UntitleD

I'm beginning to write some short stories before I get into college, it's the one thing that I really want to do with my life. Anyway, I wrote this story, I'm not sure what to call it. I'd really appreciate it if some people could read through it and tell me what they think. It's kinda long, but w/e. Thanx mucho
- Jessika

The house on Carrier Drive stood tall and silent as it looked out on the town. It’s windows gleamed warmly in the morning’s light, and all seemed peaceful. Vines crawled up the sides of the old-fashioned Victorian house as if reaching to the sky and the stars beyond. Pots of white lilies grazed the front porch and brought Linda Roger’s home to life. The trees stretching out for a full acre around her home seemed friendly enough, but as Jared Baker pulled up the stone driveway, he felt an unwelcoming sense of foreboding. Although Linda’s house was prized in the area, he could not remember a moment in his life when he ever treasured it. Ever since he was a little boy, Jared took on a fear of that house. No matter who lived in it, things never felt quite right about it. As if the home’s past was not the fault of the people who had lived in it, but an evil in the house itself. And now, twenty years later, he couldn’t help but shiver as he gaped at it. Not that Linda Rogers was like any of those people, he reminded himself. No, she was smart and pretty and beautiful and what he always wanted. The thought made him sick. What was he doing? He and Brett had been best of friends since high school, and now that he was dead, it seemed wrong to even think of Linda in any way like that. He parked his car behind their Sudan and began the walk to Linda’s front door. He steadied himself against the railing, knees taking the toll of all the alcohol consumed the night before. He thought suddenly of the last time he’d been brought here. When Brett had passed. It had happened only three weeks after their wedding, leaving Linda alone and heartbroken. Six years later, and he realized she still didn’t have a boyfriend, or any since that day at all. Linda was four months pregnant with Jeff at that time, too. He wondered how she managed to keep sane after all these years. He knew he could never pull off living with that kind of burden. Jared was pulled out of his memories when Linda pulled open the front door. She tilted her head as she saw him, blonde hair falling out of place and confusion clouded her perfect blue eyes.
“Jared?” she said, her voice edged with surprise, “what…?”
For a second Jared said nothing. But once again, recoiling out of his thoughts, took Linda’s polished hands in his own. The truth began spilling from his lips.
“It’s about Alice.”
Linda flinched at that, and memories of Brett’s death years ago began flooding her mind. Then, as quickly as it had come, the memory vanished. She looked around, as if to see an unknown visitor behind her, then invited him in.
They sat in the living room for about five minutes that stretched out to eternity, looking only at each other, both wanting the news to just disappear. To just have Jared there for memories and a friendly chat between old pals. Jared moved around in the leather chair, driving his gaze from Linda and directing it to the wall. Dust covered family portraits, taken long ago of Linda’s parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Slowly, he picked up his folders from the coffee table and began leafing through them.
Linda stared. “What happened?” she asked.
The last time Linda had even seen her sister was six years ago. The reason was nothing more then Brett’s funeral. Now, sitting with Jared, she knew she would have another one to plan very soon.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “It was just an accident, Miss Rogers,” he paused, as though it wasn’t too late to lie, then went on, “there was a truck on the highway. It was going too fast and Alice pulled in too soon. Both drivers were killed instantly. We believe she didn’t suffer…”
Linda nodded slowly, and her body held no emotion. Yet, at the same time, it held so many feelings. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking behind those crystal blue eyes.
“I knew it would happen,” she said, “since Brett died, I knew anybody else close to me would die, too.”
He looked back to the portraits, then said exactly what she expected to hear.
“If there’s anything that I can do…”
“No,” she replied, almost instantly, “it’s alright. Everything is going to be all right.”
Jared squeezed her hand and pulled some flyaway hair from her face.
Said, “I’ll go fix us some coffee,” and walked out the door.
As soon as he was gone, she walked over to the portraits most recently taken of her family and pulled out a picture of her and Jeff. She peered down at it, her eyes glazed over with uncertainty.

It was nearly midnight when detective Jared Baker left her. They’d gone over with her sister’s attorney what was to be left to her. Since her parents were dead, that was everything. Everything was left to her and Jeff. At the thought of her son, Linda felt a surge of anger shoot through her. Ever since she had conceived that filth, things began to fill her life with misery. Horrible things, starting with Brett. And now Alice, too…but not her. He would never get her. She would make sure of that. Linda Rogers descended down the stairs leading from her room, her son’s room, and the upper bathroom, into the kitchen. Her body tensed with exhilaration. She began pulling out all the contents of the cupboard under the sink.
Her face contorted with undisturbed concentration, and she dispelled quickly of anything unfit for her next action. As she began to see exactly what she was searching for, she stifled a scream of over whelming joy rising in her throat, shivering as her fingers touched the hilt of the blade…

The child lay perfectly still in it’s bed. Anyone would have thought the child merely asleep, but a closer look revealed it’s eyes darting back and forth under closed eyelids. Jeff Rogers knew something was wrong the minute Mr. Baker had knocked on their front door. He had never met him before, but knew the last time he came, his father had died.
Now, at nearly midnight, he lay in his bed waiting. Waiting for a beating that was sure to come. Every time he had brought up his father’s name, Linda would hit him. Sometimes, he was hit even when he’d done nothing.
But the reason for it – the true reason, he was sure – was for his father. She always told him that he’d killed Brett. Of course, the most horrible maiming came from when he’d thought his father was haunting him. The most disgraceful thing he could do, or so his mother had told him, was make the soul of his father wait for him.
The hurt came back suddenly as he heard footsteps grazing the floor ahead of him. He would hear it one second, and then it paused for awhile – just long enough for Jeff to think that the cause of the noise had gone away. But then it came again, louder, closer. He felt a gasp of terror welling up inside him. He tried to control it, but failed.
A low, whimpering noise passed through his lips. The footsteps now came at him faster. And then they stopped, right in front of him. He tried to slip back into unconsciousness. And once again, he failed. His eyes stopped darting, and he began to open them. Once they were half open, a sound resembling that of a whip cracked through the air, and the first feeling of pain exploded from his face.
Realizing fully what was coming, he attempted to reel away from the stark image of his mother. And then he heard it again. And the second feeling of pain struck his arm. He felt tears falling steadily down his face. His breath came in gasps.
“Get up!” he heard his mother scream. He tried to ignore it, shut down his mind completely and forever.
“Get up!” she said again and lifted him up. For a split second, Jeff thought he was still dreaming.
After all, he had done nothing today, not a word was even said to the woman standing before him. As that thought drifted away, he realized it didn’t matter what he’d done. There was nothing that could stop it.
“No,” he whispered, “no, mommy, please, I swear I didn’t do it!”
She dragged him down the stairs, past the kitchen. To the basement.
“Please!”
But his cries were hopeless, and were to go unanswered. He sobbed until they reached the very bottom of the flight of stairs. The basement was pitch black down here. The kind of black he’d always been afraid of seeing. Now, though, as he walked across the floor, he wished he could reach into the darkness and let it take him.
“No,” he said, softer now.
She threw him against the wall, and his small frame crashed down to the floor. He let out another whimper. She lowered herself down to his level and peered into his terrified face. Her eyes burned like cold fire.
“Look what you’ve done,” she said, sounding more like a hissing snake then any person. He knew what she meant.
“I d-didn’t do it, Mommy, I—“but she wouldn’t let him finish.
“Of course you did”, she snapped, “you killed my husband,” she pulled out a kitchen knife and held it to his face. “You killed my sister”, the knife went to his throat. “But all your killing is going to end. Right now.”
Jeff Rogers screamed one last time as the blade wielded by his mother sank deep into his heart...