beautiful. Nobody ever seems interested in me.” I tipped my head ever so slightly forward as if to seem sad.
I felt a sharp pain but didn’t move as he placed his hand on top of mine on the bar. “Maybe you’ve just been waiting for me.”
I felt nauseated. My muscles wanted to flex and respond to his touch but I wouldn’t let them. The internal fight was almost painful as I took a ragged breath in. Looking toward him I saw that his face was excited and he took my response to mean, well, something much different.
I took a deep breath in, “Yes, maybe I have been.” I looked away quickly so as to seem shy.
“Well, do you want to get out of here, maybe go get something to eat?”
I looked up at him. It had worked, I couldn’t believe it, just as I had seen it in my dream. Could I go through with it and finish the way my dream did? “Okay, I guess,” still playing the part. He got up from the barstool and stood with his hand out. I didn’t trust myself to touch him, so I reached for my bag instead, clutching it to my chest. I turned to walk out the front door but he motioned toward the back door.
“My car is in the back, do you mind if I drive us?”
Is this what he does with all his victims? And they fall for it? We walked out the back door into the alley between the two buildings, and he motioned for me to walk down the opposite way from the street. The alley was not quite big enough for a car to fit without going through like a pinball machine, and there was nowhere to run… not that I wanted to. He followed behind me until we were at least forty feet away from the door, then he placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Wait,” he said in a throaty, urgent tone. “Stop for a moment.”
That’s when I felt it, an urge unlike any other. My shoulder where his hand rested felt as if on fire. I wanted to turn and dismember him, I wanted to hear him beg for his life. I turned and was startled when I saw him holding a knife.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Things happened so quickly. I remember standing in front of him staring at the knife, but then in a blur of movements I had disarmed him, the knife clattered to the ground, and I had taken control. Within a second, I saw myself standing over him holding him down by his throat. His eyes looked up at me in terror. What a turnabout this must be for him, I thought.
“Who are you?” he choked out.
What is it about his eyes? Why are they so familiar? “Who are you?” I did not release my grip but instead tightened my fingers around the curve of his throat so that I could feel his pulse for a split second and then it disappeared. “I could end you right now.”
“I’m J.J. I already told you that. Why are you doing this to me?”
Fascinating really… the feeling I was having. So many nights my heart raced as I walked down a dimly lit street at night, worried someone could attack me. But now… I wasn’t afraid of anything. My muscles ached to finish him. Then I saw it, the images so vivid in my mind… the women from my vision, the woman from the emergency room and then suddenly they shifted out of focus and visions of the kids from my school who were killed came forward. I tried to shake the images out of my head but was unsuccessful.
“What is your real name? J.J. is short for what?” I tightened my grip just slightly.
“John Jeffery,” he spit out.
“What is your last name?” I asked the question, but just as the words left my mouth I knew the answer. I could see the young boy’s face in the weathered one before me.
“Steele,” he sputtered out. My grip had gotten a little tight and I loosened it ever so slightly. I gasped.
“Why do you care?” he asked.
“We went to high school together, and I remember what you did.” His eyes were wide with awareness and fear.
“That was a long time ago,” he struggled to say.
“Not so long that I could forget it,” I barely got the words out of my throat.
“That’s what
I felt a sharp pain but didn’t move as he placed his hand on top of mine on the bar. “Maybe you’ve just been waiting for me.”
I felt nauseated. My muscles wanted to flex and respond to his touch but I wouldn’t let them. The internal fight was almost painful as I took a ragged breath in. Looking toward him I saw that his face was excited and he took my response to mean, well, something much different.
I took a deep breath in, “Yes, maybe I have been.” I looked away quickly so as to seem shy.
“Well, do you want to get out of here, maybe go get something to eat?”
I looked up at him. It had worked, I couldn’t believe it, just as I had seen it in my dream. Could I go through with it and finish the way my dream did? “Okay, I guess,” still playing the part. He got up from the barstool and stood with his hand out. I didn’t trust myself to touch him, so I reached for my bag instead, clutching it to my chest. I turned to walk out the front door but he motioned toward the back door.
“My car is in the back, do you mind if I drive us?”
Is this what he does with all his victims? And they fall for it? We walked out the back door into the alley between the two buildings, and he motioned for me to walk down the opposite way from the street. The alley was not quite big enough for a car to fit without going through like a pinball machine, and there was nowhere to run… not that I wanted to. He followed behind me until we were at least forty feet away from the door, then he placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Wait,” he said in a throaty, urgent tone. “Stop for a moment.”
That’s when I felt it, an urge unlike any other. My shoulder where his hand rested felt as if on fire. I wanted to turn and dismember him, I wanted to hear him beg for his life. I turned and was startled when I saw him holding a knife.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Things happened so quickly. I remember standing in front of him staring at the knife, but then in a blur of movements I had disarmed him, the knife clattered to the ground, and I had taken control. Within a second, I saw myself standing over him holding him down by his throat. His eyes looked up at me in terror. What a turnabout this must be for him, I thought.
“Who are you?” he choked out.
What is it about his eyes? Why are they so familiar? “Who are you?” I did not release my grip but instead tightened my fingers around the curve of his throat so that I could feel his pulse for a split second and then it disappeared. “I could end you right now.”
“I’m J.J. I already told you that. Why are you doing this to me?”
Fascinating really… the feeling I was having. So many nights my heart raced as I walked down a dimly lit street at night, worried someone could attack me. But now… I wasn’t afraid of anything. My muscles ached to finish him. Then I saw it, the images so vivid in my mind… the women from my vision, the woman from the emergency room and then suddenly they shifted out of focus and visions of the kids from my school who were killed came forward. I tried to shake the images out of my head but was unsuccessful.
“What is your real name? J.J. is short for what?” I tightened my grip just slightly.
“John Jeffery,” he spit out.
“What is your last name?” I asked the question, but just as the words left my mouth I knew the answer. I could see the young boy’s face in the weathered one before me.
“Steele,” he sputtered out. My grip had gotten a little tight and I loosened it ever so slightly. I gasped.
“Why do you care?” he asked.
“We went to high school together, and I remember what you did.” His eyes were wide with awareness and fear.
“That was a long time ago,” he struggled to say.
“Not so long that I could forget it,” I barely got the words out of my throat.
“That’s what
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