An Empty Grave

A short story

Elizabeth rambled along the trodden path; her fingers intertwined with her husband’s. Henry walked beside her, matching his strides to hers, careful never to rush her. The birdsong overhead weaved through the tree canopy, blending with the sounds of leaves and other animals. Singular rays of sunlight pierced through the dense growth, illuminating patches of plants. But despite the peaceful surroundings, Elizabeth could feel the tension radiating off Henry. He was worried. He was under a lot of stress at work, as he was heading up the investigation into a recently murdered man. But she knew the furrows in his brow were her fault.

I’m not sick.

She tried to project the thought into his mind, but it never worked. But Elizabeth knew he was only worried because he loved her. The rocky start to their relationship only cemented the fact in her mind. She looked up at the man next to her, silently admiring the fine cut of his features, his silky black hair. He was hers.

He had been acting strangely lately, though. Trivial things that she had picked up, like his documenting every part of their routine, and obsessively checking in on her medicine and doses. But Elizabeth was determined to enjoy this piece of paradise with him. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, boxing it up and burying it in the pile of problems she ignored.

A little further down the path, there was a break in the trees. Sunlight streamed down, bathing the crouched figure in the middle of the clearing in golden light. She sat on a picnic blanket, her wrinkleless silk skirt saved from the dirt, her brown hair was pulled up in a practical bun. In front of her stood a stone gravestone, clean, almost new in appearance. On the ground lay a bouquet of purple banksias. However, strangest of all, was the freshly dug, empty grave next to her, the pile of dirt still sitting a few paces away.

The sounds of the bush fell silent as the woman, startled by their footsteps, rose and turned to face them. But to Elizabeth’s surprise, she recognised the woman. Knew her like the back of her hand.

“Catherine?” Her tone at that moment reflected every emotion that warred inside of her. Confusion, surprise, wariness.

Her sister’s face was red and puffy, stained with tears. Her voice cracked as she replied.

“I’m so sorry Lizzy. It was never meant to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was meant to happen slowly, but no one can know about this grave. No one can know I killed him.”

Elizabeth looked behind Catherine to the tombstone, it belonged to the man Henry had been investigating. And then the other half of her sentence sunk in and she knew.

~~~

“She’s trying to kill me!” She screamed, her voice breaking with exertion.

“Babe, it’s ok. The medicine is helping you.” Henry’s tone was placating, one of a man who had repeated himself many times over.

“You don’t believe me!” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She was so frustrated. So helpless. “Why won’t you believe me? I’m not paranoid. She’s poisoning me!”

“I do believe you,” he held his hands out, a gesture of surrender, of calming a wild animal. “I just want to make sure you’re thinking properly.”

~~~

“I wasn’t crazy. You were trying to kill me.”

“You always were too smart for your own good.” Catherine’s tone was contemplative, head tilted as she continued, “but who would believe the paranoid woman?”

Henry stood, frozen beside Elizabeth, incapable of action. Conflicted on whether or not to speak up. But she left him, she knew he would always back her up, and right now she needed answers.

“But why Catherine? Why?” Her voice was pleading, desperation and pain seeping into her words. But once again, she knew.

~~~

“You ruin everything!” Catherine screamed. “I was meant to have it all. I am the eldest, I should be the prettiest, the smartest, the most popular, the favourite. I try so hard Lizzy. So, so hard.” Her voice broke on the last word, her frustration and sadness seeping into her words. “But you saunter in and take my friends, my boyfriend, my everything!” She paused, tears overflowing and rolling down her cheeks. Leaving streaks in her perfectly made-up face.

“I… I didn’t mean to.” Elizabeth trailed off, knowing how weak her defence was. How real and potent her sister’s pain was.

“That’s part of the problem.” Her face crumpled. “I need to leave; I can’t look at you right now.” She walked out, leaving Elizabeth staring at the door after her.

~~~

“I don’t, I shouldn’t, have to tell you.” Catherine looked down at the floor, her eyes thoughtful. “But I can’t be happy if you’re alive. And I deserve to be happy, don’t I, Lizzy?” She took one step forward, and then another, moving towards her sister until her warm fingers wrapped around Elizabeth’s slender arms. Her legs felt like lead; she couldn’t move as Catherine pushed her into the empty grave. The dirt was moist and cold, a traitorous embrace.

“What are you doing?” She exclaimed, “Henry, help me!” Her cries snapped him from his trance, and he walked towards her, his strides long and purposeful. Thank goodness, he would save her, he always would. But her hopes flickered and then were extinguished, like a light inside her, as he reached for the shovel in the earth. And then he began to dig. Transferring dirt from the pile, into the grave.

“Henry? What are you doing?” Her voice filled first with desperation, and then fear, as he continued to shovel. She began to scream. There had to be someone out here who could help her. Anyone. But her cries went unheard, becoming more and more muffled, with each fresh load of dirt.

~~~

“Catherine, I know you hate her. Surely there’s something we can do?”

“I thought you loved her?” Her voice was cautious but tinged with a curiosity that spurred him onwards.

“I did. Once. Or at least I think I did. But she doesn’t love me anymore. Some Jasper Lewis? I’m going to kill them both.”

“Settle down, one at a time, Henry.”

~~~

Henry set down the shovel. It was done. She was gone. Buried underneath the dirt he had placed. Catherine stood a few paces off, a self-satisfied smile on her beautiful face. Elizabeth’s muffled screams had finally ceased. She would never scream again. Never smile up at him. Never sip a cup of coffee across from him at breakfast. Never play with their cat. Oh god. What had he done? Those muted cries would haunt him forever more.