Undesirable.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I examine Grant's messy workspace and follow the trail of mud onto the floor. I see that his boots have left little footprints leading from the door to the couch. He's not usually this cluttered, so something must be off. I go over to his room and gently knock on the door.

"Hey, you ok in there?" I lean my head into his door, and wait patiently for a response. I can hear his rustle, but I get no response. "I was just joking ya know." I fall forward, catching myself as Grant opens his door.

"I'm sorry. It's been a weird day." He walks back towards his bed, laying down and continues scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

I sit at the edge of his bed, leaning back, waiting for a response to his own question.

"Bailey texted me." He looks up front his phone for a second to make eye contact, and then goes back.

Bailey Cooper. The ex.

"And?" I'm fishing for more.

"Well, her mom texted me." His voice cracks, and now I know something is really wrong.

I crawl onto the bed, and lean against the cold wall, wrapping my arms around him. "Why? What happened to Bailey?"

"She's dead." His voice is crisp, cold, and sends a chill down my spine.

I hadn't heard him mention her name in years, not after the incident. A few years back, during our freshman year of college Bailey and Grant dated, and she hated me. Hate is saying things nicely, Bailey despised me. It wasn't always that way. She and I used to be friends in high school. We met out freshman year at orientation, and I was the only one that went out of my way to talk to her. Once the semester started, we had no classes together, but in the halls people would always ask if she or I had a sibling, they were referring to one of us. Through our similar appearances, and constant pairing we became really good friends. It wasn't until she dusted me off for Grant that things went awry. I didn't mind the two dating, but she hated the friendship Grant and I had, that she did not fit into. I tried to include her, but she refused to include me, and he didn't appreciate it. It ended with a massive fight where she did the whole "Me or Her" spiel, and ultimately Grant chose me. I was like family to Grant, and for us that meant more than someone who was only passing by. Even with all the heartache that went on between us, it still didn't make it any easier to hear that she was truly gone.

"What are you talking about?" My voice shook, because deep down I knew it must be true, but I hoped questioning it wouldn't make it so.

Grant shakily grabs for the remote and clicks on the TV, which opens up to the local news channel.

"The grim discovery has been confirmed to be the fourth killing from the Face Lift Killer. Bailey Cooper's remains were found tangled in the bushes at the edge of the River Walk, by an afternoon jogger." Grant mutes the newscaster and stares blankly at the TV as a panorama view of the lake flashes on the screen.

My stomach turns with uneasiness as the subtitles continue, describing how the killer has marked each of his victims, and the imagery immediately forms in my mind making it all that more real. Each girl was left either stabbed in the back, or had their neck sliced from ear to ear. As if that wasn't damaging enough, whoever it was went to lengths of meticulously removing the face of each victim with the exception of their eyes, probably some ill attempt to objectitfive the women. It was sick, and I cursed myself for having such a vivid imagination.

We sat in silence, watching scenes change, and eventually go to a badly timed Steak Knife infomercial. I gently rested my hand over Grant's to help comfort him, as he pulled his hand away, running his fingers through his knotted hair. Maybe it wasn't the right time, I get it.

"That's how I tracked in all that mud. I went to visit where they found her. I felt like I needed to." He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "Sorry, I'll clean it up."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I knew she was your friend once." He's sympathetic, but I know he's only saying it out of courtesy.

I say nothing, but instead quietly exit his room, and grab the mop to clean up his tracks. I mop the floor with melancholy, not at the fact that Bailey is gone, but at the idea that he is back.

My muscles ache with fear, and I look down at my watch. I'm exasperated to see that it's already 12:45AM. I wring out the mop and become hypnotized with the murky water that circles in the bucket. My eyes become heavy, and I leave the water behind to deal with in the morning, as I make my way lazily to my room. I feel gross for not brushing my teeth, but I think tonight I get a free pass. It's been a rough one.

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Body number 4, how many more do you think there will be?

Comment and vote if you liked it!

Till' Next Time,
Lexi