The Invitation

The invitation was sitting on the dining table.

It was heavy. Cream cardstock. Letterpressed in elegant, charcoal ink.

*A Celebration of Life.*

*Honoring the Spirit of Merritt Coe.*

*Saturday, October 24th.*

*7:00 PM.*

*The Coe Residence.*

*"Please join us in remembering the light she brought into our lives, before the darkness took her away."*

I stared at it. My name. My "spirit." My own funeral.

Graham walked in. He was holding a glass of water and the orange pill organizer.

"You found it," he said.

"It's beautiful," I said. My voice was flat.

"I thought so," he said, setting the water down. "Understated. Elegant. Just like you."

"I'm not dead, Graham."

"It's not a funeral, Merritt. It's a... transition party. A way for your friends to say goodbye before you go to Northlake."

"It says 'remembering the light.' That's past tense."

"It's poetic," he said. "Don't overthink it."

He opened the organizer. Wednesday PM.

Two pills.

I took them. I drank the water. I swallowed the sugar.

"Good girl," he said.

He picked up the invitation.

"I sent these out this morning," he said. "Hand-delivered by courier. To ensure they arrived... safely."

He smiled.

"Everyone is coming. Lorna. The Davises. Even some of your old colleagues from the studio."

"Toby?"

"Especially Toby. I wanted him to see... how much we care."

He was taunting me. He was rubbing my nose in it.

"I want to see the guest list," I said.

"Why?"

"So I know who to thank."

"You can thank them on Saturday," he said. "If you're feeling up to it."

He walked away, taking the invitation with him.

I went upstairs. I locked the bedroom door.

I went to the closet.

I pulled out the iPad. 1%.

I plugged it in.

I had a new email.

From *elena.art*.

*Subject: The Party.*

*Body: He does this. He did it for me. A 'farewell' party. He drugged me. I woke up in Zurich.*

I typed back.

*Me: He's planning to kill me. Scene 16. The script.*

*Elena: Get out. Now.*

*Me: I can't. The house is a fortress.*

*Elena: Then burn it down.*

I stared at the screen.

Burn it down.

It was tempting.

But I had Leo to think of.

I couldn't burn the house down with a child in the attic.

I replied.

*Me: He has Leo. In the attic.*

Silence. No reply.

Then...

*Elena: I'm coming.*

*Me: When?*

*Elena: Now. I'm at the airport. I land tomorrow.*

Tomorrow was Thursday.

Two days before the party.

If she came here... if she showed up... Graham would kill her too.

*Me: Don't come to the house. It's not safe. Meet Toby.*

I sent her Toby’s number.

The iPad died.

I sat in the dark closet.

She was coming.

The cavalry was coming.

But I had to survive until then.

I heard a noise.

Outside.

In the garden.

I went to the window. I peeked through the blinds.

The man in the hoodie.

He was back.

He was standing by the rose trellis. Watching.

I watched him.

He looked up at my window.

He raised a hand.

He wasn't waving.

He was pointing.

At the ground.

I looked down.

He had written something in the dirt. With a stick.

*G-O.*

*N-O-W.*

Go now.

He wanted me to leave.

Why?

If he was watching Graham... if he was an enemy of Graham... why warn me?

Unless...

Unless he knew something I didn't.

Unless the timeline had moved up.

I looked at the clock. 10:00 PM.

Graham was downstairs.

I heard the front door open.

And close.

Graham went outside.

I watched.

He walked to the driveway. He opened the trunk of the rental car.

He pulled something out.

A bag. A long, black duffel bag.

It looked heavy.

He carried it to the garage.

He went inside. The garage door closed.

What was in the bag?

Tools? Weapons?

Or...

Lime.

Chemicals.

Supplies for a "disposal."

I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead.

He wasn't waiting for Saturday.

He was prepping the site.

I needed to see what was in that bag.

I went to the door. I listened.

Silence.

I crept downstairs.

I went to the kitchen. I grabbed the spare key for the garage side door (the one I had used to sneak out before).

I went outside.

I crept around the side of the house.

The garage light was on.

I peeked through the window.

Graham was standing at the workbench.

He had the bag open.

He was pulling things out.

A tarp.

Rope.

Duct tape.

A hacksaw.

My knees buckled. I grabbed the windowsill to steady myself.

A hacksaw.

That wasn't for a burial. That was for... dismemberment.

He wasn't going to bury me whole.

He was going to take me apart.

Because a body is hard to hide. But pieces... pieces fit in a suitcase.

I watched him.

He was humming. A cheerful, mindless tune.

He laid the items out on the bench. Neatly. In a row.

Like surgical instruments.

He picked up the hacksaw. He tested the blade. *Ping.*

He smiled.

He looked at his watch.

Then he turned off the light.

I ducked down.

I heard the side door open.

He stepped out.

He walked past me. He didn't see me. I was pressed into the rhododendrons.

He walked back to the house.

I waited until I heard the back door close.

Then I ran.

I ran back to the patio door. I slipped inside.

I locked it.

I ran upstairs.

I burst into the bedroom.

Graham was sitting on the bed, reading his magazine.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Bathroom," I gasped.

"You're out of breath."

"I... I thought I heard something."

"Heard what?"

"A noise. Outside."

"Probably a raccoon," he said.

He put down the magazine.

"Come here," he said.

I walked over to the bed.

He pulled me down. He kissed me.

His lips were cold.

"You smell like pine needles," he whispered.

"I opened the window," I lied. "For fresh air."

"Don't do that," he said. "It lets the heat out."

He turned off the lamp.

"Go to sleep, Merritt. We have a big day tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"Preparation," he said. "For the party."

He rolled over.

I lay in the dark.

Listening to his breathing.

Thinking about the hacksaw.

Thinking about the tarp.

I couldn't sleep.

I stared at the ceiling.

At 2:00 AM, I heard it.

A sound.

From the attic.

*Thump.*

*Scrape.*

Leo.

He was moving.

Or... someone was moving him.

I sat up.

Graham was asleep. Snoring softly.

I got out of bed. I crept into the hall.

The attic stairs were up.

But I heard it again.

*Muffled cry.*

Someone was up there.

Graham was in bed.

So who was in the attic?

The Replacement?

Or the man from the garden?

I dragged the chair over. I reached for the cord.

I pulled.

The stairs unfolded.

I climbed up.

Darkness.

I turned on my phone light.

The tent was empty.

Leo was gone.

"Leo?" I whispered.

No answer.

I crawled to the tent. Inside, the sleeping bag was cold.

But there was something on the pillow.

A note.

Written in crayon.

*THE BAD MAN CAME.*

My blood ran cold.

The bad man.

Graham?

No. Graham was in bed.

Then who?

I looked around the attic.

The far window. The vent.

It was open. Pried loose.

Someone had come in from the roof.

And taken Leo.

I crawled to the window. I looked out.

The roof sloped down to the garage.

And on the roof of the garage...

A figure.

Carrying a bundle.

A child.

It was the man in the hoodie.

He had Leo.

He was climbing down the trellis.

He reached the ground. He ran. Into the woods.

I watched him go.

He had kidnapped Leo.

Or... rescued him?

*THE BAD MAN CAME.*

Did Leo mean the man in the hoodie?

Or did he mean Graham?

And the man in the hoodie... was he saving him from the Bad Man?

I climbed down from the attic. I put the stairs up.

I went back to the bedroom.

Graham was still asleep.

I lay down.

Leo was gone.

Taken by a stranger.

Was he safe?

Or had he just gone from one prison to another?

I didn't know.

But I knew one thing.

The game had changed.

Graham had lost his leverage.

And I had lost my witness.

Now, it was just me.

And the hacksaw.

I closed my eyes.

And I started to plan.

If I was going to die