The color in my sister’s face has changed. Not just today, but slowly over the last few weeks. The dark rings under her eyes are prominent, and the rosy hue of her lips have faded into a sickly cream color.
“I’m just saying, Markie, it’s been two weeks since you quit working. Nothing’s happened while you’ve stayed home. Maybe it’s best to give it a little more time.”
“Exactly.” Her voice is shrill. “Nothing. No leads, no arrests, not even a person of interest. Nothing.” She says matter-of-factly.
“That’s not exactly true. They’re still watching Jared.”
Markie rolls her eyes and lifts the shot glass sitting directly across from my own.
“Fuck Jared.” She mutters.
Our glasses clink together. My throat burns in reaction to the rampant liquid and it heats my chest. I wash it down with iced soda, then pour us each another. *****’s murder changed my sister in a completely different way than Beth’s had. She’s developed a weird sort of anxiety that comes and goes almost hourly.
It’s as if she’s slipped into a permanent state of shock. When she isn’t pacing around itching her skin and grumbling at everyone, she becomes a blank slate. Physically she is present, but inside she is gone. A manic state seems to take over, and she fades away.
It’s a good thing the owner of her theater let her take a leave of absence. I’m quite certain she wouldn’t be able to work like this. She can’t even function around the house like a normal person. I’ve had to carry her weight in practically every way. I don’t mind the cooking, shopping, or the cleaning. I even had to shampoo the couch and carpet in the living room. There was a hint of urine that was starting to get to me. I know that I should have turned it into Detective Sharpe. I couldn’t do it, though. I’m still too undecided about what to make of *****.
It’s too much to risk. I’ve seen him pee on far too many friends’ houses and people’s cars after they’ve upset him. Once I asked him why, and his response was, “I can’t think of anything nastier or more degrading than being pissed on.” I know how badly he hates Markie, so I cleaned it up — along with the rest of the carpet in the house, to make it seem like a normal thing to do. I even told Agent Reese that I was trying to do something nice to cheer Markie up — I’m pretty sure he bought it.
I love *****. I’m glad we are back together, too, but at the same time I’m confused. I don’t want it to be him, but something is off. I know him better than anyone. He’s hiding something, I can tell, yet somehow the deaths are drawing me closer to him. It’s unnerving and stressful, but I’m determined to figure it out. I even pretend to be vindictive, just to see if I can lure any kind of confession from him. Though he does make a good point about Markie, she really is a selfish bitch. She doesn’t care about me, and never has. I’ve tried my entire life to put her first, right along with everyone else.
I may talk a big game, but inside I’m just as big a wimp as the next person. Who would have thought that I’d be the one holding everything together and trying to get to the bottom of things? Markie and I have fun together, for the most part. We can talk to each other freely and openly, we’re even comfortable enough to play practical jokes, but she holds back, I can feel it. I’m just not Beth. I will never measure up to her best friend, therefore she will never let herself open up completely. It kills me. Every time I try to tell her how I feel, she clams up. She turns away from me and shuts down. She always has, too, even as little kids. Markie has never trusted me, and never loved me.
If ***** does have a sadistic side, if he really is a killer, then I think I can get past it. Even after watching ***** die. I love *****, and he loves me. I can help him. Right? The more I consider it, the more certain I am that he’ll let me help him. I don’t want anyone else to die, but I don’t want to lose him either. He is worth it. Isn’t he? God, I wish I wasn’t such an indecisive fucking fool! It’s a curse to be so understanding. I get where he is coming from, I really do. I even understand the thrill of death, I have felt it myself.
I take a profound look at Markie. She sits across from me and glares blankly into space. It’s a look I have grown accustomed to. The only person she seems to normal up for is Detective Sharpe, or ‘Phil’, I should say. I don’t think he’s going anywhere, so I might as well get used to it. She even calls him by his first name, and it’s much more irritating than I want to admit. The simple truth of their strange little connection is exasperating. It makes my helping ***** very complicated.
Not everything is as it seems in what appears to be an average family. When danger lurks so close to home, skeletons emerge, and the darkest of secrets surface, causing twisted desires to become reality. Aggravated Momentum offers the perspective of some very diverse and unique characters, including fun, witty personalities to fall in love with, along with an intellectual killer to die for. You may be surprised as to whom exactly you can relate. Is it the cold, calculated murderer, who’s name is yet to be revealed? Markie or Kam, the independent sisters, guilty of nothing more than getting tangled with the wrong people at the most inopportune times? Or, the cowardly snake curled in a hidden corner? Who are you, exactly? And, more importantly, who are they? The deeper you dig into the psyche of another, the more breath taking are the secrets you will find.