My Twin Flame

by C C Simeon

  There was no way she was getting out of the grip this person had on her, and she hoped her dogs would obey. If she died, she didn’t want the killer to go upstairs and kill them, too, because they’d made too much noise. Rather the killer know nothing of their existence. Amelia’s breaths were labored, and in her panicked panting, she smelled his scent. It was musky, with a hint of nicotine. Not the sandalwood smell of Hunter, but Hilton’s cigarettes.

  Amelia’s eyes went wide when she realized who it was. Her stomach dropped and her heart seemed to be going into overdrive. It was as if thinking it was a random intruder didn’t scare her as much as the intruder being Hilton. Amelia tried to kick him, preferably in the shins, but he was too fast for her, and as soon as she contemplated the kick, he spread her legs with his, blocking her from using her legs as all as he stood between them. Amelia yelped. She knew Hilton had no sexual interest in her. She didn’t think he had any form of sexual interest in any woman, for that matter. So, despite Hilton having forced his way between her legs, she knew that was where it was going to stop. That was one small comfort.

  “Stop your damn struggling,” he hissed, and obediently, Amelia let her body relax. There was no use in fighting him. There was no use in even trying. If he wanted to hurt her, he was going to, no matter how hard she tried to get him off her. In fact, Amelia was certain he was going to hurt her even more if she fought. Hilton didn’t like a struggle. He liked to be in charge all the time.

  Amelia could just about make out the lines of his face, but it was impossible to spot any of his distinguishable features. That was, until his mouth split into a grin and the shadows fell just in the right places for him to look terrifying.

  “That’s a good girl. Now, I’m going to let go of your mouth. If you scream, I swear to God, I will hurt you in ways that you have never been or will be hurt again. Understood?”

  Tears stung Amelia’s eyes and she tried to blink it away. She refused to show him any sign of weakness—or that she was ready to pee herself. Amelia nodded as far as his grip on her allowed. As promised, Hilton’s hand left Amelia’s mouth. He’d only told her not to scream, so she whispered it instead. “What the hell are you doing, Hilton?”

  “I wanted to see you and get an update.”

  Amelia glowered at the part of his shadowy face where she was certain his eyes were. “We both have phones and I have a doorbell.”

  The shadow bobbed its head slightly, as if in agreement. “That is true, but you wouldn’t have let me inside if I’d come knocking. Besides, your fridge needed a raiding. You really should listen to your dogs when they try to warn you about an intruder. What if I were some crazy person who wanted to murder you?”

  “You are a crazy person,” Amelia hissed.

  “Now, now, no need to get personal.”

  “Get off me, Hilton.”

  “Or what? There is nothing you can do. If you call the cops, imagine everything I can tell them about you. You wouldn’t want the whole world to know your secrets, now would you?” Hilton threatened, but Amelia had expected the threat. It was the same threat he’d used to get her into his mess.

  “No one has any proof,” she said. “And even if they did, anything they would have gotten me on is too small to warrant an arrest.”

  “You live in an awfully big house in New York, Amelia. One would wonder how you got this much money. Many people can’t even afford your upper floor.”

  Amelia sighed. “The house was an investment long ago. I worked my ass off to get it.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Hilton grinned again. “Now, down to business. How’s the boss doing?”

  Amelia wanted to growl at him. She wanted to tell him that it was none of his business, but then she remembered why Hilton had gotten her this job. It was his business, whether she wanted it to be or not.

  “I spend a lot of time with him,” Amelia said, shrugging. She wished Hilton would let go of her wrists. “I think he’s slowly starting to thaw.”

  Hilton nodded. “Good, good. Now, there’s something else I’d like you to do. And just remember that, if you fail, people are going to get hurt. Maybe even those puppies of yours. I’ve always wanted a fur coat.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Don’t fail me and you won’t have to find out how wrong you are about that. Relax, it’s a simple little task that even an imbecile would be able to do.”

  “Then why don’t you get an imbecile to do it?” Amelia asked.

  “Because what use is it having a lapdog if you can’t play with it?”

  “I am not your lapdog, Hilton.”

  It was as if something snapped inside of Hilton and his free hand went around Amelia’s throat, squeezing slightly. Amelia started panicking, her stomach aching from stress. “You are whatever I want you to be, Amelia. I have more dirt on you than you even realize. Your entire life is at stake here. Are you really going to argue with me? Right now, you are my lapdog. So, act like it.” Amelia’s eyes leaked hot tears that ran down her cheeks. She wished Hilton had never been taken in by Aunt Helena. She wished he’d died on the streets. “Now, bark.”

  “What?”

  “I said bark, Amelia. You’re a lapdog, and I want you to bark.”

  “I’m not going to bark,” Amelia protested, but the hand around her neck tightened and, in her panic, she let out a muffled, “Woof.”

  “Louder, I don’t think I quite caught that.”

  “Woof,” she said, a little louder.

  “Good girl,” Hilton said, and he let go of her completely. He patted her head, then headed toward the kitchen. Amelia clawed at her throat, trying to get the phantom feeling of his hands on her to leave her alone.

  “Get in here, Amelia. I wasn’t joking when I told you that you were going to do something for me.”

  Chapter 12: Dark Places

  Hayden stood in front of the last door in the apartment building, dreading whatever the tenants inside were going to tell her. Or what they weren’t going to tell her, for that matter. After determining that she had nothing to go on after the last murder and even the interviews she had done came up with nothing concrete, she decided that she was going back to the park. This time, she was going to milk every ounce of information from the surrounding tenants and shopkeepers. Alas, her determination got her nowhere and she was soon back to where she started. Only now she had wasted an entire day going over what she already knew.

  She stepped forward and knocked on the door. It was a hollow sound, the sort of sound that came with a termite infestation. Hayden took a step back, haunted by the memory of her childhood, when her wooden bed had been infested by termites. She’d refused to ever sleep on a wooden bed again. The ordeal had scarred her for life.

  There was no answer at the door, and Hayden looked up and down the hall in search of anyone who might have some information about the tenant. The hallway was empty, and she decided that it was not worth the effort to ask the neighbors. She’d asked them enough questions, and they were getting irritated with her. The lack of information wasn’t worth the trouble of getting it.

  As a last attempt, she leaned forward without stepping any closer to the door before knocking again. She tried to listen for a rustle, for any sign of life, but there was nothing on the other side. Hayden shook her head, not sure if it was in disappointment or relief. She didn’t think she had it in her to do yet another interview where the guy told her, “I’ve already answered this,” or “I don’t understand. Am I a suspect?” It was a giant horror show and Hayden was better off not talking to the tenant rather than listening to the same explanations and stories all over again.

  Deciding that she’d had enough of this miserable day, Hayden turned on her heel and walked toward the exit. She had noticed in the previous interview that it was getting dark outside, and she knew she had to get off the streets before the sun fully set.

  Upon exiting the building, she realized that it was already nearly completely dark. She looked up at the star
less sky and sighed. This was just her damn luck.

  If anyone had asked her, she would have denied being scared, but deep down she knew that she was absolutely terrified. It was a feeling completely foreign to her and she hated it. She hated every moment of it. She hasn’t been this scared since childhood, when she was convinced that Santa was a burglar.

  A few people were loitering about, but the news of the murderer must have spread faster than Hayden had thought. She watched the people hurriedly making their way to their homes, glancing over their shoulders to make sure no one was following them. A couple individuals walked alone, but they made sure to be close enough to other groups of people to hear if anything went sideways. Honestly, it was a sad sight to see. In the city that never slept, there were fewer people outside than any normal city in America.

  Hayden sighed, stepping onto the sidewalk to get to her car. It was time for her to head home. Her mother was getting suspicious as to why Levi was staying with her so often, and Hayden didn’t want there to be any more questions than she’d already fielded that afternoon when she’d dropped him off after school. She had to figure out something else. She couldn’t leave Levi with just anyone, but she couldn’t risk the assault of questions her mother would send her way soon enough. Hayden wasn’t sure she could deal with the sympathy from her mother, either.

  Hayden’s footfalls were quiet on the sidewalk as she rummaged in her pocket for her keys. The less time she had to spend standing out in the open by her car, the better.

  Her car was parked on the other side of the park, where the handyman was found. She wanted to kick herself for parking so far away. The usual joy she found in the time of day between sunset and the darkness of night was now a distant memory. Now, those couple of minutes held nothing but the promise of something evil lurking in the shadows.

  Hayden was about to cross the road when strong arms grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream, but there was a hand pressed over her mouth, as well. Fear bubbled in her chest, and all her years of training to remain calm in dangerous situations left her. Tears stung her eyes as she kicked and flailed while her attacker dragged her into the alleyway. There was no one around to see. The people who were loitering about were already safe in their houses, and there was no one to come to Hayden’s rescue.

  Remembering that she had the keys in her hand, she positioned the keys so the pointy ends were facing outward. She reached her arm around and buried the keys in the thigh of whoever was dragging her away. There was a hiss of pain, but she couldn’t tell the gender of the assailant.

  She managed to break free of the grip, the pungent smell of garbage not even tickling her nose. No, she was too panicked, too afraid to think about anything else. Hayden made for the dimly lit exit of the alleyway, but was yanked back by her ponytail. Pain shot through her scalp and she fell backward.

  There was a body on top of hers. Her assailant wore a baggy hoodie, and whatever face might have been visible under the hood was covered with a clown mask. There was a flash of red from below the hood, probably the clown’s head, before the attacker’s fist collided with her face. It became apparent that it was no ordinary fist when pain shot through Hayden’s cheek and her vision blurred. There was something hard and metallic around her attacker’s knuckle.

  Hayden was far beyond panic. Her mind wasn’t with her anymore. It tried to go anywhere but where it was. She was going to die. She was going to be the Midnight Butcher’s next victim. She knew what this monster did to people. She knew what was waiting for her.

  She didn’t realize that she was fighting back until her hands wrapped around the attacker’s neck, squeezing hard. Her legs were all over the place and she was yelling obscenities.

  “Get off of me!” she shouted, reaching down toward her gun but realizing it was no longer strapped to her hip. Her eyes went wide when the shadow above her was pointing her own gun at her. But instead of a gunshot, the back of the weapon connected with Hayden’s face. Again and again it struck, making Hayden’s vision swim. Everything she saw melted together. Her head felt disconnected from her body somehow. How was she, a trained detective, being overpowered in an alleyway? How was she supposed to keep the city safe if she couldn’t even keep herself safe? Perhaps that was why she had made no progress on the case.

  “Who are you?” she asked with a sob. Was she crying? She couldn’t tell. Her body was limp. There was a crunch in her rib area and a new bolt of pain shot through her. She wanted to scream but there was a weight on her throat, cutting off her air supply. This wasn’t like the killer. This wasn’t his style. “You’re not the butcher,” she croaked with the air she had left.

  The figure above her shook its head. At least, she thought it was shaking its head. It was hard to tell, with the world spinning around her. Hayden started to gag, the edges of her vision going black. She thought about her life, her kid, her husband, her mom. Warm tears ran down Hayden’s cheek and, suddenly, the pressure was off and so was the body.

  There was a moment of relief, but then a boot connected with her ribs and she gasped, the air knocked from her lungs. Another kick and she curled into a ball. The next kick collided with her back before there was a hand in her hair again. The figure pulled her to her feet before smashing her head into the brick wall. Hayden tasted blood in her mouth, and a warm sticky liquid oozed from her forehead.

  She was too weak to fight back. She was too weak to do anything but fall to the ground as her legs gave way beneath her. She just wanted it to be over. She wanted the pain to go away. When the adrenaline abandoned her, the pain increased, but before she could cry out in agony, the figure bent down over her. It stuck its hand in her jacket and fumbled in her pocket.

  She tried to think of whatever was in the pocket but came up empty. The assailant didn’t seem angry when it found nothing. Hayden tried to move her body, but something was poking into her chest and she didn’t want to risk it being a rib, ready to puncture a lung. She still wanted to live. She wanted to live and catch the bastard that was doing this to her.

  The figure pulled its hand back and whacked Hayden with the back of the gun again. This time, Hayden’s world turned into shadows and her eyes closed against her will.

  Chapter 13: Hospital

  Hayden’s broken face was the most horrible thing Hunter had ever had to see. When he’d gotten the call telling him that she’d been found beaten and bloody in an alleyway, he’d rushed over faster than he thought his car could actually go. He was certain he was going to get a couple of tickets in the mail; he’d skipped more than a few red lights and broke the speeding limit the entire way. Despite everything that had happened between them, she was still his wife and he still loved her very, very much. He never wanted her to get hurt in any way. That was never his intention.

  Especially not like this.

  Hunter had made a few phone calls earlier, asking his mother-in-law to keep Levi overnight. There was no way he was going to bring his son to the hospital to see his mother like this. She looked so frail, so weak. No child ever deserved to see their hero like that.

  Hunter kissed her hand repeatedly, holding onto it for dear life. The nurses had told him that she was still on a lot of pain medication and even if she did wake up, she wasn’t going to know that he was even there. They told him to go home, to take a shower, but he was having none of it. Instead, he got himself cup after cup of coffee and waited.

  He waited for his wife to wake up. He waited for someone to tell him what happened. But he had no such luck, so he spent the entire night at her bedside, telling her stories about how they’d first met, hoping she would remember him when she woke up. If she woke up…

  ***

  Hayden awoke to the sound of beeping, a hand wrapped tightly around hers. Her eyes were heavy, and it was an effort to open them. A sharp light greeted her, and she winced. The hand that was holding hers abruptly let go. Her hand felt cold all of a sudden, and she reached for the absent hand. The hand returned and Hunter’s face came i
nto view.

  He smiled at her. It was a sad sort of smile. The smile you gave someone on their deathbed. It was the smile she had given her dad when he was in the hospital, with no hope of recovery. Hayden didn’t feel like she was dying. Yes, she was sore and could hardly move or breathe, but she was alive. Was this what dying felt like? Did dying feel exactly like living?

  “Hayden, baby,” Hunter whispered before kissing her forehead. His touch was as light as a feather, but there was a heaviness to her that made Hayden’s chest contract. “How are you feeling? What happened? Do you need a nurse? I can get a nurse. Nurse!”

  It was unlike Hunter to fuss and Hayden didn’t enjoy it one bit. She preferred the calm and collected Hunter, the one that couldn’t be fazed by anything. This Hunter made Hayden nervous.

  “Relax, will you?” she said, trying to sit up when a pain in her ribs shot through her body, making her ears ring. She tried to hide it as much as possible and settled back into her bed, content to just lie there for the time being. “One question at a time. It’s beneath you to fuss over me.”

  “I’m not allowed to fuss after you were attacked and beaten to a pulp?”

  Hayden sighed. “You are, but I would like you not to. You can talk to me like a normal person. I’m not a porcelain doll; my cracks will heal.”

  It was Hunter’s turn to sigh. “Fine, then. How are you feeling?”

  Hayden did a quick scan of her body and noticed that there wasn’t a single part of her body that wasn’t in throbbing pain. She supposed that was good. She wasn’t paralyzed if she could feel all her limbs, right? Hayden decided to be optimistic about that one thing, at least. There was a whole new mystery surrounding the attack, but she didn’t want to think about that. Not now. She was in too much pain to worry about that. “I’ve been better.”