Love You to Bits

i’m tired

aren’t you

it’s been

a long,

long day

thank you dear

for being mine

in such

a special way

it tickled me

the way  

you screamed

and fought

against the rope

the gurgling,

the struggling

as it

tightened round

your throat

that wondrous

look

you gave me

as i gazed

into

your eyes

while carving

‘i love you’

into

your

inner thighs

i know

you’d like to

tell me

how you love

the things

i’ve done

so i cut

out

and

will keep

your perfect,

pert, pink

tongue

you really

tired me out

sweetheart

you’re

a cut

above the rest

goodnight

sleep tight

i love you

to bits

you really are

the best

 ~anonymous

 “Now what?” Trevor looked up at his superior and longtime friend after he dropped a file on his desk.

As the Agent’s Field Coordinator, Grant Baranowski was responsible for seeing that the right person for the job was assigned to the right case. Trevor James was dogged and detailed in his search for truth, Grant was positive this was the perfect case for Trevor.

“Six deaths and counting,” Grant replied.

The thrill of the hunt never ceased to pull Trevor in. His gray eyes took on a silvery glint as he reached for the file. Grant simply chuckled as he went to deliver the next file.

Being a field operator meant Trevor need not conform to business as usual in standards of dress and hairstyle. Most in the Office of Investigations had military precision hair and white shirt and tie blandness. Trevor brushed his long bangs to the side and rubbed the perpetual stubble on his chin.

He wasn’t a standout in the crowd. His hair was a nondescript sandy blond. He could blend easily on the beach, in a bar, or in an alley. Trevor was broad shouldered, however, so he was soon dismissed as a target of harassment. At thirty-five he was well-seasoned in his field of expertise, yet not as jaded as those nearing retirement.

Opening the file he found six cases in their own folders.

Case #1: Harold Olson age 27. New Haven, Connecticut, U.S.A.

Found dead in his apartment from apparent overdose of prescription drugs not belonging to him.

Case# 2: Brianna Ottmeyer age 22. Santa Fe, New Mexico, U.S.A.

Found dead in her apartment from apparent overdose of prescription drugs not belonging to her.

Case# 3: Crissy Goforth age 42. Miami, Florida, U.S.A.

Found dead in the ocean, her boat anchored ten miles from port. Drugs and alcohol in her system.

Case# 4: Jasmine Neruda age 19. Abilene, Texas, U.S.A.

Found dead near a dumpster behind a bar. The words ‘I love you’ cut into her inner thigh.

Case# 5: Bill Kramer age 73.  Hilo, Hawaii, U.S.A.

Found dead in his apartment from apparent overdose of prescription drugs- filled in his name. Previous partial suicide attempt noted with the left wrist bandaged.

Case# 6: Andre Boucher age 24. Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

Slit throat, bled out. Body found with signs of repeated cuttings, years old and new.

Additional information on the lives of each were included in the folders, but Trevor skipped to the last folder which would tell him why he was assigned to these seemingly random suicides and deaths.

Scanning the page he found it. The deaths had been reported by the owner of a writing website found at penyoursoulaway.com. Trevor chuckled at the name, he read on.

‘These deaths are troubling as we have received a notice each week for the past four weeks, or so, of a member having died tragically. In addition, the tone of the writing has changed. While we have always had dark poetry, and indeed have even fostered it at times (for poetic reasons) the poems have become almost sinister. My concern is sincere and I would appreciate an investigation.

- Peter Meadows

Trevor felt the gears in his mind spinning; yes, this was definitely an intriguing case.

Chapter 1

Winter

So brilliant, confident in all you do, I admire you

The way you walk, your stance, your glance

Darling, I adore you.

Soft is your touch and deep your breath

To sit beside you calm and pale

Precious love, I am enamored.

Sweetly you speak and say my name

In your gaze I am transfixed

Dear One, I love you

June 12, 2016

Winter had hand written the poem on beautiful paper and added her own pen and ink drawings of flowering vines up each side, and then she framed the gift for her fiancé.

It was the anniversary of their first date . . . one year later and now they were engaged with a date to be married in three months.

Winter gazed at Evan as he read the poem aloud. She loved his strong jaw and dimple that winked in and out as he spoke. His bronze hair reflected the soft light and she longed to smooth the little curls behind his ear . . . but he hated it when she did.

“Well?” she asked after he finished reading.

His eye twitched as he replied, “The artwork is beautiful, I love the way . . .”

Winter smacked him on the arm and exclaimed, “Stop! You know what I mean!”

Evan smirked and replied frankly, “It’s a sweet and touching poem. The meter is off a bit. But you don’t need critiques, Sweetie, I love it.”

Evan pulled her into his warm embrace and then brought her face up to meet his. “I love you Winter O’Malley and don’t you ever forget it.”

Thrilled at his touch, Winter relished the feel of his hands mussing her hair. Evan tumbled her back onto the sofa and added a more in depth exploration of her lips and neck. Softly nibbling at her ear she couldn’t help but push into him, inviting more.

Still, not wanting to be late for dinner, Winter disengaged and tumbled to the floor awkwardly.

Ignoring Evan’s chuckle at her lack of grace, Winter said, “Now wait here while I get dressed for dinner, and don’t break anything!”

Winter owned a figurine collection which took up many shelves in her living room. Evan had broken not one, but two items on two separate occasions, making her demand reasonable.

Quickly shedding her jeans and tee-shirt, she slipped into the simple black and silver cocktail dress she had purchased for the occasion. Looking in the mirror, she admired how slimming it was. Not that she was thick. At five-foot-six and weighing 135 pounds, she was perfectly fit. Her hair bothered her, though, normally it was a lovely strawberry blonde, or she would sometimes go dark in the fall, making it a deep auburn. But Evan had begged her to try platinum with caramel lowlights. Still, the hair waved softly to her shoulders and looked good enough.

Touching up her mascara and purple eyeshadow, Winter noted how her pale green eyes shone with excitement. Evan was her everything, and she couldn’t imagine a time when she would not be excited to spend time with him. Too she wondered what he had gotten for her to celebrate their first date. Stepping out of her room her heels clicked seductively on the wooden floor, Evan stood and whistled.

“Do we really have to go out?” he begged.

Winter merely smacked his well-muscled arm and then pulled him to the door.

Dinner was nice, they had chosen to drive on into Boise to go to a fancier restaurant than could be found in their more remote locale outside the capital. Then Evan indulged her desire for dancing and a late dessert before once again taking the long drive home. Evan had asked to move in, repeatedly. But Winter was a committed Christian who refused to lower her standards, even for her fiancé.

She was rather quiet as the drive proceeded.

Evan looked over and asked, “Tired?”

Winter was tired, but that wasn’t her problem. Evan had not presented her with an additional gift. She was trying to figure out if she was behaving unreasonably, after all, he took her out and spent over one hundred dollars on her. Why should she expect more?

Evan tried again after she failed to reply, “Well? You seem sad, almost.”

The question caused Winter’s eyes to water, in the dark she thought he wouldn’t notice, but her tears caught the light from the stereo.

“Honey? Why are you crying?”

Evan pulled off the road into a school parking lot.

How to say she expected more? Winter shrugged and said, “I thought, I know it’s not . . .”

Evan slid the bench seat back and then pulled her close so he could hold her tight. “Just spit it out, would ya?” He laughed in her hair as he tried to find her bare neck.

Now that he wasn’t looking at her, Winter whispered, “I thought you would have a gift for me.”

She felt him relax as he softy chuckled and then bit her neck. “Honey, I’m a guy. We don’t think of gifts for every little thing.” Feeling her stiffen he quickly added, “Not that this is little, but we don’t want to cheapen our wedding anniversary, and birthdays, and Christmas. Not to mention Mother’s Day.” He pulled her closer, suggestively wriggling his brows, making her giggle.

Winter accepted his logic and allowed him to proceed to make out with her in the car. It was summer; no one would be at the school for late games or janitors cleaning . . . so they were surprised as a tapping on the door brought them upright.

A policeman with a flashlight aimed at her chest asked Winter to step out of the car.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” the officer asked.

Humiliated, Winter felt the heat rise to her face as she replied, “Yes, he’s my fiancé.”

The officer grunted softly and then said, “Well this is no place for your antics, take it to a room.” Then flashing the light on Evan, he said, “I will need to see your license.” He wrote a public nuisance warning and sent them on their way.

Once back in the car and out of earshot, the two giggled at the situation as Winter happily snuggled up close in the middle seat of the Dodge Dart, rather than the distant right passenger seat. She played with Evan’s silky hair and otherwise kept him bothered the rest of the way to her house.

Evan was positive they would pick up where they were rudely interrupted. Yet, once inside, Winter had her virtue to maintain and cooled him with a swift kiss and a hug . . . signaling a firm goodnight. Walking him to the door, she hugged his slim waist and said, “I love you more than words can say, Evan Riesling. Thank you for the beautiful evening. Call me when you get home.”

Kissing her twice and then once more, Evan offered a practiced pouting smile at her and said, “When have I ever forgotten?”

With a sigh, Winter locked the door, made sure her cat had water in her bowl, and then got ready for bed. Wearing the short cotton nightgown she had just bought, she felt pretty. New things always seemed to feel better to her than old. She mused about how some people prefer old and comfortable, concluding she would get to that point as she and Evan grew old together. It would be ten minutes before Evan would call, so Winter decided to log on to her account at penyoursoulaway.com.

She had joined the site six months earlier after Evan mentioned he used to use it to practice editing techniques while in college. He was now a full time editor at the local paper, but had an interview in two days in California for a small, but well established, publishing house. Winter thought that if she became a better writer, she and Evan would have something in common,  a mutual interest they could discuss when other things didn’t intervene.

The poem she had given as a gift earlier that evening had won second place in a contest among twenty others. Winter felt vindicated until she read the critique from Chaz. Chaz had been helping her improve her writing the last few months, his comment was almost identical to Evan’s.

So much so she began to wonder if Chaz was Evan in disguise.

Addressing Chaz she typed, *Thanks for the critique. Sweet and touching, huh? I suppose you enjoyed your night out tonight as well . . . it was probably filled with touching something sweet?*

Chaz always stayed up late. He didn’t have to be at work until one p.m., so he spent the night writing, at least that’s what he told Winter when she questioned him. She enjoyed chatting with him and a few other regulars who enjoyed her poems and short stories. She preferred getting to know her readers so that the criticism wouldn’t feel so impersonal and cruel.

Chaz was swift to reply, *I wish, cupcake, but I been home all evening. The only sweet thing I been touching is my . . . get your head out of the gutter, girl! My cockatiel, her name is Jenn. I have a picture in one of my old journals entitled, oddly enough, My Sweet Jenn. Check it out sometime. So how did he like the poem?*

Winter exhaled, she hadn’t noticed that she’d even been holding her breath. Chaz was not Evan. Her phone began to vibrate on the desk, she picked it up and intoned, “Hello, lover boy.”

Evan sighed heavily into the phone, “Yum, you know I love your voice all smoky. How come you never use that voice with me in person?”

Winter typed a response to Chaz as she spoke to Evan, “I promise, once we are married I will incite you to your heart’s desire.”

Evan made several comments about how much he desired to be married already.

To Chaz she wrote, *He liked it about as much as you. One of these days I will write better than this. Still, we had a nice dinner and dancing was fun. So, what happened to your girlfriend?*

Giggling at Evan’s last comment, Winter kissed him several smacks through the phone as they offered their final goodnights to each other and then hung up. It was late, almost two in the morning. She meant to drag herself to bed but having asked Chaz a question she felt it rude to log out just yet.

He took his time, but still it was only five minutes before her pop-up signal dinged on her computer. Chaz sent, *She ran off and married the neighborhood pool boy! Not kidding; I was shocked, heartbroken and everything else. I’m still pretty upset, it’s been two months. I just haven’t been ready to write about it. Then again, it wasn’t like I had been with her that long, only four months. So it’s not the biggest heartbreak I have been through in all of my twenty-five years of existence! LOL*

 Winter felt compassion and wrote back, *Aw sorry to hear. Guess you don’t want me spreading all my good cheer on you.*

*Spread away, baby, I like it.*

Groaning, Winter replied, *Dude, you need to get a new girl. I’m outta here.*

Still smiling at the mild pass, Winter adjusted the air conditioner to low and climbed into bed.

***

June 12, 2016

It was not often that Winter recalled her dreams, but this dream was so stark and insistent that when she woke up in the morning she realized she had dreamed it twice. The same dream had happened the night before. Going directly to her PC she began to record what she recalled.

~The room was shadowed in greens and blues; it should have been cool and comforting. But I felt fevered and disturbed. A golden-haired angel of light passed by me, seeming to not even be aware of me . . . I found I floated along as he made his way down a sloping passage. The room had morphed at some point from a room to a cavern. He came to a stop before another glorious man, who oddly enough reminded me of Evan, even though I knew it was not Evan, my mind assigned him that role anyway. So this Evan had long shoulder-length curls of bronze crowning his glorious head. His eyes glowed with an inner fire. He seemed to have no problem seeing me. He gazed intently until I dropped my eyes. He then turned his attention to the golden-haired angel. I say angel yet he did not have wings, it just seems to me that angel is the correct term for the vision I dreamt. They spoke and I cannot recall the exact words for most of it, but it ended with Evan smiling his wickedly playful smile and then saying, “Very well, Quarry. Go to and make it so.”

Quarry then bowed deeply and departed. I floated along and then the dream shifted to me feeding the cat. Truly this was the most vivid dream I can recall having since that dream I had five years ago, the night before my twenty-third birthday. Cotton candy machines going haywire . . . who could forget that?

Yawning loudly, Winter padded softly to the bathroom to get ready for work. Her cat came chasing after her as she was about to shut the door.

“Sorry, Chellycat, not yet.”

The bathroom was one of her favorite things about this old Victorian she rented. Since it had been built before indoor plumbing was common, the owners had taken a small parlor and turned it into a fantasy bath any woman would love. A large, freestanding clawfoot tub stood centered on the far wall, directly in front of a bay window which looked out to the forest beyond her yard.

To the right was a new addition of a shower which had sprays on three walls… installed four years earlier. Winter felt fortunate in having snagged the rental; five others had been looking to get the place. Also on that side across from the shower sat a long vanity and double sinks. Winter liked to envision Evan standing there shaving. With a frown she recalled he was interviewing for that California job. She really did love this house. But moving would be an adventure and his pay would increase dramatically.

Opting to bathe she began filling the tub. The closet on the left sported floor to ceiling shelves where she went to collect a towel as well as a new bottle of bubble bath, sweet pea was her favorite scent and she couldn’t resist buying it when she had been in town the week before.

An antique chair sat beside the tub; draping the soft yellow towel, she adjusted the temperature one more time before shedding her nightgown and submerging herself in the warmth of the bath.

“Ah, now this is the life,” Winter sighed as the bubbles tickled her chin.

She really did have it good. Having gotten her fine arts degree as well as a secondary degree in business, Winter had set herself up well for being an independent or freelance artist. That was the main reason she wanted the Victorian house. It had a studio on the Southern end of the house, which in addition to windows facing South also had windows facing East which allowed for plenty of natural light for photos as well as painting. As an illustrator, the young artist often set up still life scenes and took pictures so she could blow them up for finer details. She also left them up for reference as she worked. The natural light created beautiful shadows and muted light which Winter found stunning.

She had enough commissions to keep her busy every day if she wished. But being an artist allowed her to be slow, claiming she needed extra days off for rejuvenation. People expect artists to be eccentric so she played it up. Of course her publishers had timelines to keep, but she had never been late before. They gave her sufficient time for her needs.

Taking a breath she dipped her head beneath the water . . .  vividly she again saw that devilish Evan and felt a thrill run through her body. It was certainly a sight to behold. She kept her eyes closed as she washed, rinsed and applied conditioner.

Yes, she thought, I should convince Evan to grow his hair out. Maybe living in California will loosen him up. Winter laughed at the thought and pulled the plug. Turning on the water she adjusted the hand held spay and rinsed off the bubbles and conditioner.

Having slept in, the summer sun was pouring in through the south facing window. Winter loved to stand in the window seat and feel the warmth of the sun as she dried off. She often wished she had been born in the summer, it was her favorite season.

Chellycat scratched at the bathroom door. With a sigh Winter stepped down and opened the door after wrapping her hair up in the towel.

“Alright you, little baby, what does Mommy’s kitty want today?”

The blue Himalayan ran to her bowl and then twined between Winter’s legs as she opened a can of Fish Delight.

Done with that, Winter put some frozen waffles in the toaster and returned to her room to get dressed. It was always a game to see if she could get back before the toaster popped up…she never made it, but usually arrived in time to hear it pop as she neared the kitchen.

She wore pretty much the same thing as she worked from home, shorts or jeans and a tee shirt. Today promised to be hot so she opted for cut offs and a Hello Kitty tee shirt.

Her waffles required a second heating as her favorite way to eat them meant she buttered them, placed a handful of chocolate chips and a drizzle of syrup on the bottom waffle. Then she placed the second on top and microwaved for ten seconds. She ran back to comb her hair and returned to a delicious choco-delight which she topped with strawberry sauce and whipped cream.

Taking it to her studio, she sat down at her desk to check emails. Mostly junk, a morning message from Evan, and two from her writing site. Replying to Evan she wished him luck and asked about his morning meal. Rather than read the emails she went directly to penyoursoulaway.com.

Corbin had read her children’s tale.

*Great way to change up the Cinderella theme. But it would be better if you did something more original. Like…I don’t know maybe have the raccoon fall in love with the mountains and never return…jk but still try to be more original. And good luck; maybe the judge likes Cinderella stories.*

 Deflated Winter wrote back, *This contest was asking for remakes of classics, but I see what you mean it followed the story too closely. Simply using animals probably wasn’t clever enough. Thanks for the read.*

 The other was a message from a young girl from Texas named Jasmine. Winter thought her photo was beautiful, actually photos, her whole page was filled with one after the other. But her avatar was stunning because it highlighted her eyes as she wore a traditional veil more common in India.

 Jasmine had sent a reply to a comment Winter had made weeks earlier.

 *Hey Winter, sorry I missed this. I guess school has me running ragged. Haven’t had much time with finals. But I have two weeks off before the summer quarter begins. Anyway, thanks! I am glad you enjoyed my poem. I’ll be sure to read some of yours this week too. Cya*

 Winter finished up her breakfast, thanked Jasmine and went off to complete her last painting for the project due on Friday.