What Lies Beneath the Snow

It didn’t happen the way it was supposed to.

But then again, I guess not much goes the way it’s supposed to.

Earl grey tea in a white mug. That’s the first thing I noticed when I walked into school that day. That and the hamsters.

The hamsters belonged to one of my students; a girl with silly coloured ribbons in her hair and a face that resembled an egg.

The tea however, had no visible ownership.

“Sir, I made your tea today.”

“How thoughtful Hannah, but please be careful, you could burn yourself and we wouldn’t want that,” I gave her a dazzling smile.

“Yes sir, sorry sir.” She seemed apologetic yet mildly satisfied that I had spoken to her. She sat down and blushed a shade of pink that I had seen many times before.

However, I had no interest in children.

“Now then, shall we begin?”

The final school bell rang with the clarity of a church organ filled with cotton wool.

“Don’t forget to do your homework over the weekend.”

Snow fell lightly against the window as they left, tugging coats and snow boots on.

“Sir, what should I do with them?” the girl with the ribbons - Jessica - held out the box of hamsters towards me, “nobody wanted them.”

Of course they didn’t, foolish girl. You should have been more careful and kept the females and males apart, I thought to myself.

“Leave them with me. I’ll find a home for them.”

I went home and I drowned them.

One by one I dropped them into a jar of water and watched in fascination as they struggled to climb the slippery sides of the glass only to slide down and become submerged.

I turned to face the woman that sat in the corner of the room with her hands bound behind her and tape covering her irritating mouth. Her eyes were disgustingly wide, almost straining against her eyelids with the blood vessels creating pretty red patterns in the white parts. Her name was Carina Hudson and she was the local weather woman on channel five. No family. No boyfriend. Lived alone in an apartment complex. And most importantly, desperate.

I held a small hunting knife with the blade gently gliding across her cheekbone. Not enough force to break the skin, but enough for her to clamp those grotesque eyes closed.

“Didn’t you think it was strange? After one date, I invited you back to my house. I didn’t think you were that easy.”

She opened her eyes to glare at me. I knew it must have been cold sitting on the stone floor in nothing but a silk slip, I could tell from the goosebumps that had formed over her bare legs and arms.

“Then again,” I continued, tracing the knife down her neck, “you’re a single woman in her late twenties, early thirties, the biological clock is ticking. Tick, tick, tick.”

I made a small cut on her thigh as I said the final word. A noise escaped her then, but it was muffled by the tape. Pity.

“Now then, shall we begin?”

I remembered the first time.

The thrill was unbearable and the blood was warm.

But I was young then, and it was messy. And it took too long. I buried her deep in the forest, then for good measure, after I had half-filled the hole with dirt I placed the carcass of a cat on top to make sure nobody would dig further. By the end, my hands were red and raw from holding the shovel for hours.

They never found her.

“Good morning, sir.” The chorus sounded across the whole classroom on Monday morning.

“Good morning everyone.”

It was all so simple, like drowning hamsters in a jar.

It was cold and grey on Tuesday morning when they announced it in the news.

“Local authorities are searching for 29-year-old weather woman Carina Hudson, after she was reported missing yesterday evening. Presently, the police have no leads to where she may be. But, after a series of cases of missing women over the last decade have recently been connected, police are fearing that this may be the work of a serial killer. If you have any information regarding her whereabouts, authorities are urging you to come forward. Next up, the snow storm to hit…”

I must have smiled a little too broadly that day; one boy with brown hair and forgettable features watched too closely. I was careful of him. I didn’t like the boys, they were not pretty and didn’t cry when they fell. I wasn’t interested in them.

I came home that day and put Carina Hudson’s lifeless body in a garbage bag. Then I drove to the forest to bury her.

I wore gloves this time.

My first mistake was choosing the boy.

It was hubris, really.

The women had all been easy, like slicing through butter on a summer’s day. Why should the boy have been any different?

I wasn’t finished yet and the boy was ruining all the fun.

“Sir, where did you go yesterday? I saw you driving to the forest after school.”

“Jacob, it’s winter now, far too cold to go to the forest. You must have been mistaken.” Shut your mouth you ugly boy.

“But I thought I saw you-”

“I think it’s time to start the lesson now.”

As luck would have it, the storm hit right after lunch and by the end of lessons several inches of snow had piled up over nearly every surface outside.

“Has everybody called their parents to come pick them up? I’m not letting anyone walk home in a blizzard.”

“Yes, sir.” From everyone except Jacob.

“Jacob, is something the matter?”

“My mother works at the hospital...so she can’t…” he mumbled as everyone made their way out of the classroom.

“Oh, well I can drive you home today then.”

“No, it’s fine sir. I can take the bus.”

“Nonsense Jacob, the buses aren’t running in the storm. I insist.”

And I did.

My second mistake was that Jacob’s home was nowhere near the forest, which meant I had to improvise. The windscreen wipers on the car were working overtime, flinging the oncoming snow from left to right. I was sure that Jacob, who was staring mindlessly outside the window of the passenger side, could barely tell where we were and did not notice when I took an unplanned left turn towards the lake. I was also sure that he didn’t see me slip the hunter’s knife out from my jacket pocket. I drove with one hand securely on the steering wheel, barely able to contain myself when I saw the edge of the lake peaking through the trees.

“Sir, this isn’t where I live,” Jacob said finally when the car was so close to the lake that even through the snow, it’s vast frozen surface could be seen.

“I know, but you were asking too many questions.”

“Sir?” Jacob looked at me with those same revolting eyes that Hudson woman had, as I pulled out the blade by the hilt.

“Goodbye Jacob.”

I swung the knife with confidence but Jacob was small and much faster than I had anticipated. He dove towards me with his intent clear: the door handle. In the struggle the car slipped forward - another mistake - Jacob squirmed and my leg jolted. A sharp pain in my side made me look down to see the knife embedded deep into my waist. Jacob scrambled back against his side of the door, all the while the car sped forward towards the ice covered reservoir. The impact shook us both and the pain was excruciating. The car had splintered the top layer of ice and was sinking quickly, freezing water was gushing through every crevice and crack of the ancient vehicle. I tried to move but my foot had gotten caught beneath the gas pedal and with every movement, the stab wound grew in size and discomfort. The stupid boy was too quick and he grabbed the knife out, sending agonising spasms throughout my lower body. By this point the whole car was now flooded and several feet below the surface. My lungs were burning although my body was frigid. I saw Jacob escape somehow, his small frame diminishing in the distance above me.

It didn’t happen the way it was supposed to.

I wasn’t supposed to die.

But then again, neither were the hamsters.