The Clock  by  Lovely Girl

I stared out my windshield. The car’s engine still roared at me. My hands were still locked on the wheel. My knuckles red looking at the stumbling teens by the lovely house belonging to the Marson brothers. Costumes were getting odder as I saw them head into the party.

I leaned my head against the back of the seat taking a deep breath. I was sure beyond sure that my ex was somewhere in the fun zone I had enjoyed last year. Ricky Marson’s parties were a blast. Especially when you were the one dating him. I glanced at the switchblade placed on the passenger seat.

My fingers drummed against the gray wheel. I looked down at my outfit. Okay it was a costume, but I much rather call it an outfit. I wasn’t into the Halloween scene. That was for kids who believed in the boogeyman or worshipped the color black.

I was in no way a worshipper of black. Even the so called costume I wore spoke it. The green plaid mini skirt, white top, and sash were the signs of my sad attempt at a sexy Girl Scout uniform. I had not too much money since my mother had been laid off from her job, so I all I could do was digging up some things from my girl scout past.

Really I wasn’t sure why I was sitting in my car glaring at everyone in a sexy costume while my ex boyfriend lingered in his fun party with Miranda, the new preppier than me girl in school. She had taken not just my boyfriend, but my place as head cheerleader. Maybe that’s why the knife was on the seat.

Maybe I was going to snap or something. I never thought I would, but I really had nothing left. No money, no boyfriend, barely any friends. The knife seemed mighty tempting in that moment. My foot was stiff on the break as I put it in park and turned the engine off.

I put the knife in my purse that frayed at the ends. A confrontation was bound to happen. With the keys tucked safe in my purse I got out of the car. I saw two guys look at me, but not like guys usually looked at me. I was probably a hot mess.

Like Ricky had once said I had the crazy eyes and with my hair thrown about from lying in bed for two days crying my eyes out, I looked like someone who probably would snap at any moment. I straightened myself up and took a deep breath.

The pulse of the music greeted me as I entered the house. I forgot how many people could fit into the huge house. I moved between the drunk and the disoriented. I wasn’t sure if I was moving toward Miranda and Ricky or away. Either way I was heading up the stairs in a fogged daze.

Everything seemed faded. Few things were registered in my sight. A boy dressed as the Joker unbuttoning his long purple coat. A brunette dressed as an overdressed Native American princess. Former friends of mine paraded themselves in front of me in bunny and cat outfits. What they said was a fog. They laughed at how I looked and how I was a pointless being. Just because I wasn’t their superior anymore. Just because I feel from grace. I tried not to say anything, but I guess seeing Miranda in her nurse’s outfit in the corner made me angrier than I thought.

“Hey leave her alone!” Miranda pushed Gina, my former number two. They snorted and turned away. “Jeanette, are you okay?” I looked up at her. Her eyes were green, Ricky’s favorite color.

I cursed at her before turning away. I ran out of the house. My eyes weren’t tearing up like they should. Maybe I was all cried out. I clenched my teeth as I stared at the cars. Even thought Miranda had tried to help me I still hated her with such a passion. That reminded me of the knife. I breathed looking to see the shiny new red Mustang Miranda had received for her eighteenth birthday.

Slicing all four of those tires would be something that would piss her off, but then again it would leave her stranded her at his house. I clenched my fists at my side. Instead I decided to go to my car. It was farther away then I remembered. Almost in no man’s land. I pulled out my keys and jingled them as if to ward off predators.

The darkness loomed over my pale skin. A light breeze blew across my face tangling my already ruined blonde hair. A cat meowed in the distance. Halloween never scared me so much, but I was scaring myself. I never thought about wanting to hurt someone so bad. Not ever. Sure I got mad, but right now I wanted to. . .

“Don’t move, Jeanette.” The cool blade was against my throat. The voice sounded like any teen boy. Clear and determined. What I assumed were arms hugged my shoulders tighter than I thought possible. I wanted to swallow or shove my elbow into his stomach, but the knife was very real against my skin. “I won’t hurt you. Yet.” I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder and my body went numb. My eyes shut too and I found my eyesight and mind going black.

--

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when I woke up. Metal clamps were around my wrists against a cement wall. I tried to pull at them, but my strength was minimum and the metal around my wrists were too close to my skin.

I looked at my surrounding my heart racing into a slow panic. The basement was not as dark as most basements. A single high window brought in a glimmer of light. There were bars on the small window that made it seem like a prison. I found myself in a separate part of the entire room. Two walls on either side of me blocked me from seeing the big picture of my situation.

A chair racked against the floor with a high squeak. I winced closing my eyes and lowering my head. When I opened them I saw that my feet were tied to two cement block. I tried to move, but the ropes tightened. It felt as if my feet were about to snap in two.

My head went up at the sound of some kind of life in the otherwise lifeless room. I saw a vaguely familiar sight. A girl I had never seen until last night. She was still dressed in a warm Native American outfit. Her moccasins glided lightly on the gray floor as she moved the folding chair some feet away from me.

“Hey!” I shouted. I pulled at my restraints. The metal shook against metal. I shouted more unavoidable words, but she didn’t turn around.

She picked up the book from the chair. I watched as she flipped it open. She was looking down at it when she sat down. She briefly looked up at me and I saw her face.

Her dark brown eyes looked up at me from her small attractive face. Her face had a bit of dirt scattered across the bridge of petite nose. Her bangs were scattered across her forehead in light waves of brown. Her eyes looked a bit surprised to see me. I must have looked tremble.

“Please help me.” My whisper was desperate. Maybe I was beginning to cry too, but the girl didn’t move. She just looked at me like a watch dog looking after a captured prey for his master.

I heard the sound of a door opening. A light reflected itself on the girl. I saw her squint her eyes than look up. Someone descended the stairs than her eyes lit up. Like a child seeing her first fireworks. She stood up and placed her book on the seat. Her lips curved in a very sweet smile.

A man appeared in a high turtleneck and long black pants. No doubt he was the guy who had captured me last night or however long it was. He smiled at the girl. His face lacked some color, but it seemed like how that was usually how he was. His hair was draped across his face, a dark black shadow against light skin. He smiled at the young girl. His fist knocked her chin before his dark eyes were on me.

“What am I doing here?” My voice was scared and shaky. He just tilted his head and gave a quick smile. He stepped forward his heavy boots on the floor. My lips quivered as tears began to roll down my eyes.

“What do you think?” He nearly laughed. The girl just watched. Her eyes blinking between the two of us. I tiled my head back trying to stop my heart rate from going higher. My body began to shake against the chains. My legs attempted to push the large blocks.

“Why would . . .? How can . . .?” My eyes went to the girl. She was just standing there like a blank lifeless doll. “How can you stand there?” I finally got out. I heard his laughter before I could see her reaction.

“Did you realize that she can’t hear you?” My eyes went to his amused expression. I looked at her and saw that she was shifting her feet forward to be closer to him. “She can’t talk either. Deaf mute. She’s almost not very likely to help you. You people always seem to think she’ll be able to somehow save you.”

“You people?” My voice almost snorted the question. He folded his arms and got down on his knees to look me in the eye. I stared into his eyes for longer than I probably should have. The dark shades memorized me as if testing my strength. He broke when the young girl handed him a newspaper. He smiled in return.

He flashed the front page of a local newspaper. The headline I heard many times before. The Number Killer strikes again. My heart beat faster than I could ever remember a heart beating. I remembered when all the killings had begun vaguely.

We talked about it in history class one day. The first victim had been a young man in college nobody had really known him in our small town. He had been an out of towner attending a local college, but as the killings continued the people became more familiar.

The killings were brutal. Everyone knew that. That’s why they never explained them so well in the paper. All I knew was that this murderer carved the number of his victims into their skin. A sick twisted man that was really no older than me. Just a young man with a dark look in his eye.

“You get it now, Jeanette?” He asked going to his feet. He threw the paper at my feet so I could see the face of his last victim. Number twelve was a middle aged mailman who had a creepy smile and an enormous beer belly. I shut my eyes back at him unable to think about his death that would be like my own.

“How do you know my name?” I saw him smile. The young girl mimicked his grin. “Have you been stalking me?”

“I don’t need to.” I started to pace in front of me. His eyes never left mine. “I have everything I can get here.” He tapped his head. My large eyes widened. “You are no different than any of the others. They all thought like you. Maybe some acted different, but you have the same tick.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Tick tock, tick tock. “A dangerous clock. A time bomb. That’s what you are Jeanette.”

“What?” My voice was a low whisper. Was he insane? That was the only explanation.

“You wanted to kill Miranda last night.” His jaw was set high in an all knowing stance. “You’ve thought about it on and off, but last night you really wanted to. You think she stole everything from you. Your guy, your friend, your life. You figured you take hers, but you were scared.”

“You followed me.” I told him. How else would he know all that? It wasn’t like he read my mind.

“It’s exactly like that Jeanette.” I saw his smug face. “I can do that. Not only that, but I can hear that you have that time bomb in your head. It’s something in not many people. It’s in people who are about to snap and big time. Affecting the world more than they should.”

“I wouldn’t have-“I started.

“You would have.” He interrupted. “It’s only a matter of time before you took that knife and started stabbing someone. I’m here to stop that.” He smiled looking at the young girl. “Ann is my assistant of sorts. She’ll make sure you don’t die before I let you.” He started for the stairs again. Leaving me alone with the girl who just looked in awe at him.

--

I didn’t want to be victim number thirteen. It had been two sleeps since I had gotten here. The dang basement where I was feed McDonald’s by a young deaf girl. It didn’t take much time to realize that the young Ann could read lips.

It was hard not to think about my impending death, but I had to feel bad for Ann. I don’t know why maybe it was because she was handicapped. But I came to realize that she knew a lot more than I did about John. He didn’t come down often, but whenever he checked on me he had a kiss for Ann.

I didn’t think about an escape. I just thought about all the people I would leave behind. I wondered if they would miss me or care that I was going to die in such a horrible way. I cried myself asleep. Occasionally Ann would tap my head or comfort me. Why? I still wasn’t sure.

She wasn’t anywhere to be seen at the moment. I pulled at the metal cuffs. I managed to squeeze my wrist through the restraints. After sometime both of them were out. My heart pounded as I started to untie the ropes at my feet.

I was now thinking about everything. How to escape. How I was not going to let anything bad happen to me without some kind of fight. I started to run toward the window immediately I took the stack of boxes just to see if I could somehow pull the bars off the window. It was stupid, but I was panicking.

Truthfully I didn’t want to die I just thought like a panicked girl when my soon to be murderer was around. I lifted myself on the boxes that were water damaged and cardboard. My foot went right through. My heart pumped. I was breathing deeper than I could possibly imagine. I heard the door creep open. I ran. I wasn’t sure if it was Ann or the man.

Who ever it was swung at me. I pushed back. They fell down the stairs. I would have felt bad if it was Ann, but I didn’t have time. I ran through the kitchen. The floral curtains caught in the breeze as I ran by. I pushed the front door open. My sandals hit the dirt as I jumped off the porch into the woods. It was cool on the ground as it ate away at my exposed feet.

My body lunged itself forward in a rapid fit of survival. My arms pumped with my legs as I moved through the trees. I hit more than my fair share of branches. The gleam of a morning light hit my body like a regretful friend. It wasn’t good to see the light like I hoped.

Mainly because no matter how many times I tried to think of myself as a good person I knew I wasn’t. I HAD thought about killing Miranda. I would have done it too if I had not been caught. He called it a time bomb. The noise of a broken clock echoed in my head.

Tick tock. Tick Tock. Here I am the murderous clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. I will be with you forever to stalk.

I saw the road and stopped. If I left here I would be free. No chains or death, but what did that mean for Miranda? I hoped for her sweet death. My fingers closed against my fist. My eyes began to tear. Would I be able to stop from killing or was it just a matter of time before I snapped? If not Miranda someone else, Ricky or any of my friends.

Grass and branches rustled behind me. I turned to see Ann pushing aside a branch. She looked at me and I think she saw the thoughts I now was considering. She paused in her step. Big brown eyes locked on my body.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” My voice was just a whisper, but she saw my lips move. She held out her hand and I took it. Like I had said. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.

--

“How old was the victim this time?” I asked as I approached the crime scene. A well known garden was an odd place to dump a body, but then again this number freak was one of the weirder serial killers.

“Eighteen.” My partner Henry McNeal was hovering over the body. “Jeanette Harrison. The mark’s on her hand.”

The young blonde girl barely looked dead. She wore a green dress with pearls that looked rather expensive around her neck. Her fair skin was free of any bruises or wounds. I was beginning to think if this was the same killer on our hands, but sure enough the Roman numeral XIII was carved neatly into her left hand.

“Are you sure this is the number killer?” I asked bending down to look more closely. Henry was watching. I think he knew what I was about to find. A small bruise on her forearm indicated an injection. “Huh, that’s new.”

“Maybe she didn’t struggle as much as the others.” I could hear a soft sniff behind us. I looked over to see a ragged blonde woman standing by the cop car. Her eyes were on mine and I could see the dead girl’s facial features in her. “We have to tell her mother.” My least favorite part about being detective was telling the families. They always left me wanting to kill these killers myself.

Tick Tock.