The Haunting of Secrets (8 page)

Chapter
Twelve

~ The Battle Within ~

I wake up in darkness. I’m sweating and have
no idea where I am. A loud scream comes from across the room. It’s
close. The sound excites me. I slowly rise from my perch in the
corner and make my way across the room. The floor is wet and cold
on my bare feet, but it only exhilarates me, makes me feel more
alive. I look down and see the knife in my hand, turning it over
and over again, the cold steel calming me. Up ahead a soft light
comes into view. Moving closer, I see her lying in the middle of
the bed. Her arms and legs are tied up and all she has on is her
underwear. She’s whimpering in her sleep. It’s music to my
ears.

Slowly, I make my way around the bed, careful
not to startle her just yet. I take my knife and use it to caress
the area between her breasts, follow it down over her stomach, and
in one fell swoop, cut her lightly all the way to her navel.
Excitement bubbles up inside me; so much that I am afraid I will
burst at any moment from the sheer magnitude of it. She awakens
with a start, as she is finally alerted to my presence. Terror
fills her eyes as she realizes who has come to tuck her in. She
braces herself for what she knows is coming, but doesn’t struggle.
I grow angry since she’s not giving me what I want, to see pain and
terror in her eyes. Well, no worries. I can make her feel
terror.

I hold out my knife and show it to her as I
begin moving it back and forth in front of her eyes, making damn
sure she can see the instrument of her destruction. I bring the
knife closer and closer to her face, watching her eyes follow its
path. Her eyes are wide and afraid as they follow the point of the
knife until I move it lower and lower, pricking her just below her
right eye. I’m fascinated by the way the blood cascades down her
face in a serpentine pattern. She winces and lets out a muffled cry
of pain laced heavily with fear. My reward is the terror that pools
in her eyes. I put the knife over her stomach and raise my hand
high for the blow. I wait a few precious seconds for her to realize
what’s coming. When she screams, I plunge the knife into her
abdomen, careful only to go half way through. I shall not be denied
the pleasure, the power of my final act. Warm blood pools around my
right hand as I slowly withdraw the knife and wipe it on my shirt.
I wait until the blood loss relaxes her body before I lean in close
to her ear.

“That, my darling, was just the beginning.
Tonight, you will know the meaning of true pleasure.” What I didn’t
tell her was that the true pleasure was for me. After all, I’m not
a complete monster.

Chapter
Thirteen

~ Hell Hath No Fury ~

I wake up in my bed screaming and shaking
from the memory. A storm rages outside as I sit there sweating,
fighting the one inside, mentally willing the images of the memory
to go away. I quickly run to the bathroom and vomit, no longer able
to fend off the horrors still buzzing in my brain. Yesterday, I
welcomed the memories of this madman. Now, I only want them to go
back to hell where they belong. The clock shows that it is just
after two a.m. There is time for me to go back to sleep before
it’ll be time to get up and get ready to go to the new school, but
I don’t want to. I get my notebook from my bedside table, grab my
pen, and turn on the lamp. As much as I don’t want to do it, I
reach back into the current memory and write down every detail I
can remember. As with the other two memories, the girl had blue
eyes. Her hair was matted with blood, but I could still see it was
long and dirty blonde. I write down that the floor was wet and the
fact that there are definitely no windows, evidenced by the
complete darkness.

A half hour later, no new revelations have
surfaced so I decide to go down to the kitchen to make some warm
milk. I stumble along in the darkness, unwilling to turn on any
lights so I don’t wake Mary. Ever since the bombing and my coma,
Mary has worried so much about me that she rarely sleeps. Many
nights she’s downstairs on the couch cuddled up within a blanket
and the TV on to some show she never finished watching. I can’t be
certain, but I think that she feels sleep takes her away from her
job of watching out for me. Even though I’m sixteen, she still
thinks of me as a child. I can’t say that I mind at all since she’s
the only mother I have ever really known.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and see the
living room empty. Thankfully, Mary seems to have made it to her
bed tonight. I go through the living room and push open the door to
the kitchen. I’m about to turn on the light, when the lightning
illuminates something outside the double windows directly in front
of me above the sink. I move further into the kitchen to have a
better look out the window and crouch down a bit when I reach the
sink. At first, I see nothing, thinking it must have been all in my
mind. Fleetingly, I wish I had the power to see in the dark. So
much cooler than seeing memories, but then I remembered that they
had already invented night goggles so who would need a worthless
power like that?

My wandering thoughts are interrupted a few
seconds later when the darkness is again illuminated by the
lightning from the storm. There is no mistaking the outline of a
figure beside the old willow tree in the middle of our back yard. I
fall to the floor and put my hands over my mouth to stifle my
scream. I will the dark figure I saw to go away. Part of me wishes
that it was just Logan again, lurking out there, playing around
with me, just caring about my safety. But the irrational side of me
knows better. The side that holds the bastard’s memories is
practically humming. It can only be him out there stalking me,
waiting for me to make my move. From his memories, I can tell he’s
a planner. And he’s waiting for the opportune time to strike.

I am not a coward, but I am no Jack Bauer
either. Mary used to watch that show ‘
24
’ all the time and
if I was bored, I would watch it with her. That badass killed at
least a dozen people every episode. Most of the time he did it with
his bare hands; not to mention he did it in only twenty-four hours.
Having shunned all human contact for as long as I can remember, I
never did learn how to fight. I’ve never had the opportunity to be
brave. My first instinct is always self-preservation; running is
usually the best option.

Like always, the desire to flee consumes me,
but I’ll be damned if I’ll let that stop me this time. It isn’t
just about me anymore. There are others I love and a life, as
pathetic as it is, to protect here in this small town in the bowels
of Georgia. But before this former coward goes up against a
seasoned killer, I’m going to need a weapon.

As stealthily as I can, I crawl on all fours
until I reach the drawer that holds the sharp knives. I open it and
feel around as best I can for a weapon. I prick my finger on a
knife and wince from the pain. I am sure there is blood, but that
is the least of my problems right now. Finally, my fingers land on
the large cutting knife. I curl my fingers around the hilt, take it
out, and close the drawer. I take a deep breath for courage, stand
up, and walk to the kitchen door. My hand freezes as it grips the
doorknob, fear practically oozing from every pore. My palm is
sweaty and I’m second-guessing my decision to be courageous. Maybe
this is what the killer wants? Maybe he knows I’m a coward and
wants to lure me into a trap so he can kill me like he killed other
countless girls. Or what if he isn’t after me at all? What if it’s
Mary that he wants to kill, to punish me for absorbing his secrets?
The thought of Mary alone and helpless, sleeping, fills me with
anger. With anger comes courage. As irrational and stupid as it
might be, I have to go out there and face him; distract him so he
can’t go after Mary. I unlock the back door and step out into the
dark rain, the knife held in front of me like a sword.

“I’m here, you bastard!” I spit into the
darkness with uncharacteristic bravado as rain falls in sheets
soaking me through almost instantly. “Come out and face me!” I am
met with silence, but I’m not convinced he isn’t still out there
just waiting for me to get closer. Slowly, I make my way around the
yard to the tree where I saw the figure from the window. I hold the
large knife out in front of me, ready to strike at the first sign
of movement. The storm rages up above and rain pelts my face, but
I’m oblivious to it now. My only focus is staying alive and
protecting Mary. Finally, I reach the tree. My hand shakes from
gripping the knife too tightly. I shiver as I slowly make my way
around it, whether it’s from fear or the cold I don’t know. I have
almost reached the back. If he’s still here, this is where he would
be hiding. I decide to give him a surprise of my own. I close my
hand even tighter around the hilt of the knife, jump the final few
steps, and yell, “Hah!” hoping to catch him off guard. But all I
find is empty space. The dark figure is gone.

* * * *

A few short hours later, I managed to pull
myself together enough to be on time to catch a ride with Dejana to
our new school. As I sit next to her, we’re both quiet. Although
that isn’t so unusual for me, it is for Dejana. It is on the tip of
my tongue to ask her what’s wrong, but something stops me. After my
encounter last night with the killer, I just don’t think I could
handle anything else. As much as I want to be there for Dejana and
help her with whatever is bothering her, I have enough to deal with
in my own world right now. So, we sit together in companionable
silence, each of us unwilling to share our fears of what is to
come.

Up ahead, we see the abandoned high school we
will now call home. It resides on the top of a small hill
overlooking the city of Gainesville. As expected, it is a large
rectangular structure, two stories high with a fairly large
footprint. It has the abandoned look about it; peeling paint,
chipped concrete, and the landscape is overgrown. Still, most
students are grateful for the chance to come together again, almost
gleeful at the chance to start over and put the horrible bombing
behind them. Though I’ve always enjoyed learning, I can’t feel
happy about going back to school. Knowing there is a killer in our
midst and we are no closer to finding out his identity is a hard
truth to endure.

After Dejana parks, we make our way to the
front office to check in. As I walk, I look around at the bubbly
faces of my fellow students as they get off their buses and I envy
their ignorance. Though a few of them were in the cafeteria and
survived the bombing like I did, most of them are just innocent
bystanders happy to have some normalcy back into their lives. None
of them has to deal with awful memories of blood. And they sure as
hell shouldn’t have to face a killer. Worse yet, face a killer with
no face, no name.

Before the frustrations of my search for the
killer engulf me, I put my book bag over my shoulder and head into
the school. We were emailed our schedules with room numbers and a
map of the school last night. As we walk through the front door, we
see administrators, parents, and counselors all here to help us on
our first day back. Luckily, the layout of this building is very
similar to the one that we previously attended, so finding my first
period class should be easy. Before I head there, I turn to Dejana
and smile lightly hoping to reassure her. Even though I can’t find
the words to comfort or help her, she knows that we share the same
worries and fears. Dejana smiles back at me before we both turn to
head to first period together.

After four grueling periods of teachers
striving to be normal in a completely abnormal situation, I head
for the first time, to my newly assigned locker. It’s located
somewhere near the library in the dead center of school. I wade
through the crowds, careful not to touch anyone. I easily find the
D lockers, but it takes more time for me to find the number code of
the locker 1460. I am careful to avoid the other students as I go
down the row from the 1200s and make my way around to the 1400s. At
last, I see my locker near the end of a long corridor. Most
students have already headed to the cafeteria for lunch. Today, we
were given the choice to eat either in the cafeteria or outside,
the faculty noting that some students would feel scared or panicked
at being in a cafeteria again. I, for one, am extremely grateful
for the decision. I need to get away from all these people and
getting some vitamin D while I’m at it, couldn’t hurt.

I pull out the combination from my book bag
and slowly turn the face of the lock to open my locker. I turn it
round and round until I arrive at the last number and I hear the
click of the lock give way. I pull up the lever to release the
locker and open it up expecting to find empty space for my things.
Instead, I find a folded piece of paper laid neatly in the center
of it. Curious, I look around at the other open lockers in the
corridor. I see students putting their books and such in their
lockers. I don’t see anyone else open a piece of paper. I guess no
one else has a note inside. Thinking it may be a note of
encouragement for our first day back after the bombing, I open it
up and begin to read. My breath comes faster and faster as I read
the words on the page. Four simple words designed to instill fear
inside my very soul. The paper drops from my hand and flutters to
the ground. My lungs feel as if they’re filled with lead because I
can’t catch my breath. The roar of the intense pounding of my heart
fills my ears. I’m frozen, the safe world I have created here
crashes before my eyes with those four simple words:

‘I’M COMING FOR YOU
.’

Chapter
Fourteen