We All Start As Strangers

You're Next.

________________________________PART SEVENTEEN___________________________

   I stared at the body which lay at my feet. I gasped quietly as to not wake anyone who was around. I tapped the body- which was not identifiable as a woman- with my foot, hopefully to see that she was alive. She didn't budge. I nudged the body harder this time, and it rolled over. She had three deep open gashes across her chest, like a huge cat scratch. It was then that I noticed her face; her eyes were closed, with an emaciated smiley face that covered her whole head, written in blood. Her blood, I assumed.

“Do...do...don..Donovan..” I tried to scream, but shock and horror had shaken the very sound from my voice. All that came out was a screechy whisper. Unable to speak, my only thought was to slam my fist into the door, waking Donovan up.

“What the?” he came rushing over in his boxers, his eyed widened at the scene which was laid out before us.

“I told you I heard something.” I whispered once I was finally adjusted to what had happened.

“I didn't hear anything.” He repeated again like he had in bed, trying to reassure me, but I knew. Donovan reached inside and called 9-1-1 while I examined the body closer. She was blonde with rosy lips and high primitive cheekbones. Soon, the body was carried away for examination. Don and I told the officers exactly what'd happened, and then we retreated back into the bed, comforting each other with kisses that made our hair stand on end. His hand ran down my thigh to my knee, but I pulled away when I heard the whisper again.

I instantly began to cry out in fear, “Donovan!”

“Shh...shh..Ciera, hush.” He cooed, running his fingers through my hair.

“Donovan the tiger. Tiger, tiger. I heard it again.” tears dripped from my eyes onto his chest, wetting his cotton shirt.

“The what?” he asked me.

“The whisper. It says “tiger, tier” to me. I heard it before the body was there and you were stuttering it to me when you blacked out.” my words were slurred as I spoke. Eventually, I said,

“What does it mean?”

He thought for a moment, then at length he said, “I don't know angel, I don't know.” I stared at his chest oddly, watching it rise and fall as he breathed.

“The slashes. They were like...like cat scratches. Like a tiger.” I said at last.

“You think that's what it means?” he questioned. “Just some stupid name for the way this morbid assclown kills?”

“Maybe not,” I creased my brow inventively. “because you were murmuring it... and it wouldn't make sense because you weren't scratched.” All he did was stare at me, confused and still listening.

“Maybe it means something.”

“Like a code?” I asked.

“Yeah.” he replied. At that I eased, yearning badly to sleep now that I wasn't so afraid of whatever these words meant. I could figure out in the morning. Well, not it was 2:00am and it was morning, but it could wait until I actually got some rest. I snuggled close to Donovan, letting my stresses and worries melt off with each kiss I gave to his cheeks. He whispered me goodnights and I fell asleep to the light thud, thud, thud of his heartbeat.

                                                                               _

   In the morning, we ate waffles and poorly made orange juice, listening to our favourite music. We didn't say a word, letting our goodmorning kisses speak for us. I flat-ironed my hair that day, adding a cat-eye eyeliner trick I'd learned from my friends back in middle school. I slipped on my 'Of Mice and Men' t-shirt and some plain ripped jeans, adding matching black boots. I didn't pay much attention to how I looked when I walked into the bathroom, because I squealed Donovan's name in horror.

“Donovan! Shitshitshitshitshitshit! Shit!” At that, he came thudding in, only to my surprise, his jaw dropped. There, covering the entire 20 by 20 mirror, was a bloody smiley face. The faucet was running lightly, and I looked down at it, only to find a sticky note on the handle with the drawing of a tiger on it. I heard the whisper, not aloud this time, but in my head.

“Tiger, tiger.” it said to me. I wrenched the paper off the handle, turning the faucet off. I ripped the paper up into shreds, lighting a match and burning the fucking thing never to be seen- hopefully- ever again. As for the face, I had Donovan wash off. I didn't step foot in that bathroom ever again, I used the one on the other side of the room.

                                                                           _

   After that experience, I didn't eat all day. We came out of the Panera Bread after coffee- just when things were starting to get better- to find a bloody smiley face on the windshield.

“Oh my fucking...” Donovan gasped.

“No, no no no! Donny look,” I pointed to the hood of the car.

The words that were written in blood caused me to want to kill everyone in that parking lot, myself included.

“YOU'RE NEXT.”