Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep234: Episode 234: Serial Killer Classics

Episode Date: April 10, 2025

Our first terrifying tale of the macabre is ‘A serial killer broke into my house, that isn't even the scary part’, by H.R. Welch, kindly shared directly with me via my subreddit and read here with the author’s express permission:  u/Narrow_Muscle9572  Next up this evening is all four parts of ‘Dance For Your Killer’, by Jrubas, kindly shared directly with me via my subreddit and read here with the author’s express permission:  u/Jrubas  Tonight’s third terrifying tale of the macabre and weird is ‘I once saw people getting murdered. Thing was, I saw it happening through someone else’s eyes...’ by the wonderfully talented Corpse Child, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  u/Corpse_Child/  Our penultimate tale of the horrific is ‘I was stalked and kidnapped by a serial killer’ again by the wonderfully talented Corpse Child, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  u/Corpse_Child/  Our final tale of the macabre is ‘My father was a police detective in Texas: One of his cases still has him question what kind of evil humans are really capable of’ by the wonderfully talented Crest O’ Razors, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:  u/Crest_O_Razors/

Experience a legacy that lasts at Dawn Valley North Lexus. Right now Lisa 2026 NX350 Premium Package from just 628 per month for 28 months at 3.9%. Plus qualified Lexus loyalty guests receive a 1.5% rate reduction for rates as low as 2.4%. See Dawnvalleynorthlexus.com for details. A proud member of Wayne's Auto Group. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's dungeon. Our serial killers captivate us because they challenge our understanding of human nature and morality. They lurk in the shadows of our society, hidden behind ordinary facades,

making us question how someone can seem so normal yet commit unimaginable horrors. Their motives, often complex, twisted and deeply personal, reveal the dark potential lurking in all of us. We can't help but be drawn to the mystery of how they operate, why they kill and what makes them tick. The fascination lies in the chilling realization that, despite their brutality, we are all a part of the same world, and their darkness might be closer to us than we'd ever want to admit. As we shall see in tonight's collection of stories. Now, as ever, before we begin, a word of caution.

Tonight's tales may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. A serial killer broke into my house. That isn't even the scary part. By H.R. Welch. It was around midnight a few years ago when I heard the sound of someone breaking into my house. I don't think I had more than 20 minutes to sleep, but as soon as I heard the window being broken, I was wide awake and looking for my phone to call the police.

Unfortunately, I'd left it downstairs charging in the kitchen, the source of the breaking. After psyching myself up to go downstairs, I saw the silhouette of the way. a man sitting at my kitchen table it was dark so i couldn't see him but the stink coming off the man was enough to curl my nose heads it was obvious even without the lights on that he was homeless i was about to throw him out but as soon as i turned on the lights couldn't help but feel bad for this stranger he was sickly skinny dirty with long stringy hair that grew in patches and a matching beard the way he sat there motionless with tears forming in his thousand-yard stare seemed to me that he'd given up online.

I was about to tell him to get out, but as soon as I opened my mouth, I noticed that he had a shotgun on his lap. I nervously asked him what he wanted, but he didn't answer me. Instead, he just sat still and stared straight ahead as if he wasn't even in the room. As a kid, I was instructed to give the homeless food instead of money, since they might buy booze or drugs with it. So instead I decided to warm the man up with leftovers in the microwave. as I did so I prodded the stranger with questions like if he wanted me to call anyone well he didn't answer for a long time and hardly noticed the food I'd placed in front of him once it was ready however once he started talking told me a story that would change my life forever he said his name was cold Ier I admitted to killing twenty people I'm not at all embarrassed to say that I cried and begged for my life at this point

this only angered Cole who ordered me to shut up and sit down so he could tell me something doing what he said cole told me that his first victim was a hooker who he'd choke to death this one wasn't killed like the others because he didn't know how he wanted to do it at the time or for that matter knew that he had a taste for it after killing her Cole expected someone to come by to arrest him but after a while with no detectives or police coming by Cole figured he was in the clear finally having a way to vent his frustrations and no longer feeling like some cog in the machine Cole's murderous fantasies took on a life of their own eventually he started to consider himself the Pasadorn killer the reason Cole liked that name could only be explained by his twisted sense of righteousness and questionable moral compass which was explained to me in great detail Now the gist of it was that if he killed enough pests, good things would come back to him. Symbolizing this, he'd replace the head of his previous victim with the most current. Realising killing people he knew was a sure way of getting caught, Cole learned what questions to ask complete strangers to discover the pests in their lives because, well, who didn't like talking about themselves?

Cole explained that he was great at talking to people and could talk the devil into lighting himself on fire. Because of this gift, it was easy for Cole to learn where these people lived, worked, and what they drove, and much more. Since the murders were spread out nationwide and none of his victims had any connection to the others. Authorities were at a loss. They told the public they were chasing leads, but they never even questioned Cole about his hobby. As at this point that Cole demanded that I'd grab a pen and paper and jot down this tent. It was I to say no. Even though he had his hands on the table, there was still a shotgun in his lap.

I didn't want to bet that it wasn't loaded or that I was faster than he was. The safe bet was just to write the story he was telling me that hope he'd show me mercy. While scouting for the twenty-first victim, Cole had found himself behind a small series of apartment buildings. It was here Cole started to shake as if he was scared. I heard a small group of people huddled around someone's basement apartment, whispering to whoever was inside. They were ways away, so I couldn't make out the details of the time. I could see that something wasn't right about them.

They were dirty, long, greasy hair and beards. There was something else about them. Something. Well... something evil one by one they'd stop their hushed whispering and turn their gazes towards cold this prompted him to return to his car and on the way he dared a peek over his shoulder when he did they were following him but stayed just out of the cone of light the street lamps provided creep me out i was already thinking of finding someone else to kill because i don't like killing

an apartment buildings too many neighbors you know When I saw them, though, I sort of settled it. I wasn't going to go back there. I kept looking back in the mirror on the way home to see if I was being followed, but in the five-hour drive I didn't see a thing behind me. Next day, however, I noticed a car driving slowly through my parking lot every few hours. Smoking lots of weed at the time, and I figured I was just being paranoid. The next night I woke up to a tapping on the door.

This cold explained to me what happened. happened next he started to rock back and forth though I have seen children doing in an effort to calm themselves down before continuing the story I thought it was my imagination at first then I started hearing my name being whispered from the hallway when I realized I wasn't imagining the noises I looked out the people Cole described at least five filthy and malnourished faces partially covered by long unkempt hair that did little to hide their dark sunken eyes that shone with a kind of hate and sin that even the pass-it-on killer feared they spent the entire night begging me to come out in the building

Cole called home it wasn't uncommon to hear drunken exes pound on doors demanding to be let in so their begging went on for hours eventually a neighbor Cole never bothered to get to know but shed a thin wall with decided to open the door to to tell the strangers to keep it down. Well, she stopped mid-sentence the moment she saw them, Cole explained. They pushed her back into her apartment and all piled in. They were tearing through her place for a while and I could hear her cry, which caused them to laugh. If I didn't have a head in a freezer, I would have called the frickin' cops man.

Eventually they made the woman call out to Cole, begging him to come out from his apartment. Cole could hear them telling her what to say. When she did, they'd laugh and instruct her to say it louder. When Cole refused to open the door or respond, they grew bored and started getting violent with the woman. First the sounds of punches, things getting broken, but then... Oh, Jesus. They were eating her. It was loud and wet and lasted until the sun came up.

I didn't want to interrupt someone who was. was obviously crazy after all who knows how a madman thinks the best course of action for me to take was to remain silent and allow Cole to go on for as long as he wanted call didn't leave his room until noon by then he was confident that they were gone and they were safe to leave I was no way I was gonna stay there no freaking way Cole barely touched the meatloaf I'd eat it up for him because he was too distraught considering how he looked I thought he was going to inhale it after packing his car and making

sure to remember the head of his previous victim who he kept on ice go went to some army surplus store to get what he needed to get away for a while after Cole this meant staying at a seedy hotel about a week later he's getting some grub at some grocery store just walking in the parking lot and mind my own business right that's when I saw the again drove up right behind me and laid on the horn didn't even bother getting son of the eat I just wanted to get the hell out of it by the time Cole remembered that he'd left the head of his previous victim back in the mini fridge at the hotel he'd already crossed two state lines I could tell this bothered him

at this point of the story Cole had to take a moment and knowing that he had a shotgun on his lap and gave it to him I didn't that my kindness will be repaid and I could keep my head once he'd finished his tail. I poured him some milk and offed him the rest of the baby carrots I had in the fridge. Cole traded his car for a van shortly after that encounter because there was no doubt that whoever was following him knew what he was driving. At least I could sleep in the van, right? It saves money on hotels and shit.

It only took five weeks or so after trading in the van that Cole crossed his pursuers' paths once more. This time he was in deep sleep when he heard them say his name, causing his eyes to shoot open, immediately locking on the dark eyes of a woman with the same sinister resemblance as the man Cole had seen outside his apartment. However, without a beard, this woman's disfiguration was more noticeable. When she smiled, it was like she didn't have nearly enough teeth. The few that she had was small and brown and grew freaking everywhere. her. Cole explained this as his dirty fingers fidgeted with the gun in his lap.

Like the gums and the inside of the cheeks and shit. Even in the dark, Cole could see their black eyes glow with hateful light, and when he turned over the engine, the headlights revealed dozens of her family, standing ten or so feet apart. Oh, someone naked, Cole explained, his eyes growing distant as he was reliving that painful memory. When they were standing still, smiling and just looking at me, like they were giving me permission to leave. Cole told me that he swerved to hit a few with his front tire or to at least clip them with the van's fat ass, however they all just stepped to the side, effortlessly avoiding getting run down. When I got the opportunity to ask what he meant by her family, he revealed that

that was a recent term given to them. But the time, the time. time he thought they were demons or vampires but no longer thinks that's the case for reasons he didn't share at the time after that encounter cole abandoned the van and stole a car it was confessed to me that this is what he was doing whenever he felt that they were closing in on him usually with a sensation of a tightening of his chest or his balls triggered by anything from something he'd imagine seeing in the corner of his eye to the cries coming from a murder of crows zigzagging across the country country, Cole made every effort to forever rid himself with these people and the hateful pulse that resonated from them.

Cole would stay inside at night and if he could he'd sleep during the day. He'd pass the time by reading and listening to music. It was a surprise to me that he preferred classical considering how he looks. My shock must have been apparent because Cole explained that Vivaldi's concerto number five was his favourite and thanked his mother for getting him into tasteful music. while on the run Cole would take odd jobs here and there to pay for what he needed to survive a tractor assembly line in michigan a tall booth operator in florida and a semi-way station in nevada whatever job paid him in cash and as long as he didn't have to work at night no matter

where he found work he would not stay long before feeling that they were closing in on him and more often than not leave before getting his paycheck i'll spare you the details of what Cole felt he had to do in order to survive up to this point. Up to now, he'd been talking to me a captive audience due to his shotgun on his lap for well over four hours. The night Cole came to my house, was shortly after leaving a place he'd stayed at for about three months, aloft above a bar in Northern Cannon. When asked why he'd want to live above a bar while on the run, Cole shrugged and said that he thought a bar full of people at night would keep him safe. when they finally arrived they softly cried out his name from the back alley under his window

with all the music being played downstairs col had no idea how long they'd been calling but the moment he knew it was them the giggling began they flattered call by saying they were his biggest fans and tried to prove it to him by telling him details that only the pass-it-on killer would not cutting off her head is hard even if you have power tools it's messy shit took a while before I got the hang of it though Cole confessed oblivious to my disgust I rigged a bike pump up to a catheter

snaked it through the auxiliary nerve until it reached the superior Vanakama only took about two minutes before the blood start flowing by then removing the head was pretty much blood-free Cole swore to me that up to this point he'd never spoken to them But that night at the bar he finally had enough and accused them of being vampires due to the fact they needed permission to come in.

As soon as I said that, everything went silent. Must have been used to the sounds that I'm making because I didn't notice it until it stopped. That's when someone with a strange accent told me that they weren't vampires, but in fact something else. Something that I... But Cole never finished this, though. In the silence that followed, I didn't know what he was going to do, and this terrified me. It might have been a lack of sleep on my part, possibly even momentary insanity,

but I had to know who or what was chasing Cole. When he asked, he didn't answer, so I pressed my luck and asked him what else needs permission to enter a house other than vampires. Again, he didn't answer, and even though I knew it was a mistake to poke the bear I started to ask again. As soon as the worst I'd leave my mouth, Cole reached into his inner breast pocket and poured out what I thought at the time was paper napkins.

After inspecting it for a moment, with an expression I've never seen before, Gold slapped them down on the table between us. Written on them in everything from pen to market to pencil were the messages. Let us in, open the door, and more. It's hard to tell what else was said because the writing overlapped. However it was clear to me that these messages were written by dozens of people.

As I picked one to look at it closer and possibly ascertain what was written, my finger rubbed the glossy underside. Turning it over I saw that it was a photograph and an Nicol was sleeping in what appeared to be a small apartment. The next appeared to be him in an abandoned bus, a dirty attic, and so on. Some of the pictures, Cole looked 20 years younger. It made me wonder just how long he was on the run for. I know that stress can prematurely age people, but I had a hard time believing that the person in the picture and Cole were one and the same.

Even though there was a part of me that knew what I was looking at, I needed to hear it from the man himself. But before I could ask, Cole said, I don't need permission to enter someone's house. as he stared blankly into the empty space behind he sat there quietly for what seemed like an hour before Cole said anything else when he did it was as if he'd suddenly remembered that he was telling me a story and picked up from where he'd left off the part where they then cut the power to the apartment and the bar under him i didn't tell alarm before the woman tending bar that night was shouting at them

not to come closer. They just laughed. To a hurry, pardon, all I could do was wait until morning to come. Cole confessed this with a shake of his head as if to eject the thoughts from his mind. The thing is, Canada has some long last during the winter. I only had enough food for a few days. Cole didn't tell me how long he'd stayed in that room for, and I didn't want to ask. It was obvious from the thousand-yard stead that these events were still fresh in his mind so i kept my mouth shut when Cole left his room he saw gore sprinkled everywhere at a trail of breadcrumbs that started from behind the bar and let ride to my apartment careful not to touch anything with his bare hands Cole told me that he'd empty the cash register and stole a toolbox from the back office so he could switch license place whenever

he felt the need to in the future to throw his pursuers off his scent know how to stop him I think I'd have a good idea of how to slow him down, Cole said. But before he could elaborate, he noticed that the sun was shining through the window, and we'd been talking for hours. Thankful that he'd gone another night without seeing them, and having someone he thought he could talk to. Cole thanked me for listening. I didn't know what to say to such a story.

What could I say? The awkward moments that followed, I filled the void by rambling about whatever came to mind, eventually telling him about my boss and how he's always looking over my shoulder and wouldn't leave me alone as if this was at all similar to Cole's own story I didn't think anything of Cole asking me if I liked my job or where I worked at the time and soon I was answering all of his questions after a short while Cole thanked me at the time I assumed that was because I took the time to listen to him then he took my car keys off the counter and left without another word

it might have been about ten minutes after cole left before i called the police and all i said to them was that my house was broken into and that my car was stolen after all if i said anything else it might have made me look as crazy as cold maybe it was just me being tired but i was truly afraid that the police were thinking i was insane if i told them a story cole had told me the more distance i put between myself and that night the less real it felt but then reality set in once i learned that my boss was found dead a few days later according to the local newspaper the whisper alley echo pieces of my boss were found all over his bedroom most people in town considered this to be a rumor to stir up newspaper sales and i wanted to agree but it was hard considering cole's tale the back in my head the idea of what cole told me being true kept teasing me bother me so much that I ended up hiring a private investigator, a decision that I came to regret. A week later I received a phone call informing me that my boss's head was found in the middle of another bloody mess all the way in Cleveland.

Over the next few weeks, I kept thinking of the story Cole had told me. Those thoughts weren't front and centre. They were creeping in the back, ready to pounce on a happy moment to turn it sour. I didn't take long before I started seeing dark patches, from one shadow of the next disappearing as soon as i turned to look at it first i chalked this up to being a mouse the reflection off my glasses was just a lack of sleep after all it was much harder to sleep in a house that was broken into hoping it wasn't nice because of my hatred towards them i bought some medicine in town so i could get some rest at night for it worked wonders when

it came to getting shadow but did nothing to stop me from seeing these shadows with an embarrassing frequency, I'd imagine the reflecting eyes on the side of the road were Coles night visitors, or think of them whenever I heard the house settled. It was as though, toying with the idea of them being real was enough to invite them into my life. Well, don't recall what came first, hearing my name being called out in public, the familiar sound of the coring of crows, all the soft scraping at my screen windows at night. However, once I realized the noises and the visions were real, there was no way to block them out. At night the soft whispers were hard to make out, and the more I tried to ignore them, the more they took center-state.

I couldn't tell you how many nights I stayed up just so I could put my ear up to the wall. But I can tell you it was worth the effort because, unlike coal, I know what they want. The first night I opened the door for them was terrifying, like losing one's virginity. Even with Cole's descriptions, there was no way I could have been prepared for their appearance, because they resembled the humans the way a shark looks like a minnow. During these conversations, they instructed me to share Cole's story with the world, so some of his madness could rub off on others, and season the meat. As long as I did this for them, it'll allow me to live.

With that in mind, it's only a matter of time before they come and visit you. Maybe it'll start with seeing shadows in the corner of your eyes, the sounds of whispering, or something similar to the coring of crows. But no matter how it starts, you should know it's the beginning of the end. Once you've been seasoned enough, they all strike, and when they do, you can thank me. A better and more successful parted-on-killer than Cole ever won. Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out. Play exciting casino games based on the iconic

game show. Only at BetMGM. Access to the Price is right fortune pick is only available at BetMGM Casino. BetMGM and GameSense remind you to play responsibly. 19 plus to wager, Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BenMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. Dance for Your Killer by Jay Rubus. Part one.

For Natalie Harper, the day started with a call from her agent. I'm talking to some people at an ad agency. He told her in rush terms. Nothing's final, but if all goes well, your face will be on every bus and billboard in the city. It was a rainy autumn day in New York. The cabs passing in the street kicked up sheets of dirty water, and carpets of red and orange leaves were plastered wetly to the sidewalks, making

walking precarious. Gray dishwater light filtered through the window overlooking East 58th, and even with a heater on, the damp chill of the day seeped in between the cracks. Natalie, a tall, slim woman of twenty-five with blonde hair, a pert nose and high cheekbones, sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed. The white spread rumpled around her like freshly fallen snarl. She was glad in a pair of grey lounge pants with little hearts printed across the fabric and a white tank top one size too big. As a struggling actress slash model in one of the most expensive cities in America, she lived cheaply and bought her clothes second-hand. Natalie hated being poor, but it was only temporary. Her career was going to take off any day now, and she'd no longer have to wear ill-fitting clothes

and eat glorified dog food from a can. Soon all of the fancy restaurants and high-end shop she passed on the upper west side would no longer be part of the scenery maybe places she actually went to frequented enjoyed as she listened to david gline had just swirled of excitement and she unconsciously sat forward until she was on her knees when will we know for sure she asked impatiently ah weak david said it really he trailed off and natalie knew him well enough to know that there was a catch What? She asked soberly. David sighed.

Well, they want to see how you do in the play, and if you do good, they'll pick you up. You didn't have to say anything else. Natalie supplied the rest herself. If you don't do good, forget about it. She sighed. She should have known there was a catch. Wasn't there always?

She'd been in New York City for three years and have been waiting every single minute for her. big break. She didn't want to wait any longer. She wanted to be rich and famous now. Now, now, now. Her eyes flicked to the tiny kitchen beyond the bedroom door. If she didn't get her fame and wealth by the end of the day, she'd have to eat ramen again. Just do your best, David said. Listen, I got to go. I'll call you when I hear something more. Natalie sighed. "'Ah, all right. Chow for now,' he said. "'bye.'

She ended the call and instantly made another one. Her sister Naomi answered on the third ring. "'You know, it's like five a.m. here, right?' Ignoring her, Natalie said, "'You're never going to believe this.' The line was quiet for a moment. "'What?' Naomi asked breathlessly. She sounded tense with anticipation.

it's about to happen. Naomi didn't have to ask what she meant by it. It only meant one thing. Her big break. Really? Naomi asked. Wonder in her voice. Tell me all about it.

Natalie and Naomi were twins. Two halves you might save the same hole. They look so much alike you might have trouble telling them apart. Their personalities, however, were night and day. Natalie had always been attracted to make her, and the color pink. Naomi was a tomboy, rough and tumble. Natalie was sometimes uptight and prissy. Naomi was laid back and earthy, at home in the woods or buried up to her elbows in the engine block of the fold. Unlike Natalie, Naomi had never had a boyfriend, and Natalie sometimes wondered

if her sister preferred women. Unlike most adult sisters, they were fiercely close, closer than that even. Years ago, beyond the rim of memory, or their memory at least, their parent, were killed in an auto accident together they were shuffled from one home to another sometimes they were with relatives other times they were with strangers for years they had no constant but each other Natalie remembered her and Naomi hugging tightly beneath the covers in the cold of a dark winter night each seeking to assuage the fear and loneliness they felt they moved around so much they could never make friends and set down roots they played and hung out only with each other going around like two best friends who couldn't get enough of each other.

In the beginning it was an act of necessity, but their shared experience had bonded them, and now they were as close as two sisters could be. Natalie almost didn't come to New York, because she couldn't bear the thought of being away from her sister, but Naomi all but made her leave. She knew how important Natalie's dream was, and she didn't want her to give it up.

Naomi had always supported her, always believed in her, even when Natalie didn't believe in herself. These days Naomi lived in California. They hadn't seen each other in almost six months and Natalie was starting to get antsy. They needed a reunion and soon. Well, Natalie said, it... She trailed off.

Some of the delirious happiness draining from her she remembered her agent's words. Naomi picked up on it immediately because, well, of course she did. She could read Natalie like an open book. What? What? she asked. Leaving aside, Natalie said, Depends on how I want I do in this play. If I do really well, I'll get it, and if not,

she trailed off again. That's all? Naomi laughed. You're great, he got this in the back. Again, Natalie sighed. Oh, I don't know. There's a lot of talent in that play. It's like, some of the girls are so much better than me.

Naomi was the only person to whom Natalie, would reveal even the faintest whiff of insecurity. Growing up the way she had, Natalie had learned early on that if you show a weakness, the world will eat you alive. She didn't have to worry about that with Naomi, though. Naomi was her other half.

She could tell Naomi anything. Look, Naomi said soberly, you're great. You're going to get this gig. You just need to relax. If you get too worked up about it, you're going to make a mistake. Don't do that.

Just go out there and work your hardest. I believe in you. Natalie almost laughed at her sister's cliched show of encouragement. Thanks, she said. Speaking of which, I have to jump off here and get ready. All right, Naomi said. Break a leg. I will.

I love you, Naomi said. She spoke with fierceness and conviction. Natalie smiled. I love you two. She hung up and threw her head back. As much as her sister's words, warned her, she still worried that she wasn't good enough. That was something she just had to live with. The show, as they say, must go on. Getting up, Natalie got ready for her date

with a destiny. Light, peppy pop music played from a radio on a folding table and hot lights burned overhead, making Natalie sweat. It was late afternoon and she and a half dozen other girls dressed in leotards, headbands and leg warmers were on stage practicing their dance routine for the play, an off-broadway affair that had done fairly well on the West Coast. Rose of empty seats swept back from the stage, and the instructor, Ms. Melos, walked back and forth like an animal trapped in a zoo, barking orders and waving her arms. "'Hire, Lindsay!' she shouted. "'Kick higher!' Lindsay tried to lift her leg higher and wound up falling down.

Natalie smirked at her and kicked higher than Lindsay could ever dream. Lindsay was a USDA certified prime bitch who thought her shit didn't stink. At 18 she was the youngest cast member, tall and slim with fiery red hair and big hazel eyes always seemed to be plotting. She came from one of the city's richest families and believed she was better than everyone else because of it. Natalie tried to like the teenager, but she was such a snooty see you next Tuesday that she couldn't do it.

Flushed with embarrassment, Lindsay Gless. No, Ms. Melo screamed. No, no, no. Everyone stopped, already knowing what was coming. Ms. Mellow stormed on stage and switched the radio off. Her nostrils flared and her shoulders rose and fell, lending her the appearance of a raging ball. You have less than a week to nail this routine.

At this rate, we're never going to be ready in time. I know you're a bunch of kids, but you need to get your head to. out of your butts and getting gear okay. Let's take it from the top. She went over to the radio, turned it on, and watched from the sidelines. Her arms crossed. The girls went through the steps and motions

with swan-like grace. Natalie watched Lindsay from the corner of her eye, willing her to trip over her two dumb feet. But she danced divinely, and Natalie hated her for it. In fact, she kind of hated all the girls who danced better than her, and there were many.

Everyone has their own special talent and everyone has an Achilles heel. Natalie's was dancing. She could walk and twirl like a cloud, but when she danced, she somehow managed to be mediocre at best. Other girls were more limber, more talented. She was middling, and when the entire cast was on stage, the audiences' eyes were drawn away from her. She was a face in the crowd, and that made her mad. You wouldn't be wrong if you called Natalie Harper a time. tension style. She craved the spotlight and losing it for even a moment sent her into panicked hysterics.

She'd do almost anything to be the one everyone looked at and admired, and she hated when someone took that away from her. Lindsay was the one who drew everyone's eyes the most, and Natalie couldn't stand it. Lindsay was the best all-around dancer, and she knew it. She would swish around the dressing room, making snide remarks about everyone else's form. It would push naturally to the edge. Natalie simply detested Lindsay and hoped for bad bad things to happen to her by twisting an ankle and having to drop out

of the pageant Ah, that would be marvellous With her out of the picture Natalie would have one fewer dancers Standing in her way All right, all right Miss Mello said and waved her hand That's enough for now

She cut the radio off again And all of the girls came to a halt I'll pick this up again tomorrow You did good not great good coming from mumsello's

that was a heck of a compliment the girls broke and went behind the curtain a white space backed against the stage and led to a row of dressing rooms a communal locker room with showers and offices

here the lighting was dim and shadows held sway Natalie went to her dressing room grabbed her gym bag and went into the locker room naked girl strutted between their lockers and the showers and steam filled the air

A friend Melody, a pretty Asian girl with black hair and arm and eyes, was rooting around in her locker, and Natalie sat on the bench behind her. My feet are killing me, Melody said. I don't think I could have danced another step. What's the point? Natalie asked darkly as she peeled off her shoes. Lindsay's going to make all of us look like chumps anyway. Melody rolled her eyes. She's not that good. Where is she anyway? Probably in her dressing room, Natalie said. She's too good to hang out with the rest of us. Slamming her locker, Melody stripped out of a leotard,

revealing her firm young body. You need to stop being so negative, she said. You have a great dancer. That was funny. Compared to Lindsay, she was trash. She was trash compared to half the girl's here, and every time she danced with them, it was clear to her that she was a loser.

All her dreams of stardom would be dashed because she was. wasn't good enough. She didn't deserve the ag gig. Didn't deserve to be in this crummy play. And suddenly, she was very depressed. Yeah, I guess, she said because she didn't feel like talking about it. She just wanted to get dressed and go home to song. You are, Melody said. Mally peeled off her leotard and dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a black t-shirt. She wore them because they were roomy and comfortable and saw from practice she needed roomy and comfortable. We're going to shower?

Melody asked. Natalie said. I'm going to head out. All right, Melody replied. Don't let Lindsay bother you. Natalie smiled. I won't. They hugged and Natalie left.

In her dressing room, the door closed. Lindsay Ferguson stood under the forcied of her private shower. The water wedding and red hair and sluicing. down her body like the touch of a timid lover. She spun around, letting the spray caress her back, then ducked her head underneath. She was sore and tired, but she felt good despite falling over earlier. She could tumble and stumble all over the place and still be better than the other girls. Oh, how they resented her. She could tell from the looks of jealousy in their eyes, and in the way they delighted in her rare missteps. They wouldn't be so happy to see her fail if they weren't worried

about losing to her. Too bad they do exactly that. In the dressing room proper, the doorknob rattled and turned. The door opened a crack, the rusted hinges creaking like the mournful wail of a damned soul. A hand-clad in a black leather glove slipped through, flexing like a spider stalking a hapless insect. Its fingers curled around the door and pushed it open just wide enough to steal in. Black shoes clicked on. the floor as the figure deliberately made its way toward the shower. Its reflection flickered across the mirror a quick flash of black fedora and a black trench coat. The brim of its hat cast its face in darkness, hiding its features save for its wide frenzied eyes. He reached into the folds of its

coat and poured something out. It was a knife. Its handle was black, its blade so silver that it seemed to glow like quicksilver in the half-light falling from the bulbs trimming the mirror. The shower cut out, and the shape hesitated, then stepped into the shadows. Throwing the curtain open, Lindsay stepped out of the shower and brushed her long, silky legs, her shoulder blades flexing. She grabbed a silky robe, shrugged into it, and went to the vanity, drying her hair on the way. She pulled out the chair and sat down. Behind her, the figure lurks.

Sighing, Lindsay wrapped the towel around her head, picked up a tube of lipstick and twisted the bottom she looked at her reflection that's when she noticed the intruder a shocked gasp escaped from her throat and her eyes widened like a spring-loaded surprise the figure snapped forward grabbing the towel and yanking lindsay's head back the knife flashed up gleaming like a twinkling eye and then came down plunging deep into lindsay's chest Lindsay tried to scream, but it came out as a wet gurgle instead. The attacker poured the knife out and dragged it across Lindsay's exposed throat. Coughing and gagging, Lindsay pressed her hands to the wound and fell out of her chair,

landing on her stomach. The attacker walked calmly over and stood there, all boots and black pants. Her vision began to dim, and she knew in that moment she was going to die. In the backstage area, Natalie made her way toward the exit door leading to the parking lot. She nodded and said goodbye to a few of the stagehands and told Ms. Melos, it was a pleasure, even though today had been anything but. At the door she paused, checked her bag and realized she'd left her cell phone charging by the front office. She sighed and went back for it.

In just the time it took her to come this far, the hallway had largely empty out. Save for the hiss of the showers and the sporadic voices of the other girls in the locker room, the building was silent and dark. Natalie spotted her cell phone and went for it, stopping in front of the closed door to Lindsay Ferguson's dressing room, when a strange whimper sounded from within. Natalie's brow crinkled and she pressed her ear to the door. Another whimper?

She imagined Lindsay crying over her fall and an evil smile crept across her face. Oh yes, she had to see this. Grabbing a hold of the knob, she twisted and pushed the door open. Nag, knock, she said in a wicked sing-song voice. You decent? She poked her head in and looked around. The first thing she noticed was the red streaks and drops splattered across the mirror. Bowls of perfume and cold cream were strewn haphazardly across the table,

as if knocked over in a struggle. The next thing was the body lying on the floor. Face white, eyes wide and staring. Lindsay Ferguson lay on her back, a gaping wound across her throat. The air left Natalie's lungs in a rush and her skull swelled with pressure. A scream rose in her throat and all at once she was so lightheaded that she could barely stand. Right before she lost consciousness and flopped to the floor with a thud, Natalie saw one more thing. her own white and shot face in the blood-speckled mirror.

After that, she knew no more. Part two, the day after Lindsay Ferguson was murdered, Natalie Harper checked out of the hospital where she'd been admitted for observation the night before. She felt fine, just a little shaken, but they insisted on keeping it. That morning before the nurse brought her discharge paperwork, a detective from the NYPD came to talk to her.

A tall, olive-complexioned man with dark hair and deep-set eyes, his name was Inspector Argento. His partner, an older man with greying hair and jowls, was Inspector for a gussel. Natalie was sitting up in bed when they came. Inspector Argento sat in a chair by her bedside and held a notepad in his hand. Tell me exactly what happened. She honestly tried, but the whole thing was hazy in her mind. She remember going into the dressing room, seeing Lindsay on the table.

the floor and then passing out. That's all I can remember, she said. Are you certain, Inspector Argento asked. Natalie gave a jerky nod. I'm absolutely certain. No sooner had those words left her mouth, and a memory stirred in the back of her mind. She knitted her brow in contemplation and tried to bring it into the light, but it remained hidden, decked in shadows. What is it? Inspector Argento asked, animation creeping into his voice. I'm not sure, Natalie said at length. I think, um... She trailed off.

The memory receded into the mist and was gone. What? The inspector asked again. Natalie clenched and tried as hard as she could to remember what had happened. The only thing that came was an image of her face in the vanity mirror. Droplets of blood splattered across it. She told him this and asked, It was there any blood on my face when they found?

me no he said there was some on the mirror must have seen your reflection now her head was spinning and she felt like she was going to pass out again thankfully a nurse happened to come in at that very moment she she sheered the cops away so that she could rest but not before inspector argento gave her his card the um call me if you can remember anything he said anything Natalie nodded the way he looked at her Did you think that she did it? Well, she hated Lindsay, but not enough to hurt her. She could see dark suspicion in his eyes.

She tried to remember what she'd seen, what exactly she'd seen, but the memory was hazy, her mind trying perhaps to block it all out. She had a deep sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, as though she were forgetting something important. At home she lay on her bed with her arm stretched out on either side of her, and a dazed expression on her face. The first thing she'd done upon getting home was called Naomi. Naomi listened in shock to Natalie's story.

Her silence deep and intense. I have to remember, Natalie said. I know I'm forgetting something. I can feel it. But what? Naomi asked. You went over it a dozen times. If there was anything to remember, you'd have remembered it by now.

Maybe, but then again, maybe not. She thought back to her face in the mirror. Blood splattered across her cheeks and forehead, a look of shock and horror on her face, as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. A terrible thought occurred to her then, and her heart sank into her stomach. What if she was the killer? What if she'd had some kind of jealousy-induced psychotic break, and she'd killed Lindsay? Her stomach turned violently, and she felt like she was going to be sick.

That thought weighed heavily on her mind, making her stomach royal with sickness. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and pursed her lips in thoughts. She had been planning to skip practice today, but now she thought that it would be better if she went. She needed to get her mind off what had happened. Lying here in this dark little apartment feeling story for herself would drive her crazy. After a hot shower, she dressed in a pair of jeans in a pink top. Outside the street was busy, the tapestry of city sounds rising up around her, like a fetid cloud of dust from an ancient matron.

The sky was overcast and trash blew across the wide street. The killer was still out there. That thought flashed unbidden across her mind and her stomach clenched. Who could it have been? Anyone could have slipped in, killed Lindsay and then slipped out again. Or could they? Getting into the building wasn't hard but moving through it undetected was. Unless you were part of the show, you'd stick out like a sore thumb.

All the more reason that you'd be. she, Natalie, may have done it. Natalie swamled. No, no, it was Lindsay's boyfriend, she decided, or some guy who was obsessed with her. A real creep who stole her garbage and sniffed clumps of her hair from the shower drain. It wasn't a random thing, in other words. It was targeted, and it was over. Well, they saw no reason to cancel the play, so why should she see any reason to worry? The show must go on. Twenty minutes later, dressed in her leotard, leg warmers and dance shoes, Natalie stood on stage

with the other girls. The atmosphere was heavy and somber, and no one spoke very much. Ms. Mellows walked back and forth like a general before her troops, her face ashen and drawn. We're all upset over what happened to Lindsay, she said. It was a terrible tragedy. I know that none of us will ever forget her talent or a smiling face. this is show business and the show must go on.

Lindsay would want us to continue, so that's what we're going to do. She switched on the radio and Europop drifted from the speakers. Natalie went through the motions like a lapsed Christian paying lip service, her mind far away and her body unable to pick up the rhythm. None of the other girl's heart seemed to be into it, but Natalie couldn't help noticing that some of them did better than others. The best was a Hispanic girl named Faye. Tall and lean with her black hair and a ponytail, she'd been the second best dancer at the last.

Now that Lindsay was gone, she was her first. Second was Susie, a black girl with braids and an overbite. Natalie watched them from the corner of her eye, but she felt no jealousy, no resentment. After the horrors of the last 24 hours, being the best didn't matter anymore. None of this mattered anymore. Natalie stumbled, and Miss Mellows jumped down her throat. Natalie, come on, is that any way to honor Lindsay's memory? You might as well just go dance on her grave.

Sorry, Natalie mumbled. Overhead, a dark shape crept along a narrow catwalk, one gloved hand trailing along the metal railing. The fabric of its coat rustled with a sound like undead whispering, and its breathing was ragged, excited, the heavy panting of a predator, closing in on its prey. When it was directly over the cluster of girls twilling and kicking below,

it removed a knife from its coat and began to soar at a rope holding a sandbag. The blade gleamed like ice as it severed the rope strand by strand, and the killer's breathing grew heavier and hotter. The final strand snapped, and the bag dropped. The Hispanic girl looked up and gasped, and times seemed to slow to a crawl. The bag landed on her foot and burst, spewing sand across the stage. The girl let out a pained yelp and went down. Natalie whipped her head up toward the catwalk.

A stinging ray of light blinded her eyes, but she was sure that she caught a flicker of movement above. Faith lay on the stage holding her foot and crying. Everyone surrounded her, and Ms. Mellows fought her way through the crowd, kneeling next to the fallen girl. Jesus, age Christ, the woman muttered. Here, let me see. She moved Faith's ankle, and the Hispanic hissed in pain.

God damn idiots, Ms. Melo shouted at a stagehand who had come to see what had happened. You're trying to kill someone? Let me held up her hand to block the light and squinted. If there had been anyone on the catwalk, that was a big if, they were gone now. Ms. Melo's in a stage hand picked Faith up and carried her away. I'd keep practicing, Miss Melo's called over a shoulder. As soon as she was gone, the girls huddled together, each one of them looking up at the catwalk. I always knew one of those things would fall down, Susie said, and shivered.

It always happens in cartoons, Melody agreed. Natalie went over to the remains of the bag. She knelt, San gritty against her knee, and touched the rope. She looked up, her face a tight mask of anxiety. Guys, she said, look at this. The other girls came over and stood around her. What is it? Daria Porter asked. Yeah, Tia Farris added, what am I even looking at?

Natalie held up the bag, sand pouring from its ruined innards. she tapped the afraid piece of rope still attached this was cut melody snatched the bag and studied the rope then passed it to it doesn't look cut to me the agent said maybe teah said i mean could have been cut next to darya examined it nah doesn't look cut ah it just snapped who knows how long it's been up there Natalie got to her feet, crossed her arms defensively over her chest, and stared up at the catwalk. I think it was, she said and shivered. What if it was the same person who killed Lindsay? The mention of Lindsay's name and the other girls fell silent.

The killer still out there, Natalie pressed. What if he isn't finished? What if he's coming after the rest of us next? The tight band of fear closed around her chest, and she started to hype up. to ventilate. Bullshit, Susie said. It was just an accident.

Coincidence. It's not like this sort of thing has never happened before. Tia nervously chewed on her bottom lip. I don't know, guys. Maybe Natalie's right. Ah, no.

Natalie's paranoid, Susie said. You think she'd be happy that Lindsay's not around to make it look bad anymore? Something deep inside of Natalie snapped. She lunged at Susie with the ground. Melody, Tia, and Darya got in between them. Cut it out, Melody said.

There's no reason to fight like this. If Lindsay's killer is still out there, we won't get anywhere fighting. That's probably Natalie, Susie said. Getting rid of the competition. Hey, my next Natalie? Fucking bitch, Natalie roared. And she tried to get to her, but the others held her back.

Susie just crossed her arms and smirms. Both of you. get a grip, Darya said. Pulling away from their grasp, Natalie stalked on. In the locker room she slammed her fist into one of the lockers and paced back and forth, her teeth bared and her eyes hard with hatred. How dare Susie say that? How freaking dare she?

She didn't kill Lindsay. She didn't do anything wrong. She took a series of deep breaths and calmed down. She undressed, patted into the shower on bed. her feet and stood under one of the shower heads jutting from the tiled wall. She turned the spray on and turned in a slow circle, letting the water pound on her body and soothe her tension away. She went back to the flash of movement she thought she's seen on the catwalk, and her memory stirred in the back of her mind, stronger this time. There was something familiar about it all,

about darkness. She tilted her head to one side and tried to figure out what that meant. darkness shadows the black she was sure that the key to remembering what had happened was there in the dark sighing she turned around to face the shower heads all of a sudden she felt like she was being watched she darted her eyes down to the faucet and that's when she saw it an eye peeking at her from a tiny hole drilled in the steel her heart rocketed into her throat and she jumped back with a skull-cracking scream the eye disappeared ms mellows ran in what's happening natalie could only point at where the eye had been as mellows went over squatted and touched it oh my god she said half an hour later inspector argento and a team of cops combed the building

The janitor, an old man with wispy hair and roomy eyes, sat in a chair in the front office, his hands cuffed behind his back and his head down. The other girls clustered around the door, hoping to get a peek at the killer, but Natalie was too terrified to go near him. Inspector Argento took down her statement, nodding as she recounted her story, and then snapped his notebook closed. Is he the killer? Natalie asked.

Oh, we're not sure. But so. A cop poked his head out of the janitor closet. You might want to come take a look at this. Over the course of an hour, the police found a dozen cameras hidden in the locker rooms and women's restrooms. They also uncovered a stash of videotapes, and as Natalie watched officers carry out armfalls, she shivered at the prospect of being on one of those awful things.

The rest of practice was cancelled, and Natalie went home. The terrible burden that was... had been on her shoulders all day was gone, and her steps were lighter than before. She felt sick and scared, but somehow liberated. There was no doubt that the janitor was the killer. It was too much of a coincidence. Still, she had a nagging doubt in the bit of her stomach. At home she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed, hands lacing over her chest. She went back over the events of the past two days. She saw herself standing in the doorway to Lindsay's dressing room everything save for the vanity swallowed up by the darkness she saw

Lindsay's dead staring eyes saw her own face saw blood and terror and death her heart started to race and she shook her head as if to dispel the vision it was over she told herself the janitor was the killer and he was in jane if that was true why did she still feel the cold breath of impending doing. She jumped when her phone rang, and she shot it a nervous look. Reaching out, she picked it up and looked at the screen. The number was unlisted. Something told her to ignore it, but her thumb swiped across the screen anyway, and her traitorous hand lifted the phone to her ear of its own volition. "'Hello?' she asked. Static. She started to ask again, but a low hissing voice, so quiet that she almost couldn't make it out, issued forth.

If you know what's good for you, you'll forget what you saw. Natalie's heart sank. Who is this? She heard herself ask. Keep your mouth closed, or you will die. A deep, biting chill spread through Natalie, and she started to shake. Her little heart pounded against her ribs and tears form like liquid diamonds in her white. terrorized eyes. She dropped the phone as though it will look venomous and wrapped her arms

around her chest. When the shaking and hyperventiling had subsided, she did the only thing she could think of in a moment of trouble. She called her sister. On the other side of the country, Naomi answered sleepily. Yeah, she asked. Naomi. Natalie burst in a whisper. He just called me. Who? Naomi asked. Naomi asked. Naomi. Naomi asked. Naomi. Naomi asked. Nadley burst in a whisper. He just called me. Who? Naomi, Naomi, Naomi, sounding more awake now. Natalie shuddered. The killer. She related the call to Naomi, and when she was done, she swallowed with a click. What should I do? she asked.

For a thoughtful moment, Naomi was quiet. Well, it sounds like he wants to scare you, she finally said. He thinks you saw him. But I didn't, Natalie replied. I know, but he doesn't. Look, if he was after, after you, he wouldn't have bothered calling. He would have just done it. That tells me that he just wants you to be quiet. Natalie regulated her breathing, lest it got out of control again. What should I do? Don't say anything to anyone, Naomi advised. Don't give him a reason. He doesn't need a reason, Natalie exploded. He's nuts. Even psychos have their logic. Naomi said calmly. Look,

I'm going to try and get some time off so I can come out there. In the meantime, don't say anything about the call. Don't tell the cops. Don't tell anyone. If you think she'll be quiet about what you saw, we'll probably leave you alone. Then they hung up, and Natalie hugged herself again. She suspiciously eyed the phone.

It didn't ring, and she hoped it never would again. Much later, Susie Atkins lay prone on her bed and paged through a fashion magazine, her legs bent and kicking behind her. Her phone would be blowing up all day with people wanting to know what had happened at practice, and it was really starting to get on her nerves, so she left it downstairs. Downstairs an elongated shadow slid across the kitchen window. A figure dressed in black, its face hidden beneath the brim of its fedora, appeared at the segmented glass on the back door.

It pulled out a knife, wedged the tip into the crack between the door, door in the jam and began to pry. After a few seconds the door popped open and the killer entered, black boots clomping on the linole floor like the approaching hooves of some malignant creature. At the bottom of the stairs the killer trailed one black leather glove along the banister. The cat was curled up on one of the treads fast asleep. The killer didn't see it and stepped on its tail. It came awake with a loud, violent cry. The killer paused. In a room, Susie looked toward the half-open door.

Faddy? she called out. What's wrong, boy? Of course, the car did not respond. Closing her magazine, Susie got up and walked the door. A floorboard creaked furtively, and she came to a stop, her heart bouncing. That sounded like a footstep. Here, who's out there? she asked. No answer.

She walked to the door and froze when a shadow appeared on the wall. What happened next occurred in a dark blur. The door exploded open and a form dressed all in black rushed in, a knife raised above its head. It wore a long coat, a hat and a featureless black face covering. Suzy screamed and fell back as the killer swung the blade. It cut through thin air with an ominous, washing sound. Susie fell backwards onto the bed and the killer scrambled on top of her.

The knife raised. Susie threw herself to one side and the blade plunged harmlessly into the mattress. Crying out, she shoved the killer off, got to her feet and ran out of the room. The killer ripped the knife out of the bed and gave chase. Wailing, Susie ran down the stairs. The front door ahead, salvation. She got there just as the killer caught up with her. The knife came down and grazed her arm, ripping her flesh and sending stinging red agony into her brain.

She screamed and ducked away, running into the living room. The killer leapt over the couch in a single bound, landing on the cushions, and then flew at her, tackling her from behind and knocking her down. She screeched as the killer grabbed her by the hair and bashed her face against the floor. Once, twice, three times. The killer rolled her onto her back, mounted her down. her and grabbed her throat in both hands. Susie's air supply was cut off and her eyes bulged from their sockets. She tore and clawed at the backs of the killer's black leather gloves,

her body thrashing, but the killer squeezed tighter, thumbs pressing into her trachean. Slowly the fight ran out of her, and Susie's eyes rolled back in her head. For a long time afterwards, the killer squeezed, and when it was clear that the gun was, the girl, and it was clear that the girl was dead the killer stood grabbed her by the feet and dragged her into the kitchen shoving the knife into one of the coat's big pockets the killer went back upstairs and cleaned up any signs of a struggle back downstairs the killer opened the kitchen door and dragged susy out into the night slamming the door with grim finality part three when natalie arrived for practice that afternoon she found the parking lot filled with police cars as soon as she saw them her heart began to pound

and the sick feeling that had been present in her stomach ever since lindsay fern was killed intensified her first instinct was to turn around and run home to hide away from the nightmare her life would be calm but instead she went in through the rear door the backstage area buzzed with activity and before she could even get to the locker room tear grabbed her by the arm Hey, did you hear? What? Natalie asked, chest clutching. Susie's missing, Tia said. Her boyfriend?

Natalie gaulted. Inspector Argento, cloud in the grey suit, walked over. Natalie, he said, it's good to see you. What happened to Susie? She asked, without preamble. The detective sighed. We don't know, he admitted. slightly she went off on her own and these things happen maybe they did but natalie was dreadfully certain that susy's disappearance was linked to lindsay's murder i'd um like to talk to you if you have a moment

taking her by the arm inspector argento led her into a conference room where a host of tv monitors were set up on a table we've been going over the footage from the janitor's cameras he explained i'd like you to look at one natalie sat in a an overstuffed leather swivel chair, and Inspector Argento sat beside her. He leaned over, rewound a tape, and pressed play. The screen was divided in four. Top right was the rear entrance Natalie herself had just used. Top left was the daughter Lindsay's dressing room, seen from the hall. The bottom right was the locker room, and the bottom left was the hallway. Inspector Argento pointed to the top right.

Watch this. For a second, nothing. happened then a figure dressed in black darted from a bush to the door Natalie's heart skipped a beat and her fingernails dug into the padded arms of the chair she noticed the time stem five 10 p.m. Yeah but that door's locked after five she said no inspector Argento replied the killer produced a key from his coat pockets unlocked the door and slipped in Natalie blinked there's only one person who has a key to that door, Inspector Argento said, the janitor. On screen, the killer pressed his back against the wall and crept down the corridor, pausing here and there as if at a sudden noise.

Finally he disappeared into a dark alcove. Inspector Argento fast-forwarded the tape. Rally saw herself a melody in the locker room. The killer emerged from hiding, opened Lindsay's door, and went in. Again, Inspector Argento hit the fast-forward button. She hardly saw herself open Lindsay's door, and a moment later collapsed. It was mellows and a couple of stagehands run over to help. That's when Inspector Argento hit stop. I just saw this video for the first time a few moments ago. Do you notice anything?

Natalie wrapped her brain, and then it hit her. The killer didn't come out, she said. Inspector Argento nodded. the killer never left the room and that means a few minutes later inspector argento and a team of police officers searched the dressing room looking for a way the killer could have gotten out nadley stood by the door with her arms crossed not wanting to cross the threshold she averted her eyes from the mirror and shivered inspector one of the offices called just behind the shower store was a vent guard roughly three feet wide and three feet across. Inspector Argento traced it with his fingers, then removed it with the help of a cop. He took one of the officer's flashlights and climbed in. Inside the shaft was coated with dust. Argento shone the beam of his flashlight around looking for prints,

but the killer had wiped the floor of the shaft clean. I'm going in, I'm going ahead, he said, over his shoulder. On his hands and knees he crawled along the vent for 50 feet before coming to a T-shaped intersection. On the left he saw nothing, but on the right he could just make out a shaft of light. He crawled in that direction, and the light got brighter. The vent ended at another grate. Argento shone his light through the slats and frowned. Beyond was a wide space that could hardly be called a room. Sunlight cascaded in from a vent to the outside, and dust moats danced in the air. Pictures were tacked to the walls and a sort of altar had been erected in the middle of the floor. Setting the flashlight down, Inspector Argento pushed the great open. The drop to the floor

was only a few feet, and after turning around like a car on a narrow street, he landed with a stumble. He grabbed the flashlight from the vent and pointed it at the wall. There were prints in the dust, recent ones. The killer had definitely passed through here. Argento, ordered a full workup of the place and inside of an hour a team of CSI texts were dusting for prints and searching for other clues how are you feeling he asked natalie who stood against the wall hugging herself as though she were cold i'm fine she said i'm just she trailed off not knowing what to say yeah no other feeling argento said kindly this sort of thing doesn't happen to you every day being in the middle of a murder investigation and all.

Thank God for that, Natalie said. I don't think I could handle 364 more of these. They shared a laugh, the stiff, uncomfortable kind, that passes only between those who don't know one another well but find themselves thrust together by fate anyway. You want to grab a coffee? Argento finally asked. I want to talk.

Yeah, that's fine, Natalie said, not because she necessarily wanted to, but because she felt she had to. Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting across from one another at a coffee shop down the street from the theatre. The place was tiny but empty, and the coffee was hot. Have you remembered anything about that day? Argento asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Natalie shook her head and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. No, I know I'm forgetting something, or... Or what? Argento asked. She thought for a long time, straining to recall what she'd seen on the day Lindsay was murdered. Vision swirled through her mind,

but they blew away as quickly as they came, by little puffs of smoke on the wind. I don't know, she finally said, but there's something that's... Something I'm missing. I must have seen something important, or the killer wouldn't have...

Realising she'd said too much, Natalie cut herself off. If she'd hoped that Argento wouldn't notice her blunder, she was sadly mistaken. His eyes narrowed and he leaned over the table, putting her in mind of a bloodhound who'd just picked up a scent. Well, the killer wouldn't have what? All of the stress and fear Natalie had been feeling over the past few days surged out of her, and tears flooded her eyes. He called me, she said, her voice cracking.

She told Argento about the call, and when she was finished, he snapped. Why didn't you tell me? I was afraid, Natalie said. He might come after me if he knows I told. Well, he's already coming after you, Argento said and sat back in his chair. He must think you saw him. Sighing, Natalie insisted, I didn't. No, I didn't see him.

I don't remember that. you sure Argento asked that gave Natalie pause yes she said finally but she wasn't sure Argenta wore a 24-hour police

protection for Natalie just in case the killer came for her he also put an electric tap on her cell phone in the hopes that she'd get a call back that night Natalie sat by her bedroom window and looked out at the street where an unmarked car sat part at the curve two detectives

were inside and even with them out there she didn't feel safe she rubbed her arms and shivered at the chill only she could feel and when a knock came at the door she jumped for a long moment she stared at the open bedroom door every light blazing beyond she held her breath and listened hoping it wouldn't come again but she'd just imagined it when it was repeated her stomach sank and cold terror crept over the back of her neck. He was here. Natalie didn't realize she was on her feet until she was poking her head out of the bedroom door. The knock came again, and she drifted to the door like a woman in a nightmare. Her heart thundered in her chest and trembles race through her live body. She reached the door and peered through the fish-eye lens. In the hall, Inspector Argento held a pizza box.

Natalie relaxed and opened the door. I was joking about the pizza, she said with a grin that she couldn't suppress. Earlier, Argenta were called and asked if she needed anything. Yeah, she'd replied, pizza would be nice. The detective darted his eyes from her to the box and back again. Oh, he said, well, I'll just eat it then. He started to walk away, but she stopped him. He flashed a smile that.

let her know he was kidding and came in. It sat at the little dining room table next to the front window, the pizza box opened between them. They didn't bother with plates. Argento offered to grab them a couple, but Natalie declined. They didn't need plates, and she really didn't need a skinful of dishes to wash, even if the sink were only full of two.

Argento looked around the apartment as he ate, his brow furrowing critically. He was kind of cute, Natalie thought, and shocked herself with a levity of that thought. I guess this is the part where you tell me what a nice place I have. Natalie said, breaking the awkward silence they'd fallen into. Ah, no, we said. It's pretty mediocre, actually, he replied.

Natalie was shocked into a laugh. Okay, wow, mediocre. No offense, the detective said with a trace of a smile. I've been inside a thousand apartments in this city. they all look the same some are nice some a shit others are and he shrugged mediocre natalie supplied yeah that they lapsed into the uncomfortable silence of strangers once again how long are you been a cop natalie asked to make conversation ten years now argento replied Natalie tilted her head quizzically to one side and regarded him with a critical expression she hadn't done

given any thought to his age, but now that she looked at him, really looked. He struck her as too young to have been a cop for so long. His features were rugged and manly, but there was a certain softness around the edges that suggested he was still in his twenties. When did you start? She asked. That was twenty, Argento replied. So, you're thirty? Argento took a bite from his current slice of pizza and nodded. Yeah, it said, around a month. full of food time flies when you haven't fun they were just finishing up when Natalie's phone ran thatly jumped in surprise and Argento's face instantly changed transforming from open and restful to harden the land she looked at him with

wide eyes her heart beginning to pound and he looked back both of them were thinking the same thing it might be the killer get it Argento said lowly, as if the killer were nearby listening. Natalie shook her head. It might be him. I know, Natalie replied. Why do you think I don't want to answer it? He showed her astir an almost paternal look, and Natalie sighed.

If they were going to catch the killer, God knows she wanted that more than she wanted almost anything, they wouldn't need clues, elite, something. If it was him, they could trace the call and find out where he was. even so the thought of talking to him of hearing his mad rasping voice sent shivers down Natalie's spine finally she forced herself up from the table went over to the couch where her phone lay in wait the screen lit up she gulped picked it up with trembling fingers and read the caller ID at once the tension rushed out of her and she smiled Argento noticed the change and he too relaxed hey she said How are you? Naomi asked without preamble.

Worry in her voice. Oh, I'm fine, Madly said. She came back to the table and sat down. I'm with a cop right now. Who protect me? She shot a smug little smile at Argento. That's what our tax dollars paying for. On the other line, Naomi rolled her eyes.

Natalie couldn't see it, but she knew she'd done it regardless. Well, I'm glad you're in a good mood. meanwhile i'm going crazy out here i put in for a couple of days off and i'm coming out there whether you like it or not no you don't have to natalie said honestly however having the comforting and steadying presence of her sister would be nice she wouldn't feel so alone in a phrase yes i do naomi said where's this cop i want to talk to him Naomi's almost motherly concerned made Natalie laugh. She put Naomi on speakerphone, and they had a three-way conversation with Argento, Naomi pumping him for answers on every aspect of the case.

He's only picking on Natalie because she saw him, Naomi said. Oh, I think she did. Yep, that's about the size of it, Argento replied. So there's one murder and a missing person, Naomi said. "'Yep,' Argento replied, "'and there's no evidence that they're linked.' "'But that'd be a hell of a coincidence,' "'Neyer me pointed out.

"'Argento nodded, conceding her point. "'It would be, but we have to go on what we know for sure. "'Someone took out of Lindsay Ferguson, "'the jealous boyfriend, maybe, or some girl she had a beef with. "'Whoever did it thinks Natalie saw them, "'no, they want to terrorize her into silence. "'Which is, um, good sign? Naomi said. If he's bothering to do that, he's not planning on killing her.

Right, Argento said, looking at Natalie who hugged herself tightly. He didn't say so out loud, but there was, of course, a fact that the killer could change his mind and come after Natalie anyway. At the present moment, however, it seemed that he wanted to avoid doing that, which suggested to Argento a personal connection between him and Lindsay. He, or she, had a reason to kill Lindsay, but was hesitant to kill Natalie. I was also part of the reason Argento didn't think the disappearance of Susie Atkins was related. If the killer was pussy-footing around with the witness, why would he go off and kill someone

else? It didn't make much sense. Ah, we're doing the best we can. Argento said, I give you my word. I won't let anything happen to your sister. His and Natalie's eyes met, and she smiled weakly. The fear of the last several days had taken its toll on her physically, but she was still just as beautiful as she'd been when Argento at first met her her clear eyes were tired but still sparkled

regardless her blonde hair seemed a shade painter but she shimmered in the light when he called her earlier and she asked for pizza he recognized the sarcasm in her voice had she'd been anyone else he would have laughed cracked a joke about handing the call over to the NYPD's grubhubbub division and forgotten about it but not with her he went out and grabbed that pizza and came over Why? Because it gave him a chance to be with her. I hope so, Naomi said. This is a bunch of bullshit and I'm worried sick.

Natalie laughed. Naomi had said something about her being in a good mood and for the first time in day she really was. It seemed strange, blasphemous even, to not be afraid in the midst of this whole crazy mess. But right now she wasn't afraid. Argento was here

and there were cops down. downstairs. Argento was probably right. The killer just wanted to scare her. As for Susie, well, surely she wasn't connected to this. Natalie had to believe that. After saying their goodbyes, Natalie and Naomi hung up. Argento sat back in his chair and looked at the pizza, considering another slice but ultimately

rejecting it. Well, better go, he said. Natalie felt a pinch of fear but said nothing. She didn't want him to go. go she felt safe with him around at the door he said i'll check back in tomorrow okay Natalie replied oh bring breakfast she smiled to show that she was joking at least partly all right Argento said you're on he left and Natalie locked the door behind him engaging both the deadbolt and the security chain she walked around the apartment and didn't check the windows to make sure they were

blocks. A little bit of the cold fear she'd felt earlier crap back in, but Argento's calming presence lingered around like a warm hug. She checked the door one more time and pronounced her self-secure. There was no way the killer could get him, unless he was a ghost. She meant that as a joke, but she felt a little twist in her guts. Not fun, Natalie, not funny at all. Part four. That evening after practice, Tia Farris met up with Daria, Melody in the locker room. I'll catch up with you guys later, she said. I want to take a quick shower.

Melody lifted her brow. With a killer on the loose? That's dumb. They caught the killer, Teer said. It was a janitor. You sure about that? Darya asked. Oh, yeah, Tia said.

She pulled her leotard down, stripping shamelessly in front of her friends. Why else would the cops be here today? they were looking for evidence probably told them about something in here i don't know melanie said i'm not hanging around halfway to the shower perky butt bare tear looked over a shoulder oh go on then meldy and darya looked at each other then fled and leaving her alone what wass you tear laughed and got into the shower she turned one of the faucets on and stood beneath the spray the hot water beating down on the body well she didn't show it she too was rattled by all that it had happened but she

didn't let things get her down her dad always said you have to suck it up and power through that was exactly what she was going to do when she was done she cut the spray grabbed a towel wrapped it around her body she went back to a locker on bare feet the building was silent the shadows deep it's almost to a goal when the overhead lights cut out Her heart jumped. Hey, I'm still in here, she called, her voice echoing. Nothing happened. Didn't you hear me?

She called again. I'm still in here. Apparently no one was going to turn the lights back on. She took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, and then went to her locker. She opened it and froze when she had a rustle of fabric off to her right. Her breath caught and she craned her neck. Who's there?

She called. No one. It was nothing. Just her mind playing tricks on her. She grabbed her clothes and sat them on the bench. Tears blood ran cold. A shuffling footfall sounded, and she turned around just as a shadow broke from the night

and rushed out at her. She saw the gleaming blade of a knife flashing down, and she reacted on instinct, raising her arm. The blade sliced her forearm open. and all at once she was running, a loud scream trailing behind her. The killer ran after her, his coat fluttering around his knees and his heels clicking on the floor. In the hall, Teer went right, her bare feet flying over the cold floor. A head, an exit sign glowed like a beacon of hope.

She made it to the door and tried to push through, but it shuddered in its frame. It was locked from the other side. Trap like an animal, she spun up. around. The killer was calmly walking toward her. In a rusty red light cast by the exit sign, he looked almost like a demon coming from the pit of hell, a black fedora perched on his head in a black void where his face should be. He held out his knife, and a sob escaped Tears' throat. She ducked to her right and ran down a set of concrete stairs to the first floor. The lights were out down here and the hall lined with offices and classrooms where actors learned their craft panting and

crying tea aborted to a set of double doors but those were locked too heavy metal chain threaded through the handholds she went right and left gasping for air and never looking back finally she ran into a classroom and crouch next to a table fighting to keep from breathing too hard and alerting the killer to her presence When she heard the footsteps, her heart sputtered and she pressed deeper into her corner, willing herself to turn invisible. Holding her breath, she listened. Finally the killer appeared in the doorway, the knife clutched in one hand. Teer winced and damned her pounding heart.

Surely the killer would hear it and come right to her. Instead the killer made a slow, deliberate circle of the room, looking under desks and beside filing cabinets. At one point he came so close to Tia that she could reach out and touch his leg if she wanted to. At last he gave up and left the room. Tia blinked, unable to believe her good fortune. She waited a long time before getting up and creeping into the hall.

She listened closely, heard nothing, and let out a sigh of relief. She then turned around, and the killer slammed his fist. into her face, knocking her down. She hit the floor, and he was on top of her, the knife cocking above his head. She screamed and thrashed in vain in an attempt to buck him off. The blade swung down and pierced her chest. Blood rushed into her lungs, and her screams took on an agonized quality. The killer stabbed her again and again, raining blows down on her. Finally stuck the blade into her heart and it stopped mid pump the last thing she thought was this melody and dario were right this was done when she was dead the killer went into a nearby janitor closet and came back with a heap of washcloths he mopped up the blood and

fetched a large burlap bag from the stage department they went back downstairs crammed tears body in and dragged it up the stairs Tears head clunked on each tread, and her hand trailed limply behind them. Outside in the cool night air, the killer pulled a hacksaw from a bush and went to work. By the end of the night he would wind up in the swamp next to her friend Susie. Oh, it was almost finished. It was almost play night. The night of the big play, Natalie Harper stood in the locker room. with Melody, Daria and the other girls,

Worry gnawing at her chest. During several days since Tia went missing, and Natalie had been on pins and needles ever since. But nothing else had happened in the meantime only served to heighten her sense of dread. The air seemed to crackle with dark anticipation and suspense built up within her like a pressure cooker. One girl going missing might have been a coincidence, but not too.

Argento was convinced that the killer was still active, and that both girls had been murdered. Each evening he came by the apartment after his shift and spent an hour or two with her, keeping her up to date on the investigation and trying to cheer her up. It had worked to an extent. After the first few days, Natalie's nerves calmed.

Naomi would be there in a couple of days and everything would be okay. Her sister would make sure of it. The janitor confessed to setting up the cameras, but vehemently denied killing Lindsay. He'd been in jail ever since. since and had been ruled out as a suspect, since there's no way he could have killed Tia if she were dead. That afternoon, Natalie and Inspector Argento had lunch together. You're spoiling me,

Natalie joked. Dinner, breakfast, now lunch? I'm glad that of you're fattening me up. Argento grinned. Maybe. You dances are too thin, anyway. You noticed the look of hurt in her eyes and recovered. Ah, not you, but you, you look great. He stumbled over his words like a nervous boy. You guys just, you know, you go through a lot to do what you do. Well, it wasn't wrong about that. Natalie practiced hard and virtually starved herself at times, but that's just what you had to do in order to get ahead.

Maybe it wasn't right, and maybe it wasn't fair. That's just the way it was, and got a lot further in life playing the game by its rules than you did by whining about those rules. Yeah, it's not worth it in the end. she said. Their conversation, as always, turned back to the murders. Of course it did. This wasn't a social call, even if Natalie sort of wished it was. He asked her to go over Lindsay's murder again, and she did. He listened intently, his head copped to one side, as if to filter the information

through his brain. There was one detail that wouldn't come. It stuck fast to the anterior wall of Natalie's mind like a bit of food stuck in her teeth she closed her eyes and recalled everything my face she said it was funny funny how inspector Argento asked she crinkled her brow in contemplation she visualized the mirror and her own blood splattered reflection i don't know like it was floating in the darkness. Inspector Argento hummed. Floating. Tentatively, Natalie nodded. I think that's it, but I feel there's more to it, more than I'm not remembering. Argento paid the check and walked her to practice. I want to ask you something, but I know what you're going to say. Natalie looked at him. She might have thought that he was asking her out. Yes, she would say in an instant.

He was quiet for a moment. The city sounds swirling around them, honking, jack hammering, the low murmur of people talking to each other on their cell phones. Drop out of the play, he said, it's too dangerous. No, Natalie replied. And that was that. No amount of convincing could change her mind. You don't understand, she told him as they approached the theatre.

My entire future is counting on this play. I can't back out, kill her or no killer." L'Gento sighed. I knew you were going to say that. Well, then why did you ask? She teased. He shrugged one shoulder. I figured it was worth a shot.

Now, fifteen minutes before the show was to begin, Natalie took her things from her locker and started for her dressing room. But Darya stopped her. She might if I take the big dressing room, Dariya, asked. I want a shower in there. Natalie's dressing room had a shower, but Darias did not. Normally, Natalie would have told Darya to buzz off. That dressing room was nicer and better, therefore it was hers. Tonight, it didn't matter. Who cared? When death passes close to you, trivial things cease to matter as much. Sure, Natalie said. Thanks, Dari replied with a one smile. I'm just...

She shrugged. Nervous? asked Natalie. On edge, Darya corrected. The last time I saw tear, she was in the shower out here. Natalie understood her point. She felt safer in her dressing room too,

even though she shouldn't. I mean, wasn't Lindsay killed in her dressing room? Leaving Darya to it, Natalie made her way to the smaller dressing room down the hall. She opened the door, Turned the light on and looked around. She checked every corner, nook and cranny, and when she was satisfied that the killer wasn't there,

she shut and locked the door. She carried her bag over to the vanity and sat down. Time to do her makeup. In the auditorium the audience had begun to take their seats. In the middle row, a pair of black leather gloves gripped the back of a chair and pushed the killer to his feet. Moving sideways past people who'd already sat,

the killer went out into the hall dugging into a classroom he donned his coat and he went to a vent produced a screwdriver and unfastened the screws saying the vent cover aside he crawled into the ductwork and slithered silently through coming to another vent cover previously he'd taken out the bottom two screws so that all you got to do was lifted out of the way dropping into the darkened hall near the exit sign the killer went to the door of the small dressing room took out a key and inserted it into the lot Natalie wrapped her hair and a towel to help it keep its form and applied eyeliner to her eyes she didn't see the door opening in the mirror didn't realize the killer was creeping toward her bent slightly at the waist knife stuck out

before him at the last possible second she caught a glint in the mirror and spun around with a gasp the killer raised the knife and then froze for a second natalie stared up at the countenance of the killer in shot her brain couldn't compute what she was seeing has she gone mad then all at once she remembered her face had seemed to float on a cloud of darkness in the mirror because it wasn't her face at all and the killer wasn't her he Naomi she asked the knife clattered from nymphs from Naomi's hand, the look of horror on her face almost identical to the look of horror on Natalie's. The little grease monkey wore a black trench coat and a black hat like something

from an old noir movie. Her face you could say, floated on a cloud of darkness. Natalie, Naomi said with a quiver. She fell to her knees and took Natalie's hands, making the beauty queen jump. I didn't know it was you. I didn't. I didn't. no what are you doing natalie asked breathlessly a cray's smile skipped across Naomi's lips and her eyes shone with madness i'm helping you Natalie i'm helping you be the best answer Natalie's mouth opened and closed but no sound came out i did this for you natalie Naomi said madly her eyes were wide frenzied and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile that somehow managed to be both sinister and bemused.

I did this for you. No, Natalie whispered. The terrible truth was beginning to settle in. All the times that she complained to Naomi about Lindsay and the others being so much better than her came rushing back, and the revelation that Naomi had done all of this for her, crushed her. No, no, Naomi ran her hands over Natalie's shoulders, up the same. sides of her neck to her cheeks, the leather cool and slimy on her skin.

Now you'll be the best. You'll be the best and everyone will love you. Breaking down, Natalie began to cry. Nirmie's face darkened. You aren't happy? You aren't happy that I did this? Her hands crept to Natalie's throat and suddenly she was squeezing with all her might. Natalie's air supply cut roughly off and her eyes bugged out. Her back arched spasmodically and she tore at the backs of Naomi's gloves. The killer's grip was like iron and nothing would stop her. Natalie choked, kicked and scratched at Naomi's face, but the little madwoman's mask of stony hatred remained unchanged. Just before Natalie passed out, Inspector Argento and two uniform police officers ran into

the room. Naomi unhandled Natalie and spun around to face them. Inspector Argento raised his gun and fired. The first round struck Naomi in the chest, knocking her back a step. Her gloved hands clamped over the wound, and the look of shock filled her eyes. The second tore out her throat in a spray of blood and spun her around. She flopped face first against the floor, tried to crawl, and then went limp. Natalie broke down, her so powerful that they racked her body with violent shudders. Argento shoved the gun back into its holster and rushed over.

He dropped to his knees and took her in his strong arms. Sh, he said, it's over. You're all right, it's over. Across the room, Naomi's body stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. Her lips frozen in a crazed smile. It was the face of a madwoman, of a killer, of a little girl who would do anything. anything for her sister when one looks long into the abyss they may find the abyss

looking back frederick nietz I once saw people getting murdered thing was I saw it happening through someone else's eyes by corpse child I thought they were just weird dreams at first you know just one of those instances where you have a vivid dream what you'd swear was real only to wake up and say No, no, that shit happened. Go back to bed. We've all had those, right? I don't know I did, anyways, back in the day.

Of course, they were usually far more innocent and benign. A bit wacky, actually. Like the one where I'm attending a comedy show, but with Muppets being the comedians, and the actual people taking their place as the ventriloquist dummies. This, though, well, this is nothing like that. Something I realized later on. I think it was maybe 16 or 17 when it first happened.

Remember it was a Friday night. I just got home from cheerleading at the football game. Everything had gone all nice and smooth, like even managing to get a little under the bleachers time with my crush at the time, Danny Rudd after the game. And I was ending the night with a nice hot soak in the tub. My folks were out for the night, so I had the house to myself. I remember feeling so relaxed,

lying in the piping hot water my head rested back and my eyes closed and i was asleep before i even knew it i guess that's what got me really at first the fact i didn't know i was actually asleep i just remember one minute everything's all fine and the next i'm seeing danny being repeatedly stabbed ah it was abrupt all of a sudden i was seeing danny splayed out across the ground in a dark room when i couldn't make out any real features of while the knife was being plunged into his chest over and over Danny was convulsing violently coughing up a fountain of bloods the last thing I saw was him slowly shakily raised his arm pleading for mercy as the knife came down again that's when I started violently in the bathtub almost springing straight to my feet that caused me to slip and crack my head

against the wall well I was fine safe obviously a a bitch of a headache but I was shaken up much worse with what had just happened it was almost four o'clock the next morning before I was actually able to fall asleep constantly tossing and turning every time I tried closing my eyes I'd see Danny's beaten bloodied face reaching out to me to him whoever it was holding the knife see that was another thing I didn't know exactly what it was I was seeing in other words I couldn't tell if I'd just imagined it was me stabbing him or if it was something else well for the record i'm not the kind of girl who'd fantasize some shit like that getting my rocks off on killing my crush or anybody else for that matter i wasn't then

and i'm not now i'm not a violent person either well i've only gotten into fistfights and hair-snatching matches with my older sister megan but then what the hell was that at the time i I answer that question with a classic, too much binging the dateline late at night, excuse. I'd have probably stuck to that too, except that the next morning a breaking news report came on about a high school student being reported missing only a few hours ago. And of course, the Welsh's photo and name appears, but Danny's. Witnesses say the missing boy, Daniel, Preston Rudd, last seen at a varsity football game at West Lincoln High.

At this time, witnesses claimed they didn't remember seeing. him leave. Authorities are continuing to search the area. If you've seen Daniel or have any leads as to his whereabouts, we urge you to call and submit an anonymous tip-book. I turned the TV off. My stomach was cutting back flips. My heart was beating stupidly fast. Oh, calm her down, I taught myself. He's fine and you know it. He probably just went to the bar or something and got shit-faced and forgot to tell one of his buddies to drive him home or something. and causing his mom who just worries about everything to call the police, thinking he'd been kidnapped or something.

He'll be fine. This managed to at least get me to slow down enough to breathe properly again. Still though, I couldn't stop thinking of the dream from last night. Again, aside from how real it felt, that's the only way I know how to describe it. Real. It's also completely out of left field. and now this needless to say my anxiety was well through the roof all day that day i couldn't sit still constantly pacing around wondering what could have happened to him not only that but i was also in a frenzy wondering what if anything was i supposed to do felt like i was supposed to be out there searching for him finally i worked up the guts to get up and start driving around looking all around town for him

Well, the first place I looked naturally was the school parking lot. The news said no one saw him leave. I drove into the parking lot and there it was. Danny's Dad's Volkswagen. Still parked in the middle of the student lot, purposefully in between two of the parking spaces. Something he thought made him look cool. Of course, there were cops there as well and obviously they weren't keen on the idea of me poking around there either. Oh, being the badass bitch I thought I was back then,

I told the officers exactly where they could shove it before attempting to run past them, only to be promptly caught and told to go back to my car and get off the campus or take a ride to the station with them. They'd have to call Mom and Dad to come and bail me out. So I relented. I went back to my car, flustered, making a point to flip them both barrels as I did. I was driving back home when it happened again. This time I knew for a fact I'd not fallen asleep either.

This time it was someone else from school, Sarah Keller, the captain of the cheerleading squad. She was hanging outside from the ceiling by her ankles, her hands tied behind her back. Just like Danny before, everything was dark, aside from what looked like a single lamp that illuminated her suspended body. Her mouth was duct taped too, muffling her screams as I saw the hand from before approach her with a power drill tightly glouched in it, pointing downward. what the hell i thought my heart spiraling into yet another frenzy i watched the powdrill then get plunged downward straight down into into in between her legs i just briefly heard her muffle shrieks and saw a shower of blood as her body writhed before i was once again abruptly brought back to the real world well because of this i just narrowly avoided giff-wrapping myself around a

the front pole by swerving into the ditch for a moment I just sat there hyperventilating my entire body locked up looking like a statue in the driver's seat my hands were locked so tight around the steering wheel that my knuckles with the color of a piece of paper by the time I'd even noticed my mind was locked in a three-way tie between wanting to a throw the car in reverse and start panic searching for Sarah B put the car in reverse and book it straight back home and forget about all of this hoping to God all the while that it really was just me losing it there or C curl into a pathetic ball in my car and cry out of sheer hysteria well kind of what I was doing in that moment already in the end I'd end up electing option B yeah I wanted to know that my classmates were safe at the same time how did I know they actually weren't okay yeah Danny's missing but then again that didn't necessarily mean he's in danger right the same thing with Sarah and she hadn't even been reported missing

well not yet like I said I went straight home without anything else happening again regardless I was still on the edge the entire time so much so that I didn't even want to come out of my room the rest of the day in fact I couldn't even bring myself to get back out from my bed my brain eventually became so overclock with questions

of what now and why the fuck but I ended up actually falling asleep simply from mental exhaustion, my power reset essentially. Well, at first, everything was fine, I guess. No vivid nightmares or any weird dreams. Actually, I didn't dream at all. Something that was typical for me. Suddenly, though, I had out of the freaking blue again, I saw a new one.

This one was of my lab partner in biology class, Francine Simmons. already despite being in what I thought what I prayed was just some fuck-to-hell nightmare I feel my stomach start to turn over on itself dear God no please not again not another one this time though I faintly noticed two things to be different the first was that the location was different while I couldn't really tell with the other two I still remember their killings taking place in a dark room, like maybe a cellar or a basement or something. Not this one, though. Francine's was taking

place outside. I still couldn't see where exactly because it was night time out, but I knew it was outside because of the trees that I saw surrounding the area of wherever this was apparently taking place, one of which Francine was tied to. And this brings me to the other thing that made this one different from the other two, the way in which it was being done. I'll say right now that this one sticks out to me a bit more than the other times, even now. She was nude, bruises and cuts covering just about every square inch of her body. She was also suspended in the air, similar to how Sarah was,

only she appeared suspended off the ground by her wrists and neck, and arranged in a crucifixion pose, her legs dangling freely down. In the killer's hand was a wooden Louisville slugger, and this made my heart stop. No, no, no. Francine's eyes were glazed, yet still I could see the cold panic in them, flooding through them and filtering down the rest of her battered body as the killer approached with the bat. I could see tears flood her eyes, but she didn't move.

She couldn't move, not even to struggle. About a foot and a half from her, I saw the bat swing swiftly, sending a crushing blow to Francine's stomach. Francine then out of strained, pitiful wheezing. Through all of this I was screaming at myself to make this end, to wake the fuck up and make this all be over. But I couldn't. I couldn't wake up. I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't do anything except watch.

Francine's body began convulsing, writhing against her restraints. Her eyes went wide with each crash of the bat against her. She began heaving, struggling to gasp for air. This time she was struck across her face, immediately dislocating her jaw. A lower jaw now hung limply to the right, and I could hear her groan while still weasing. That was when I heard a sickening crack in her head. dangled limply. Her body relaxed, hanging freely from the treelim. She was gone. This wasn't the end though. Unlike the other two, this one didn't just end with Francine passing. Oh, this time

it was taken a step further when the killer dropped the baseball bat and pulled out a bowie knife and then watched as the knife was embedded to the hilt into the middle of Francine's chest and was dragged downward. Throughout the naval region, the knife was pulled out and reinserted, sliding across her stomach lengthways and intersecting with the first one to form a giant inverted cross in her body. I saw the hands then dip one finger into the stream of blood that began running down from her navel and draw some sort of mark on her forehead. I didn't get a chance to see what it was, though, before I was brought back to the real world. I was awakened by my mother shaking me awake. Susan, she cried. My eyes snapped open and I shut upright in my

bed, hyperventilating again. Susan, Susan, calm down, breathe. I couldn't. Breathe, she repeated. It's okay, honey. It's okay. I looked at her, gasping frantically. I, but I, I stuttered. I didn't know what to say, what to do. I felt like my heart was less than two seconds from bursting. Every thought and emotion imaginable was sent zipping through my head, actually making me feel a bit dizzy. Her eyes began burning with tears, and soon I was huddled in my mother's arms, crying like I was five years old again.

She just helped me. Sh, it's okay, she said softly. What happened? I don't know, I bawled. She was beaten to death. Her eyebrows raised in confusion. She? Yeah, Francine Simmons. She was hanging from a tree in it.

I was interrupted by a knock from the front door. Mom got up and went to answer the door, leave me on the bed, quivering. It sat rigid, stiff, cycling through, at least attempting to cycle through, all of the questions worming in and out of my head simultaneously. The first, and I guess the biggest being, what the fuck was even going on? who was this person and why were they doing this

why was I seeing it how was I seeing it actually I take back what I said about what's going on being the biggest question thinking on it again I think my biggest question at the time was if what I was seeing was even real or if I was really just suffering

from the worst most vivid and fucked up nightmares I've ever had in my entire life I think even then part of me was sitting there on my bed praying to God that really was the case, that none of this was real, and that maybe I just needed a psychiatrist or something, right? Well, of all my burning questions, this was the only one I got an answer for almost immediately.

Susan? My mother called out from the living room. Slowly I broke from my entropy, shambled from my bed out into the living room. There, standing in the doorway was mum and two police officers. I froze at the threshold where the hallway meets the living room. My heart was immediately sent into a tailspin. What the... What's going on? Why are the cops here? Susan, honey, my mask, sounding pretty nervous, if not shaken herself.

These two gentlemen say they need to speak to you. I didn't move. I just stood, my knees shaking violently. Miss, we just need to ask you a few questions about where you were last night. one of the officers stated but what what do you mean i was here at home the other officer piped up sounding like he was eager a little too much so anybody able to vouch for that no my teeth clenched i looked to mom who looked more and more anxious herself by the second and added but i promise i was the first officer nodded his face remained concentrated. I wasn't sure whether his silence meant he was actually believing me or if he was just letting me think he did.

At any rate, I couldn't just sit there and continue being interrogated anymore and not at least know what the hell for. But what's going on? I asked. Did something happen? When was the last time he saw Daniel Rudd? He asked. His eyes narrowing. I could tell he was gauging me.

Last night. at the varsity football game did you see him leave i shook my head in response did you know of anybody else he may have been with at the game no he was alone his eyebrow raised at me then i'd answered wrong to him anyways really no one else at all he asked now sounding very much accusatory yeah i exclaimed he was more wasn't with anyone else last night. At least not that I saw. Okay, well, what's this about? Mum chimed in, finally. My witness said that they saw your daughter with Daniel around the time of his disappearance. He then looked at me. That little stunt of yours earlier at the schoolhouse makes me believe there's more of the situation than you might be telling us here.

Like what? They asked defensively. The hot head partner chimed in. once again like where you've got him he then narrowed his eyes at me let me guess you dumped his body in the cafeteria at the schoolhouse where we found him and then when you realize we'd be there you decided to come in looking all like a big shot so you could draw our eyes off your right what my mother exclaimed what the fuck are you talking about that's enough ordered the other officer he tossed his keys to his partner and ordered him to go wait in the car before turning back to us. Why, I apologize for that, ma'am. Kids just out of training. Still hasn't got out of the shoot first-asked-question's later phase.

Okay, apology is accepted, but I think it's time you left, Mom said, noticeably irritated. I could tell from her clenched teeth that it was everything she could do not to absolutely lose it with this officer. He nodded his head respectfully towards her. I understand, Mom, but I would like to ask you to keep in touch. He added Mom a card before then turning to me. And you, young lady, might want to be careful. My partner was out of line with the way he spoke to you, but he does have a point.

It doesn't look good trying to impede an investigation like that. Mom said to him, gesturing toward the door. He nodded toward her again and was turning to leave when I stopped him. Wait, he stopped and turned back to me. Is it true? You actually found him? My breathing became heavy again. If so, then...

Then that means... His face stiffened and he nodded toward Marmon said. Okay, keep in touch. And after that, he finally left. or my mouth dropped. Mom came over and wrapped her arms around me. Are you okay? She asked as tenderly as she could,

a hint of aggravation still not having dissipated. I just stared forward, unable to even make eye contact with her. Susan? I snapped and looked at her. Yeah, I don't know. My head was spinning far too quickly, for me to keep up. Honey, what were they talking about with you being at the schoolhouse today?

I sighed and told her the truth. I was trying to look for him after I'd seen on the news that he was missing. Obviously I didn't mention the whole, I saw him get to step to death while in the bathtub part. Well, not only did I know that she wouldn't believe that, but I still wasn't sure I did either, despite being all but directly told that it was true. She just hugged me close then. I'm sorry, honey.

It's going to be okay. I just stood there stiff in my mother's arms for what felt like hours. I don't really know whether it was because of the shock that I'd just been told that my crush was found murdered. The fact that I'd seen it happening but didn't or couldn't do anything about it or the fact that deep down a part of me knew

that it wasn't long before I'd hear the same thing had happened with Sarah and Francine. But my head went completely blank. I remember I stayed like this for a good few days after too. I basically went through almost the next week and a half, completely blank, mindless, emotionless and just generally absent from life as a whole, both at home as well as school or anywhere else. Danny's murder was on the front page of the paper the next day, as well as the morning news. School, it was all anybody could talk. talk about. Whispers started going around that it was some random dude stalking the school Friday night who'd managed to snag Danny while no one is around. Of course, the more serious

one started speculating the killer was someone from the school. This led to a handful of witch hunting groups being formed that went around interrogating anybody that was unlucky enough to come into their crosshairs. By the end of the week, so many damn fights have broken out and kids being jumps, both of which resulted in numerous hospitalizations that the school was forced to shut down for the next week. Throughout this period of time, outside of one chance encounter with one of the leaders of one of these bands of idiots, Clarence Gorman, who, funnily enough, happened to be Francine's boyfriend, foreshadowing's a bitch, ain't it? I'd managed to pretty much fly completely unnoticed. They didn't get rough with me either. I guess, despite the fact that

my crush on him was at the time kind of a well-known thing. They figured I was either way below his league, in other words, not really worth his time talking to, or that I was just generally too timid to be considered a suspect for something like this. Like I said, though, none of that really seemed to matter to me in any real way. Instead, I simply went through every day in a trance. What was worse was that all of what had happened was affecting me even more at nighttime. It got to a point where due to not being able to sleep out of fear that I was going to see someone else getting mulled. I was actually beginning to hallucinate. During the next week-long shutdown of the school, mum took me to see a counsellor after noticing that I'd not slept for, by that time, five and a half

days straight. I wasn't much for it. Hell, what was some shrink going to do? Tell me I was going nuts. Maybe tell me that I was losing it because of the worry over Danny's death, and that that was causing me to fantasize that Sarah and Francine were dead too. I figured, if nothing else, though, it might be able to get put on some pills or something, and then whatever was causing me to see any of this stuff would stop, right? Well, that's sadly not what happened. Yeah, I told them what had been going on, the shit I'd been seeing, and yeah, I got put on some prescription pills but no they didn't do a damn thing i found this out that wednesday night when as i was actually sitting down to eat supper it started again all this time it started differently

with whoever it was just following behind somebody else like the other times this was yet another abrupt shift from reality and seriously one minute i'm looking at my bowl of lasagna and the next I'm going down a dimly lit street, looking at some random strangers back. At this time the unsuspecting victim was someone I didn't recognise offhand. The kid was young, around my age. Other than that, though, I had no idea who this person was or why they were being selected to be killed. Well, of course, it wasn't like I was given any kind of reason as to why the others had

been killed either. This went on for about a minute or two, with the killer quietly skulking behind this kid. before the kid was then joined by three others in a cul-de-sac. Of the trio that was gathered around, one of them I did recognize. It was Clarence. They gathered at the cul-de-sac, and Clarence was holding a basketball, about to start dribbling, when he pointed behind the kid to the person who'd been following. I couldn't hear him, but I could see Clarence points and move his mouth,

probably asking something along the lines of, who the hell are you whatever he said though it didn't matter because in the span of less than two seconds I could see the killer break into a sudden sprint pouncing and going full throttle on Clarence

grabbing his throat and repeatedly driving the back of his head into the asphalt the others tried to force the killer off only to be shoved or even thrown away by the time they were finally satisfied Clarence's face was hardly even recognizable as a person, much less as Clarence Gorman. Just like with Francine, it didn't end there, with Clarence's death. I saw the killer's hand dabbit's index finger in the blood

that began pooling around his head before then drawing another symbol or something like what had been done with Francine. This time though the vision lasted just long enough for me to see what it was that they'd scrawed in the blood, causing my heart to stop. cold. It was my initials. There was no mistaking it. It was written in the same pseudo-cursive style I used when signing my initials. I never actually mastered cursive writing, but still wanted to look fancy. Your mum had always teased me about it, calling it redneck cursive. Not only that, but they even added the little heart I always drew next to my initials as well. Now, I was horrified. What the fuck? Who is this? How do they know my name? How can they copy my handwriting

perfectly like this? Why are they doing this to these people? I mean, people I know. When I came back to reality this time, I began screaming, going into a full psychotic episode. It was so bad that I even began trying to tear my hair from my scalp. Mom actually had to pin me to the floor and restrain me until I eventually calmed down and just began bawling. She asked, frightened and almost at her wits end like I was, what had happened. I tried as best I could to tell her what I'd experienced,

but it was clear she wasn't exactly buying it. I don't think she thought I was just trying to get her attention or anything like that, but I could tell she wasn't taking well with the, I watched another kid from school get killed, story either. I didn't know what to do. I wanted all of this to stop.

but how was I supposed to do that? How, if I couldn't tell who it was that was doing this? Obviously, though, the biggest questions were still, why was I having to see this? How was I seeing it from their perspective? That morning we visited the psychiatrist, where he and my mother then spoke in private for the entire half hour,

before it was then apparently decided that the best thing for me was to spend some time in an inpatient program. They apparently thought that some time away from everything that was going on in town would help to get rid of the visions by cutting out the excess stress, to quote the strength. I didn't bother fighting. I knew it wouldn't do fuck all in that regard, but at least there I couldn't hurt myself and or continue dragging my mother down with this. By the end of that week I was moved into the facility. It was one of those that looked like a, albeit well kept and sanitised,

group home or sort of halfway house along the walls in the hallways were all sorts of cheesy inspirational posters and some different papier machet crafts peppered across going all the way down spent the better part of a month there at first during that time things were quiet no visions no friends and classmates being murdered and no free counts staff and counselors there though not understanding what I was talking about when I tried to explain to them what had been going on, still super nice and helpful with me. With things being as quiet as they'd been for the time, I thought everything was finally over.

That I really was just overly stressed or whatever, and that I'd be able to go back home and everything would be okay. Then, in that last week, just a few days before I was supposed to be released, I saw the newspaper headlines with the discoveries of both Sarah and Francine's bodies. Both articles listed them as having been dead for weeks, close to two months when they were found. That was when, about midday that same day,

the police came to the institution to question me. Like before, they seemed keen on the idea that I was the one doing it, even if they weren't quite as direct in their accusations like one had been before. Well, I could still tell, and, well, could I really blame them? It was my initials on the body's signed, sealed and delivered. But even still, it wasn't me. I wasn't doing anything to anybody.

Was I? At any rate, I told them as much, and eventually they let me go. They, of course, told the supervisor at the institution to keep a close eye on me before leaving, which resulted in them, restricting the time I was allowed to spend out of the job. out of my room. Not that I really left much anyways, but still, it was annoying as hell to have to be followed even more constantly than I already was by one, well, not one, but three supervisors, just to use the freaking bathroom. I guess, aside from the initials and the fact that the victims were people I knew, they had no actual evidence to tie me as the culprit. At the same time,

that was little consolation, if any. Sure, I wasn't walking out in hell. I was not. I was not walking out in handcuffs yet but that didn't mean I was out of the woods not by a long shot wherever it was was still out there and I had not even the remote as freaking clue who it was and how well why it was using my name what's worse I still wasn't any closer to knowing how I kept seeing these people being butchered I think that was my biggest source of insomnia fuel the fact that some sick unknown freak was out there doing this shit to people I knew, people I cared about, using my identity. And all I could do was sit and watch them do it.

Well, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take not being able to sleep. I couldn't take the looming fear that I might get imprisoned for murders. I knew for a fact I hadn't committed. Most of all, I couldn't take not knowing if or when, or why for that matter. I was going to see another innocent person get killed. I was done with everything. I planned to do it at supper time that night.

Use the cutlery they gave us, even if it was all plastic. Yes, I'd put the fork and knife through both my eyes, hopefully reaching the brain, and it would all be over. It would end that night there and then, one way or another. I sat down with my meal tray and took a quick glance around. No one was watching. I knew I'd have to be quick, though. That wasn't going to stay the case for long.

I clutched the cutlery and brought it up to my face. Just one quick throat. Susan? I snapped up, startled. It was mom. She'd come with a bag of food from Burger King. Hey, honey, she said in a sad tone, like she was visiting me in a hospital on my deathbed.

Yeah, apparently irony's a bitch too. I brought you a whopper combo. your favorite i thought i'd join you for supper tonight i looked at her tears starting to sting in my eyes i wanted to be happy hell she was right she did bring my favorites bk had been my go-to any time i was asked where i wanted to go for dinner not only that but she was there i guess it's just natural even when you're all but grown like i was yeah i still needed my mama but at the same time I wanted it to all be over I needed it to all be over but I couldn't now I mean not with her there so eventually the damn broke and I just devolved into a sobbing mess at the

table oh shh oh honey mom cooed softly her own voice starting to break it's gonna be okay it's gonna be okay mom was here we'll get through this I just cried pitifully into her arms. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout. Hell, I had more than half a mind to get up on the table, strip and start shouting to the world that, no, things weren't going to be okay, that someone was forcing me to watch people get murdered and that there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do about it. But I knew what good was that going to do? I hadn't believed it so far, and now I was quietly being investigated by the police. What was the point then in trying to get to. through this. One way or another, I'm just going to end up behind some set of bars.

When I sat there for the remaining 45 minutes, and mostly silence, and she tried to engage with me, sure, asking me if I was getting along okay enough here, and if the staff were nice, and if I'd made any friends. She tried, but I couldn't have cared less. I just nibbled at my burger like a mouse, coldly staring out about a thousand miles past the wall behind her. The time rolled around to leave the mess hall and go back to our rooms for the night. One of the supervisors came to escort me back to the room when my mom left. Walking back to my room, I remember trying to plot another way of trying to end it when it happened. And this time I was immediately thrown into hysterics.

For one thing, unlike all the other times where I couldn't tell where it was taking place, this was all too clear to me it was happening right here in the institution it was in the mess hall focusing on my mother who was headed towards the door into the main hallway oh dear freaking god no mom i remember i was shrieking and howling as this happened i felt rough hands grabbing my arms trying to hold me still and leave me to my room oh i remember screaming Let me go, let me go. Are you freaking pigs? God damn it, you have to let me go.

I continued to watch as they moved in quickly on my mother, ambushing her. She spun around just in time for me to see the look of shock and panic wash across her face, for her face was cracked against the door behind her. I then watched her unconscious body be dragged across the floor towards the kitchen area. Inside I saw two of the cooks attempt to rush the killer, only to be thrown aside, with one even having a bread knife get embedded in his shoulder for his trouble. The attention then returned to my mother's body as she was dragged further toward the back until stopping in front of one of the deep-friars.

Mother was slowly stirring away as the killer began lifting her off the ground. In my frenzy, I managed to send my head back, cracking my supervisor straight in his nose, busting it wide open. This caused him to let go of me, and I took off like a bat, straight out of hell to the mess hall. Because I was still seeing through the killer's eyes, it was damn near impossible for me to make it back down the hallway without slamming into the wall like it was a bumper car.

Fortunately, I still knew how to make it back down to the mess hall from where I was, as my room was just a few rooms down from when I slept in. I finally flew through the doors into the mess hall and sprinted in the kitchen, right as mum's horrified face was plunged into the scolding hot grease. Let her go, I screamed. I saw the killer's view peek around the corner to see me, standing at the opening of the kitchen.

That's when my own sight returned. With this, though, I felt my head start pounding, like I'd just been cracked over the head with a hammer. Around the corner I watched a figure. The killer also clutched their forehead like they were in pain too. I looked closer. And my jaw fell. What the... No.

No, that's not possible. That isn't... But it was. It was me. I was looking at myself. I was looking through myself. Who... You, he said,

sounding exactly like me. You, Susie. I'm you. I began touching my face. This thing, this other me, had paper white skin and no eyes, instead having two red X-shapes over the skin where her eyes should have been. What are you talking about? I asked. Now, just as much confused, actually, just as lost as I was panicked.

She just tilted her head to the side, pointing to her left temple. I'm you. I've always been you. I'm the little birdie in your head that screamed to be let out. I'm the one that's always pushing you to do what needs to be done. What do you mean? Do what? To who? She then pulled my mother's body from the grease. She wasn't moving.

Other me threw her to the ground in front of me. Her face was now peeling away all over like it was paper, revealing layers of meaty sinew underneath. My stomach turned over, bile rising up to my throat. That's what should happen to all of them. They don't believe you. They never will. They don't believe what we're capable of, what you're capable of.

They just look at you and say, She can't do anything about it. They scoff and say that you're too innocent. She looked down at Mom's body and grinned, revealing teeth that were exactly like mine, including the braces they had back then. Well, how's this for too innocent, huh? I wretched and looked into her eyes.

You're a freak, I shouted. I'm a freak, she retorted sarcastically. I'm just you, Susan. I'm just a part of you, a part of you that you've kept buried, thinking you could keep me like that forever, so you could keep being a son. little bitch. Everyone has one.

It's a part of everyone from the time they were born. There's always been a me inside of them. You killed my friends. What? Because you could? Her grin fell, then. Friends. You really don't know, do you?

You actually thought those cunts were your friends. You thought they cared about you? Wait, what do you? Think about every time you've been hanging around with them or tried to. Think about every time you turned your back on any one of them and listened because they thought you couldn't hear them. I paused at this, and my breathing slow. What could her? they say laughing. Are you sure we have to invite her?

Oh, we should find a new table away from her, you know. I began concentrating. I didn't want to, but something was not. at me now, a sort of knee-jerk reaction almost, spurred on by what other me was suggesting. Because of this, things I honestly didn't think I'd noticed before started being made clear to me. I started thinking about the looks I'd get in the hallway at school, the look at Ms. Good Girl look, the look that said they barely tolerated me. I started hearing the whispers coming from seemingly nowhere, yet at the same time I knew it came

from them, my peers, my friends. I could hear them talking about how they wished that girl would go away, how they were just fine until that girl showed up and made everything boring. There was always a subconscious thing for me before, thinking I was being paranoid, you know, that they weren't talking about me, right? Right. Or they were. They were talking about me. I'm that go get the picture now her voice brought me crashing back they weren't your friends they tolerated you so they wouldn't have to be the bad guys they put up with you being around them so they could keep lying to you the rest of the world and even themselves the same way you're trying to do now by saying that you're a better person let me be the first to be honest with you the way i have been all your

fucking life while you've tried to ignore me. No one is truly a better person. No one truly gives a damn whether you're alive or dead. Or they might shed a few cheers, actual tears over you when something happens, sure, whatever, but it won't last. And those are just the better ones. You keep wanting to run your mouth about it. Ah, the majority. She waved her hand around the room. We'll just keep walking, not remembering or having a lot. a single care in the world that you are not around. I was speechless. My body was a statue, with my mouth dropped wide open. I had no way to retort. I mean, hell, she went on. Remind me of what you were going to do before Mommy Dearest Tear came in. I looked down at her,

tears burning in my eyes once more. I was, I was a lump. formed in my throat. I was going to end it. Uh-huh, and why was that? Why were you so ready to go if people actually care like you say they do, huh? I kept looking at mom now. Crickets? Oh, I hear nothing but crickets. And you want to know? You're wrong, I said interrupting her. You're wrong. She was there. She wanted to be there. She was trying to make me happy. She just wanted to cheer me up because of what you've been doing. Her face fell further. Her appearance of control was gone now.

Yeah, but what about... What about them? I spat. I could feel determination welling up inside me now. So they were fake, so they only put up with me to make themselves look better. So what? That's them.

I look once more to my mother. She always had my back, even if no one else did. And you just murdered her. You. I'm not like you, not at all. I don't care if you are from my subconscious or whatever. I stand with what I said. I am nothing like you. For a moment she just stood there, noticeably trembling. Her neck twitched more and more violently. My own body tensed her. I was ready for her to, at any second, leap at me to attack. Suddenly, however, She stopped, relaxing her body and just smiled before vanishing into thin air. I started to look around for her before then dropping down to feebly try to check my mother for some kind, any kind of life. Nothing. No breath, no pulse, nothing. She was gone. I borrowed my face into her chest, and I just began sobbing. I had failed.

mom my own personal cheerleader my one true friend was gone she'd save my life oh is i have to pay with hers no worse she'd save my life just for hers to be taken by by me even if it wasn't actually me still my face she would see before being forced into the oil not only that but whether i liked it or not deep down far deep below even the darkest parts of my mind and my heart. I knew other me was right. She has, and always had been a part of me, something I kept buried for so long that eventually it forced its way up and out, even finding a way of taking a mind and form of its own, its own face, one that showed how ugly both it and I was at the same time. Soon I was being hoisted off of my mother by staff and police who'd been called by one of the cooks who'd managed to limp away and call 911. That night I was arrested for the murders of both my mother and the cook who got the bread knife lodged on him. The trial went on for almost a month and a half. During this time they even tried bringing the previous murders into question,

only for them to be deemed ultimately inadmissible in my trial due to lack of evidence that I was the culprit. To this day their cases still officially remain unsolved. Regardless, I still got what I guess you could say was coming to me thanks to the attorney my mother always had for me and her in case of any legal matters notably when I was younger with the custody battles with my father I was able to plead insanity and have my sentence reduced from 30 years in prison to 25 in a mental institution that said it wasn't any sort of cake walk from there the new facility was nothing like the one I was at before Instead of the brighter, more welcoming environment I'd been in, everything now looked a lot more dull and lifeless. The staff were also a lot less friendly and inviting than what I'd been used to before. They weren't outright mean or abusive or anything, but they always just looked blankly at me,

like they barely noticed I was even there, almost like they didn't care. It's been almost six years now since this all happened, and I've been here in this place ever since. Because I'm considered too dangerous to myself and others, I'm not allowed outside except to be escorted by two armed security guards to the cafeteria and to the restroom. I'm also not allowed cutlery, nor am I allowed pencil and paper. However, after good behavior and the shrink's orders, I was allowed to type this out here. They feel that reaching out might make it easier to reintegrate back into the world or something like that, without having to actually be near somebody.

I doubt that, though. I honestly doubt I'll ever be able to be out there again like I was. You see, I'm scared now. It's because of an ingrained feeling that other me was even able to exist in the first place. Just like she'd said, she was a part of me. And everyone has one just like her. A part that they try to keep buried and forget about. A part that you may not even realize is there,

until it eventually crawls its way up. forces itself out of you taking on a form and identity you've never seen before and yet at the same time is only a reflection of you i'm afraid because of what i may find lurking inside me i'm afraid of looking through its eyes again and seeing what i truly am on the inside of storked and kidnapped by a serial killer he showed me that there's something even scary that's watching all of us by corpse child. What I'm about to say here is hard for me for a couple of reasons. First, obviously, because of how traumatic it was, but secondly because of how bizarre it was too. I saw things I'm still not sure, or you or anyone for that matter, can really explain. It started, for me

anyways, with the eyes. The large red eyes with a pair of wings coming out of them, this time painted on the bricks of the next door apartment complex in the alleyway. i'd seen this before on the news another body who was it this time another woman a child the eyes saw them first they saw nothing they never do i still remember that night too almost shot for shot i'd gotten home from working late at the convenience store having had to stay for another three hours after closing just to put the frickin place back together after being so badly trashed it was three a m when i finally got to leave and I was tired. I had nothing human up at that hour. Got home about 15 minutes later and shambled, exhausted out of my car and into my apartment.

I remember how cold it was, though I was too tired to notice, as well as how quiet it was. Dead silent. Upon entering my apartment, I locked the door, all seven dead bolts, something I found to be necessary a year before when I had two break-ins over the course of a month,

and just launched myself onto the car. couch. Didn't even bother trying to get out of my sweaty-ass clothes or even making it to bed. At least I have tomorrow off. It was the last thing to trust my mind before blacking out cold as soon as my head touched the couch pushing. I was awake and maybe ten. Fifteen, could have been fifteen, minutes later to the sound of sirens from outside. Red and blue lights flash rapidly from the window. I bolted up on the couch still groggy. What is that? Police. what's going on what happened stumbled over to the window from my window on the fourth floor i couldn't see much with the lights flashing in my still half-asleep eyes i do however remember seeing the pair of large red eyes graffitied on the wall staring forward you can't see them but they see you oh god i thought chills starting their course at my spine it was him again azol or charlotte's fallen angel killer

as the media had nicknamed him. This had been his trademark for almost three months. Find someone walking by in the dead of night. Snash him into the alley, kill them quickly and quietly, causing no one to hear anything, and marking the wall in their blood before basically vanishing into thin air. God, how long ago this happened? I wondered. Hmm, what if he's still nearby?

No one ever hears him. No one sees him. It goes without saying that they snapped me wide awake and kept me that way until the sun came up. I grabbed the nine millimeter, my late husband got me two years before he died, and I poised myself on the couch, ready to blast anyone that might try to come in. I took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from unloading the magazine when I heard the knock at the door of about two or so hours in.

Mrs. Halfman? The man's voice called from the other side of the door. It's the police. For a moment I stayed stiff on the couch, in a frightened entropy the baron of the gun trained at the door my hands shook oh it's just the police another set of knocks came from the other side mrs halfman i slowly began to get up from the couch and crept to the door i unlocked six of the dead bolts leaving the top one latched before cracking the door open outside were two offices

Mrs. Hoffman, going on the left, honest. I cleared my throat. Yes? We're from the Mecklenburg County Police Department. I'm Officer Wade, and this is my partner, Officer Vega. If you wouldn't mind, we'd like to ask you a few questions. May we come in? I unlatched the last bolt and opened the door fully.

Yeah, come in. They came in. I went into the kitchen and started brewing a pot of coffee. Would either you like some coffee?" No, thank you, ma'am. Officer Wade replied. We'll try to keep this brief. We'd just want to know if you might have seen anything out of the ordinary. I replied that I hadn't.

Anything at all? Maybe someone you hadn't seen in the neighborhood before, someone shady. No, I replied. At least not any more than usual. What do you mean? Officer Vega asked. I answered with a little. tired scoff. I mean, you've seen this neighborhood, right? Not exactly squeaky clean.

He looked to his partner who nodded at him, and then back to me. I didn't see anybody in the alley, if that's what you're asking. And you didn't hear anything? Officer Wade asked. No, not until I heard the sirens just a couple hours ago. He nodded at this, and I turned to continue making coffee. Officer Wade handed me his card and told me to call if I saw a anything before he and Officer Vega began for the door. Oh, wait. They stopped grabbing the doorknob. How long ago?

What? The alley. How long ago did it happen? Officer Wade nodded for his partner to go towards the door. He left, and it was me, and Officer Wade. About 3.30 this morning, ma'am. Can't be certain, but I was told that by the best estimate. My blood chilled. My heart dropped from my chest like a rock.

3.30? I was asleep. I asked if they knew who the victim was then. He replied they didn't yet, though. Of course, I kind of doubt he would have shared that with me if he did know. He was about to turn and leave again when I asked him one last question, one that deep down I knew he wouldn't answer. Is it him? The fallen angel? Oh, we're not sure yet, Ma. It was all he said before turning and leaving. I was alone again. For a moment, I just stood there trying, and kind of failing,

to take in and process what I'd just heard. My mind was a chaotic hornet's nest. An innocent person just got murdered right next to me, and I slept through it. Inside from the palpable sense of guilt that it brought me, it also filled me with panic. It brought a far more haunting suggestion to mine. where I had noticed anything if I was awake. Was it possible to catch a ghost?

He said the time of death was 3.30 a.m. It was only about 15 minutes after I got home. I didn't see anything or anybody. You can't see them, but they see you. Oh, how long had he been in the... D-DEN. My thoughts abruptly ended when I heard the pot signal that the coffee was done. My hands were shaking as I lifted the pot and began pouring.

I ended up only filling the mug about halfway before losing the rest of it to the drain. I, still trembling, raised the mug to my lips and started sipping it, swallowing hard. Would I have seen or hurt him if I'd been awake? This thought swam around in my head as the sun rose. By then, of course, the commotion in the alleyway had long died out. It was empty again, quiet. I was exhausted, of course, which made me really slow to get moving again. Didn't have to work, sure, but I couldn't just sit around in the house all day either.

For one thing, I'm not one to stay cooped up all day. Not sleeping occasionally, sure. I had to get out of the house sometime. The other thing, though, was that I had a date planned to go see the Batman with Paul that one that afternoon, having lunch together afterwards back at my place. If nothing else, it'll give me something to think about, right? I looked at the clock after getting dressed. 11.30.

I still had just enough time to do a quick grocery run to grab stuff for lunch. Granted, it meant forgoing the shower I kind of really needed. Well, well, I threw on a blue tank top, and the first pair of jeans I could find that I was at least mostly sure would clean before heading out. When I walked down to the parking lot to my car, I couldn't help but glance back over to the alley. The eyes were still there,

Faded a bit, but still thick and red, still watching me. I didn't see anything last night. Nothing was wrong, and I felt like something was going to be soon. For a moment I flashed back to last night. I thought of how quiet it was. Nothing was happening. I couldn't see anything. I imagined the victim, their face as they were being attacked, their frightened eyes.

They didn't see him coming. There's nothing wrong, Angie. Come on, get a grip. He couldn't have gotten far. It might still be near in the area. I closed my eyes at this and shook my head. He could be anywhere. Ghosts can come from anywhere.

God, there's no one here. He's gone now. I won't see him coming. Everything's just fine. I took a deep breath and got in the car. It took a minute, but I finally, with the help of a radio comedy show, don't ask me who it was, actually made me laugh, so who gives a rat's ass, I managed to calm my nerves again.

Despite this, I did still find myself constantly darting my eyes around as I drove along. This continued when I got to the parking lot at Publix, constantly looking over my shoulder. All this two finally died down when I got inside. I started getting items to make lasagna for lunch. I'd gotten just about everything, pasta, mozzarella, tomato sauce, and even garlic nuts. Those were always better than Texas toast, and I was in line to check out when it hit me that I was forgetting something. Beef! I'm forgetting the ground beef. I quickly swung my cart around and started to run back to the deli.

I looked at the time. 12.15. Geez, got a hurry. In my little frenzy, I lost track in my surroundings and ended up, running straight into a man coming towards me out of the frozen meat section, knocking him to the ground. Oh, God, sir, are you okay? I exclaimed, rushing over to help him up. He didn't respond. I took his hand and helped him to his feet. I'm so sorry about that. I chuckled awkwardly, he said, I got so caught up, I didn't see you there. This time he turned his head to me and parted the right corner of his mouth, chuckling, drily. I couldn't really see much of his face.

It was mostly covered by the hoodie he was wearing. He also appeared to be wearing shades. Maybe he's blind. Maybe he didn't see me either. No one usually does. And they do. He said in a voice that sounded like it was coming from a yogi. It was smooth yet soft.

It didn't really seem to match the broad-shouldered five-seven man in front of me who looked to be at least in his mid-forties. People don't see me, but they see them. He pointed upwards to the ceiling. Excuse me, I asked, confused. What did you say? He'd a smile before turning and walking off. I stood, confused for a moment.

What was his deal? I wondered. People don't see him, but they see them? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Who are they? The eyes see them first. They see nothing. I probably would have spent at least another hour or two digging around the rabbit hole with this if I hadn't glimpsed my watch out of the corner of my eye, now reading 1245.

Oh shit, I gotta get moving. With that I zipped in, grabbed the beef and race back to the checkout. I was heading back to my car. When I looked back again and saw the guy I'd knocked over standing in the parking lot about two lots away from me, staring at me. I couldn't see his face, with his hood still covering it, despite it yawing 90-friking degrees out. Still, I could tell he was staring dead at me. What the hell? Is he looking at me? Why? What does he want?

For a moment we just stood there, locked in a staring contest, neither of us knowing who should break first. Finally a car passed between us, and when it went past, he was gone, vanished, in thin air. like a like a ghost like a shadow like he was never there what the hell where'd he go

started throwing my head in every direction he was just there wasn't he where is he I didn't see him closed my eyes and took a deep breath ah it's nothing Angie just get in the car I took one last look around

one last sweep of the area Well, whoever that was, he's gone now. Just go walk through. Just get in the car, Angie. I can't see him. No one can. Get in the car. I can't see him coming.

I opened the door and was about to get in the car. When I heard it, I was turning to the left where it was coming from. What the... I was silenced when I felt a firm hand cover my mouth. In the hand it was a white cloth, being forced against my face. I started struggling, clawing behind me at the attacker's face. When I couldn't seem to reach that, I began trying to ram my elbows into his stomach and kick him in this crotch. Neither of these were doing me any good.

Look, you have to come with me, I heard him say. It was the same smooth, almost warm, soothing voice I'd heard in the storm. They see you. I have to take you with me. now started feeling woozy my arms and legs started feeling weak everything was going blurry darkness was creeping into my vision quickly and in a panic i managed to wrestle my chin up enough to open my mouth and bite down hard sure enough this caused the hand to retract and i was free again aghast desperately for air i was still dizzy i tried to look up to see who it was nothing no one was there it was just me in an other way

empty parking lots. What the fuck? I swung around in every direction. Nothing. Just cars. He was gone. Who the hell was that? Where'd they go?

I frantically threw myself into my car and locked all the doors before rifling through my purse for my phone to call the police. I couldn't find it. I turned out my pockets. It wasn't there either. God, where's my phone? I opened the door again and started looking on the ground fruits, thinking it might have slipped out during the struggle. Nope, it wasn't there.

I started trying to look through my purse again, only to find that my phone wasn't the only thing missing. My keys were gone too. Oh God, he must have taken them. I then got out and ran back to the store. Fortunately I wasn't part far from the entrance, meaning I wouldn't have far to run. Less of a chance of being ambushed again as long as I kept moving. after running in i found the nearest cashier and asked breathless if i could borrow the store phone to call the police i told him i'd just been attacked in the parking lot and my phone and keys had been stolen he led me to the back room where the phone was and i pulled out the card office away had given me and dialed the number part two mckelenberg county police what is the nature of your emergency i was just attacked in the parking lot okay ma'am can you tell me your name you're not

name and location. My name is Angela Uppam. I'm at the public's just off a Spader Street. Okay, and you said you were assaulted in the parking lot? Yeah, he grabbed me from behind and tried to put me to sleep. I managed to get three, and when I looked again, he was gone. You said he attempted to incapacitate you? Yeah, he had a cloth that he held up to my face. I felt dizzy. I still do. I think he might have drug me. Okay now, Miss Sopham, can you describe your attack? No, I didn't get a good look at him. Like I said, he got me from behind.

I could only see his hand. Nothing at all. Tattoos, scars, anything. No. I then thought about the struggle again. I saw his hand. I'd bitten his hand. I'd bid him.

That'd be a mark. It wasn't much of a lead, but still... It was something. There's a bite mark on his hand. You see a ghost? Oh yeah, his hand. His hand, right hand, has a bite mark on it. He was white and thin, from what I could tell with how bony his hand was.

Okay now, Angela, I want you to stay where you are. The unit is being dispatched to your location now. ETA five minutes. Do not, under any circumstances, leave the store until authorities are run. I agreed, and the call was disconnected. After that, I just sat there, my thoughts crumbling and forming an avalanche. Who was that? Where did he come from?

What did he want? If it was a robbery, then why was only my phone and keys missing? Where the fuck is he now? Able to see him. I think that was the question that got under my skin the most. If I didn't see him, I didn't see where he went, then he could be anywhere. He could be anybody. I stayed in the room until I was caught out by the arriving police.

Outside at the front of the store were officers Wade and Vega. Angela Oppam, Officer Wade asked. Yes, I replied. You okay, ma'am. I nodded my head weakly. So what happened? I was heading out to my car, went out of nowhere some guy comes up from behind me and puts a cloth over my mouth.

You show me where it happened. I led him to the doors and pointed to my car. He sent Officer Vega to go look at it. He said you got away by biting him. Yeah, he let go when I did that. When I looked up, there was no one there. I looked everywhere. He was gone. Was he there?

I was about to drive off when I realized I didn't have my keys on my phone anymore. You know of anyone who'd want to intentionally hurt you? I shook my head. At that time, Officer Vega came back in and said there was no sign of anyone there, or having been there. Officer Wade turned back to me and asked, and you said you didn't see where he went. No, I exclaimed, anxious. I told you, one minute he heard me, I bid him, he let go, and then he vanished.

The two exchanged glances at each other before stepping outside. I watched them walk to the car, looking at him. like they were examining the area again. They came back about five minutes later. All right, Miss Uppam, Officer Wade said. Looks like everything's all clear. There's no one out there now. I'm going to have Officer Vega here give you a ride home

while we continue searching the area here. Officer Vega led me out to the car. Even with his company, I still couldn't help but glance around cautiously in the parking lot. It was when I caught sight of my car that my eyes bugged out. There, scratched into the driver-side door, where the eyes I froze. They stared back at me, staring into me, through me even. I imagined that somehow he, my attacker, the fallen angel killer, was staring back

at me through those eyes. "'Mam, is everything all right?' Officer Vega asked, having now taken notice of my terrified state. Still shaken beyond being able to form a coherent thought, I pointed to my car. He looked over and immediately became as surprised as I was. What the hell? That wasn't there a minute ago, was it? I asked, hoping deep down that he'd answer, yes it was.

But it had been there when he was out looking for the assailant. Could he have done this without him seeing it before? He shook his head. Here, he said, urging me forward while still looking alarmed at my car. Let's go to the car. He led me the rest of the way, and I got inside. He told me to wait a moment inside while he radioed his partner about the car. I just nodded, blankly.

My head was spinning so much, so fast, I'm honestly a little surprised it didn't spin right off my neck and take off like a helicopter. How was any of this happening? Why was any of this happening? How in the hell was someone a normal man? I use normal only a likely general sense here, able to do shit like this. How in the span of maybe a minute,

if that was able to deface my car like that and not be noticed? He's not a man. I could see him. I couldn't see him. Moreover, how was he able to attack me like that and disappear? I can't see him. I thought back to before the attack. seeing the man in the hoodie standing there watching them what was he staring at how the

hell was he gone so quick what did he want with me what was he gonna do to me if I hadn't gotten away people don't see me but they see you there from anywhere what the how does he mean I faintly heard the sound of the car door slamming shut I finally broke from my aspiring fit when I heard the engine turn over I Art started racing again when the car peeled out at the parking spot and took off at breakneck speed. Slow down. What the hell he... My breath caught in my throat when I turned and looked next to me.

It wasn't as a vaguer in the driver's seat. It was him. Heart stopped. My mouth hung open. I wanted to scream, but for whatever reason I couldn't. Oh Jesus, he's right here. Right beside me. Where did he come from?

He appeared from thin air. What happened to Officer Vega? What did he do to him? What's he going to do to me? He stared straight ahead, almost hypnotized to the road as it stretched on. I darted my eyes over to the passenger door. It was unlocked. Slowly, just ever so slightly, I moved my hand to grab the handle.

I have to jump. It's my only way. Don't do it His voice was still as mellow and smooth as before I looked back to him His focus was still deadlocked on the road I have to get away And you'll want to come with me

What? What? I asked Still shaking He didn't reply He kept racing down the highway at a horrifying speed I looked again at the door handle before grabbing it And throwing the door open Ready to hurl myself out

Before I could, however, I was grabbed by the back of my shirt and jerked back into the car. This caused the back of my head to smack against the doorframe, knocking me dizzy. He shut the door again before returning his gaze to the road. My vision had exploded into a mess of cloud and fuzz. My head throbbed and I could feel the beginning of a horrible migraine. I heard the door locks click. He'd lock me in now. I couldn't try escaping again.

I was trapped, please, he said calmly. Don't panic. I won't hurt you. I barely registered his words. Everything was still fuzzy, both visually and auditorily. I never heard anyone. You're him, I groaned, Haking. You're him, the fallen angel.

His eyes were still focused ahead. What do you want with me? He was silent for another moment before replying. I don't want anything from you. I want to help you. What? You won't understand, but I'm here to help you. What are you talking about?

How are you helping me? Where are you taking me? He's trying to get away from something. You don't see them yet, but they see you. They've always seen you. They see everyone. They see the others and take them. I was flawed.

Who? What? What the fuck are you talking about? Please calm down. Just keep looking forward and soon you'll begin to see them too. See what? I exclaimed. No one can see them. Them, he said, pointing all around. They see us. They control us and they take anyone who has the ability to see them to see the truth. He's afraid of them. He can see them.

What do you mean? Who are they? They're not a who. They're everything and nothing. They appower and they crave control. They watch us and force us to live by their will. We can't know because we can't see. I was lost, hilariously lost.

None of what I heard meant any sort of connection to me. It didn't sound at all logical. It sounded like something a wingnut, tinfoil hat wearing crackpot, would say. How long did that have? road last who was watching us was he talking about the government or something was that it we to get away from and anyone see them was it a real road was there anything or anybody else I look forward the road stretched on as we continued speeding along just keep looking you'll see it the truth I did first I was still confused

what was so important for me to apparently see. The road hadn't changed. I then, however, noticed something about it. Just a subtle thing at first, and I almost missed it. Then, however, I realized that we were passing the public's again. We never left. What? Did we just drive in a circle?

The road doesn't change, just the way we see it. Well, that wasn't all. I could see everything that had been around it again as well. The same road signs, the other markets, even the houses that have been in the area, everything. Oh, you see it now, don't you? He asked. His voice for the first time sounding actually worried, like he was afraid that I did. I began to wonder why.

Why, despite the fact that we should have been miles away by now, were we passing the same places? Why was I locked in the car with this cycle? a known serial killer. More than this, though, why was he so afraid? How does he know any of this? Why does he want me to know? All of this had my head buzzing so badly that I almost didn't see other changes

to the environment outside. I first caught it out of the corner of my eye. I noticed that everything began to suddenly change colour, by which I mean it began to lose colour. It was a progression, but I soon began to see the grass go from a bright, light, lush, healthy green to a stark, albeit of any definition or hell. The same became true for everything else. It was like someone was slowly trying to erase the

world outside, leaving only the blank, featureless outlines of the things that had been there. By this point I was beyond the ability or capacity to ask what the fuck was going on. I could only stare up front through the windshield, horrified. I didn't manage to choke out one question where am i this he said his voice while still smooth notice of being becoming deeper is the world the real world you might call it what his voice got lower deeper most won't see the world like this only those of us who see the truth those that see them "'See who?' I cried desperately. "'We began to feel something warm coming from his direction,

"'grew hotter and hotter intensifying, "'until I looked over to him and, ironically, felt my bloodshould. "'He was now glowing. "'Around his body was a bright golden aura "'that glowed brighter and brighter. "'My eyes went wide, seeing this, wider than they'd ever been. "'What the fuck? "'What is this? How is he glowing?

who what the fuck is he or a guy i didn't voice any of this and not even because i didn't want to but rather i just couldn't even still i must have still conveyed my feelings of utter shock utter terror of what i was seeing seeing is but don't be afraid he said in a voice that now boomed so much that it shook throughout my body echoing like the inside of a drum your fear will draw them towards What are you talking about, goddammit? I was at my wits end. No, I was beyond my wits end. I was so far past that if I did wake up from whatever little pipe dream this was, I'd

have to be institutionalized on the spot. Look, enough of this cryptic horseshit. Either tell me what's going on or let me out of here now. Quiet, he thundered. He now no longer looked the same. He no longer even looked like a person. now his body was just a golden glowing outline of a man with a long thin wisps coiling from different areas of his form this once again made me go speechless and just relax please i know this is hard for you

that's why i brought you here you're afraid i know but i'm here to save you from that i don't just keep looking and see the truth what truth with the word world you know was never real. What you know is only what you've been allowed to see. This child is always what the world, the real world has been. Their blank slate, their sandbox, their playground. For the love of God, who are they? You can mention these things, but who are, what are they?

Where are they? Why can I see them? I couldn't see them because I couldn't see ghosts. I didn't believe in ghosts. Oh no, I heard him murmur, still an impossibly deep, angelic, for the lack of any better word, voice. They've found us. Part three. Overhead from the blank, featureless sky above, I watched as a large black crack split across, like the splitting of ice. From this rift, a blinding light bled down as the sky split apart.

My heart stopped dead in my chest when I watched a horde of eyeballs that were clustered together to form one. giant, riving, disgusting, and just straight, horrifying mass, descend. Each and every one of the things thousands of viruses were different colours, some of which were mixes of colours I didn't even know were possible. Each pupil twitched in every direction simultaneously, apparently searching desperately for something. Not something, someone, I felt the car pick up speed, and the mass of eyes began vibrating at a supersonic level, glowing intensely as it did so.

what is that them the ones i've been telling you about the ones that see everything in your world what does it want control they seek only control over you and everything it created on this earth what do you mean everything it created i told you one before your world's a sandbox there you it is the one that builds on it And believe me, they are very much a jealous people when it comes to power to control. That's why you and the others can't see them. But they can always see you. Well, it's in front of me again, to the thing. It was now vibrating somehow even more violently and starting to glow an aura of deep burning crimson.

It was angry. What's it doing? I asked, petrified. It's searching. It knows another of his toys he's trying to be taken from it, so it's trying to find us when it does it'll unmake the both of us wiping us out just like they did with the others others what do you mean who to this i heard him sigh for the first time he actually sounded mournful sad even like he was regretting something confessing some secret or deed he tried to keep hidden away buried deep down

i'm not a master like you think i am i've seen what you call me what you call me what's you see me as, but I'm not a killer. I never heard anyone, at least not intentional. I caught my eyebrow. What do you mean? He sighed again. My eyes were open to all this, to the truth a long time ago. Because of this, I wanted to spread the truth to others whose eyes haven't been able to see. I wanted others to break free of them and their control. But every time I did, it always saw and always found them and took them, wiping them out. You mean? the victims weren't mine i'll stunned again i couldn't think straight with the world essentially ending right in front of me at the whim of whatever the hell this abomination was and now the revelation that this guy this psychotic freak

wasn't a monster after all i was almost completely at a lossful words finally i found the will to voice one more question the only one that mattered to me in that moment what are we going to do how do we stop like I said your fear is attracting them it's what's keeping your eyes closed what's keeping you under their influence their control you have to stop being afraid purge yourself of your fear how i asked not at all understanding how this was even possible how's i supposed to not be afraid how witnessing all of this these things that were the kind of stuff people only saw either during their worst nightmares or their worst drug trips. Was I supposed to stop being afraid? Ever before, opened my eyes. What if I can't get rid of it? What would it happen to me if it got me? Would I be wiped out too, like the

victims? What if it doesn't work? How am I supposed to get rid of fear? My eyes aren't open yet. My spiraling train of thought came to a screeching halt when one of the terrifying entities' gleaming red tendrils shot through the windshield, seizing and tightening around the man's wrist. I could hear a sizzling noise, followed by the smell of sulphur, and the man letting out a sharp cry of pain in a tone that didn't sound entirely human, at least not just one, almost like multiple people screaming at the same time from the same throat. Instincts kicked in, and I reached out to try and pull it off of him, only to immediately retract in pain before I could even touch it, feeling like my hands were on fire. The tendril coiled up across his arm, leading up around his neck. It then began pulling him forward, trying to yank him through the windshield. His seatbelt was the only thing keeping him inside.

Eventually I saw the straps being torn at the seams from pressure. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what I could do. Oh, you have to let go, he bellowed, groaning in pain. The belt straps were only barely holding together now. The tendril was worming itself into his mouth and down his throat. I looked out again at the thing, the monster. Its pulsing eyeball-mask glow brighter and brighter. I could feel the heat searing and unforgiving.

I could feel anger from it, raw, unfiltered malice. I could feel its hatred. Brighter and brighter, a gleaming tendril burned, scorching the man until he erupted into flames himself. In seconds, less than seconds, he was engulfed in a burning ball of crimson fire. I'll never forget how his screams sounded as he was. he burned, like a thousand people were screaming at the same time as they were cooked alive. He strained to scream one last thing to me before he was gone, seared away.

Let it all go. I was alone now. I had no weapon, no power, no idea what to do. The thing loomed over the car, sending its sights on me now. This was it. I was done for. eyes. I heard the thing bellowed in a voice somehow even more impossibly deep than even the man was a minute ago.

It's almost equivalent to the sounds of an earthquake rumbling. Perfety, Arbutte, said Ardhuk timet. Ardhurtainator. I close my eyes, bracing for the end. my eyes I thought of home my apartment I thought of Paul our dates I thought of the two of us together at the theatres watching the movie together laughing jumping at the thrilling scenes cutting up eyes all the times I'd been scared in the past like when I was a little girl and was caught in the deep end of a pool or lake every time my head would go under I'd close my eyes afraid of what I'd see if I opened them, imagining some vicious beast ready to tear me apart, or I'd see nothing at all ever again.

Open them. I remembered how when I did open them again, I'd always see the sunlight if I'd be okay. Now, open them now, I'd managed to struggle my way to the surface. I'd made it out, where I'd see my dad there telling me that everything was okay. But he heard me now that I was safe. Fucking eyes. I thought something inside me shifting. A sense of determination, a dormant instinct.

Defiance. Yes, I wanted to survive. I wanted to be free, to live. But more than this, I wanted to beat this fucking thing right here, right now. I opened my eyes again. The entity still towered above the car, vibrating, glowing, pulsing. I felt my own body begin to feel warm. Quickly I began to feel hotter and hotter.

It wasn't painful, though. It was invigorating. I was doing it. I was letting go. I wasn't afraid of it or whatever it could do to me. The entity's mass began frantically pulsing again, its bright red aura returning with more vengeance than before. I knew it was getting desperate.

And it knew. A vilika, who be it, the thing roared. I could see its eyes, each and every one of them. Now it was afraid. Staring dead at it, I felt triumph wash over me, and I said in a voice that echoed like how the man's voice did. Now I see you. I see you, and you have no power over me.

To this, the thing roared in anger, as its aura glow brighter and hotter with rage. Ego, desolavamte. Lashed another of its tendrils to, towards me. I ducked and threw myself into the driver's seat. Assuming control, I threw it into drive and slammed my foot on the accelerator. We looked gaze one last time. Oh, burn in hell. In an instant, the car collided head on with the entity and everything went blank. Everything was a blank space of white, completely empty. I couldn't see anything, feel

anything am i dead slowly gradually i began to see shapes and colors take form these soon began to take on a familiar appearance it was the parking lot again just like it was before i'd left everything was normal again and yet at the same time it wasn't the colors the sounds the people they were there sure but something was different now i don't really know how to best describe it maybe like it was like I was looking at the world through a camera filter like I wasn't seeing the world anymore or not with my own eyes my eyes open I can finally see the real world off his way came rushing out to the public's you all right ma'am I just looked at him he looked different now too everyone looked different they all look like grey cutouts what the hell is they Why does everyone look so different now? Why do they look like this?

Their eyes are still closed, but mine have been open. I snapped back to Officer Wade's voice. Are you okay? I clear my throat. Yeah, I replied half-heartedly. My mind was both blank and cluttered at the same time, distant and yet there. On earth, yet galaxies away at the same time, you know. Yeah, I'm fine.

I then remembered Officer Vega. What happened? Where's Officer Vega? He looked confused. Office of Vega? He asked, cocking his eyebrows. Who's that? Your partner, the one who's supposed to escort me home?

He just stared back at me, bewildered, not having a clue as to who the hell I was talking about. Ma'am, I'm afraid you must be mistaken. I don't know any Officer Vega. my partner's office a greer here they then pointed over to the entrance to a man i didn't at all recognize he was shorter more muscular looking like a military-starred buzz cutt i was confused what the hell happened to officer and then it hit me it was just like he said earlier they must have taken him unmade him just like they did with where is he i bled he i bled

who the man that attacked me the fallen angel killer once again he looked utterly don't found it well someone attacked you mom he asked my blood went cold not from fear but rather from sheer realisation the kind of feeling you get when you reveal some great and horrible truth everything was back to normal yet nothing was the same he explained to me that they got a call about a possible shop after and they just happen to see me out in the parking lot looking winded I barely listened to him when he explained this I know what really happened but he doesn't and neither does anyone else they never will their eyes aren't open they can't see

them but I can I tried searching for the man the murders any headlines are the search for him but it's no use neither he not any of his victims can be found anywhere more they can't be found because they no longer exist unmade to the best as i understand it these events happened only a couple of days ago since then i've seen the world this way normal yet different i feel different too i feel faster more perceptive than normal i found that i can move faster than normal perception, causing me to be able to travel from one spot to another quicker than other people can pick up on, just like him. I think I understand it clear now.

I conquered my fear, breaking their control over me, and now I've become elevated. I'm not just human anymore. I'm more than that now. I'm free. My eyes are open. And despite this, I can see them now, too. Oh, they're everywhere, pulling the strings of everyone around. No one else can see this, but I can.

I know they're after me, which is why I have to end this now. I'm going to leave you with this. These things that act beyond our bounds, beyond the veil, as you say it, they're everywhere, and they only want one thing. Control. I fear being known, though, being seen, and they can be seen. and they can be seen all you have to do

is open your eye my father was a police detective in Texas one of his cases still has in question what kind of evil humans are really capable of by crest old razors originally from Ireland as was my father and his ancestors originally they were among the wealthiest people in the country until the damn blight hit

After its rampage, my ancestors slowly moved from poverty into what I'd say is upper-middle class to the lower part of the upper class. Not really rich, but enough to indulge in expensive things like boats and art. Tired of the constant harassment from the English folk in his hometown, and in Britain itself where he frequently visited to do business. He moved to the United States in 1948. He originally served in the Second Great War, and was a hero amongst his comrades, saving their lives on the likes of Nazis and Japanese forces. After serving there he settled in Massachusetts,

where he got a job at a police station about a half mile from Worcester, which only accepted him because he was a smart ass and could easily tell if someone was lying. There he worked on several cases, even on the infamous Wadi Bulger case. However, he got bored and soon moved down south, to a relatively decent-sized town, about an hour from Dallas. There he was one-off, if not, the best on the force you would always wear a dark suit jacket white brown leather pants dark shoes to fit with a blue tie his green eyes dark brown hair tall and slightly muscular build were enough to make you question if you should even spit at him but well I'm getting off track so one night when he was finishing

his paperwork he received a letter from a man named Emil Powers Emil told him in the letter that his daughter was missing and attached with was a sketch of the abductor, or what looked like it, till morning, he thought to himself. When his boss Mr. E arrived at the office, he immediately told him about the letter. Despite not having a good relationship with Mr. E, my father could tolerate him. E was a notorious supporter of segregation and discrimination, which my father hated with all his heart and soul, since he'd experienced it firsthand in England, and even in Texas. While son, there's ain't nothing like I ever seen since I was a small fella.

Why don't he put it aside and focus on another case? One regarding, not damn folk, he said. I prefer this case, my father answered. Mr. E knew there was no change in my father's mind. He was a lot taller and not willing to take any of his sheds. But still, he stood firm. You fuckers are all. is so firm like stone.

That's why I like you, and why you got the job. He ain't willing to back down, even if the odds are against you, 99 to 1. Well, if I said no, he had to suit my ass. I'm not willing to take that chance to an Irish drunk bastard. Mr. E shrugged. My father could take it. He'd been called worse. Instead of saying anything back, he just stared blankly at him.

I shall do as you wish. I work on that case when you're complete with your other. "'Hall get the hell out of my office before I occurred you a pitcher,' Mr. E shouted. "'My father, from now I will call him Liam, our family's most common name, left the office and sat at his death. He began his work on a disappearance of a 14-year-old girl who'd vanished seemingly without so much as a trace just days prior to him joining the police. Attached was a sketch of the person who was supposedly responsible for the disappearance. Little did he know that what he was dealing with was the work. of a madman or as others say a serial killer Liam worked day in and day out up at 4 a.m.

leaving at 11 p.m., never wishing to be late and always giving us good night hugs while we slept like logs outside the cabin waiting to be chopped and hoared into the burning flames that keep humanity warm. His reasoning was that I never sleep so neither should he. I wanted to let him sleep so I could take care of his work but he told me to follow my own dreams. I knew I couldn't convince my old man, so I let him be. One day he came across a link between his previous case, the one involving the 14-year-old girl's disappearance, and Emil's letter.

He noticed that both of the victims described in the cases were last seen near telephone poles and the sketches of the supposed abductors were eerily similar. Both had the same nose, same hairstyle, shoulder-length, had a green 1963 Chevrolet pickup truck and eerily similar license planes, with the last number being either a five, six, or nine. Maybe it was just another coincidence, like he'd received several times, but, well, this was all too similar. He drove out to Emil's address and not on the door.

A skinny, slightly shorter than my father, a freaking American man, came out and asked Liam what he wanted. Is Mr. Emil Power's home? I'd like to speak with him, he asked. Why the hell he'd go with someone like you? You're white folk. Why, and black folk ain't supposed to be among nothing? The man responded. Well, I didn't know that. I'm not from around here, sorry.

Liam Ansitz. Then where are you from, boy? He asked. Ireland. Moved here to escape harassment, but seems it's here too, Liam said. You ain't seen nothing yet.

Worse yet to come. "'Ah, excuse me if I burst your bow. "'Emmel, get your ass downstairs this goddamn minute. "'Some person here wants to speak,' the man shouted. "'Come in, Darius,' a voice, likely Emil, said. "'Sudely a man roughly Darius' height came rushing down the steps. "'He carried his suit jacket in one arm and papers in the other. "'Oh, sorry, I had to get some paperwork done for my daughter's funeral.

"'You must be with a police squad,' Emil asked. I am sorry for your loss. I'm here to discuss the letter you wrote. Well, was she last seen, as in her location? Liam asked. Berkley's, near the post office. Told her to get me some chips for a barbecue we was going to have. I waited for about an hour, since there's a lot of flavors there.

Don't take her an hour to choose, so I thought she was saying hi to her friends or at their house without my knowledge. So when I called, they told me she wasn't there. said someone who claimed to be a relative garter but then went the opposite of this place amiel answered Liam asked several more questions but i could never remember them he thanked amiel and left he headed to his office and sat down with the new information he'd received placed both cases on his desk side by side Liam looked at the cases papers upon papers of the case files descriptions backgrounds and other unimportant things that didn't matter to him. He worked until he fell asleep at his desk.

Around 8 a.m., he was woken up by his boss. Ah, the fuck are you doing sleeping on the job? he shouted. Sorry, sir. Lost track of time from working too late. He replied. You tell that to me when I lose track of your goddamn paychecks, Mr. Eastbat. Liam said nothing. Just went back to reading the cases.

But trouble was brewing for him, so he decided to visit a meal again and the other family the Antoninos first he visited emil at his workplace a diner named V's oh you again what'd you offer me can't you read the sign emil asked Liam looked at the sign reading color only I mean it was still the mid-60s and the Civil Rights Act was still months away I don't care for science just words also those folks wouldn't want a drug like me Liam smirms "'Are you, sir, a strange fellow. Surprised you don't go for the whites-only places,'

the mill said. "'I've never done so. Most people treat me differently because I have a different bloody voice.' Liam added. "'Ah, damn, son. "'What can I get you?' He realized. Just a cheeseburger, fries, coke, and a chocolate milk sheet.

He answered. "'All right, coming right up,' the meal replied. As the food was cooking, Liam took out his notebook and pen. I have some questions. First one. I was the last number on the license plate that supposedly took your daughter. From what I could gather, the number seems to be a five, six, or nine.

I need to know what the number is. Liam asked. I don't know nothing. What I could tell, some man who saw the whole damn encounter, saw the plate and said the number was a five. Some other who saw it and said it was a six. And there's my brother. He said it was a nine. That's what I think.

It's a fire from what I've made out, Emil Anson. He placed the food in front of Liam. He began eating. So, uh, don't eat a lot of fast food. Give me a last. Not really. I usually eat my sandwich around this time, but, well, Judy brought me here.

Liam answered. It looked around to see other people coming in. Emil, why you let white folk in there? The man asked, I'm here on official business. Now, do any of you know anything about the disappearance of his daughter? Liam replied. The place went silent.

No one made a sound. The people all looked at each other, and then one man stepped forward. I do remember one thing. I was doing some yard work with my parents. Remember when I was getting some water from the holes in the back of the house. There's a road there, and one in the front. when I was done I heard an ear pierce and scream after I dropped my bucket I saw the truck which is where you got the description from I should get a single photo before the truck sped off

after that I called the police but they said it was nothing the man said well that can do some good Liam added he left after finishing his food and soon went to the Antonino's house After knocking on the door, a short Italian man came to open. What I do for you? He asked. Is Anthony home? Liam asked. Yeah, he's here.

Boy, get your ass to fuck down here this fucking instant. You're going to see Mars. The man yelled. See, Papa. Another man's voice said. And he stumbled down the stairs. Ah, great, another drunk. Go to hell, piece of shit.

Anthony sighed. I'm only going to ask you some questions. Now, where were you when your sister was taken from this place? Liam asked. Don't know. Why don't she ask my fist? Anthony asked. Hey, the man, his father, spat.

Fine, I'll answer. I was out with some friends just chilling at Vitos. All of a sudden, we got ourselves some tough guy who wanted to take us for some fun. He says no, but he insists we do. About several minutes of this, shit, he snaps and drives off and takes off towards my place. I thinks he don't want to go to my place, but a big fucking mistake. As soon as he get back, the sister's gone.

Trugled the same as the one I saw at Vito's, as Pabbs described it, Anthony explained. Did neither of you see the license plate? What was the last number of it? What I saw was a six, the father, Will, answered. I saw as a nine, Anthony said. oh thank you for your time if you have anything more please contact me as Liam left Anthony flipped up his middle finger Irish trash he shouted Liam just shrugged his head he drove home to continue his work in his office as he turned left right then left again

onto the street near his noticed something from the corner of his eye he pulled over and saw the truck battered and lying in a ditch behind several trees. Damn, how the hell did I miss this? He asked himself. He called Emil to tell him of the truck's location. I'll be there in the morning. It's late. Maybe this can lead to my daughter.

God, I hope so, he said. The next morning Emil arrived and saw the truck. My God. Will and Anthony were then called. Anthony was soon flooded with memories of that night. The man from the restaurant was called and was brought before the truck. Both remembered it and correctly identified it as the truck that they'd seen. The only question is, who owns it or who stole it? Emile asked.

Well, I'll work on that now, Liam replied. Thank you. I owe my life to you, pal. Amil added. I can ask for you if I need you, like Batman and Robin, Liam said. He drove off to find out who owned that particular green truck. It would take him a great many weeks to find the one. Emil went back home and decided to explore the woods behind his house. He took his shotgun and ventured with his dog into the forest.

As Emil read it his gun, his dog barked loudly, so Amil left his gun in a spot. He ran over to the canines' howling, tripping over twigs, fallen branches and other things on the Texas forest floor. What the hell you barking at, Harvey? What's... Jesus Christ, Amel shouted. What is it, hon? His wife Susan asked. Come see this.

Susan wept and screamed as soon as she saw the bodies in the trees. The police took the decomposed blood so it remains to the autopsy room. There, they were identified as Emil's long-lost daughter, Francine, and Will's daughter Viviana. Both bodies show sign of cuts and blonde forced trauma. It was concluded that they'd been killed by blood force. Their bodies appeared to have been placed there, so the location of the actual killings was unknown. Liam was caught in, and he immediately knew that this was the work of a madman.

Liam soon arrived at Amel's house. He barge passed him with a force like that of a train hitting an elephant. He quickly arrived in the woods and saw the tree where the two bodies had been found. There were still bloodstains on the bark of the tree. Liam put his fingers on the bark, the blood seeping onto them. Oh, Jesus, he said. Whoever did this is a freaking monster. I want his damn head on a spy, the meal shouted.

The police who were there looked at Liam, wanting him to think of something quick. He, analyze this. I'm going to a car dealership, one that sells these, he said. He looked inside the truck. for anything useful. There was next to nothing in it, except for some receipts, a knife,

a 22-caliber handgun, had another paper that had faint words, barely readable, saying Fabio's Garage, or that's what he thought he saw in it anyway. He drove to Fabio's Garage. He exited his blue 1965 Ford Mustang and approached the owner,

the aforementioned Fabio. How can I help you today? Fabio asked. Do you perhaps know of someone who bought a green 1963 Chevrolet pickup truck, he asked. Sorry, had several people buy the same damn truck. Can you be more specific, eh? Fabio replied. Liam held up the license plate,

which he'd secretly taken from the back since the front was buried in the dirt. Hmm, yeah. I believe that was given to Andre Hopkins. Never thought he'd be caught in this shit fest, Fabio added. Look, I'm sorry for it's disturbing you. I know this is a lot. Liam says. Then he left to find Andre.

Andre lived in a run-down part of the city. Liam approached and knocked on the door. Police. Open up, Andre. I just want to talk. He said, knocking on the door violently. No answer. So Liam knocked again.

Open the goddamn door, damn. Liam shouted. Fuck off. A voice shouted back. Andre, I just want to talk. tall. Father Mandman, Falka. The voice replied. Oh, Andre,

we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Liam shouted. Suddenly a large, overweight young man came to the door. His clothes were slightly tattered and covered in a red liquid. What hell you want? He asked. Andre, I just want to talk. Where were you when Emil Power's daughter

and William Antonino's daughter were kidnapped and killed? I was driving around after drinking. I had to pick up some folks and brought them to the forest for some bird watching, Andre answered. Who were the people you picked up? What was the forest lot? Young kids, both girls, had a fun time. Screamed down the way there, they were too damn happy. And what were their names?

Liam asked. Some Italian name and black girl. Francine did you put him in the tree? Liam R. Only for the bird watching. They wouldn't shut the hell up about going home, so I beat him. Oh, might have killed him. Can I come in?

Sure. Liam entered the next run-down apartment. There were beer bottles, pornographic magazines, and papers everywhere. He listened as André described his life. And then, as Andre held up a gun, He pointed it to Liam. You know, I just realized your voice sounds funny. You ain't from around here.

You're from out of the country. You know what? Folks like you deserve to go the fuck back to your home country. And with that, fired the gun at Liam, but mixed. Then began to grab a beer bottle, but was tackled by Liam before he could throw it. It's your damn filthy hands off of me, Andre shouted it. Audrey Hopkins were under arrest for the murders of Viviana Antonino and Francine Powers, along with attempting to assault a police detective.

Liam then pushed the sloppily dressed man into the back of his car in cuffs. He delivered him to the station where Mr. E. Spattered him. After several hours of interrogation, Andre was housed in the holding cell where he'd be transferred to a jail. He was finally brought to trial nearly two years later. My father told me all about this trial, but I fell asleep since it was so long and boring. Andre, according to my father, pleaded not guilty by cause of insanity, that the judge and jury weren't having it.

He was sentenced to a hundred years for Francine's murder, given the death sentence for Vivianas. As he was let out, he shouted at Liam, Will and Emil, swearing at all of them. For years, Andre sat on death row, awaiting. the time to meet his maker. But just three hours before he was scheduled to die by the chair, something came in. The federal government had just abolished the death penalty. Andre, along with the other death rowmates across the country, had their sentences commuted

to life in prison. Andre, being a dangerous offender, was given no chance of parole for a hundred years. Funny since that meant he would never get out. Nope, Andre would never get to accept. experienced the freedoms of other non-death row prisoners, like shopping, seeing family and all the other stuff. But one night, when my father was eating his dinner sandwich, he received word of something that would haunt him. A meal called him, and said the words that made my father drop his food, making it fall harder than Hannibal's elephants did when they fell trying to cross the mountains on the way to Rome.

Andrei Hopkins just escaped. Prison officials let him go shopping for his good behavior. He just vanished like a ghost, Emil said, so he was out. Not by him being released from prison, but because he had escaped. Now he was on the run and was lurking out in the shadows. Liam ran outside and panted,

looking around his property in hopes to catch this deranged motherfucker. He'd worked for weeks or months on end. to find and then get this psychopathic monster behind bars so that he wouldn't harm another hair on another soul. But now, he was out there, possibly looking for him. Right. Are you here? Come on, where are you?

He muttered to himself. When he was angry, no one would dare cross his path. If they did, they'd feel the wrath of God and his army coming down upon them like a heavy rainfall during a monsoon. He huffed, back into the house, decided then to go back to work. While working on the case of Andre's disappearance, he would hear strange noises from inside the house, thinking it was probably just his kids or his pets. He tried to shake it off, but what he would hear would nonetheless make him shudder.

Something or rather someone very familiar was inside the walls, waiting to strike him at the perfect moment. After several years Vandre being free and on the run, Liam continued the Hanfli. It was 1978 now and Liam started working on some unsolved cases from El Paso and Houston. Around this time I was only 20 and had moved away, not knowing what my father was doing since I didn't read the local paper or see him too often. He was always working even on holidays. Like a kid at a candy store he could just never stop. Liam was busy for filing his cases so he could focus on other things despite his frustration he was not willing to give in most of the squad including miss d had given up and said well Audrey had probably died or someone had

gotten to him one day after hours of working he went outside to get some son he didn't usually get much and the doctor had recommended he did so he wouldn't become like Dracula at only 56 He was upset by this, but soon realized that this would eventually lead to more grisly findings. Well, Emil was around and would also step into help. Now Mr. E, although not entirely for this, eventually let Emil help. He'd had a change of heart since reading the works of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King. And one night, as William walked along his back porch, he smelled something foul like a dead animal he went to investigate and track this smell they ought to let him to a patch of bushes when

Liam approached it he gasped there lay the body of a young boy looked to be about age six or seven he had bruises on his left arm and his right arm was missing William found it in a stream nearby emil contacted him to tell him he'd found the remains of another child in the woods or be at a different tree from where his daughter had been found. Liam called his police friends and they arrived within the hour. Liam was questioned and the houses were quickly searched. We're going to have to go somewhere. Hotel, maybe.

Fine. I just hope it's not for too long. His wife, maybe, answered. So they'd pack some things for a hotel and let the police do their work. Liam would go back and help, and he'd soon learn from the locals that more bodies of young men, women a man and more children have been found somewhere near the highway others in the forest and others nearer the houses only one of the family members of one of the victims came forward to help give a description of the killer now dubbed the texas killer leon would get his hands on the sketch

and noticed some odd details the way it was drawn it was similar to that of andre was he out there needing to be caught he was before he struck again a dirty son of a bitch William muttered so he drove for hours and hours on end not finding a damn trace of all right then we finally got home he heard the noise well the police had done their research in the house and had left Liam grabbed a knife from the kitchen he was ready ready to strike. Who's there? He asked. Nothing.

Just silence in the darkness in front of him. Then another creek came from inside the house. Hey, I ain't fucking around. Come on, coward, show yourself. With a loud thump, a man bolted towards Liam, pounding him to the floor before he began to shoot him. Andre, what the hell are you doing here? Liam asked. Might as well get me.

vengeance on you, Irish donkey, putting me away. You had some balls for that. Well, let me see you go to hell. Mavie had gotten out of the car and shrieked when she saw his face. Andre then bolted towards her, knocking her down and violently assaulting her. Liam tried to fight back. He was knocked to near unconsciousness. Andre had soon dragged Mavy into the bedroom and had begun to rip her clothes off. He then had to fight back. He then had to fight back. He then, he had knocked to near unconsciousness. tried to force himself upon her as she cried out violent hot tears of fear. Liam was next to passing out and with all his remaining strength he called Emil and Will and told them to come to the house and also to call the police. Amil did so and then he arrived at the house with a shotgun while Will

came with a butcher's knife. Get the fuck away from her you dirty ass pig! Amil shouted. Andre ran past Emil, knocking the gun from his hands. He then found one of Liam's pistols and grabbed it. And then he ran. He left the building and made his way to a neighbor's house, where he broke in and grabbed hold of their kid. He came out slowly, with the gun aimed at the kid's head. You fuck us.

You bring me back to prison. Do it. Oh, this kid makes his maker. Andre shouted. Then Liam limped out, gun in hand. Don't shoot a kill. shoot to injure, you hear that? I want this bastard alive.

Liam ordered as the police arrived. Please, sir, don't. The boy cried. Look, this doesn't have to be like this, Andre. Let him go. Liam begged. So he can go back to his perfect family? No.

Hey, never had that chance. My father was a fucking pig. No job, he drank, he was so abusive. I wanted that old man dead. I got my wish when he got the chair. I never have a happy life. So why should others? Look, not all families are perfect.

No family's perfect, not even mine, hell. I spent most of my time hunting for you. Well, he got to say hello to my children, Liam answered. Yeah, still better than what God gave me. He fucked me over too many times, and now I repay the favor by doing the same to him. See how he likes it. Liam lowered his pistol, placed his hands on his hips.

But Andre wasn't having it. He shot the boy ahead. No, Emil shouted. Liam ran towards Andre, who by now fled into the woods. He fired and so did Andre. It wasn't until Andre had either lost his breath or tripped over a branch that he was caught. He heavily resisted, and so had. had to be subdued and he eventually was caught and arrested at the separate trials he

pled not guilty to all of the counts he eventually was charged with 12 counts of murder five counts of attempted murder two counts of kidnapping seven of rape and two counts of escaping the law in the end he received nine death sentences three life sentences four twenty year sentences eight ten years sentences and six five year sentences He just smiled when he heard all of this. When it came to the life and death sentences, though, he wailed and wailed. In the end, some of his death sentences were commuted to life, reducing the number of death sentences to only five. He spent several more years on death row, always denying his guilt.

He would file for appeal several times, but would be denied every single one. Then the day came. April of 1997, and my father asked me to come with him. I obliged, being the decent son that I am. Andre's last meal was a cheeseburger, a french fries, a Coke, and a chocolate milkshake. Just like my father had had when he was at a meal. Why did you choose to eat that? Liam asked.

Simple. Because you did. Andre answered, smiling an evil grin. Why have all people me? Liam asked. Did you not see me? I was there at Emiles when you were questioning him. It was in the window.

He had every chance to catch me. Said no to it. So tell me, Irishman. Are you really the genius you think you are? Because you'd have noticed me. Andre answered, smiling his evil smile once more. Hey, time to go, Hopkins, the guard said. Andre took his last shower and spoke with a priest.

We weren't allowed to hear the words due to confidentiality and because he told us not to. My father myself, along with the victims' families, Emil, some of Andre's family, and Will and Anthony all gathered in the watching room. As the curtains were drawn, Andre lay on the gurney, flat and motionless, completely drained of any emotion.

Andre Hopkins, you've been tried, convicted, and sentenced to death by the state of Texas for the murders of it. He began to list the names of the victims. I couldn't remember most. Only some like Taylor Pearl, Kendrick's Henderson, and Faith Sylvia. If you have any last words, the chaplain asked. I know what I did was right. God always told me to piss off, so I told him. to do the same. Come to think of it, I'm a sinner. I've caused hell for everyone, and I deserve to

suffer because of it. I hope I can go in peace, knowing I'm no better than a street rat. Andre said, crying, and in conflicting tones, no one could really know if he was sorry at all, or if he was just faking it to get his death sentence commuted so that he'd have a chance to escape and kill more kids. As the injection process began, his eyes rolled back and he lay stone cold, not moving. He was pronounced dead at 7.15 p.m. The warden said this was one of the fastest executions, as they usually take hours. But after that, my father and I hugged. Then we left that godforsaken prison and headed back to civilization.

My father went on to live until 2017, to the right of the right of the right of the right. ripe old age of 96. Amil lived until he was 92 in 2019, well made it to 87. He died about a decade or so after Andre had. Anthony, Emil's son Henry and I live relatively close to one another, and we're all still friends. Since then, I haven't talked about Andre to anyone, though. I prefer to keep that memory locked away for when my kids get older. Maybe it's best if I never tell Thank you so much for taking the time to listen to this story today. It really means a lot to me and to the author of the story, of course. Well, if you want to know more about me, I'm pretty much everywhere on social media.

You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, you can download my music on SoundCloud. I've got a Patreon if you feel like, throw me a dollar or two. Very much appreciated. And of course, on Reddit, I have a place where you can leave stories if you want me to read one that you've written. Well, hoping to see you all again very soon. Till then, sweet dreams. Bye-bye.