Black Diaries

45. Home Sweet Home

"Help!" The door crashed open, and I rushed out of the room into the main hall of the terminal, gesticulating wildly. "Help! A terrorist! He killed a guard! He ran that way! Help! He has a bomb!"

For a moment, everything stood still, everyone stared at me—then, hell broke loose. A cacophony of screams rose up, people jostled and push each other to get away from the door, to the exits, out of this place and away. Security guards started shouting orders into those little wireless-thingies and one of them raised his arms, shouting: "Don't panic! There's no reason to panic! Please proceed to the exit in an orderly manner and-mpf!"

The purse of a mother rushing past with two toddlers in her arms slammed into his face and made him stumble back, cursing.

"Eleven Sixty!" Another one was shouting into his wireless-thingy. "Eleven sixty! Suspected terrorist attack at JFK Terminal One! Repeat, suspected terrorist attack at JFK Terminal One!"

Still, everyone was rushing away from me and the door. Even the security guards seemed determined to keep a healthy distance. Among all the people at the airport, only one man was straining towards me, desperately trying to push through the crowd.

"Cassidy! Cassidy!"

"Elliot!" The moment I caught sight of him, blissful warmth spread through my chest. There was the man I'd just killed for. There was the man I'd do anything to get back to. Anything! Including braving a deranged mob of New Yorkers.

"Out of my way!"

Shoving aside a fat guy in flowered shorts, I dashed towards him, wiggling and worming myself through the crowd that still separated us. Fortunately, people were very keen on getting out of my way.

"Cassidy!" Elliot slammed into me, and his strong arms went around me, holding me tight. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his clean, manly scent. "Cassidy, what happened?"

"I... I don't know! There was that man... and then there were all these other men... and fighting... and screaming... and blood! Oh God, Elliot! So much blood!"

"Oh, Cassidy!"

He pulled me even closer against him, and I smiled into his chest, rather proudly. I had just managed to describe five of my murders without mentioning the fact that I was the killer. That was something to be proud of!

"Don't worry, Cassidy! You're safe now! I'll take care of you."

Sighing contentedly, I rubbed my nose against his chest. "I know you will."

Somewhere in the distance, sirens started wailing.

I have a rather blurry memory of the following few hours. Police rushed into the airport shouting things like "Hands up!" and "Freeze!" although there wasn't a single freezer anywhere in sight. A whole army of cops dashed into the room I had just come from, guns drawn. Several policemen identified me as the one who had shouted "terrorist" first, and tried to peel me off Elliot, but I just clung harder to him, and, pseudo-sobbing with vigor, buried my face in his chest. Let me tell you, male chests are damn convenient when you want to hide your face from the police.

"You'll need to come with us, Miss. We have to—"

"P-please," I whimpered, grinning against Elliot's tie like a cheshire cat. This was fun! "P-please... I c-can't! All that blood and... oh, Elliot!"

"Miss, we have to bring you to our sketch artist so he can identify the terrorist and—"

"Let her be!" Elliot snapped. "My girlfriend has been through quite enough already! Get the bastard's face off CCTV!"