“You’re a . . . a serial killer?”
I bend down in front of her. “Is a hitman any better? But thanks for the idea. Perhaps I’ll start getting paid to do what I do.” I run my knuckles over her cheek, then grip her chin in my hand. “Analeigh, you didn’t have to end up here. You brought this on yourself. I warned you though, didn’t I?” I stand up and look down at Miguel. “And you. I won’t lie. I’ve wanted to kill you for a while now. I never planned it out, because I had my reasons for killing people, but the people who die at my hands don’t deserve to walk this earth. They’ve taken it upon themselves to do something to me that I didn’t appreciate, and I don’t appreciate what you did,” I say with a pointed look.
The transition is different now. I’m no longer concerned with keeping the darkness trapped in a cage that hides deep within my soul. I am the darkness. It’s just a flip of the switch. Lights out.
I pull a pair of latex gloves from my pocket and put them on, then grab the tape that used to be across Miguel’s mouth and clamp it over Analeigh’s lips. She struggles, shaking her head from side to side, screaming behind the gray tape. With the knife firmly in my hand, I run the blade from her chin down to her bare chest. I press hard enough that she feels it, but not hard enough that it cuts her skin. The steel makes its way over to one of her nipples, and her chest heaves with panicked breaths. “Don’t make this become more painful for you.” She nods frantically.
When I turn my back on her, I find that Miguel has moved. Not far, because he’s bound by the ankles, so he can only scoot. However, finding him inching his way towards the bedroom door bothers me.
“Where are you trying to go?” I ask, pulling him by the back of his shirt and flinging him back towards the couch. He opens his mouth, taking a deep breath in to prepare to yell, but my fist is faster, coming down on his jaw at lightning speed.
I find the cloth that was used as a gag earlier and shove it in his mouth, keeping it in there with my gloved hand. When I glance over at Analeigh, I find her watching us with tears falling from her eyes and muffled whimpers.
Without another thought, I focus my attention back on Miguel and plunge the blade into the side of his neck, right below his jaw where I know an artery lies. I keep the blade there as the blood begins to stream out like tiny red rivers, painting his tanned skin crimson. Extracting the knife, I watch as the life slowly seeps from his body as the blood begins to gush with each beat of his heart. When I let go of him, his body slumps to the side and blood continues to pour out, soaking the carpet.
As I get closer to Analeigh, her cries for mercy start again. I can’t make out her words through the tape, but I can see her pleading for her life with her eyes. She shakes her head from side to side repeatedly, trying to tell me not to do this.
I debate on whether I should talk to her. Any parting words wouldn’t make any difference, though. My mind is made up, and she ultimately forced my hand. When I sit down next to her with Miguel’s blood covering parts of my body, she begins crying even harder. I watch her pale skin break out in goosebumps and her body shiver like she’s been caught in a blizzard.
We make eye contact and hold it for just a few seconds before I bring the knife up and guide the sharp tip to the same artery. She’ll go fast. A minute or two is all it will take before she succumbs to her own darkness.
Breaking eye contact, I watch the blade penetrate the skin. Dark red drops squeeze around the steel before the crimson stream of blood pours out of the wound. I hear noises coming from her throat, but I keep my eyes focused on the blood trickling over her collarbone and falling between her tits.
The warmth of her blood coats my hand, and when the knife is pulled from the wound, the arterial spurting hits my arm. Her body goes limp as the spray and streams of blood continue to color her skin and the couch she sits on.
It’s unfortunate that it had to end this way—me taking her life, but I never promised a happily ever after.
Seconds tick by, and a clock somewhere counts them for me in the silent room. I watch her die before I get up and find some of Miguel’s clothes hidden in a laundry basket in the closet. After changing into them, I stuff my bloodied clothes in the sleeping bag I brought in. I cut the tape from their bodies since it may hold my fingerprints, and throw that along with the gag cloth into the bag as well.
With everything in hand, I walk to the front door and see Analeigh’s body out of the corner of my eye, slumped over the couch to my right. I don’t bother to look at her again, choosing to just walk straight out the door for the final time.
Eventually somebody will come and find them. Three days? Four days from now? Maybe just enough time for me to pack my stuff up and leave. California holds nothing but bad memories. Perhaps it’s time to move on.
THREE DAYS AFTER I killed Miguel and Analeigh, I pick up a newspaper from the gas station and take it home. As always, I watch the news constantly, but nothing ever comes up about them. Everybody at work assumes Miguel’s still out of town, but I don’t know what his family life is like and how long it’ll take before they report him missing.
I imagine people who work with Analeigh will go check on her soon. Well, if they care enough to do that. She clearly doesn’t have a good relationship with her dad, and since her mom took off a long time ago, I don’t think her family will be the ones to report her missing.
I spoke to my boss today and told him I’ll be leaving town. He questioned why I decided to up and leave so suddenly, and all I could come up with was that I was offered a job in Oregon that paid more. He huffed about it, but he can’t keep me here.
Nick still doesn’t know, but he’s coming over tonight and he’ll find out as soon as he sees that my house is almost all packed up.
In these last few days following Analeigh’s death, I’ve thought a lot about what my future holds when it comes to relationships. I think even some of the most fucked up people still seek love and acceptance from someone. Some serial killers are able to live two separate lives, carrying on with every day things like a respected person in the community while also having families, and then going out and killing people for the thrill or whatever their reasons are.
I never understood how that worked. I don’t know what kind of stress is put on their family lives, if any at all. My problem is, in order for someone to love me and have me be able to love them back, they’ll have to accept me for who I am. I don’t want to put on my mask every day when I leave the house, just to keep it in place when I’m back home.
Analeigh was never meant to be mine. Not only did she have a live-in boyfriend, but she had a lover on the side. She was a liar and a manipulator. She cared only for herself, and while I’m not the poster boy for morality, I can’t be with someone who lies and manipulates me. Do that to anybody else, but not me.
Nick knocks on my door, pulling me from my thoughts. I open the door and greet him by handing him a beer. “Hey.”
“Hey, thanks. Now this is a way to be greeted,” he laughs, taking the beer from me.
I lead him into the living room and wait for his outburst. I know he’s going to be pissed that I didn’t tell him sooner, but I didn’t even know I was going to leave until three days ago.
“You moving?” he asks, eyeing the boxes.
“Yeah,” I reply, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m leaving California.”
“What?” His voice drips with shock and his eyes stare at me with wide confusion. “Why?”
I take a sip of the beer. “It’s time to move on. I got a job in Oregon that pays better, and I just need a change of scenery.”
He shakes his head. “Is this because of—” He lets the sentence trail off, still not able to put into words what we did.
“No, Nick. It’s not because of that.”
“I’m so confused. Why so soon?”
I can only shrug and stare at him. I don’t have an answer that would make sense to him.
“Dude, I can’t believe this. You’re the closes
t friend I have. Especially after . . . you know.”
I grin at him. “I know. You’re the closest thing I’ve had to a friend my whole life. I know I’m evasive and don’t open up to people, but I always liked you, Nick. You always respected the space you seemed to know I needed.”
He nods, and though I’ll never admit to it, I’m sure he knew to respect my space because he always knew what I had done to Hump. He wouldn’t have been able to make that up, so I’m guessing I said too much one night, but he proved his loyalty by keeping it to himself.
“This sucks,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “Miguel will probably be happy, though,” he quips through a laugh.
I turn around and place the beer bottle on the counter and find my cigarettes. “Yeah,” I murmur.
“Did you tell Analeigh yet?”
I don’t answer until I’m blowing out the smoke from my first drag. “Ah. We cut things off a little while back.”
“Really? Why?” he questions, moving to the couch.
With the cigarette between my fingers, I use my thumb to scratch at my chin. “She was fucking two other people.”
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow. Is that why you’re moving?”
I bark out a laugh. “No. I’m not leaving because of her.”
Well, not in the way he thinks.
“Damn, dude. That sucks.”
“Shit happens,” I reply with another drag.
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow night, probably. I’m picking up the U-Haul later and will get everything I can in there tonight. I’ve already talked to a realtor about getting the house up for sale, and my utilities are scheduled to shut off in a few days, so I think I’m good to go.”
“Well, let’s stop drinking these,” he says, placing the bottle on the table. “I’ll come with you to get the U-Haul and help you get your furniture in there.”
“Thanks, man.”
And that’s how we spend the rest of the afternoon and evening. Nick is the only person who’s really proved that he’s a trustworthy friend. It’s a shame I’m leaving the only one I’ve ever had, but maybe one day I’ll be back. Even though he doesn’t know about everything I’ve done, he knows about Hump and he knows about his dad, and he never brings them up. He doesn’t question me about how I could do that, and he doesn’t act different around me. I appreciate that.
“How’s your mom?” I ask.
“She’s good. A lot better. Thanks.”
“She asking about your dad?”
“Once. The cops told her that they think he fled and will let her know when they find him.” He snorts and I crack a smile. They won’t find him. At least not for a while.
It’s nearly midnight when we finish. We didn’t load every piece of furniture into the truck, but I took enough to get me started somewhere new. I told my realtor that anything left behind can either go to the new owner or he can take it, sell it, or toss it.
After we finish off some leftover pizza we ordered earlier, Nick hops off the kitchen counter and grabs his keys. “Well, guess I should be heading home. Let me know when you’re leaving, and I’ll come see ya off.”
“Aww,” I joke. “How sweet of you.”
“Dick.”
“I’m kidding. All right. I appreciate your help today.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the least I could do.”
I walk him to the door and watch as he makes his way to his car. Right as he’s about to get in, both his and my phone go off. I hear the two different alerts ping at the same time.
When I pull the phone from my pocket and read the message, my skin heats up. It’s a group message between me, Nick, and Tim.
Tim: Holy fuck. Have you guys heard? Miguel was found dead today. He was with someone they’re calling his girlfriend. Ana something. Analeigh, I think. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. But holy fuck! They’re saying they were both murdered. Turn on the news. Someone call me! This shit is trippin’ me out.
I lift my head slowly, making eye contact with Nick as I lean on the door jamb. He stands there and watches me. Neither one of us react. We don’t say anything. I don’t go in the house, and he doesn’t leave. We just study one another—waiting.
The only thought I have is that I’m glad I never talked about my personal life with anyone at work. Nobody but Nick knows about Analeigh. That name won’t be familiar to anyone else.
After what feels like an hour, Nick finally makes a move. He closes his car door and walks towards me. I stand up straight and wait.
“You should probably leave now. Give me your house keys and I’ll take care of the rest of your stuff.”
I don’t even know how to respond, so I go inside, grab everything I need, and drop the house key in his hand as I step outside. “Thanks.”
Nick stares deep into my eyes and everything in his face tells me he knows it was me. Of course it was me. He’d be stupid to think otherwise, but once again he doesn’t question me. He only offers a helping hand. With a slight shake of his head, he says, “I’ll be in touch soon.”
I place my hand on his shoulder for just a second before I walk out to the U-Haul that already has my truck hitched to the back.
With a final wave to Nick, I disappear into the night and try to figure out where I should go. Oregon was never an option, only a lie I needed to tell people.
Ten minutes on the road and I decide to turn the radio on and listen to the news. I want to know what they’re saying about Miguel and Analeigh. Instead, I find out about traffic accidents, upcoming weather, and local events.
It isn’t until almost a half hour later when they begin talking about a homicide. I turn up the volume, but it isn’t about Analeigh and Miguel. It’s about Stanley Keen and Kathy Weber. Almost as interesting as the other two.
“You might remember hearing about the murders of Stanley Keen and Kathy Weber. Kathy was found in her home a week ago by her housekeeper, stabbed multiple times while she was in bed. Stanley was found in an ARCO gas station near University Parkway nearly two weeks ago, hidden behind the closed door of a women’s bathroom stall. Like Kathy, he too was also stabbed multiple times, but early toxicology reports are saying he had a high dose of methamphetamine in his system. He likely wasn’t aware of what was going on at the time of his death.”
I begin to tune out the voice, because I remember hearing about his death, but I’ve never been able to catch this many details. Two weeks ago at an ARCO gas station.
I was at an ARCO gas station near University Parkway two weeks ago. But I wasn’t alone. The strange girl with cupcake Band-Aids and a knife in her messenger bag was also there—in the men’s restroom, telling me the women’s restroom was a mess.
Interesting.
I DRIVE AROUND for a while trying to wrap my head around this theory I have. The girl I met in the men’s bathroom of a gas station, and subsequently fucked in my truck, was in the same bathroom where Stanley was found dead. I don’t know if he was killed after we left or if she was the one who killed him, but it’s quite the coincidence.
When she opened her bag in front of me, I did instantly notice the knife she had in there. Not only that, but I did see a plastic bag shoved down in the bottom. She could’ve changed clothes and had the bloody ones in the bag.
It’s not until I’m down by the college again that I even realize why I’m there. It’s the last place I saw the mystery girl, and I need to know more about her. Did she really kill Stanley? If so, does that mean she killed Kathy, too?
Holy. Fuck.
Is this girl Jayden Marie?
I go over the conversations I’ve had with Fred, and think back to what he said her age was when she left. It very well could be her. If mystery girl is Jayden, then I have no doubt in my mind that she killed them. She’d have reason.
After driving around the college and nearby apartments, I give up hope that I’ll find her. It was a longshot to begin with. Who’s to say she even lives nearby? I was h
oping since it was the weekend that she’d be back around here looking for the college parties, but it appears the mystery girl will remain just that.
The clock reads two thirty-five, and I really need to start heading to whatever destination holds my future. I drive to the nearest gas station to top off the tank and grab a couple bags worth of junk food and drinks to keep me awake.
As I approach the counter, a girl begs the clerk to let her have her items even though she’s short a few dollars. The man who appears to be in his forties, isn’t moved by her words, choosing to pick up a magazine and flip through it as she talks.
“Come on, dude. It’s three thirty-nine. That’s it. Three whole dollars and thirty-nine cents. I need everything here, so don’t ask me to put anything back. Come on. Please.”
I get closer, and though the girl has her hair tucked underneath a hat, when she turns her head I see a few ash blonde pieces that fall around her face. She turns back towards the clerk quickly, continuing to plead her case, so I look up behind the counter and find her reflection in a security mirror.
My lips lift up in a grin as I step next to her, throwing my items down with hers.
“Hey, man!” she snaps, looking over at me.
I don’t look down at her and instead talk to the clerk. “She’s with me. I’ll pay for it.”
The Hispanic man looks like he’s two minutes from falling asleep, but he puts the magazine down and huffs as he starts ringing my stuff up.
I finally look down and to my left, meeting the gaze of my favorite mystery girl. “Hey, Cupcake.”
She turns to face me, cocking her hip while trying to keep her grin in check. “Well, look who it is.”
“Yep. It’s me,” I reply, turning my attention back to the clerk.
I feel her watching me for several seconds before she gives the guy behind the counter a smug smirk as he bags her items.
After I pay, we both walk out and loiter around the edge of the building where the lights aren’t so bright.
Darkness Within Page 22
