 2:37 a.m. Name and ID, please." 

I took a breath. "I'm Sorrell Benedict. Here's my ID." 

The guard let me through with no problems. 

Aunt Imelda was not asleep like the rest of the world. Instead she sat, shafted in moonlight, her profile full of melancholy. She said nothing as we went to the visitor area. 

"I heard about the arrest," she said quietly. "Congratulations." 

I sighed. "Thank you, but-" 

"You don't believe that man is the killer anymore, do you?" she said. Her voice was not accusatory or mocking, just curious. 

I stared at the table. "I don't." 

"You have come to ask about Snow," she said serenely. There was no malice in her face as she said the name, unlike last time. 

Looking at her, all the pieces fit together. I could recall the old rhyme they said at her birth- Lips bloodred, hair like night, skin like snow, her name, Snow White. 

Lips blood red- like the blood coloured lipstick signature. 

Hair like night- like the hair we found in the tower.