by Tilty Edin
"All I want to know is why did you spare my life?" she asked.
He took a large swallow and wiping the pulpy juice from his upper lip. "Maybe because a part of me loves you, Leanne.”
She trembled.
He smirked, lighting a cigarette. "And maybe that part always will," he said.
He appeared so calm on the outside, but she could see rage in his eyes. It was spewing, fast and dangerously.
She bolted out the door and sped out of the driveway, blinking continuously to rid the tears out of her eyes so she could see the road.
39
6:30pm
Leanne parked someplace in the middle between her apartment and her parents’ house on a large grocery store lot, blankly watching people walk in and out of their cars, but it wasn’t busy enough to distract her for any amount of time, no matter how small.
When do I call the cops? How do I tell them?
She lowered her head and pretended she was in a phone booth. “Hello,” she whispered quietly between sobs. “This is Leanne Sage Robinson. I have just found out my ex-boyfriend is a serial killer. Probably the one that’s killed Aria Moore...and others. He prolonged my existence because we happen to be in love, but I didn't know this was happening officer. I sware. I never saw it comming.”
She shook her head, wiping away more tears.
Hell, that won’t do.
“Hello officer," she said again. "I wish to remain anonymous right now. On 115th St there’s evidence of a serial killer. Human skulls, boxes of blood and body parts. I would highly suggest an investigation. It might do the world some good."
She shrugged, biting her lip.
If Tod could murder all those women and secure a loving romantic relationship with me at the same time, who knows what else he’s capable of?
She covered her face with her hands, gasping in tears, listening to the light rainfall.
The man I loved so much is a serial killer. How many more times do I have to tell myself before I can believe it? How will I tell Dad, Mom, Jean, Uncle Tuck, and Tracy? Would they even believe me?
She tried to imagine the first person crazy enough who would. And it just so happened that the first person who popped into her head also had a readily available gun.
Uncle Tuck.
All the needed now was a plan. And a solid one.
She winced. "God damnit," she cried, clenching her fists and punching the steering wheel.
And I already miss him so fucking much.
40
7:00pm
Tod counted the hours from when Leanne left in a panic. He had formed into some sort of lifeless and empty being since she walked out of the door. He couldn’t think of murdering. He couldn’t think of her. He couldn’t think of anything until he noticed an unusual car resting a few houses down from his very early in the morning.
He lit a cigarette. “Maybe she called the cops already,” he muttered under his breath.
His body went numb and cold. His thoughts slowly turning into foggy clouds with no meaning.
He glanced out the window again. The unusual car still sat there under the lamp light. No one was in it as far as he could tell. No one was after him.
Well, I can’t just wait here with my hands up.
His eyes twitched.
He walked up to the picture of his father in the dark. "I ruined her life," he said to it. "All her sense of trust, all her sanity. Something people like me take for granted. She already had problems with the world. Boy, did I really turn things around for her, didn’t I? Just like how you always said you were my father when you were only my grandfather."
He violently took the picture from the fridge and ripped it.
"What a fucking lie. But doesn't the world run on them, Pawpaw?"
She thought she would be known for dancing and modeling, following a dream she could live happily without, But now. Now she has another entire thing coming. She'll be plastered on the papers alright. One way or another. The only thing she’ll be known for is the girl who got a way, if she even does God help her.
He walked over to his window and looked into the dark night. He took out another cigarette. "I would never kill her," he thought outloud.
But although her heart is still beating, I might already have.
He put on a jacket, grabbed a few things and quickly head out the door, eyeing the strange car still parked up the street all the while.
Into the early hours of dawn, he wanted to call Leanne, ask her if she were alright and what she’d done so far in trying to persecute him, but only found a cop car settled on the sidewalk of her apartment, waiting.
He laughed, rolling up his window after tapping off the ashes from his cigarette. He swerved away before the cop had even noticed he was ever around.
One way or another, he wasn’t going to make getting caught that easy. He couldn’t. Not with something left unfinished, such as a more in depth chat with Leanne, and if she wasn’t in her apartment, it didn’t take much guessing to figure exactly where she’d be.
41
9:30am
Leanne tossed and turned advice the cops gave her in her mind as she drove off.
If you don’t want to tell anyone just yet, and you don't want to stay at the station where we highly advise you to go, then go to the safest place you feel possible. Stay there by the phone. Lock all the doors; tell whoever you’re with what is going on and whatever you do, don't go anywhere alone.
She doubted it was the right choice to not give out her name, but she did give out her apartment building where she assumed they could catch Tod if he wasn't home. Going to her parents about the grim situation was out of the question. There's no way her mother with onset dementia could handle the devastating news without keeling over, and if she saw the look of sheer horror Leanne wore on her face now, she’d have a heart attack.
The further she drove along the familiar, serene winding roads to Robinson’s, the more at ease she felt despite the devastating circumstances and all the heat rising in the breezeless air. This was all she needed.
The cops were be after Tod. When they catch him he can''t hurt me anymore or anyone else.
But the feeling of surpassing him went fast over her, especially when Robinson's came into sight. The sun was well lighting the sky by then. Flowers needed to be tended too. The shop should've been open but there wasn’t one car resting in the parking lot. Not even Tucks truck and they usually get there by 5 in the morning. It was already 8.
She parked in the lot and ran up to the sign. It read,
Out to a meeting
Will return at noon
Leanne’s eyes wondered to the clear skies.
"A meeting?"
She slapped her head and gasped.
"Tod’s boss," she said. "They went to go look at the new rental space. They must have."
She searched her pockets.
I didn’t even bring the damn key.
Her face swelled a rose color. She tried opening the door, getting herself nowhere but more frustrated.
Then she heard a car rolling down the dirt roads from far off.
She stiffened.
Was just a customer passing by at the break of dawn? It certainly couldn't be Jean and Tuck returning early, could it?
She swallowed warm air drying her perspiring face. She couldn’t bring herself to try and look at whatever vehicle was coming by. A car no doubt. That's all she knew.
Without thought, her legs guided her towards the back of the shop. She tugged on the back door. It wouldn’t budge. She pulled hard on one of the bricks sinking into the dried up mud. When it finally loosened and was grasped firmly in her hands, she chugged it at the window.
It shattered.
The sound of a car door slammed from the front of the building came seconds after.
She trembled, plucking and smashing out more glass, but someone was already behind her, stepping loudly in the foliage.
Before she knew it, callused hands violently p
ulled her back, held her to the ground and tied her arms and legs with a thick rope.
42
10:45am
Tod kept his eyes steady on the dirt roads.
Leanne sat limply, tied together by rope and seatbelts.
They’d been driving around aimlessly nowhere for an hour or two, further and further away from Robinson’s, her family, the cops, everything. It wasn't hard to spot objects around the car she could free herself with. There were shears, crowbars, knives and small saws. Things she would never think twice of whenever she saw them. He was a handy, maintenance man and a doctor in the making after all.
She attempted to reach for them many times. The rope was just too tight. She tried wiggling, stretching it out, bitting, but it only seemed pointless and tiresome in the stiff heat of the car.
She tried not to sound desperate in any way. “Where are we going?" she finally asked.
He lit another countless cigarette. "I don't know, really," he said. "But, I think, all we both need is a little drive, so I'm trying to find a nice spot we can sit and talk about this properly. We can’t do that in handcuffs or behind bars, can we?” His voice cracked. “I just want a better ending for us. I think we both deserve that at least.”
She grimaced. “Untie me Tod."
“Listen, you wouldn’t be here had you not came to my house without my okay and prodded into my stuff," he said. "I just wanted some time to at least explain to you the truth so you don’t have to go on wondering and hating yourself." He shrugged. “Christ, I messed things up, Leanne. I know I did. You see, I was lost in some sort of spell that you put me under."
"Don't even try to blame me, Tod," she said. "I won't buy it. I can't."
"Just listen," he said. "I always knew how wrong it was for me to even try to experience loving you. I just want you to know, that that part of me was real and still is. I still love you Leanne. Out of all the things I'll lie about, I will never lie about that. The only times I’ve ever lied to you is when I was trying to keep you safe away from myself.”
She cried softly. “Don't you think that's too much to ask of yourself?"
His hands trembled at the wheel. “Maybe," he said. "I guess it didn't hurt to try."
"You killed the waitress, didn't you?"
"What do you think, Leanne?"
She bit her tounge.
"But I want you to know that part of me has nothing to do with you," he explained. "What I do, it's an addiction. Just like anything else. Like pills, booze, cigarettes. Some people are even addicted to cleaning, or coupons or mowing the lawn for Christ’s sake. It could be anything. You can get addicted to anything. It just turns out I got addicted to taking lives."
"It doesn't matter," she said. "You take lives that can't be replaced."
He tossed the cigarette to the wind. "My mind is wild," he said. "It does the unthinkable before I even get a chance to stop it. But I do love. I do love too. And that. That's what makes me a monster."
Tears streamed down her swelled face.
"The sick part about it all is that when it started," he said. "I accepted that part of myself, because, as a matter of fact, I think a little bit of lust for murder is in everyone by design. It's a part of us by natural circumstance.”
She rested her head against the back of the passenger seat, watching his unmoved eyes through the rearview mirror. When she'd hope to see wetness, a tear, something, anything. She saw nothing, just a dull, glassy green. Lifeless.
But he said, “I'm sorry Leanne. I'm so, so sorry.”
She didn't understand.
Silence sat with them for a while as the highway wind rushed in.
His feeble, shaking hands turned the dial on the radio, passing some fuzz. He stopped at the first song, barely audible the further out they drove. It was Dusty Springfields, the look of love.
He turned it off and continued driving, still faced as he went on chain smoking.
Everything they weren't, and everything Leanne once believed could have been, was so far away from them now, no matter how coincidentally the song played or how bright the sun shinned.
She needed to do something, but all that was free was her wordless mouth.
She licked her dry lips. “We can still figure this out,” she whimpered almost inaudibly. “It’s not too late.”
"How?" he asked. "With the police riding up my ass."
"Relax," she said. "Take a deep breath. Breathe."
He shrugged. “I am breathing," he said. "Unfortunately enough."
"Just forget everything," she said, her voice filled with a sudden hope and optimism. It swirled around the car like smoke. "Let go of it all.”
"Ever considered being a therapist?" he asked. "Or work for a suicide hotline? I think you'd be good at that."
She said nothing.
"Truth to be told, there's nothing much for me to let go of," he admitted. "I don't really mind what I do, to be very honest, Leanne."
She couldn't believe it. "None of it at all?" she asked.
"Sometimes it bugs me," he said. "It certainly gets in the way of things. I mean, life would be easier if I didn't kill people from time to time, but it keeps me going. Life wouldn't be as worth it if it didn't get a little violent."
"How does it make you feel?" she asked, much more calmly than her face had expressed.
He turned his head a few ways, as if looking for a place to park. "There's something about it," he said. "There's just something about seeing a person breathe for the last time. Seeing them take their last breath. Seeing every bit of conciousness leave their eyes. It makes you feel like God."
She gasped, looking out the window to gold plains and took a deep breath. "I guess we all hope," she said. "That when...people find out who we really are, we'll be accepted. Truth to be told, you've been all I ever wanted the moment I met you. You were like an angel to me. And now, I finally know who you really are...All it really took was a few months to feel like we've been together for years." She paused, glancing into his eyes again from the rearview mirror. She could have puked at the way butterflies in her stomach still fluttered, rising with damp wings after a severe rainstorm.
"And it took just a moment," she said. "At a lonely table to make me feel as if I knew you forever."
She lowered her head, staring at the steel crowbar on the floor just beside her feet. The one he had bludgeoned someone with. The one that had seen and made home to flesh and smashed brains. Her imagination had no limits at the sight of it.
"These are the moments I doubt souls exist," she said. "That there are only coincidences. That no angels watch over us. Soul mates aren't anything but a silly story to explain the naturally occurring phenomenon of chemicals racing through our heads."
She could see crinkles appear beneath his eyes. "But who is to say those chemicals in itself are far more complicated, far more mysterious and complex than we know?” he asked.
"And they could be," he said. "But there is no one watching out for the unfortunate."
She winced.
He lit another cigarette. "I would know," he said.
"Just let me go!" she screamed.
"Calm down."
"Please," she cried. "You have to let me go."
He bit his lip. "Would you believe me if I said sometimes I feel like the victim?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you've suffered plenty!"
"Being a serial killer is a disease," he said. "You catch it and you can't get rid of it. The symptoms, once they start, are pretty impossible to stop."
"So what? I'm going to die tonight, aren't I?" she asked in despair.
"There's nothing in the world like killing someone," he said. "Sometimes it triggers something in your mind that lets out this release. There is no high like killing. I hate to be so brutally honest, but these are words coming from what society would call a corrupt man, but you know what? I'm everywhere."
"You wonder why it's the creepy men that kill more than woman?" he asked. "Maybe it's no
t because of all the testosterone, our strengh and some sort of hidden violence in us. Maybe it's just because of what's handed to us. There's a sort of violence in it."
"Well why the fuck can't you just hand it back?" she asked.
"There's a hunger for it," he said. "It's the itch on your skin in the middle of the night. The violent thoughts, they just keep on returning even when you try to block them out. You see violence everywhere. Especially in sex, and all you can ask yourself is how can you make this even more violent than it already is? How can I fully satisfy this craving just in hopes I can bring it to some kind of a Goddamn end? It just happens. You start getting into some bad things, lost in some strange ideas that occur overtime. Through sex, geniunely. It cannot be hidden or denied. And once I'm locked up, there's already another boy looking at the same shit and then breaks free. It's a never ending cycle and it'll take years to overcome it until society cleans up it's act."
Sunlight beamed through the car. It brightly reflected off something near her and into her eyes. She squinted, moving away from the light to notice below her a small blade on the floor that she didn't notice before.
He exhaled smoke. “I’m just a sick bastard.”
She glanced out the window. "I don’t know if I should feel sorry for you, " she said. “It’s getting a little controversial in here. Especially when I’m tied up in the back of your car. You’re giving me no dignity here.”
He felt the dryness in his mouth. "I’ll take you back,” he said. “I’m just glad we’re having this talk. I do think we needed it to be clear.”
"If you want me to go on with the slightest belief that you loved me once,” she said. "Then take me back. Right this moment."
He drove off onto another dirt road and into a forest. By the time he parked in between trees, the wheels painted with mud.
"Since we’re here I should pick up some water," he mentioned. "There’s a gas station a mile down and I think we both need some. It’s so hot in here, and I'd rather not show my license plate, if you know what I mean."
