Cherry Tree Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 

 



1



                Do you remember the cherry tree, Tommy? Do you remember when we played?

                A scream escaped, and Tom’s icy hands reached out and clutched his face as he woke up, a sweaty pile building on his face.  He looked at the time: 5:07 A.M. Shit, he was never getting any sleep these days. He looked at the dark murky walls of his bedroom and expected Mary to jump out from behind the wallpaper, ripping it apart with her sharp knife. She would jump on top of him and stab him, repeatedly, over and over again, and finally kiss his bloody and gut-wrenching head. “Hey dear, how’s it going?” But she didn’t. The wall just stood there, etching foreword, beckoning. He moved around the sheets of his bed, expecting them to reach out and pull him, but they resisted and settled. He let the cool breeze from his screen window engulf him. Fuck, he was thinking about her again, Mary, the way she moved, the way she-

No! Not again. She’s gone now! She left a long time ago! History! He walked slowly to his bedroom, stepping carefully to not trip on the cans of Budweiser sprawled on the floor. He finally entered, tuning on the light, and looked at himself in the mirror.

                The mirror revealed a skinny, scrawny, and hairy man in his underpants, drooling over the sink. He knew he had drunk too much, sometimes he’d wake up with one of those knife-stabbing headaches, like the one implanted into his skull now. He reached down and cupped water into his hand, letting the icy cold droplets touch his face as he threw them into the air. He kept looking in the mirror, drooling. Tommy-boy was turning crazy, and he knew it. He had started turning crazy when he wrote the word fuck all over the downstairs wall. He had known when he started crying over one of the old television runs. His television, the only source of escape from his run-down house and his run-down life. It sparkled so many colors, so many majestic scenes, and so many inner longings to just cry and leap for joy. But what for? Just because a couple slept together on TV? Or just because Obama or some shit made a big scene?

                Tom trudged out of his bathroom and looked into his closet. He thought he saw something, maybe an animal. Naw, fuck it, he thought. Just the dark playing games. He remembered what Mary said sometimes, in his dreams. She stood in a white dress, roses around her head, singing quietly. She smiled, beckoning, and pointed into the closet. “Where’s the Cherry Tree, Tommy?” she asked.” Is it in here?” No honey, it isn’t. Now go back to sleep. But then she’d get angry, oh so angry. That’s when with fear and terror he woke from his slumber.

                He just stood and watched the closet. Naw, nothing there. He reached out and took the coat hanger with his uniform on and slipped his thoughts away. After taking off all the underwear and fastening his shiny suit of armor, engraved with the big ‘J’ of Joe looked in the mirror, was satisfied, and walked out the door.

 

2



                “Hey dude, you okay?”          

                Martin looked at him as Tom fell asleep in his arms, snoring. He muttered over and over again, ‘cherry tree, cherry tree’. Martin finally shook him and Tom jumped awake, almost spilling his cuppachino. “Dude, you gotta get some rest. What’s been bothering you?”

                Tom smiled, he loved Martin’s sassy black man tone, it always made him laugh. “Nothing, just stuff.”

                Martin sighed, “Its Mary ain’t it? You still all over that crazy woman?”

                Tom just laughed. “Who, that bitch? No, stuff’s just been on my mind that’s all. She’s long gone in California or some shit, seeing somebody. She’s got a nice little secure house down there, can do just about anything besides actually leave the house, I guess. They got like a strap or something tied to her ankle, so she can’t get out. Guess that’s about as safe as anything.”

                Martin smiled. “Okay. How are your kids?”

                Tom mood just sank. His kids, God. Where the hell were they? He thought fast and made something up. “Oh, they’re down with some nice people down in Baltimore. Lindsay’s going on a vacation next week."

"That's gotta be nice," Martin said. "Hows th-,"

"Tom! Martin! What the hell are you doing here? Just slacking on me today?"

"No sir," Tom replied. "Just taking a little break."

"Break my ass! Get the hell back in there!"

Tom and Martin quickly scrambled foreword as they went back to their duties as chefs. Tom stood over the boiler for hours, flipping the fried potatoes over and over again as he crept into the void of his sub consciousness.

 

3

 

Tom parked his 1997 piece-of-shit car on the curb and walked into his house, through the door of a once bright sight to see. The once nicely painted, beautifully gardened steps had turned into a rough and scrambled mess. He opened his creaky door, threw his bad on the floor and looked at the stairs leading to his room, also the perfect example of how trashed this place had turned out to be. He looked up, the memories flooding back. His children, now long gone to a better life, were running down the stairs, joys of dad; him hugging them in his arms. His wife, in that hot button-up collared shirt he always liked, painting the ceiling or something. It was always painting; it was her hobby, her passion. And then the day came back to him. 

 

He had walked in, as usual, to his amazing house of glory, and shouted, "I'm home!" Silence, nothing. He called, "Hello? Honey? Kids? Everything alright?" He started to slowly walk up, the footsteps starting to speed to the beat of his heart, until he heard the laughing in the bathroom. He took the handle and twisted, opening the door. He looked, and froze, the color from his face draining.

Mary was standing over the sink, a bloody knife in the raised position, laughing. Her button-up paint shirt was now covered in blood. In the sink beside her lay the cat, bleeding, and so much blood-.

 

"FUCK YOU!!!" He shouted at the staircase, throwing his bag at the upstairs, hearing the crash of the mirror as it tumbled down. The hands of his body then started to shake uncontrollably, and he finally let out a faint soft. He wrapped his arms around his legs, and sat there, staring and weeping through the night.

 

4

 

Dr. Vries woke up to the sound of his phone's startling ring. He blindly felt for the light and looked at the phone as it laughed at him. "Hey, shithead! Wake up!" He sighed, and picked the phone up, muttering very softly, "Hello?"

"Dr. Vries!" the nurse on the other line screamed frantically."You better come to the house quick!"



He was wide awake by that call, and he just froze as he stared at the walls, thinking. How? He slammed the phone on its stand and muttered,"Fuck." He felt around the covers of his soft, nice bed for his legs to make sure they were still there.

His wife awoke next to him and stirred, grabbing his arm. "Honey? What is it?"

Dr. Vries briefly stared at his wife, and spoke. "It's Mary. That bitch finally got out."

 

5

 

Tom walked to the kitchen, dragging his feet slowly. He opened the fridge, nimbly ran his fingers over the fourteen cans of Budweiser, and grabbed two, one in each hand. Taking the cans, he went to the comfy green couch in the living room. He flipped on the TV and ran into Grey's Anatomy. Not the show of his choice, but it would have to do at this point. He didn't give rats ass about anything anymore anyways, today was one of his mood days, as he liked to call them. The days he would look into his life, dig a big hole and just fall into space, without any care in the world. He sat and watched for a few minutes, and then let the empty void of darkness and dreams overtake him.

6

 

He was driving too fast. The cops would be on his tail any minute now, but he could give less of a fuck about anything. This was too important, how long could she have been out? If it was long enough, he was in some deep shit.

Dr. Vries swerved to avoid a guy running; the guy looked like he had a heart attack. He could briefly see him flicking him off and shouting asshole in his direction, but he was almost there. The house was in sight, the cop cars all lined up in front of the house, letting everyone know, ‘Hey, the crazy bitch just got out. Wanna take a peek?’ Then as he slammed his car door behind him he saw the nurse, her coat draping over her perfectly shaped breasts, her arms hooked underneath as she wiped the black masquerade-stained tears from her eyes. She ran towards him, and embraced him.

"How long has it been since she escaped?" he asked.

She let go and looked at the ground for a long time. "It's impossible to tell," she said, "but the cops say it has to have been ten hours at least. Dr. Sway and Nurse Vinney are both dead, I found them in the main lobby, throats cut, ohh God...” 

She broke down, Dr. Vries held her, taking one hand around her back and one streaking through her white hair. Ten hours! She must have done it when they brought her dinner. The complex was like any other house, it was for the rehabilitating patients, with a band wrapped around their ankles. So, if they got out, the sirens blared. She was smart, Mary was. She passed all the tests, saying she had realized what she was done and at least acted like she was okay. He had known all along the demon that had driven her to what had happened still rested. He remembered her smiling at him as she left the court room. He had talked to Tom, her husband, after the trial, after they had decided to send her to the house. He had said she had said only two words to him: Cherry Tree. What that had been Dr. Vries had no idea, but he had seen the fear in Tom's eyes and he knew. Whatever Cherry Tree was, it was the sign of death and fear for Tom. He couldn't forget Tom's weeping eyes.

 



7

 

Officer Mangold led Vries into the room. There was still blood on the main floor, the bodies covered with blue plastic tarps. She was mad, thought Dr. Vries. She was in need. 

The investigating officer shook Dr. Vries' hand. "Hello, I'm the criminal investigator in all of this. If you could come with me please?"

Vries nodded and he and Officer Mangold went up the stairs with him. "Judging by the bodies we’re guessing she got out about ten hours ago. Bodies were cut with slit throats, no hesitation. Some of the clothes from the back room were stolen, nurse equipment and such."

Dr. Vries sighed. "Fucking lawyers didn't believe a fucking word I said, and looked what happens! Jesus."

They continued up the stairs, until they reached the door, slightly opened. "The lock was broken by hand. She must have been at that for days," the officer said. "Now, I must warn you, this is pretty gruesome."

"Trust me, officer," said Vries, "In my line of work, I have seen nothing that’s worse than that day when she went off."

The officer nodded and opened the door. Vries gasped, and felt like he was going to puke.

The floor was covered in blood. In the middle of the puddle of blood on the floor was some muscle and skin, along with Mary's ankle bracelet tracker. Vries slammed the wall, "Fuck!" he screamed, and ran downstairs. "Officer Mangold," he said. "You're coming with me."

"Where are we going?" asked Mangold. 

"Look, Mary is a smart girl; she can get around easily, without any hustle about it. She's been on the road for ten hours; it’s about fifteen by car to Martin's Grove, where her old house is, assuming she used a car. We gotta get that bitch before she gets Tom!"

The two men ran up to the car and started to drive. "Hey, doc, keep it steady," said Mangold.

"Look, officer, I want you to do two things for me. Radio the cops in Martin's Grove, and tell them to get to Tom. And second, pray. Pray for that man."

They drove for hours, both praying for Tom in Martin's Grove, hoping somehow everything would be okay.

 

8

 

Mary smiled as she drove down the road. Beside her was a bag of the nurse’s supplies, including the knife. She smiled at the idea, cutting, watching the blood peek between the cut, and washing it overflow and go about on its way. She liked the idea very much.

She looked back on the road, focusing much now. She smiled. "Ready for the Cherry Tree, Tom? I am, and it's time to play."