Death in the river

TW: Depictions of a funeral, the death of a loved one, and homophobia

 

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        Her body lies prone in the casket. Her rosy cheeks are now a pale white. The necklace she always wore—gone. They must have taken it off when preparing her body. My best friend, my love. Dead. Murdered for who she is. But why am I not dead yet?

        “Rögn—hh...” Her voice cracked, her eyes filled with tears. I rushed to her and grasped her in a big hug. We both needed this. 

        “Ms Bauer, I-I’m so sorry.” My voice was crumbling as the world felt empty, lifeless. 

        “Oh Rögn, we're both going through this. Not just me, I know you two were great friends.” Ms Bauer left me standing next to Carla’s body, questioning everything. Why did she say friends like that? Does she know? If she does—that would mean she knows the real reason why Carla’s the one in the casket within this conservative town.  

        “Rögn, have you seen my wedding ring, the one you carried? I lost it and can’t find it anywhere.” Ruth—Carla's grandma—stood behind me, her eyes barely red, barely teary. 

        “No, I haven't seen it anywhere. I told you I stopped stealing it after my dad died.”

 

        Carla lay next to me on my bed. We had been talking for hours but once her mom got home and knocked on the door we had to stop. “I hate this town. When we’re old enough I say we run away, to a place that will accept us.”

        Carla sat up. Her body stiffened. “No. We can leave just ‘cause they don't accept us. One day we'll make them accept us. Got it?” She said it with such force I just nodded. 

 

       

        We were kissing when we heard her mom get home. We jumped apart, pretending to be doing other things. 

        “Carla, sweetie, I'm home.” her mom walked to her room. “Hey Rögn. How are you two doing?”

        “We're doing good mom. We were wondering if we could walk around.” This came out of nowhere but that was where most of Carla’s ideas came from.

        “Sure but don't stay out past dark, and don't go anywhere near that river.” 

        “Of course, no one in their right mind goes by the river.'' Once that sentence left Carla's mouth both me and Ms Bauer looked at each other worryingly.

        “Rögn keep an eye on Carla, I-I don't like how she said that.” Ms Bauer left the room as I turned to Carla. 

        “What was that Carla? Of course no one in their right mind goes to the river, we’re not going to the river, you got that.” I felt bad as the words left my mouth. I hadn't meant for them to be that angry but if Carla knew what I knew she'd understand. 

        “But Rögn, I have to tell you something. I think I know why people are murdered by the river.” Carlas voice changed. I could feel the summer air making my clothes stick to my body. Carla wasn't ever the same after that. 

 

        “Rögn! Rögn come down here right this minute.” My mother screamed my name., I felt a pit in my stomach. She never yelled at me except for the time we found out grandpa was remarrying Ruth. 

        “I’m coming mom! Just give me a sec.” I hurriedly threw a large top over my almost naked body and rushed down stairs. 

        When mom saw me she cried the words that broke me. “Oh I'm so sorry sweetheart, Carla—Carla’s body has been found in the river. Rögn—Rögn are you—are you ok. Talk to me. Rögn.” 

        My vision blurred till I woke up on the couch. “No,” I moaned in pain.

 

        That night I had stayed up all night researching the killings. Mom stayed next to me. She made me foods I loved from my childhood like skyr with extra sugar trying to make me feel slightly better. She gathered my dads old things from a box. 

        “Rögn sweetheart, your dad left you this box full of some of his tips before he died.” We never talked about dad’s death but mom was always fine with me learning about what he did. The only reason we moved to this wrong-headed town was so dad could catch the river killer but he ended up becoming their first straight cis kill. 

        I looked through the box finding papers, knives, guns, and a necklace that resembled the one Carla always wore. I took it out and examined it. The chain was an old silver that was rusted. The pendant was a little silver circle with a half circle in it and what looked like clouds. On the back of the pendant accept was written in cursive. 

 

        Carla. Her body lay in the water. I walked with my mom through the river trying to find anything but we had no luck. It had been a few hours walking around the river and only a few days since the funeral; it had been 3 weeks since Carla's death. Every night since I found out I cried. I cried even harder when they stopped the investigation saying it was another stupid teen going to the river where people get murdered. Mom said we had only 30 minutes till we had to go home. That was 30 minutes ago. 

        “Rögn, I know you want to solve Carla’s murder but it's time to go home. Let's get some rest. We can try this tomorrow.” Her voice was soothing through the cool wind. 

        Just as I was getting ready to leave something shiny caught my eye. The wedding ring Ruth always wore. Maybe she lost it trying to find something about her granddaughter's murder too. I put the cold wet ring in my pocket and left.

 

        “Rögn, why are you here?” Ruth spoke coldly.

        “Hello to you too. I need to talk to you. Can I come inside?” I tried to keep my voice calm as I walked in.         “Let me cut to the chase. Why was your wedding ring by the river?”

        “Let me cut to the chase. Why did you infect my granddaughter with your gayness?” Blood drained from my face. How did she know? The fact that she did know—did that mean she was the killer? Why would she kill her granddaughter and not me? The questions were flowing through me. Everything became confusing, but one thing was clear: I need to get away from here. 

        When I got home I crumpled on my bed. 

        “Hey, Rögn, don't give up. I’m here for you—well as here as a ghost can be.” Carla’s voice was in my room. Next to me. I looked around to see her, the beautiful pink dress she was buried in flowing around her. 

I dove off my bed and to my desk. I scrambled for my computer and opened it. Google popped up. I scrambled to type. Jail time for murderers who killed a queer person. I heard about it so much but to see the articles in front of me, the proof, the .org .gov .true. Less jail time than a murder of a straight cis person. For the second time today my blood changed but instead of freezing it boiled. Even if I got all the evidence of the killer in this town they wouldn't get much prison time.  

        “Rögn, don't start thinking too much.” A pause in her voice begging me to agree. “Just send them to jail, So what if they don't get as long you'll have plenty of time to figure out what to do if they get out.”

        “Carla, they KILLED you. I won't let them get away. And if you truly are her ghost, tell me who killed you.” The question took long enough to pop in my head. 

        “If I told you that then you wouldn't get all the evidence.” And with that she disappeared to wherever ghosts go. 

 

        I tossed and turned all night long with two thoughts in my head. Why would my dad have the same necklace as Carla? And why wasn't it on her body? She ALWAYS wore it. 

        I crawled over to my computer, tiredness pulling me down. I searched every description of the necklaces I could until I finally found it. They were the same silver half-circle, cursive accept written on the back as Carla’s and my dads. The description of it said LGBTQIA+ acceptance necklace. The half circles were rainbows. 

        I had never thought I would be standing in front of my “grandmother’s” house while she was gone just to break in. But my suspicions lead me here. I picked open the door—perks of having had a detective dad. I walked through the halls, ducked in every room, turned them upside-down. I felt a cold chill run down my spine so I crept into the kitchen and grabbed a silver handled sharp-looking knife. I continued peeking around Ruth's house with the knife in my hand.  Till I found it. Carla’s necklace.

        “Hello,” Ruth said.

        “You killed my best friend—your granddaughter. Why not me?” My voice shook, the knife—pressed in my hand—cold to the touch. 

        “You know why,” Ruth spoke coldly. 

        I jumped up, knife still in hand, then all I could see was blood. Not just Ruth's—mine too.