Under the Roses

Prologue
Back then, my name was different. Back then, everything was different. Let us call this the story of Before. For the purpose of this story, I’ll call myself Jane. I will call him John, and let’s call them, Jack and Emma Smith. There will be a distinct absence of chunks of dialogue in this story as I don’t remember the exact words that were said and in some cases revealing exact conversations could compromise my identity. I will leave this manuscript with a trusted friend to be published at a later date.



Chapter 1: Meeting Them
Before, I was smart. At least, that’s what I was told. It was always considered a fact amongst my family that I would be one of the first to graduate from college. From the moment I entered school, my objective was simple: earn the highest grades possible. If I did that I would be guaranteed entry into a good college.
Around my junior year, I decided I wanted to put my smarts to good use. I began to doubt college would be my next step. I plotted to leave town the moment of my graduation to find my purpose. I bought a van and put all my possessions that I could into a suitcase. I left my graduation ceremony avoiding family, friends and well-wishers who might try and convince me to stay. I figured that whatever waited for me out there was better than what college offered. Stupid me, I should have gone to college. I could have been a doctor, a lawyer anything I wanted....and I chose to ignore that.
Enough of my regrets, on with the story. For a while, life in the van suited me. For months I roamed the country, discovering sides of humanity I’d never seen before. Some sides were pretty, others were less so, but all were eye-opening.
Then one day my van got a flat tire. In the middle of nowhere. I mean, back country, one lane gravel road, weeds waist high on both sides, paddle faster, middle of nowhere. And my tire was completely out of air. I was close to flat broke, with no phone. All I could do was pray that some farmer would come down the road soon. I curled up on the front seat and slept. I was awakened by a knock on my window. A man grinned ( it was almost a leer, looking back on it) down at me. I got out and explained my dilemma to him. He offered to change the tire for me. Of course, I didn’t have a spare so he suggested I use the phone at his house. Grateful for the opportunity he presented and given the fact that he seemed decent and reasonably sane, I nodded and thanked him. I had no idea what I was getting into.
After a short ride, his wife met us at the door and asked if I would like a drink. I noticed her slightly sad smile when she asked. I shivered a bit and sniffed the air, noticing the whiffs of somewhat putrid air that escaped the house. I declined and asked where the phone was. Stepping into the house, it was hard not to notice the lack of family portraits on the walls. Back home, every wall had a picture of some family member on it. Some walls were like looking through photo albums. I pretended to make a call and volunteered to walk back to my van. The woman, her voice high and thin, asked me to stay for dinner. The man in his gruff tones, agreed that I should stay until the tow truck came, as it would probably be more than an hour from the nearest town.
I flushed a bright red, thinking of my imaginary call. I introduced myself and asked who they were. Let’s pretend their names were Emma and Jack. Once engaged in conversation I discovered Jack to be more talkative. He seemed more at ease and less strung out than Emma. She barely spoke, only staring at me with a sort of frightening intensity.I learned that they had had a child a long time ago, but she had drowned in a nearby river at the age of ten. Emma pointed out that she would be almost my age now, if she had lived. I couldn’t help but shiver.
Throughout the course of our conversation he wheedled out of me the following facts: the fact that the van was my home and I had no money for a tow. After a brief discussion between themselves they returned to the room. They offered to let me stay as long as I needed. Of course, I thought they were nice people, maybe just a bit lonely without grown children of their own, so I accepted. Stupid me.
Chapter Two: My First
My room was cozy, but after living in a van for months it seemed like a huge palace. I was allowed out and around the vast farm but never was I allowed to go into town with Jack. No matter how much I asked, Jack always insisted that I stay home. I obediently stayed, helping Emma with chores and the like.
It was like I fit into their life just perfectly. Almost like I was their daughter. No, their daughter was dead. Not like their daughter then. Emma took me down to see the creek one day. She refused to let me wade in it. There were unspoken rules with her. Never ask for second helpings, never complain about the frilly dresses she made for me and things that didn’t seem quite...right, to be honest.
One day, about two weeks later, Jack came home with a man riding in the passenger seat of his truck. Emma and I prepared a stew for dinner and cleared a place in the spare bedroom for him. I overheard Emma tell Jack that he needed to stop picking up strays. I didn’t think too much of it, because she hadn’t been especially warm towards me either, at least in the beginning. Now she was like an affectionate aunt. Loving, but not motherly. Jack was more like a father.
We fed the man, whose name (for all intents and purposes) was Corey. Corey had been found in a similar situation to mine. His car had run out of gas and he was completely lost. We talked it over, Jack, Emma and myself, and we agreed to let him stay the night.
When I woke up the next morning I was told that Corey had left early that morning. The smile that passed between Emma and Jack didn’t go unnoticed by me. Jack then asked Emma and I to go enjoy the day in the garden.
The freshly turned flower bed didn’t bother me too much, then, I just thought Jack had gotten up early and plowed it for Emma. Emma’s flower beds were her pride and joy. Row after row they lined the backyard, beginning just under my bedroom window. On those sultry summer nights I would lie on my bed with the window open, allowing the sweet floral fragrances to waft in and banish the slightly putrid odor that pervaded the house. As we left the kitchen my stomach grumbled with the realization that, with all the discussion last night, I had forgotten to eat supper. I darted back into the kitchen and grabbed a freshly made roll off the table. I went out back to face a day toiling over the freshly churned earth. I didn’t know it then, but Corey was my first victim. I could have saved him and the others, had I only known.













Chapter Three: Many More
It seemed like every week or so Jack would find some needy traveler, stranded somewhere. Apparently he felt compelled to help others. I thought he and Emma were just kindly people who gave these lost travelers a meal and a place to stay for the night. The routine was always the same. Prepare a meal for the traveler, discussion, forgetting to eat supper with the traveler and gardening in the morning after a quick snack. I mentioned to Emma and Jack once that we probably didn’t need to discuss the lost staying anymore, as it seemed no matter what they always stayed. Emma argued that it was important to share our first opinions of the guest. It also seemed like every week the flower beds grew. I never thought anything about it. Except once, I guess.
I had been there about a month or so when this incident occurred. The guest this time was a man by the name of “Nick.” Nick was a rather large man, and looking back on it, Emma must have underestimated with his dosage. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the sound of someone retching. I opened my door and looked out. Across the hall was Nick’s room, the door flung open, a candle casting an eerie glow. Seeing the tableau that unfolded before my eyes, I was stunned. Nick was sitting up in bed, vomiting copious amounts into the mixing bowl that Emma held under his chin. The stench of human sickness pervaded the air, curling in putrescent tendrils across the hallway. Emma wiped his forehead with a wet cloth and helped him lay back down.
The next morning Nick was sitting at the table, eating oatmeal that Emma had set out. The three of us ate toast with jelly. I guess Emma got the dosage right that time because when I woke up from a nap that afternoon she told me Jack had taken Nick back into town. I could have saved Nick, if only I’d known.
We continued to live that way for months. Sometimes I would ride in the truck with Jack down the nearby roads, presumably checking the fields. We almost always found a lost stranger. Often the stranger would be more than happy to hitch a ride from a farmer and his daughter. Eventually Jack had to clear a nearby field for Emma’s flower beds.
Knowing what I know now, I wish I’d never gardened with Emma, never laughed with Jack, never eaten from their table, never accepted the offer to stay. I wish I’d never gone down that road, never bought that van. I used to try and figure out exactly where I went wrong. I now think that it was wanting to believe there is good in everyone. There is not. More often than not you will be fooled by silver tongues and dazzling smiles. Just remember that not everything is as it seems to be. Nothing can be trusted when it comes to deception.











Chapter Four: Truth
I distinctly remember the day I discovered the truth about Jack and Emma. I’d been there for around five months. It was a bitterly cold autumn day, just after the first hard frost. The ground was frozen solid. I was up very early, having been awakened by the sound of a shovel thunking into the dirt near Emma’s flowers. The scene that played out was life-altering.
Emma paced in front of a large sack on the ground. Jack stood waist deep in a hole, surrounded by a growing mound of earth. In one deft motion he stuck the shovel in the ground above him and swung his body out of the scar in the earth. He nodded to Emma, who grabbed one end of the sack and he grabbed the other. They appeared to be struggling a bit with the weight of the sack. Emma then stumbled and dropped her end, revealing an outstretched human arm.
All the facts (as I knew them), came rushing into place. The growing flower beds were not due to Emma’s love of gardening, they grew out of necessity. Every time a traveler had left, they had left this planet. Once they entered the Smith house, they ceased to be seen as human beings.They became prizes to be won. Nick’s sickness made sense now, and the scent of bitter almonds that constantly wafted through the house. What didn’t make sense, is why they hadn’t killed me too. I wish they had killed me.






Chapter Five: Pandora’s Box
I may have discovered a secret that Jack and Emma held close that day, but as I was to learn, they had many more.
After many sleepless nights in that house, another traveler was brought in. This time I was introduced, not as Jane, but as “Minerva”, Jack and Emma’s daughter. I was dumbfounded. Minerva was the name of their dead daughter. I figured that it was better not to protest.
I wanted to help the new guest but had no idea how. So, as usual, I helped Emma make the soup, knowing better than to eat any of it. When Emma thought I wasn’t looking, I watched her slip an extra ingredient into the supper. I agreed with Emma and Jack that our guest should spend the night. And I watched her eat the food we had made. I did nothing. For the rest of my life, I will remember the sight of that woman unknowingly eating her last meal. Even so many years later the sight still haunts me. She went into the ground like all the others.
That night I wandered restlessly through my nightmares. My days became a type of waking nightmare. The routine never wavered with any traveler. There were no more slip ups on Jack and Emma’s part. As for my part, well, Emma made sure that I knew it well. I also knew the consequences of not playing along.
One day, a few days after the female guest, Emma took me back to the creek. She asked me to look into the water and tell her what I saw. While my back was turned, she, with one solid shove, pushed me into the water. She hissed a warning at me. She said to watch my wandering eye, or she would make sure I stayed there next time. Somehow she knew that I knew. She knew what I could do to her, and I knew what she would do to me. It seemed as though I had opened Pandora’s box.
A few weeks (and guests) later, Jack was in town and Emma was in the farthest part of the garden. My room had never bothered me before, but now it seemed like a prison. Albeit a particularly juvenile and frilly prison. As though the previous occupant had left it at a young age. Then it occurred to me that this must have been Minerva’s room. Shaking off the eerie thought, I decided to explore the house. I walked slowly into Jack and Emma’s room and stopped dead.















Chapter Six: Mirror Image
Their room was filled in one corner with a shrine, of sorts. Framed photographs stared out at me and candles flickered eerily, the effect was more than slightly unnerving. A larger photo caught my eye. My first thought was that it was a picture of a younger me, then my eyes picked out slight differences. The outfit wasn’t right and there was a mole on the left cheek that wasn’t on mine. Then it hit me: this must be Minerva.
Things were starting to get really unsettling. First I had been sleeping in her bedroom, now I looked like her. How much more coincidence could I take in this house of horrors? It was about to get much worse.
From the night that I had been introduced as Minerva, it was like Jane ceased to exist. I was always their daughter Minerva. Even around the house, I was called Minerva. I slept in her bedroom, ate with her parents and watched her parents kill. I began to get used to being called Minerva and living her life.
A few nights into the winter season, I was once again awakened by the sound of a shovel, this time outside my window. Jack’s voice drifted up to me. He told me (Minerva), to come outside and see him. Stupid me, I went.
When I stepped outside I was immediately blinded by lantern light. My eyes adjusted and I was stunned. Jack once again stood over an empty scar in the earth. Flowers and dirt lay strewn about and the scent of roses wafted towards me. In the hole was a disturbing vision. Emma lay in the the earth next to a skeleton, cradling it gently. A chill blew through me, not only because I was dressed in a thin nightgown, but because the same type of nightgown encased the skeleton.
I was told to get in the grave, and lay next to Emma. I knew better than to resist. Emma’s body was cold to the touch, as though the cold earth had sucked all the heat from her. She turned her head and leaned into me. Her choked sobs echoed in the cold air. Jack clambered down into the dirt and lay across from Emma. Very little light from the lantern entered the space. I curled around Emma to stop my shivering. She wailed even louder. I heard Jack sniffle from the other side. Word by word, the story of Minerva tumbled from his lips.
She had always been a headstrong child, spoiled and used to getting her own way. Whether it was piano lessons that Emma taught (which she quit after a month) or gardening, her lifelong obsession (which Emma also taught). When she’d wanted to try ice skating, Jack nor Emma had known how, so they refused. Unused to being told no, she defied them one winter’s day, and walked down to the little creek. Unaware of how thin the ice was, she stepped out and immediately fell through. They had spent three days looking for her. They finally found her, trapped under the ice. They buried her in the garden.
Emma bawled louder, and finally petered out. She then told Jack to tell the truth.








Chapter Seven: Truth (Again)
Emma had gone to the creek with Minerva. She had helplessly watched her drown. That was Emma’s truth.
I thought that she had surely known the ice was too thin. It also just seemed strange that Minerva had drowned, given the depth, or lack thereof, of the water. Given the threat Emma had made toward me, it wasn’t hard to piece together what had really happened. What mattered then, as I lay shivering next to her was the why. I had figured out how.
I don’t know how long we laid there, only that the sun was painting the sky in vivid colors before we climbed out of the freezing earth. The whole ceremony seemed confusing to me until Jack turned to Emma and told her to explain how things were to be now. I was to be their daughter in every way. Name, behavior, everything I did was to be like Minerva. I was stunned into silence. I thought that I’d dreamt up all the reasons they hadn’t killed me yet, but now I understood. It was so much more disturbing than any reason I’d had.
A week passed without a traveler, and then another. Jack and Emma grew tense and I had to watch my step more often. Now that the truth was out in the open, Jack was inclined to dole out punishment for any little misstep. Finally another traveler showed up. I never thought I’d be grateful that another human being had to die, but I knew that it was him or me. I actually relished watching him eat his last supper. At the very least, I was filled with relief.
I went to my room that night, dreaming of ways to perfect my Minerva act. Then it hit me: I was actually taking part in the brutal slaughter of innocent humans. What’s worse was that I enjoyed it. I had lain next to a corpse. I dropped to my knees and began to retch.
Emma ran into the room carrying a large bucket. She gingerly moved my hair out of the way, the way a mother would. Her touch sickened me all the more. I finally recovered, empty stomach still heaving and tremendous sobs wracking my body. She placed the bucket next to my bed and led me to bed. From the bookshelf she chose a children’s story and began to read.
Despite the nature of the book, I was lulled into a trance by her words. Her voice began to soothe me to my core. In seconds she rolled me onto my side, facing the bucket and began to massage my back, working out the kinks. I told her that it must have been supper, which I accidentally tasted. She reprimanded me for several minutes, then resumed her massaging. When I tried to squirm away she clamped a steely hand on my shoulder. What she said next, I’ll never forget.
Emma admitted to killing Minerva. She said that Minerva had discovered things she shouldn’t have and she was no longer her parent’s innocent angel, and that was why she had threatened me too. She regretted both offenses deeply, but was glad that I was there to help fill the void. She told me she loved me. Next she kissed my forehead and told me goodnight. A monster like that shouldn’t be capable of love. Someone who can kill her own child, then abduct someone to take her place, all while killing multiple people on the side is a monster, plain and simple.
A monster that day by day, I was closer to becoming. I knew what I had done and did not regret it. It was necessary for my own survival. As cruel as it seems, it was always them or me. I chose myself. Every time. Innocent or not, I was willing to trade anything to survive.
Minerva became an extension of myself. I was aware of how she would react in every situation. Her presence defined my very existence. Jane ceased to exist, even to my own mind. I was the only one who really knew my real name. To Jack and Emma, from that first day on the road, I had been Minerva. I was Minerva in appearance and behavior, name and all.




















Chapter Eight: Passing
I knew I was dependent on Jack and Emma for my survival. Months passed like that, and with every victim it got easier. And then, winter became spring.
With spring came the thawing of the ground and blooming of the flowers. I wouldn’t even respond to Jane anymore if someone had called me that. I had blossomed into Minerva’s twin. Jane’s birthday came and went without recognition. The day of Minerva’s birthday however was marked by balloons, cake and ice cream. She would have been nineteen, the same age I was.
During another round of exploring, I found an old stuffed cow under my bed. It was red and white with a small bell tied around the neck. That cow undid me. Minerva had been a real little girl, just as I had been. I was struck by how different my childhood could have been, how like Minerva’s it could have become. I pitied her. I pitied me. I wallowed in self pity for days, loathing the monster that I had become.
Spring also brought rain. Lots of rain. With rain came loose soil and floods. The area surrounding the farm became even more isolated with only one road leading in and out. Travelers were few and far between. Punishments were dealt with an ever ready hand. Fights became commonplace and food was scarce. I began to understand why they killed the strangers. What I found next confirmed my suspicions.
On one of my restless wanderings through the house, with the spring air caressing my skin, I slipped out the front door. Going down the walkway I noticed that a cobblestone was loose. Curious, I flipped it over. An old cigar box stared up at me. No one in the house smoked. My interest was piqued. I opened it, expecting a few trinkets. Over twenty pairs of eyes stared out. The licenses of the guests were piled into the box, along with bundles of cash. There must have been at least two-thousand dollars.
All the colliding pieces came into place. For weeks I refused to acknowledge what I knew.
Those weeks passed without guests.



March passed.

April came.

During the balmy days of April, the land began to dry. The earth warmed and sultry breezes blew across the open fields. Mother Nature seemed determined to beautify the horrific crime scene. Flowers grew heavy with blooms and bent under the weight. Bees flew lazily to and from blossoms and butterflies flitted around the garden. Any garden club in the nation would have given Emma a prize for her gardens. Provided they did not know what lay buried under the roses.
In our free time, Emma taught me how to paint. Already a skilled painter herself, teaching came naturally to her. We painted the gardens and simple, happy scenes, perhaps to make up for the lack of happiness in other areas. As bright and new as outside was, the house became darker and grew foreboding. Every time we walked in the door, we prepared ourselves for verbal and sometimes physical abuse. There, I said it. Happy-go-lucky Jack was abusive, Emma was flighty and I was stupid. I had been stupid all my life. I had felt entitled to things without realizing the true price. Whether I liked to admit it or not, everything had a price. Even a human life was something to be bought and sold.









Chapter Nine: House of Cards
Weeks had passed without travelers. April was now in full swing and Jack was uneasy. I decided to leave the box under the cobblestones and the money I’d found on the kitchen table. Obviously our lack of money was making him nervous. Without the money from the travelers we could no longer live off the grid. Like I said before, I was prone to stupidity and that move turned out to be the worst I’d make. It acknowledged that I knew exactly what we were doing.
Emma and I walked into the house shortly after I had set out the box. Jack sat at the table, silently counting the money. We tried to back out of the room as quietly as we could, but Jack immediately flew into a rage.
He accused one, or both of us of hiding the money from him, calling us ugly names. He said we had probably slept around to earn a little extra. He raged for a while longer. Emma was thrown against the wall, and broke a lamp. He turned towards me and told me that if I liked selling myself out, I could earn my own keep from now on. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He dragged me to my bedroom and locked me in, telling me that I could only come out when there were guests.
Fortunately for me, there was a guest the very next morning. Another flower bed was tilled and Jack apologized to both of us when he let me out. He slumped in his chair and Emma cradled his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her. She told him that alcohol was officially banned from the house. Next she took all of the bottles of alcohol in the house and smashed them on the cobblestones out front. The liquids left an ugly wet splotch on the otherwise perfect stones.
More weeks went by without a traveler and Jack got edgy again. Then, in the last week of April, something miraculous happened. The traveler we found was a policeman, named John.
I went riding along with Jack that day. We both knew what we were really checking for. In our desperation, we found our way to the road that I had left my van on. In almost the same spot there was a police car. I didn’t know whether to run towards it or away from it. From behind the car stepped a tall policeman. Taller than Jack even. Rather unremarkable from the waist down because of the uniform, until my eyes reached his face. His gaze met mine.
My heart began to pound faster and the world stopped turning for a fraction of a second. I felt my face began to flush and I did a double take. Surely he wasn’t who my heart told me he was...he couldn’t be....he was my soulmate. It was like all other things ceased to exist. It was only the two of us. I didn’t have a homicidal kidnapper in the seat next to me, no one beat me. I wasn’t a victim when he looked into my eyes.
I told Jack that we shouldn’t stop. We did. Of course we picked him up. Of course. My soulmate, and he had to die. I would help kill him. And my dreams of escape would die with him.








Chapter Ten: Conversations
So, maybe I still hoped that John could live. I used all my powers of convincing to allow him to stay a few nights. I pleaded, begged, whined and prayed. Eventually Jack agreed that he could stay for a bit. The next day I led John into the garden under the pretense of showing off the flowerbeds. I can give the actual dialogue of my conversations with him, as no one else heard them.
But then again, what do you say to someone who upon first sight captured your heart?
“You need to leave here.” I told him.
“But why? It seems so perfect here.”
“And so do these roses, don’t they? I dare you to pick one barehanded though.”
His eyebrows drew together, showing confusion. I walked away as Emma left the house and walked toward us. I pretended to be telling him the names of roses and to be showing him how to care for them. Emma crossed to the opposite side of the garden.
“What did you mean by that?”
“I meant it when I said you need to leave. I need to as well. It’s not safe here.”
“Why isn’t it safe for us here?”
“I can’t say. Just please don’t eat anything that Emma serves you. Always wait for me to serve you.”
“Why should I trust you?”
I advanced towards him, getting into his personal space. I locked eyes with him and waited. The rush came again. I tilted my head.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” I asked.
“That tether between us? Yes, I do.”
He bent his head towards mine and leaned in, bridging the gap between our lips. It was like an explosion of stars. I had to break the kiss before we were seen.
As much as I hated to, I turned away from the kiss. John plucked a rose bud from the stem nearest us and tucked it behind my ear. His touch made my skin turn to fire and I felt a blush creep up my neck. Being around him was a respite from daily life.
I had to get at least him out of this situation. I couldn’t let him be killed. I served him every meal, making sure Emma stayed away from the food. I walked with him in the garden at least once per day. We talked of life, death and the need for escape.
“Jack and Emma are evil.” I finally admitted that to him.
“How so?”
“I can’t tell you, except that not everything is pretty underneath.”
Soon the talk turned to lighter subjects, such as our growing love. It was a shy, but romantic kind of love. I would find a rose on my pillow, or he would help Emma and I with the laundry. He was good at helping Jack too. However I could tell that we were getting low on money again, as Jack was antsy. I couldn’t hold him off for much longer.