I buried my face in my hands and moaned weakly. What the hell was going on? I wanted to cry, but I was fresh out of tears. Jim tried to pull me into a hug. I pushed him away. I wasn’t sure of his intentions. I was completely confounded by him.
“Go away!” I croaked.
“No.”
He grabbed my wrists and moved my hands away, forcing me to look at him.
“No, I won’t go away. I won’t leave you alone. I’m in love with you, you idiot! I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. That date of ours that apparently didn’t work out—since that date, I’ve been sure that you’re the only one for me.”
“But . . . but . . .” I protested weakly. “We kissed. There were no fireworks! Nothing. We felt nothing.”
“You felt nothing.” Jim still wouldn’t let go of my wrists. “It changed my life. As for fireworks, I bet you felt them today, didn’t you? Or should I kiss you again?”
He sounded so self-assured, so intense, so different from his usual cool self. Had I misjudged him all these years? How could I have been so blind? I was feeling faint and sick. I couldn’t deal with all this.
“Jim,” I begged. “Please go home now. I need to be alone.”
I began to tremble. All I wanted was to melt into my bed and vanish from the world.
Jim looked worried now. His intense expression gave way to his usual one of friendly concern. He agreed to leave, apologizing for upsetting me. I barely felt strong enough to see him to the door. Just before I shut the door, he turned round abruptly and embraced me ever so lightly, his lips just brushing my neck, my ear.
He whispered softly, “Don’t go out with Nate. You’re mine, mine alone. If you go out with him, I’ll kill you both.”
Then he was gone, waving at me like nothing unusual had happened. I stood frozen to the spot, my hands bloodless, my legs refusing to budge. I could not have heard right, could I? Jim must have said something else. Must!
My limbs were trembling so much that I almost collapsed onto the mattress. I wondered if I was overreacting, whether Jim’s threat was really worth getting that upset over. I decided that it was. I’d known him all my life. He wasn’t one to make idle threats. Yet, it was so unreal. I mean, one just doesn’t go around killing people for dating certain people, does one? Why, then, was I so terrified?
I don’t know how I passed that night. I don’t know when I fell asleep. When I awoke the next morning, I was stiff and sore. Somehow, it was difficult to take the previous night’s strange incident too seriously.
I had been hungry and upset, which was why I had overreacted, I told myself. After a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, I began to feel more like myself. I took a shower. I went for a walk. The day was bright and beautiful. It was difficult to think of murder on a day like that. I had lunch at a brightly painted, clean little diner. Then I sat by the lake, feeding the ducks. I didn’t think of either Nate or Jim. I bought some groceries. I was feeling happy again.
My joyful mood lasted until I returned home from my walk. I almost screamed out loud when I saw all the red scattered in front of my apartment door. I thought it was blood.
I gingerly stepped closer, my legs shaking visibly. When I saw that it wasn’t blood, I was almost relieved. Almost but not quite. The victims of the massacre were a dozen blood-red roses. A torn-up card lay next to the flowers, shredded into hundreds of pieces. My hand shaking, I picked up the card and tried to piece it together.
This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2.0
Leave a Reply