"We're coming for you," the voices sing. "You can't escape your fate. Join us in this hell you've created." The taunting laughter fills my ears. I turn slowly, trying to find the direction the voice was coming from. The room is empty; the glass ceiling shows the full moon above. It illuminates the plants and trees around me. I was in the greenhouse. An icy hand grabs the back of my neck and pulls me back. I jerk in response to the violent pulls. Someone is calling me, telling me to fight, to not let the hand take me. My heart races as I struggle in its grasp.
“Paisley, why are you fighting? Don’t you want to be with us?” Dark forms are swirling around me. They knock me from my feet and fall to the ground. My head bounces off the ground. An excruciating pain fills my head and I struggle to keep from passing out. I can hear footsteps approaching me. They stop by my head and look down at me. I start to scream as I notice what is in the hand of the one watching. My body can’t move all I can do is watch.
He drops to his knees, the knife firmly in his hand. I want to run, to raise my hand to block the coming knife but nothing can be done. All I can do is watch in fear as he plunges the knife deep within my body. I can feel the tears streaming down my face. Again he raises the knife and again it enters my dying body. My nightgown is soaked with my blood; the ground I lay on is saturated with it. All around me the greenhouse is filling with laughter. I take a deep breath and release it. My body shakes as I take the last breath I ever will.
I shiver as I wake from the dream. Is that the fate that awaits me? The eerie feeling refuses to leave me. I reach out to turn on the bedside lamp. I freeze as my hand brushes against a prone body. The blanket is covering the head of the body. I cannot see who or what it is. I change my position in the bed; I hover over the unknown thing. Don’t let it be what I think it is, I silently pray. With hesitant fingers I bunch the edge of the blanket in my hand. The body does not move. Slowly I pull the blanket down to reveal a head for of hair. I relax, releasing the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Brown eyes blink up at me through swollen lids. He removes his arms from the covers and wrap them me. I look down at Zeke and smile. Thoughts of the hug I shared with Damien come back. I ease out of his embrace and sit back. I take in his face and frown. Bruises dot his face, darkening his complexion with shades of green and purple. With my hand I reach out and lightly touch the side of his face. He winces as he grabs my hand.
“Don’t give me that look,” he says pulling me down to lie beside him.
“What happened?” I have so many questions but those are the only words that will leave my lips. Zeke turns on his side, his arm still around me.
“It’s nothing. Just,” he pauses and closes his eyes, “just think of them as my battle scars. Don’t worry kitten. It isn’t as bad as it seems.” He snuggles up to me, holding tight against his body. I try to turn around to get another look at him. His muscles flexes as he strain to keep my body close to his.
“Are you going to tell me how that happened,” I ask. I can feel his smile against my neck.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s over and done with now.” His voice is barely audible. It does matter, at least to me. I know what must be done.
*********
The sun was setting. The sky was shades of orange and red. It was peaceful, the wind tousling my hair. The past few hours planning had accumulated to this one moment. I watch the detective walk through the doors of the burger king and enter the park. After the talk with my honey I knew what I had to do. Even if he wasn’t willing to tell me what happened and who did that to him, it could only be those detectives.
Deeper into the park I follow him until we reached the center. There the trees arched signaling the entrance to the maze. He walked through the maze, twisting and turning around certain hedges. Slowly I tiptoed behind him, trying my best not to make noise as I walk over the cobblestone path. Minutes went by and still we traveled through the maze. Every so often he would take quick glances around to see if anyone was there. Too many times I thought my plan would never come to fruition, that I would be caught long before I could get my revenge and that just wouldn’t do. To come all this way and not leave with the gratifying feeling of watching someone’s life fade from their eyes. I cover my mouth to stifle the coming laugh.
I see him turn and I follow. A glance around the hedge shows a group of plants surrounding a gazebo, which the detectives enter. I watch him sit in the middle of the white bench, his hands on his knees. Instinctively I touch my pocket to make sure it’s still there. I had chosen this weapon specifically for tonight. I turn the corner and he looks up, frowning in my direction. I smile and walk towards him.
“You’re detective Stewart, right,” I ask.
“I am and who might you be.” I smirk and take a seat beside him. “You know you really shouldn’t be out here this late.”
“I won’t be here long. I just wanted to ask you a question.” He gives me a quizzical look as he reaches in the brown bag beside him.
“Do you mind,” he says, taking out a hamburger. I shake my head and he begins to eat. “What is it you want to ask?”
“I saw you on the news talking about Trudy Moore’s murder. You’re blaming all of this on someone innocent, you know.” His eyes widen but it does nothing to stop him from continuously stuffing his face. Sauce drips down his chin and falls on his white shirt. He dabs at the mess on his shirt with a crumpled napkin. I ignore the disgust building inside of me and keep my objective in mind.
The expression on his face gives nothing away. “That boy,” he says, “had every reason to want her dead.” He squints and looks me over. I can see as realization dawns in his eyes. He’s finally remembered who I was. “You’re that friend of his, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Two words, the only things I say as I scoot closer to him.
“You should be glad that we caught him when we did. You might have been next. People like that boy never stop at one. Killing becomes a compulsion to them.” He places his arm around my shoulder.” I’m only telling you this because I care. Your friend is a serial killer in the making. I’m surprised he hasn’t killed anyone before this. Hell, I bet he’s responsible for the murders of those other girls. We just need to find the evidence.”
“Zeke didn’t kill any of them. He couldn’t,” I whisper. His head turns to look at me.
“I know you like him sweetie, but what makes you think he wouldn’t be able to do that. How do you know that he didn’t?”
I place my hand in my pocket and lay my head on the detectives shoulder. “I know,” I begin, “because I was the one that did it.” The smile spreads and he starts to frown. He opens his mouth to speak as I take my hand from my pocket and swings the icepick towards his neck. The pick enters the flesh on his neck with ease. I make a quick incision and remove the small weapon.
The detective raises his hand to the wound and attempt to stop the bleeding. Blood seeps through his fat fingers. I watch as he stands and stumbles forward, tripping down the steps of the gazebo. His beady eyes survey the area. I laugh and he turns towards me and coughs, the red blood spewing from his lips. He falls to his knees in front of me. I stoop down to watch his eyes.
“This is your entire fault,” I tell him. “You made me do this.” His body wobbles before falling over. He twitches before falling going still. I sit on my haunches and watch the fallen detective. His death did not please me as much as I thought it would. The wind howls, the trees sway around me. There is someone watching me. I can feel their presence. It isn’t long before I hear the footsteps of the one watching. They stalk towards me.
“You know Paisley, if I was anyone else this would definitely be a problem for you.” With my hand on the icepick I stand up. I remove a strand of hair from my face and grin.
“If you were anyone else, you’d be dead by now.” I laugh again and walk towards the last person I wanted to see.