An intruder murdered a mother and her child at home one evening. He was coming off a four day high, and the withdrawals were too much for him to bear. Out of blind desperation, he barged into the one-bedroom apartment in Makiki, grabbed a serrated knife off of the kitchen counter, and slashed the mother's throat.
The woman's five-year-old daughter sat on the carpet, watching her favorite video. The intruder quickly stabbed her in the heart and then began rummaging through the woman's room until he found three hundred dollars in her purse. He left the apartment immediately after. Until now, he is still at large. This incident transpired five years ago, today, I live in the same flat. Well, aware of its history, I bought it anyway. I thought that with the proper cleaning and powerwash, I could cleanse the adverse history away.~
It wasn't long before blood stains began to appear on my Persian rug in the living room. Other nights I would walk into the ghost of a woman holding on to her throat with blood flooding out between her fingers. At four in the morning, I would wake up suddenly and move across my bed after feeling something cuddle up to my chest and crumple my shirt together. Even when I had company over, my guests would tell me that they didn't know I had a daughter.
They said that when they came out of my bathroom, they saw a little girl standing in the hallways with a big smile on her face. She took off running as if she wanted them to chase her.
"I don't have a daughter," I'd say.
I'd been here only six months when the dreams started. It was a stranger with a bloody knife in his hand, ransacking my room. He threw things around haphazardly; then, he'd make a beeline for the lampstand next to my bed and suddenly stop dead in his tracks. He made eye contact with me. There was a fear in his eyes as if I'd just suddenly appeared in front of him or something. He raised the knife as if he were going to plunge it into the middle of my chest.
It woke me up every time.
~
I seemed to have no success with clergymen or any other kind of person I thought was capable enough to bless my home. The dreams and apparitions continued to make themselves known.
It was a Tuesday night; I remember that. I had enough time to shower and change before I headed out to a meeting. The workday was longer than necessary, and I found myself fighting to stay awake on the drive home. In less than twenty minutes, I was leaving through the kitchen when I saw him standing inside the back door.
His face and was covered in dark filth, which made his eyes look wild and insane. The drawer beneath the kitchen counter was open, explaining where he'd gotten the knife he held in his right hand.
"I don't want to kill you like the last people, give me money, and I'll leave," he instructed.
Finally.
The last thing he expected was for me to approach him so casually. I imagine he'd stabbed or shot other people before. Killing me would not make a difference. He'd done it to other people, what's one more? He lunged forward with the knife in hand, I took a step forward too and planted a sidekick to his chest. It lifted him off the ground and sent him right into the solid wall next to the back door. He hit the ground, and the air got knocked out of him. I took the knife from him and plunged it in his heart three times.
Fuck, I couldn't miss my meeting. I'm going to have to leave him here for now. I'll cut him up later when I get back. What I can't use, I'll wrap up and put it in the freezer. The rest I'll fry up for a late-night snack. Haunted places are always a good cover; everyone thinks you're crazy and leave you alone.
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