The man she buried is back and knocking, drenched from head to toe, his long black hair shining through the midnight sky. He was looking to the ground as if to hide the bloodlust reflecting from his pupils. I didn’t know whether to call her or wait until he left. As I stared at the video monitor waiting for him to try the backdoor or send a rock through our window, It was difficult to not be in awe of how he managed to survive her wrath. My sister was never a violent being, but one human can only be pushed so far. Through the monotonous sharp tapping coming from the door down the hall, flashbacks start to invade my mind one by one. The accusation, the argument, the pushing. 


This was nothing out of the norm for these two, but just by watching all of this unfold I could tell something was different this time. Everything just seemed so much more intense. Maybe I was just tired, I thought to myself. Not to mention, the current events unfolding were a huge contrast to the reminiscent episode of Spongebob they happened to decide to have their weekly feud in front of. Then he hit her. Closed fist. My jaw dropped in a pure surprised state of rage. She fell to the ground instantly. It was hard to tell through her blonde hair that fell over her face like a curtain, and her left hand covering her cheek, but she seemed to be wearing that same look on her face too. Before I could look back up at him, he decided to go in for more to make sure he properly made his mark. This wasn’t like him though. Though I know him to be a big ball of emotions, he cared deeply for her .  I would never expect him to consciously hurt her. She was his first and they vowed to be each other's last. They were like a passionate ball of fire and oil. She could be cold at times. Sometimes they would mix perfectly and create the most warm, luminescent moments. 


Regardless of her behavior, her existence in  his presence seemed to fire him up all the same. This time around was dramatically intense. The fire, once a symbol of young and free passion seemed to hit the ceiling and in that moment, it was as if the fire hit a ceiling and was dissatisfied with the chaos it induced, so it burned mischievously hotter, until it caused the atmosphere to implode. This dangerous new flame seemed to almost have almost possessed the man my sister once called her lover. My reminiscing was cut short by the second hit as my mind returned to the present moment of shock. As he raised his hand for a third, much more focused, aggressive strike, my body sprung into action and before I could blink I’m on the back of a man I once considered a friendly face. We fall back and his head hits my chest and my head hits the floor. I ignore the ringing in my ears and the blood I taste in the back of my throat as I fully commit to protecting my sister from the sudden dangerous, unknown intentions of this assailant. 


For the next couple seconds of what felt like hours,  I attempted to keep him on the ground. He seemed oblivious that my legs locked around his waist and my arms wrapped around his right arm as he used his left arm to shift his weight from his back to his stomach and eventually make it back to his feet. His strength did not match his slim figure. He was entirely set on carrying out whatever thoughts racing through  his mind and burning through his heart. He begins his march towards my sister who is now on her knees crawling toward the back patio, before he realizes his movements are restricted. He then began to violently shake as I held on out of pure hope, he grabbed my arm and shifted his weight causing me to flip and hit the floor. My eyes started to water. I could feel the malice shooting at me as he set his focus toward me. Through the tears, I see him walk toward me when a blunt thump came from behind him, and the fire in his eyes disseminated as he dropped to his knees and his head followed almost immediately after.  I looked up and standing there was my sister, with one of the relics my parents left in the house before they passed, as if to give us their loving protection one last time. The same fire was now in her eyes as she gripped the statue like a stress ball, the blood and bronze highlighted by the setting sun wanting to show the climax and end of a once passionate love story, now being greeted by the dark thunderclouds ready to help us embrace the current situation and the dim uncertain future unfolding before our eyes.  He laid there, unconscious. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Neither of us uttered a word, but we knew what needed to be done. 


A thunderclap followed by a lightning strike landed us in the car driving on 95 trying to figure out how to properly get rid of the body in the trunk.  I looked at my sister who was still burning inside wondering what her next move was. We ended up on a backroad to the pier where our parents  kept the family boat we used to take on fishing trips when we were younger. She pulled the car up as close as possible as we carried out the red stained tarp and loaded it onto the back of the boat before untying the rope keeping us on the harbor and setting sail for the shortest, darkest boatride of our lives. She busily shuffled through the boat trying to find something seemingly important. She turned around to the cinderblock on the back of the boat with the rope right next to it. She paused, and I could almost hear a sigh of relief leave her lips before kneeling down to embrace the cinder block. She tied the rope to the cinderblock and  dragged it out to where her former lover was laying and tied it to his feet. She then pushed the cinderblock off of the peer and watched the tarp follow, and the bubbles rise then disappear before driving back to shore. She then opened her mouth for her one and only demand, which almost sounded like a threat.



“ Not a word to ANYONE.” she demanded, the shaking still present in her tone.


I swallowed a deep gulp. As I nodded my head in agreement. This wasn’t necessarily a topic one would want coming up in a certain company but I would want to stay on the safe side as well. After what felt like a much shorter car ride, we made it back to the house. She goes upstairs to sleep as I go to watch a show to take my mind off. About an hour passes before the thoughts once again start to press my mind. Considering how hard it must have been for her, I decided to go check on my sister to keep her company if needed. I walked up the stairs and opened the door to an empty room. I turn to see the bathroom light on with steam seeping through the bottom part of the door. She was taking a shower. As I turned to leave I looked on the bed to see her phone unlocked in a chat thread with an unsaved number.


“It’s none of my business,” I thought to myself.


Though I wasn’t too particularly invested in other’s business, I felt a pull.


“You have to see this.” Something nudged.


After a double take at the open bedroom door behind me, then the master bathroom door she was in, I  finally gave in and picked the phone up.


The messages were extremely long but the one that happened to catch my attention was the last message sent by the person my sister happened to be talking to.


“I’m glad you’re okay, no we can finally be together. I’m excited to see you”


“Seriously?! So he caught you and you killed him. Imagine if you were just honest from the start!” I thought to myself so loudly I had to check and make sure nobody heard me.


Fuming, I go back to lay on the couch in the living room. I look out of the back patio at the pouring rain  and lightning before attempting to lay down and take a nap to allow my mind to dispel the confusion and frustration I felt in that moment when a sudden noise woke me up. A dinging noise, like the doorbell. I ignored it thinking it was just my imagination before a continuous tapping sound scratched at the door. it ‘s about thirty minutes past midnight we’re not expecting any visitors, unless she decided to invite her newest victim over six hours after burying her former. I turned the tv to the security camera, and there he was....