Kill Your Darlings

Chapter 8 - Endgame.

The drive to your past lover’s office is as slow and enduring as the one to the law building. Yet you keep a firm grip on the steering wheel; if you’re fast enough and keep focus, the chances of you meeting Spencer in the act are higher.

You swore you would never venture into that office once you left it some odd years ago, yet here you are, driving back to the same place you forced yourself to forget. Fragments of memories poison your mind; visions of small talk by the fireplace, pouring through notes together at the desk, and reading side by side on the couch—the same couch you found two bodies entangled in an embrace.

You shake your head and slam your palm against the wheel, forcing the memory out. That doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done, and this time, you have something far greater to worry about.

The office isn’t far off from the building. Once you decided to study psychiatry, your professor had recommended it to you since it was near the campus. I’m sure you and Dr. Reed will get along fine, he said. Trust me. It’s for the best.

The sight of a man walking down the street causes you to slam the breaks immediately, a colossal accident almost claiming your life. Nonetheless, you jerk the car to the side of the road and jump out, ignoring the honks and impolite gestures from the other drivers. Your eyes, mind, and heart are only set on him.

“Hey! Hey you!”

The man finally turns when you put a hand on his shoulder, a look of confusion and annoyance passing over his features. But there’s no mistake that it’s him. The same man who handed you Spencer’s letter.

“Do you remember me?” you ask him.

“Am I supposed to?”

“We met at a small town a few miles away from here on a rainy night. I left my office, and you handed me a letter, saying a kid with messy hair gave you five bucks for the delivery. Don’t you remember?”

The man’s eyes turn into slits as he backs away. “Listen, I wasn’t at any small town and I wasn’t given any damn letter.”

“Are you lying? Did he tell you to lie to me?”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re on, but you’ve got to leave me out of it,” he says, backing away faster now. “I’m not the guy you want.”

Before you can say anything else, the man turns on his heel and walks away, disappearing past a corner before words can form in your mouth.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe he’s not the man you met just a few days ago, and just a striking replica of him. A sharp pain hits your temples but you ignore it, staring at the corner for a few minutes before heading back to the car.

 ***

It doesn’t take long for the small office to come into view. It still looks the exact same as it ever did, and you wonder if the inside was left the way you remember it. Was the fireplace still black on some edges with smut and smoke? Was the brown leather couch still bearing creases? Did that desk still have that shaky leg?

Swallowing, you pull up to the office and shut off the car. Even though the blinds on the window are shut, you can still see red, orange, and yellow flames flickering inside. How did he already beat you here when you had a car?

You slowly slip out of the car, shaky legs guiding you to the front door. Was your past lover in there? Were they the last kill?

The curiosity causes you to hesitate at the doorknob; the fear of not knowing what waits burns through your veins and sends a numbing feeling throughout your body.