The frigid air blanketed everything in sight; Leo slowly dragged his leather booths on the snow ladened pathway. With one hand, he adjusted his grey beanie so that his head wouldn’t freeze over, and with the other he clutched onto his grey briefcase tightly. As his feet led him on the sugar dusted path, he gazed at the not-so-modern platforms that greeted him solemnly; aside from the stationmaster that sat idly on his phone at the ticketing counter, he saw not a single soul in sight.
That was the oddity of this town, it seemed nearly devoid of any signs of life, yet was marred with desolation, decay and death. As a visitor to this area, he tried his hardest to reserve any judgement. After all, who was he in judging how the locals interacted with their land? However, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pity for those trapped by the tendrils of the soil.
“Hello, how may I help you today?” a monotonous voice asked.
“One ticket to Georgeville,” he replied.
“That’ll be $44. Please do note that it is uncertain when the next train will arrive due to the heavy snowfall over the day. The train normally reaches at quarter past 8,” he replied, his voice becoming even more monotonous somehow.
Leo looked at the silver clock that gently laid wrapped over his wrist, reading the blue hands that told the time. “Alright, I’ll take one ticket, please.” His mittened right hand reached into one of the deep pockets that lined his grey pants, their softness and warmth beckoning him to stay. Green cash was laid out on the marble kiosk to face the frigid frost, its crumpled stature changing ever so slowly as Leo counted out change.
“What brings you around here, anyways?” The stationmaster rested his phone behind the probably plastic panel, his blue eyes vying for a connection with Leo’s.
“Oh, nothing much. Just some looking around, you could say,” Leo replied assuringly.
Upon hearing this, the ticketmaster, with a nametag that Leo just realized spelt out Mark, stretched his arms and leaned back—his shirt exposing the gold buckle of his belt ever so slightly more.
“Can never be too sure these days, I guess. They say the city folk are eyeing the houses like eagles, whilst others say they are the thread tying the murders together.” He yawned, as if the notion hardly bothered him.
“The murders?” Leo asked, his voice painted with both intrigue and hesitation as he slid the exact amount over to Mark.
“Intrigued, aren’t you? Well, I could tell you more if you meet me in the bathroom over there,” Mark replied, eyes now focused on counting the cash. A surge of warmth rushed through Leo’s body, but he declined the offer.
He was probably the one who knew the most about the murders, anyway.
As Leo stepped out of the warmth of the ticketing counter, the light snowfall greeted him. He looked up, and the ceiling was split into two stone arches, engaged in a battle for dominance. His pupils scanned the premises, specks of white covering his field of sight, but he was still able to make out the moon that shone harshly over him; and a black door with the sign “bathroom” on top of it.
Trekking lightly, Leo approached the suspicious looking door. It was left ajar. With one hand, he pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit Christmas wonderland: white snow blew in through the smashed window, filtering in the moon’s gaze; greenery sprouted in between the marble tiles, whilst dried red dotted the sides of the sink and mirrors. Out of curiosity, Leo stepped into the limelight, placing his briefcase on the ledge separating the broken mirror and dirt covered sink.
Removing both mittens from his hands, Leo bent down ever so slightly, angling his reflection to one of the visible shards of glass. With a surprisingly functional sink, Leo dampened the palms of his hand and delicately sorted out the strands of brown-dyed hair that messily lay on his head. He then scooped up some of the clear water and lightly splashed his face with it. As one did after freshening themselves, Leo adjusted the grey collar of his coat and ruffled his beanie to match the new position of his hair.
As he was about to leave, a soft creak cut through the crisp air, resonating from the dark corner of the room.
His posture straightened, eyes instantly focused. He edged closer and closer to the door that had moved, and as the moonlight streamed down his pale face, his hand reached into the unknown.
His eyes laid on the crimson pools below him. It was still a familiar sight, but the sight always made his heart clench uncomfortably.
“Don’t come closer…” the man soaked in red croaked. Leo’s heart clenched even tighter.
“Sir, what happened?” He knelt, but the man retreated into the cubicle, shaking arms dripping in red pointed at Leo.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” Leo called out to him. Leo’s eyes were still adjusting to the darkness. The enclosed space barely had light peeking through, it felt like an abyss was pulling them into its crevices; a presence that was overtly pervasive, masking all in its embrace.
“He’s out… for you…” the man stuttered.
Leo quickly retreated from the beckoning of death stumbling out of this forsaken place, his brain fumbling through the many thoughts that wandered aimlessly in his head. His heart clenched even tighter, like someone was forcing it through a pipe. He needed to get out. But his instincts told him to look over his shoulder.
A sliver of moonlight illuminated what seemed to be an arm, glistening with a soft red glow. “You must not be very good at your job, huh?”
A face entered the moon’s embrace, a silver smile extending its hospitality. Leo took a step back, holding onto his leather briefcase ever so slightly tighter.
“You only wanted to save me for your case, didn’t you?” The man inched closer to him. Cold water washed down Leo’s spine, like someone had clamped his mouth shut. Leo retreated further into the abyss, until he found himself under dripping meltwater and mossy tiles. His thoughts were a blur. How did he get up?
There was no way this was the same person, was it?
The man’s fist wrapped around Leo’s throat. “You could’ve hit me with the briefcase, but I guess not.” He smirked, the veins of his left hand glistening rose-red where it clamped around Leo’s neck.
Leo’s head spun. He didn’t even see it. But when he did, he only felt the urge to run.
It was a shard of the mirror, dripping blood from the palm of that man.
“Don’t pretend to care about me, I know you don’t, Leo.” He smirked, pearly white teeth reflecting almost as much moonlight as the mirror. The primal instinct to survive was all that kept Leo conscious, blood pumping painfully throughout his body.
The mustily tiled bathroom reeked with drops of meltwater and the hum of the wind, devoid of any warmth, but all Leo could hear was the ringing in his ears. When the screech of wheels on a track finally sliced through the silence, it sounded like hell.
“What perfect timing.” The man’s pink lips pressed into an eerie smile. “My name’s Parris, and welcome to my exhibition. You’d look good next to Daryl, won’t you?”
He motioned towards the cubicles lining the right side of the bathroom. At this point Leo could hardly breathe anymore, his throat forcefully clamped shut, his arms losing all sensation, body numb to the pain; but nothing prepared him for the searing heat that soon spread all over his body.
“You may wonder what my motive is, dearest investigator. To that, I say: you should’ve stayed in your lane,” the man. His jaw screwed open in a laugh Leo couldn’t hear anymore, but he finally felt it—the loosening of Parris’ grip.
He waited. Waited for just one moment. A moment longer.
Leo mustered all the strength he had left and flung his body to the right.
Only for Parris’ grip to harden.
“Aw, our investigator here thought he could escape? That’s so cute.” He ruffled Leo’s dyed hair. “Too bad.”
Parris pressed the glass to Leo’s face. “I messed around with others for my own gain” carved itself into Leo’s left cheek. “May I find eternal torment” tattooed itself over Leo’s right cheek.
When Parris’ grip finally loosened on Leo’s neck, his hands were stained three different shades of red. Leo slumped to the ground, unconscious. “What a shame,” Parris muttered. “I too thought you would discover it all.” He licked vermillion off his palm, savouring the red ichor.
“Alas, fate is cruel.” Slicing the jagged edge of the mirror over flesh and bone, the vessel of Leo’s life split into two. Parris smiled in the dark, the cracks in the ceiling his only witness.
The snow outside was beginning to get heavier. Mark slowly unbuckled his belt, tugging open the door guarding the bathroom. The last train for tonight had just departed. He was alone. The bathroom was his, and his only, as he finished his business and headed to wash his hands.
Only to gaze in the mirror and see a smile staring back at him.
Written By: Caelan
Edited By: Amberlyn
