Nothing but Darkness

by Maria Ann Green

  I should watch more slashers for inspiration.

  Before I take any time to check with my filter, I start to speak. “Do you know what I did last weekend, Jason?”

  His attention is still on the screen, my irritation flaring. I brought him up here for his own good, the least he can do is listen to me when I speak.

  “Hey.”

  “Yessir what’sup?” His gaze moves slowly to me, and when I can see the color of his irises I can tell how glazed over they are.

  Oh, fuck.

  Did that almost just happen?

  What the hell was I thinking? I almost just told him my secret. I almost revealed I’m a killer, and fucking love it. Jesus, what would I have done afterward? I may have had to choose between myself and my best friend.

  Holy fucking shit.

  Okay, I think it’s time for bed. No more drinky for me. I can’t chance a colossal mistake like that.

  “I’m gonna hit the hay. Bedtime for Aidan.”

  “All right.” Jason hiccups as he raises his can to me in a sort of intended salute. “Sleep tight.”

  “Yup,” I answer without turning around and make my way up the stairs.

  ****

  I take a few minutes to shower before making my way to bed. I can’t believe I had the urge to share everything with Jason. He may not have remembered even if I’d actually slipped, but that’s not a guarantee. It would’ve been an unacceptable and irreversible mistake. I need to watch that, better seal the vault within.

  It may take some practice, but I’m new to the game, so I’m sure I’ll get there. As a precaution, though, I should refrain from consuming copious amounts of liquid encouragement until the lock is secured. Well…after this weekend I’ll refrain until I’m more practiced. Tomorrow doesn’t count. I’ll just shut the fuck up unless I’ve thought over what I plan to say a few times. My filter cannot fail again. I’m already up here with Jason, and I know it’ll just be a huge fight if I drag my feet about drinking tomorrow.

  I’ll make sure to pay closer attention to what we watch.

  The water on my face takes a slight edge off the weight from the beer. Just for a little bit of prevention I drink two full glasses of water on my way to the bedroom and lay the bottle of painkillers on the night table. I know I won’t feel amazing tomorrow regardless, but I’d like to prevent both a migraine and throwing up.

  Huddled under the somewhat scratchy comforter, I can tell I’m far from home. One of the last thoughts to float through my foggy mind is that it’s nice to get away once in a while, but I do wish the bed was a bit softer underneath me and the cabin was warmer.

  ****

  Four glowing red eyes float above me. They don’t seem to be connected to a body or anything of substance. Just two pairs of horrible, crimson eyes. They sit there staring at me. They’re not blinking, not moving.

  But they’re judging.

  Slowly faces start to materialize around both sets of eyes. Each is gaunt and haunted with thin waxy, gray skin. Both float closer to my face as they continue to form, and their mouths stretch wider in silent screams of protest.

  “What do you want?”

  My voice sounds far away, as if it’s coming from someone else. The disconnect produces even more anxiety.

  “Why, don’t you know?” Their heads shake in unison, disappointed I don’t already understand. As they shake, flakes of decaying skin fall from each already-hollow face. What seemed to have just formed is already crumbling away.

  “Why me?”

  My cry sounds strangled. I can feel my entire body shaking in fear. I tremble, quaking as if I’m standing in the gallows with a noose already around my neck. I’m normally much more composed than this.

  Why am I so afraid?

  “We want you, Aidan.” I’ve gathered that. But their deepening tone sends a prickle over my scalp, reminding me to bite my tongue from saying so. “We want to do to you what you did to us.”

  Oh fuck.

  “But…B—but how can you be here?”

  It’s The-One-Who-Doesn’t-Count and the waitress floating in front of me, threatening me. They’ve both come back, joining forces to take me down for what I did to them. I can see in the blacks of their eyes they know how much I enjoyed it. They can feel I lack remorse, and they’re back for vengeance.

  Piercing shrieks escape their toothless, hanging jaws as they leap, reaching for my throat.

  Ready to kill.

  I jolt instantly from lying flat into a sitting position. I can’t believe I don’t have whiplash. The shrieking that I thought was only in my dream is floating up the stairs of the cabin. For a brief moment I see screaming women swimming before my eyes. But that can’t be where the noise is coming from. Jason isn’t like me.

  The tea kettle.

  Annoyance is justified. Why the fuck does Jason need hot water at—I look at the alarm—five in the fucking morning? On a Saturday? Up north?

  Fucking asshole.

  I throw on a robe, stomping down the stairs, displaying my frustration.

  “What the fuck, man?”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think the kettle would whistle. I just can’t sleep when I drink more than two anymore. I’m getting too old.”

  “That makes two of us. Now shut the hell up so I can wake up.” I turn away from him, shuffling to the downstairs bathroom, adding over my shoulder, “Slowly.”

  “All right. All right.” In the mirror, before I slam the door, I see Jason’s shoulders shrugged up to his ears in surrender, and I hear a mumbled, “yeesh, sorry,” on the other side of the wood.

  After I take a good chunk of time to acclimate to the early hour, in addition to my hangover, I let Jason make me coffee in a peace gesture.

  “Make it fucking strong.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After that he’s smart to wait until after I’ve started my second cup before attempting to speak again.

  “You’re not normally so grumpy in the morning. I remember you waking me at 4 AM for a party back in the day.”

  “Copious amounts of alcohol, plus bad dreams, plus too early of a wakeup call, equals a shitty mood. But I’m close to normal. Thanks for the coffee. Sorry I bit your head off.”

  “Nah, it’s fine. I should’ve known it would whistle.” I don’t respond, just nod, continuing sipping from my still-steaming mug. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten that drunk. I don’t remember shit. Do you?”

  “Barely. That means it was a good night.” Especially since he can’t remember our nearly fatal conversation. I barely caught myself.

  “Hell yeah, it was. It’s so nice to be away from the girls for a little while. It’s just easier to breathe up here. Ya know?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Thanks again for bringing me.”

  “What are friends for?” Maybe someday I’ll tell him my secret and he can pay me back for this trip with his assistance mopping up blood.

  Or maybe not.

  Half a pot of coffee later we make cereal and toast for breakfast, but after eating and washing the dishes it’s still only seven in the morning. I hadn’t anticipated being awake for at least a few more hours.

  “Well, what do we do now?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.” Oh, Jason, be a fucking man. I narrow my eyes to glare at him, showing him how I feel versus telling him again.

  “Okay, okay. How about we…go hunting?” Again he forms it as a question, so instead of answering I just raise my eyebrows then stare. “Hunting. Let’s go hunting.” This time it’s a statement. Better.

  “Good. We’ll shoot shit.” He has no idea how much I like this plan. I feel a tingle deep in my bones at the idea of killing even an animal. I can’t get creative, but I can still steal a life. The memory will be my donation.

  ****

  Pulling into Jason’s driveway late on Sunday morning feels like entering New York City after leaving Amish Country. Admittedly the weekend isn’t over, and I
’ll get to relax at home before heading back to work Monday, but the two worlds of here and there are starkly different. The contrast is apparent, and though both have their positives, tomorrow morning will be harder to face than Mondays past.

  Maybe I should aim toward living up north in the country permanently. It’s so much quieter there and I wouldn’t have to answer to anybody. There are definitely remote finance positions. It’s a possibility to ponder over, at least. Thinking about our hunting, drinking, appreciation of the wilderness, the covering darkness, the quiet solitude—it is a possibility to ponder more than just a little.

  “Thanks for coming up with me.”

  “No, thank you for taking me.” I try to wave my hand in dismissal, but he cuts me off. “Hey…seriously, your idea for mine and Mel’s separate weekends was just what we needed. She was so relaxed after her pampering, and I’m pretty sure our boys’ time was just what I needed to refocus and appreciate my family more. You’re a good friend.” Jason averts his eyes while his voice drops a notch, displaying how humble and genuine he intends to sound. But he can only remain serious for so long. He can’t help himself to add, “Always one-upping me. I’ll have to think of an amazing Christmas gift.” He nudges me in the ribs while I agree he should spend a fortune on me.

  I help him bring his bags into the house and share a quick hello with Amelia. “Hey, beautiful.”

  Jason huffs, “That’s my line,” and pretends to scowl. He’ll never see me as a threat. He turns to Mel and concedes, “Well you are beautiful.” And he plants a sloppy kiss on the corner of Mel’s mouth. As he turns to drag his bags down the hall I catch her sneaking her sleeve up to wipe away his saliva.

  “Glad you both made it back home safely.”

  Amelia’s wearing a tight pink sweater that barely keeps the mounds of her growing tits in check. Her dark jeans are snug from waist to ass to ankle. Fuck me, I wasn’t kidding when I said she looked beautiful. Though I don’t think they need a fourth, pregnancy in the early stages sure does Amelia good. “Thanks for taking him up.” She whispers.

  She leans in to hug me after I drop Jason’s other bag, and she pats my jacket pocket as she leans away. She was brief and almost stiff, which is preferable to her last few embraces that went beyond friendly, seeing as Jason is right here this time.

  “See you tomorrow, bud.” I wave to them both and make a hasty retreat to my car, anxious for a few hours of solitude before the week begins. I never felt like weekends were too short before, but now with their new uses to me I could go for a few Saturdays in a row. In fact, I wouldn’t mind taking an early retirement to make my new hobby a full-time gig.

  That’d be amazing.

  On the short drive home, all I have time to consider is what I’ll order for take-out dinner. The house looks normal when I enter, throwing down my bags. I toss my keys into the bowl and close the front door behind me. But as I dip into my jacket pocket for my wallet to throw into the bowl as well, my fingers wrap around a piece of paper.

  What’s this?

  As I pull it out to examine, a sinking feeling moves heavily into my gut. The folded piece of notebook paper between my fingers looks suspicious. I eye it, wondering if it will bite me.

  I unfold the page several times to reveal a handwritten note. There’s only one person who could’ve put this here. I’m simultaneously intrigued and worried, but I can’t stop myself from reading the loops and curls of a woman’s handwriting.

  Oh shit.

  Aidan,

  I didn’t want Jason to get mad because I went behind both of your backs, so I had to find a way to tell you privately. Please don’t tell him. I know you hate it when I meddle, but I just know I’m right in this. Bee will be waiting for you at Hanson’s at 8 PM for your first date. I put the reservation in your name. Don’t be mad. Just trust me.

  All my love,

  Amelia

  P.s. Wear your navy blazer, that’s by far your best one.

  Well, she’s managed to be both bossy and out of her fucking mind at the same time. What a talent she possesses.

  I know I’m stomping around my kitchen, but I can’t seem to stop. I need to let off some of this frustration before I break something expensive I won’t want to replace. She didn’t even give me Bee’s number to call and cancel. What the fuck am I going to do? What a cowardly bitch. And she pulls this stunt after I just coordinated a weekend for her.

  I’ll have to find a way to get payback. She better watch over her shoulder. But for now I’ll be having dinner at Hanson’s instead of ordering takeout like I wanted.

  Bitch.

  I continue to seethe in the shower, cursing Amelia’s name. Expletives pour out like fire under my breath, and the more names I let out the better I feel. At least Bee is entertaining company, though we’ve never had a conversation one-on-one. This has potential to be an awkward evening. What a damper on such a nice weekend.

  I refuse to wear the blazer Amelia demanded of me. She may have forced this dinner, but she won’t pick out my clothes as well, and if she ever says one word to me about that jacket again she’ll regret it.

  ****

  Fucking Mel.

  Fucking bossy, nosey, bitchy Amelia.

  I still can’t let it go even on the twenty-five-minute drive to the restaurant. Why did she have to pick a place so far away? The food isn’t even that good there, and the drinks are way overpriced. But I do plan to drink, regardless of whether it makes Bee uncomfortable. Maybe the first will calm my anger and I’ll be better company.

  As I arrive at Hanson’s, swinging the door open a little too hard, I charge up to the hostess and see the widening of intimidation in her eyes. Okay, knock it down a notch.

  I smile, trying to make up for my tantrum of an entrance, and switch to charming instead.

  “Eight o’clock reservation for Aidan Sheppard, please.”

  The thin girl, of no older than nineteen, recovers, embracing my charisma. She rocks on her heels as she returns my smile with an added hint of lust behind her glossed lips. “Let me see, oh yes, your date is already here. Let me show you to the table. Can I take your jacket?” I hand her my winter tweed, waiting as she places it with the other outerwear, trying hard not to tap my foot in impatience.

  I just want to get this meal started so I can get it over with.

  “My name is Mandy, but Candy will be your waitress tonight. Can I get you anything to drink?” Mandy and Candy. Jesus fucking Christ, our future is doomed. Their IQs are probably just above idiotic. But I bet they suck cock like champs with those names. Mandy does look like a pleaser with the way she sways her round ass while walking in front of me.

  “Jack and coke please. Double.”

  “Of course. And here’s your booth. It looks like your date made a trip to the ladies’ room. I’ll get your drink while you wait.” She hesitates awkwardly by the table for a moment, watching as I sit before she moves away.

  I drum my fingers on the table, waiting for the appearance of Bee. I should’ve just stayed home and stood her up. I could’ve feigned ignorance, pretending as if I never found the note.

  Damn it. Why didn’t I fucking think of that earlier?

  I jump as a finger taps my shoulder from behind. Apparently Bee is back from the bathroom. I hope she washed her hands before touching me. Standing, I turn around to greet my date.

  And I lose all ability to speak.

  I know my mouth is wide open since my jaw has dropped, but I can’t seem to make my brain tell my muscles to move. My eyes go from the top of her head down to her toes and back up again, pausing at the good bits on each pass.

  “Hello, Aidan. I’m glad you decided to come.”

  I suck in a breath after holding it too long, struggling to find an answer.

  All I come up with is, “Hello, Amelia.”

  Mind-blowing boredom.

  It’s Monday and it’s as dull as ever as I attempt to keep my thoughts of last night as far from my consciousness as possible. I
haven’t processed it yet, so I don’t know how I feel. I’ll work on it later. Maybe much later.

  This shit just doesn’t seem to happen to other people, I swear.

  I think I may start to hate Mondays just like the rest of the world soon.

  Jason is still in a happy-go-lucky mood, due to the cabin I’m assuming, and Eva has been as boisterous as ever. If I had to guess, I’d bet she’s pitching her terrible ideas soon. She’s so confident she’ll soar straight to the top. I’d beg to differ. Luckily, she’s too selfish to say I had her back when she brings them to the table; she doesn’t want any name mentioned but her own. But just in case I’m wrong and she does move up with this, then at least she’ll feel as if I was helpful. It’s a win-win for me, which I’m okay with.

  Speak of the devil. I can see Eva twitching her hips down the hallway toward me now. She’s side-by-side with a higher up who looks a bit intimidated (or embarrassed, I can’t quite tell, though either way his eyes are averted as his pace is picking up) by her too-loud laughter at something he’s said. I bet it wasn’t even funny.

  He veers off toward the kitchen a few paces before my open door and Eva keeps moving forward. I know she’s coming to see me. I’ve yet to see her pop her head into Jason’s office unless he’s requested her presence, so there’s no one else she’d be walking toward.

  Damn.

  I start the conversation, knowing the faster it begins the faster it ends. “How’s it going, Eva?” Why does she insist on coming to my office so often? She’s such a pain in the ass, and her stupid face is more frustrating than ever.

  Go away, annoying hag; no one likes you, just go away.

  “I’m absolutely wonderful.” Her cheeks rise as her smile widens. She looks like the Cheshire Cat, on crack.