Note from Author: This story begins about a month after the events of the hostage-taking at Viki's cabin by Todd Manning. Georgie Phillips was killed. Todd has had a confrontation with Sam Rappaport in the cabana where Sam says he believes Peter Manning raped him. Todd denies it but implies a certain truth Sam takes to heart. Michelle was mentioned on the soap. This is where my story veers off OLTL script. Instead of taking on the fake personality disorder, Todd continues his downward spiral. Circumstances surrounding Georgie Phillips have also been changed. Michelle has become a real character. All characters belong to ABC. Fair use. This story is a re-configuration of my original 2000-2006 story and so the chapters are numbered differently.

On the Edge of Wakefulness

Chapter 1

Thomas Todd Manning, owner of the Sun Newspaper, multi-millionaire, and Llanview, Pennsylvania's Great Pariah, looked down at the paperwork he received from his investigator and crumpled them in his hand. Throwing the balled-up paper aside, he walked over to the window of Penthouse 2 and put his hands on the cool window glass, staring vacantly across the city horizon. Unkempt golden-brown hair fell below his shoulders. He wore a black t-shirt with a loose flannel shirt over blue jeans, threads at the knees, all draping his slender frame. Dark circles under his hazel eyes revealed days of no sleep.

Pressing his forehead against the window, he recalled the horrifying series of events that led to Michelle's apparent suicide. Michelle Chant, his sweet friend from Chicago, gone. He slammed a closed fist against the thick glass and bit down hard to quell a cry, biting his lip. He relished the pain, wanted it.

It was the least he deserved.

Kevin Buchanan, Lead Reporter at the Banner Newspaper, the Sun's rival, and son of the Banner's owner, Viki Carpenter, sat at his desk typing a story about the mysterious Michelle Chant. He had learned about her early in his investigation of the Georgie Phillips murder, back during the time when Kevin was sure Todd was Georgie's killer. According to sources in Chicago, Michelle had disappeared shortly after Todd's 14th birthday, but no one was sure as to what happened to her. Kevin suspected that Todd had either killed her or had done something else ... something equally as vile ... to make her disappear.

Yeah, even at the tender age of fourteen.

However, he needed to do further research before he could publish his suspicions and such research had to wait ... as things had been too hectic lately thanks to the sad resolution of the Phillips murder, a killing solved in a most unorthodox manner: by Todd taking hostages ... threatening to kill them ... if the real killer didn't come forward to clear his name.

Todd plea-bargained to misdemeanor false imprisonment and received a suspended sentence of six months in jail. The Buchanan family was furious about the light sentence, but Hank Gannon, the District Attorney, felt it best considering the reality that if Todd hadn't done what he did, it may have taken months longer to find out that his own daughter, Rachel Gannon, had murdered Georgie Phillips.

Lifting his head, Kevin spotted his mother heading into her office, looking business as usual and in complete control of her life. His mother ... sister to Todd Manning, sometime confidante, and excuse-maker. Well ... not this time. No excuses. Her brother had done something to Michelle, Kevin just knew it. Why else would he still be so unstable and explosive? He'd gotten away with the hostage-taking, he'd cleared his name, he uncovered Rachel's guilt...

And yet, Todd was a wreck.

He wasn't looking well and could barely maintain a decent conversation with anyone, even with those closest to him. Although still the Chief Editor at The Sun, Todd was hardly there and Charlie Briggs was at the helm. Téa Delgado, his wife, had left him and Llanview, and Blair, his first wife, had been keeping Starr, their seven-year-old daughter, from Todd.

Kevin understood that Sam Rappaport, Todd's lawyer, was in the process of re-opening the custody matter to get the court to grant Todd full custody of Starr once again. Blair wasn't budging on the issue, of course, refusing to discuss any kind of custody. After the hostage ordeal, she ranted to Viki that he "wasn't dealing with a full deck," so no way, no how, not even visitation.

Swallowing a mouthful of hate for Todd Manning, Kevin continued his typing, recalling the college rape of Marty Saybrooke and how Todd, the leader of the gang rape, had done nothing to stop a criminal prosecution of Kevin knowing full well he was innocent. Kevin would never forget the coldness of Todd's lies, the easy condemnation by his own frat brother.

Todd was a criminal, end of story, and he was going to be exposed for the last time.

Interrupting Kevin's work, Cassie, Kevin's wife, popped around to his side of the desk, her eyes bright and cheery, "Hey you, how's my knight in shining armor?"

He smiled at his beautiful wife, with a thoughtful, "Great…you?" He gave her a questioning look, amused at her obvious tease.

"Well, since you asked, I'm working on this story about Angel Square. Residents are rallying to get a treaty among the gangs ... trying to get investors for new co-ops and ... I want to get the word out by good old fashioned journalistic publicity." She grinned. "Anyway, Viki just okayed the story - I'm excited!" Cassie did a little jig at her last comment, smiling like a cheerleader. Kevin laughed openly and offered any assistance that he could give. She listened, taking advantage of the moment to be with Kevin under the guise of "work," and they then proceeded to mull over ideas for the story.

Across the reporters' room, tucked away at her desk, Viki glanced down at some proofs, emotionless. Her spirits should have been lifted after meeting with Cassie, should have been renewed at Cassie's enthusiasm...

Kevin's planned article on Michelle's disappearance disturbed her, thoughts zeroing in on Todd's current situation. He had withdrawn from her. Attempts to connect were shot down with typical sarcasm and off into the night he would go. Typical, maybe, but there was something eerily ... different... about him.

Téa's leaving Todd had disappointed Viki, but she had understood. It's difficult, if not impossible, to continue a relationship with someone so emotionally unbalanced. Blair was another matter. Viki thought Todd needed to be with Starr as she seemed to be a lifeline to him. But it wasn't fair to put that kind of burden on a child. Starr was barely out of babyhood and did not need to be responsible for Todd's mental health. And if Blair was uncomfortable, truly uncomfortable and not just playing games, well, Viki had to listen. Nevertheless, she still wanted Starr to see her father; the little one had been missing him and always asked Viki about him.

Shaking her head, she called Sam. "Is there any way we can get Blair to let Todd visit with Starr? We can meet at my house where they'd be fully supervised."

There was some momentary silence, Sam then saying, "Umm ... he's asked me to drop my petition for custody. He doesn't even want visitation."

"What?"

"Yeah, he told me he's leaving... going to Chicago. I'm worried as hell but ... he won't talk to me."

"Something's wrong," Viki said.

"Yeah, I know. Listen, I have a court appearance in an hour. I plan on seeing him afterwards. Maybe I'll see you at his place? We can ambush him into getting some help - something. Anything."

As soon as she hung up, Viki grabbed her purse and keys. Not waiting around for Sam.

Kevin looked up as she rushed past his desk, but resumed his work on his article. Damn him to hell, he thought, straight to hell.

Viki called the Sun's office on her way to the Penthouse. Just in case, she thought. But the receptionist said that Todd hadn't been in since the previous Friday. Thanking her, Viki hung up. Thought about what Sam told her, that Todd dropped his claim for custody, planning to leave Llanview for Chicago. My God, she thought, he would have done anything for his daughter. Now he wants to leave? No custody, no visitation? What's in Chicago, she then wondered? Michelle, maybe? Was Kevin really onto something?

Talk to me, Todd ... please.

She couldn't stop the growing tide of concern. Her brother had already been through so much. His adoptive father, Peter Manning, had been abusive but he was lucky to have had escaped Victor Lord as a custodial parent. She grew wistful recounting her own abuse at Victor's monstrous hands, sexual abuse. Said a silent prayer thanking God she had overcome what had happened to her and now lead a full life, free of the personality disorder that plagued her for years. She added a plea to help Todd, to save him from himself, finally asking God to give her strength to help him.

She pulled into the garage of the Manning Building where the Penthouse was located. Headed to the elevator. When the door opened, Blair was punching buttons, "This stupid elevator!"

Viki jumped a little, surprised, "Blair, what are you doing here?" Viki stepped in and punched the button to the top level for the Penthouse, Blair having backed off the control panel. The doors of the elevator closed the two women in together.

"I was on my way up to the Penthouse and ... and this ... God-forsaken elevator brought me down just as I got to the top ... stupid building ..."

Viki thought it was more than a misguided elevator that had Blair on edge.

"Blair -"

The elevator stopped at the Penthouse floor, interrupting Viki, and slid open. The women stepped out into the hallway of the top floor and both stared at the Penthouse 2 door for a moment, almost as if they were expecting it to do something, to vibrate, to open ... to speak.

Viki turned to Blair, "Are you here trying to get Todd to change his mind about Starr?"

"Change his mind?! I've been calling him every day offering a visit out of ... pity for him ... now he's refusing to talk to me or see Starr. Do you know how ANGRY that makes me? He tortures me for weeks and weeks, begging me to see her. He cries, claiming he's dying practically, and pow! Stops cold. I could just kill him!" Blair took a deep breath, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.

Viki looked down at that and said, "Sam told me Todd's dropping his petition for custody. I don't understand."

"Right and it's so typical - I'm sure he has something planned. Just you wait, he's waiting for my guard to be down and then he'll pounce on me like a rabid dog. That ... bastard!" Anger cloaked Blair's truth, her real concern for Todd. Something ... was going horribly wrong.

Viki put her hand on Blair's shoulder and proceeded to give life to Blair's unspoken words, "He's not well. I don't think he's planning to do anything to get Starr back or anything like that. Sam also told me Todd was planning to leave Llanview to go to Chicago. Did he mention anything like that to you?"

"No, he didn't. He hasn't spoken to me at all, I told you! What the hell is wrong with him?!"

"I don't know - that's why I'm here. Let's talk to him, civilly. No death threats, ok?"

"Fine. But I'm not making a promise that I won't beat the truth out of him."

Viki sighed, shaking her head. Approaching the door, she rang the bell.

Todd opened it quickly, stringy hair falling over his face, shirt open onto a ragged tee-shirt, well-worn jeans hanging low. Shadowed eyes. Viki and Blair both stuttered out introductions, stumbling on each other's words. In his usual manner, he growled, "Shut up the both of you. The hell do you want?"

Viki stopped Blair with her hand, seeing she was about to respond equally as rough and said, "Todd, I- we have been very worried about you. Can we please come in?"

"No. I'm packing and need to leave. I have a plane to catch."

Todd started to shut the door, but Blair stopped the door from closing, grumbling, "No way, buddy boy. You're not getting off that easily."

"Whatever."

Blair and Viki both walked in, following Todd as he headed towards the living room, both noting the definite smell of cigarettes in the place. They gave each other confused glances, seeing an ashtray full of cigarette butts. It was out of character. He'd given up cigarettes ages ago. But then, lately, everything he'd been doing was ... out of character.

Once in the living area, he began to throw clothes from a pile on the couch into a large duffel bag on the floor, not bothering to fold them or even shake them out. Viki walked up to him and touched his shoulder, saddened at his flinching reactively.

"Todd. Talk to me. I need to know what's going on with you. Please."

He stopped what he was doing and simply stood quietly, looking down at the clothes in his hands. He gazed at Viki, staring at her mouth a second or two before raising his eyes to hers, and said, "Don't worry about me. It's over. I'll be out of your hair before you can say, 'Let's kill all the lawyers'. Ok? I just ... need to take care of some things before ... before I leave. Just go." He then turned to Blair, "Give a kiss to Starr for me, ok? Tell her, I love her, and ... just tell her that." He turned quickly back to his packing and swallowed hard, fighting back an overpowering wave of sorrow.

Starr, he thought, my beautiful ... perfect baby girl.

Clenching her teeth, about to light into Todd, Blair looked at Viki for support. Viki said calmly in response, "Blair, let me talk to Todd alone. I'll call you when I get home." She smiled compassionately, Blair then sighing impatiently and walking out the front door, slamming it shut. Said nothing ... because anything coming out of her mouth would have been hostile.

All of a sudden, Todd threw the clothes in his hand towards the door yelling an aggravated, incomprehensible sound. Viki put her purse down in a hurry at that, moving close to him as he stood quietly, lost in his upset. "Fuckin' bitch," he muttered, more to himself than to Blair or even Viki.

Putting her hand lightly on his back, not getting a reaction this time, Viki asked softly, "Tell me what's going on. You don't seem yourself. You're more of a mess now than at the lodge; I think you've lost weight. You look like you haven't slept or ... even washed. I'm really worried, here. I love you ... I want you to know I'm here for you. You can tell me anything. Is it Téa?"

Todd stared at the floor. After some moments, he said, "Who?" He wasn't actually asking. "I just ... need to take care of something in Chicago. I ... I have to go. There's nothing to say anymore. Please just let me go ..." Viki watched in near shock as he said this last plea with tears in his eyes and his voice choking back a sob. He'd never appeared this pained to her before, this open. He wiped at his eyes in frustration, almost growling, and pulled away.

Viki put her arms around him. He seemed to weaken a little, appearing surprised at his own need of human contact and laid his head lightly on her shoulder.

"I'm here, Todd, if you need me," she reiterated. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll listen to anything you have to say, no matter what it is. Talk to me."

Saying nothing, he moved out of her hold on him and walked back to his pile of clothes, kneeling on the floor to continue his packing. He cleared his throat and mumbled a tired, "I'm alright. Uh ... thank you for everything you've ever done for me. I ... I know I haven't been easy. I'm ok." He turned his head and looked up at her, giving her a small smile trying to assure her, trying to divert her attention away from him, from his ... condition. "I'm just… preoccupied," he said. "That's all. I promise I'll take a shower before I leave. Please Viki, just leave me alone to do what I have to do."

She wanly smiled back at him, watching as he resumed his chore of packing. And then ... against all her better instincts, against a screaming command inside of her insisting that she not leave him behind, she said, "Okay," and ... walked out the front door, purse in hand. She ... left. Like he wanted her to ... like he needed her to.

Shutting the door, she leaned on the solid wood. She felt powerless to help him, weak. He'll be fine, she told herself. He probably wants to squash the story on Michelle ... but that sadness ... that ... deterioration was still there. God ... go back in, she urged herself. She then tried the door, but it had locked.

Knocking, she called out, "Todd! Let me in ... let me drive you to the airport. TODD!" But there was no sound inside. Only a dead silence. "Todd?" she asked again through the door.

Nothing.

"Please open the door," she pleaded. Then she heard footsteps ... a hand on the door. Nails scratched the wood, maybe he leaned on the door. "Todd ... let me in, please." Viki looked at the doorknob, looked for it to twist to let her in.

But she heard steps again ... fading away. He had chosen his destiny ... he chose to not let in the one person who could help him right now.

"Oh, sweetheart …" Viki sighed. She could only hope that he would come back to Llanview and his family safe and sound. She had a bad feeling about this, though, a sensation of dread. Doom. Destiny. She shut off her mind, not wanting to think about her premonition ... that Todd had no intention of ever coming back to Llanview safe and sound. Ever. She shut off that thundering intuition because it was too loud, too ... dark.

Todd ambled back to the living room. Collapsed to his knees, pressing his face into the clothes in front of him. Before long, unable to control himself, he found himself crying again, sitting up and smacking his head to stop himself, to short-circuit the despair. He was unable to let this bottomless-pit pain go. She was dead and it was his fault. He should have checked on her, should have made sure she was okay… he should have tried finding her. He shoved knuckles into his mouth, sobbed tears that seemed to burn his skin, cutting into him.

The voices ... they were getting to him, yelling at him, not allowing him to think. And the images ... God, god, they were killing him.

After a few minutes, he regained a semblance of control and shakily stood up. He walked over to his desk, sniffling, scowling at the papers on the floor where he had thrown them earlier. He picked them up, un-crumpled them and read the last lines of the investigator's report yet again.

"According to the local paper, on June 25, Michelle Chant jumped into the New River, West Virginia, to her death. Her body was never found. Local authorities have closed their files assuming her body lost in the rapids of the River or taken by wild animals. They had searched for a body for several weeks after that to no avail. There were 2 witnesses to her jump. She was 22 years old. She is survived by a younger brother and her parents. There is nothing further to report."

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so fucking sorry, Michelle." Todd felt numb as he read the lines over and over. He remembered her silky brown hair, her joyous smile, her infectious laugh. He would look at her in class and she would look at him, winking, letting him know she caught him staring at her once again. Her eyes, hazel like his own, long lashes, eyes that would nearly disappear when she smiled or laughed, because those eyes laughed along with her. Her body was thin and athletic - well, she had been so young. He smiled for a moment recalling her mouth, her full lips, her nose and the freckles on her skin. They had both only been thirteen ... but there was something about them ... they were old souls, as the saying goes.

He remembered her giggling when she would help him with his homework during their library hour, "No, Todd, we need to study!" But he would continue to playfully tickle her, any excuse to touch her, and before long they would get an icy stare from the librarian. They would study only at Michelle's insistence. He thought of her kisses, warm and passionate ones shared on top of an abandoned blanket in the basement of the school - near the furnace - secret from all the world, stolen kisses. His first kisses of a girl. Her first kisses of a boy. Innocent kisses which turned to frenzied, unsatisfied, wanting kisses. "I love your sad face," she would say to him as she covered him with those kisses. He stopped his memories from moving further down that road.

He once again read that last line:

"There is nothing further to report."

He knew what he had to do. Chicago would not be graced by his presence today. Not ever. Llanview ... would lose its Great Pariah.

Forever.

Sitting at his desk, rocking hypnotically, Todd sniffed and licked his lips. Soon picked up the telephone and dialed the Banner, spitting, "Yeah, get me Kevin Buchanan."

"One moment please," the nameless and faceless operator stated without emotion. Todd couldn't help but think of this disembodied voice ... floating around ... snaking its way around him ... slithering into his ear ... then out ... running down along his neck. He shook away what was fast becoming a hallucination, then waited, oddly numb, for Kevin to come to the phone. He looked at the investigator's report and formulated the final plan in his mind. He was working through his plan, step by step, when he heard the grating familiar voice, "Buchanan, here."

"Uh, yeah this is your fav'rite Uncle Todd, Kevvie," he sneered his best possible at that moment, the snake crawling across the report.

Kevin furrowed his brows, thinking that maybe it wasn't the one and only Todd Manning at the other end of his telephone, the voice sounding so tired and, well, different. Slurring even.

"What do you want?" How he hated when Todd called him, "Kevvie".

Todd's sarcasm evaporated, his body out of energy, "Well, Kevvie, I have some, uh, paperwork you might be interested in. I know you found out something about ..." He hesitated for a moment, taking a breath to maintain composure, "...about an old friend of mine, Michelle Chant."

He sighed in relief and thought, its out, I said her name out loud. There is nothing further to report.

His mind wandered. Felt the cool water of the New River hit his face, his body. He was drifting, broken by the hard current. Voices taunted him ... called him. He glanced up the stairs ... then watched the snake crawl upwards towards the bathroom and towards the voices ... hissing ... the tongue flickering in and out.

"Really, and you want me to have this paperwork of yours? What about the Sun? Why would you feed me information on a potentially hot topic about you?" Kevin's intense questioning was rewarded only with a disturbing stillness.

"Hey! You still there?" Kevin pressed.

Todd stammered out a response, "Uh yeah, listen, just ... just come to the Penthouse and ... and get it. Come in a couple of hours, yeah, in a couple of hours. The key's under the doormat. The ... the paperwork will be on my desk." Todd hung up abruptly. Yeah, that's good.

Kevin was a little stunned. Stared at the phone before putting it back down. 4:00 p.m. Wondered where Viki was. Maybe she would know about this deal with Todd. Kevin shook his head, cursing under his breath. Todd was such a pain. Whatever he did, he did big and always made sure to drag everyone down into hell with him. Shit.

Kevin called Viki on her cell phone and got no response. He decided to continue working on his article. His eyes kept moving to the clock. Shit.

Sam Rappaport emerged from his court appearance a little anxious. He was working on an injunction to stop a condemnation effort on the part of the city of Llanview to take some Angel Square property. Carlotta Vega's diner was directly in the line of fire and Sam agreed to donate legal time, pro bono, to help her save her diner. The city was merciless and unreasonable and he felt maybe some bigwigs were behind the condemnation proceedings. He even wondered about Judge Austin Campbell being bought off. He stretched his neck muscles in an attempt to ward off a migraine headache.

He thought of going to the Penthouse but changed his mind. Sam didn't deal with guilt very well and felt responsible for Todd's current condition.

He should never have confronted Todd about being raped by his father, Peter Manning.

"I would never let anyone do anything like that to me! I'm strong!" Todd never admitted to it. But Sam knew he was right. He knew something horrible happened to Todd on the night of his 14th birthday. He just didn't know the details. Thing was, he didn't really want to know because ... well ... the details had been right in front of him.

Looking back, Todd's basic personality had changed drastically that fourteenth year. The depression, anxiety, the paranoia. Hyper-aggression that led to that thing with Marty Saybrooke. There had been nobody he could have turned to at the time; Sam hadn't been available. He felt ashamed of himself; he'd failed Todd. Failed him miserably.

He shouldn't have pushed so hard; he'd deteriorated so much since the trial. Something about Georgie's murder had triggered the downward spiral and Sam couldn't figure it out. The result of the trial hadn't been any help. Todd got a suspended sentence thanks to him. Fact is Sam should have asked for hospitalization rather than straight probation.

But no. He promised Todd his silence. And ... he was Todd's attorney; anything Todd told him was confidential. Sam's hands were tied and ... irony of ironies, the confidentiality made him an active participant in Todd's decline. Sam walked out of the courthouse slowly and started to drive home. Perhaps he would call Viki and perhaps she could accompany him to face Todd. There was strength in numbers. He then changed his mind and decided to head on over to Todd's place himself.

Todd sat at his desk, strangely at peace. Calm. It wouldn't be too long now – everything was going to be taken care of. He wanted Kevin to have the information about Michelle. He knew the Sun would have to take advantage of the lurid details in the report and print a scathing article about its beloved owner and his little friend who threw herself into the Great White Rapids only to be eaten by wolves.

"Publisher's Lolita Finger-Lickin' Good", or something like that, would be plastered all over the front page. The Sun had no choice in that approach; it had an obligation to do that, a reputation ... a reputation ... salutation ... manifestation ... pluralization ... moralization. God, he couldn't think. He felt off-kilter, yet razor sharp and focused at the same time.

Yeah ... yeah ... that water ... that cold ... icy ... water. Snakes slithered in and out of the water ... hissing ... spitting …

So yeah ... the Banner would publish this story. Viki would be sure the article would be respectful. Couldn't deny the differences between the two newspapers.

Todd looked around the Penthouse. Couldn't think.

Think, think, think. Oh yeah ... his ... plan ... yeah ... the plan. It's so quiet now …

Kevin was perfect ... yeah. When he comes for the paperwork, it'll be Kevin who'll get to retrieve Todd. Not Blair or Starr, not Starr ... God, not Starr. Not Viki either. He wanted Kevin to find him. It would be best. Kevvie hates him so it shouldn't affect him much. He would take care of business and would protect the girls. Yeah, that's good. That's real good.

The plan ... yeah, the plan. It's time. Time for relief ... time to take care of ... it. Time for ... bizzzzzness!

He pulled himself away from the desk and started to put his bag away; no, he thought, I better leave it out. That way Kevin will think he's still here and go look for him. Yeah, that's good. Oh and a note. He better write a note. Yeah, that's good.

Looking down at his clothes before he got up, he could see the snake slithering in and out of the bag ... hissing ... spitting. He walked to his desk again and pulled out some paper ... a pen ... stared at the pen's tip, It was sharp, could make cuts into skin if he pressed down hard enough ... cuts ... not deep enough, though...

Dear Kevvie,

Here is the paperwork I told you about. Be sure to show the draft of your article to Viki. Sorry about making you do this job. I thought you were the best choice - didn't want them to find the body. Give my love to everyone, and tell them I'm sorry, but they will be better off.

TM

He thought about writing to Blair, Starr, Viki and ... Téa. But then, he thought, I can't, I can't do that. It will only make it worse. Let them hate me for doing this. It won't hurt as much. Oh, Starr, his beautiful cherubic baby girl. His baby ... his perfect ... baby girl.

He was shivering, but didn't know why. He looked down at his shaking limbs, realizing he couldn't actually feel the tremors and figured it was because inside, he was dead already. Shrugged. Glanced around. Felt curiously excited about his plan. He smiled, even laughed 'cause he would be with Michelle soon.

The best part though was that Satan … would be dead, too.

Yeah, bitch.

He was really shaking now; he stood and nearly fell, his legs so weak. Days and days of non-sleep, of wakefulness ... of fighting and listening and arguing and ... and ... struggling to breathe.

Let me get that knife, that really sharp one in the kitchen, the sharpest one in there. Yeah, that's good. That's real fucking good. Shhhh ... it's getting noisy again ... shhhh ... I'm coming for you, Satan ... you won't have me for long ... I'm coming. Take your last breaths through me, you fuckin' bastard ... take your last fuckin' breaths.

He walked into the kitchen, dazed, as if he was in a dream. But he was focused. Yeah ... focused. His breathing felt funny. Didn't know what it was. Sounded noisy and fast. He walked through the kitchen and pulled the blade off the chopping block. He ran it across his bearded chin and face, relishing the cool steel against his cheek, and then ... he floated out of the kitchen, watching his feet move yet not feeling the floor beneath them, the knife hanging loosely in his hand.

Yeah ... it's good this way. It'll be over ...it'll be so so quiet.

Kevin looked at the clock and thought that he better get over to Todd's place even if it was a little earlier than Todd asked. He grabbed his keys and started for his car. Shit.

Todd walked through the living room, stepping on clothes, nearly tripping, but he wasn't fazed or deterred. He moved up the stairs, one step at a time. Floating still. He could almost see himself gliding, as if he looked down on himself from above. Like an angel ... like a drifting angel ...

It was happening ... his plan. And it was beautiful vengeance, red and shiny and perfect. And Satan ... he was going to be so ... damned … surprised.

He walked into the bathroom, admiring the blade, its shininess, its silver readiness, and ... he took off his clothes, piece by piece. He looked at his naked body in the mirror, seeing it ugly, scarred, damaged ... evil. He knew Satan was eating him from the inside out and it was already showing through.

He looked at the recent markings made by his own cigarette on his abdomen, chest and other parts, shameful parts, hurting parts, those last few days, last few weeks. By burning himself from the outside in, he had been warning Satan that he was coming for him. Each burn, a new threat.

He saw a black snake at his feet, twisting and writhing. Telling him what he needed to do.

I haven't forgotten ... I'm here ... ready ... ready for my plan. Here I come, Peter Baby! Here I come! I'm not going to belong to you anymore because you will be DEAD ... we'll both be dead.

Oh the joy.

He was saving his beautiful daughter and Viki and Blair and Téa from Peter Manning and Satan. They'll be so thankful to be rid of him. He will be victorious!

He would... be free.

Kevin got into his car and started the engine. Slammed the steering wheel. Todd drove him over the edge, infuriated him beyond words. He should just forget about this stupid article. He was sure he was a pawn in one of Todd's sick games and would end up truly regretting his participation. But ... but the truth had to come out even if he ended up being a pawn. Even if his mother would end up hurt.

Viki loved Todd like a lost puppy, sick puppy that he was. Admittedly, he had begun to see a little of what was in her heart. He understood that she saw herself in Todd. He knew that when Viki reached out to him, she was reaching for the injured, abused child she had once been.

Not that he felt Todd had been abused or any of that crap.

In his darkest moments, Kevin worried that if his mother lost Todd, she might lose herself as well. So he battled within himself: Get rid of Todd, keep him. Get rid of Todd, keep him.

He drove out of the garage of the Banner and headed towards the Penthouse. Shit.

Todd opened the door to the shower and turned the water on, hot. He turned and picked up the knife off the counter. He stepped into the steaming water with that promising knife in his hand, a knife which was calling to him, singing to him, backed by the snake's hisses. He closed the glass door and felt the water warm his body. He stood there, unmoving, listening to the sounds of Satan ...

Yeah ... he was running scared; Satan was scared shitless.

Todd sighed, the hot water cascading around him. Why couldn't Michelle have landed into a nice hot bubbling spring of water instead of that river? He pictured her a nymph in such a hot spring, hair floating behind her, arms and legs, open, waiting for Todd to swim to her, to move on top of her, another nymph. They would make love there in the warm enveloping water ... she would love him ... and he would love her again ... uninterrupted this time ... untainted ...

...un ...ruined.

How beautiful she was that night. It was wonderful, loving, but then it was trashed and destroyed by Peter Satan what's-his-name. Why did she have to throw herself into the icy rocky razor sharp waters of the river? Why? Razor sharp water with razor sharp rocks, cutting and disintegrating her body. Parts left for the wolves. Razor sharp water with razor sharp rocks. Cutting ... slicing ... slashing ... reddening the water, reddening her world, his world.

Vacantly, he looked down at the razor sharp knife in his hand, glimmering, wet, waiting ... and slashed at his forearm. Again. Again. Again. Switched hands, weakly slashed at his other arm... couldn't get as deep… but he kept trying… hitting veins… hit the blue...

Yeah ... Satan was paying for what he did.

Cutting water ... razor sharp water ... razor sharp rocks ... steel.

Beautiful fucking vengeance.

The knife fell, clinking against the tile. Blood ran down his hands and fingers, pouring into the drain along with the water. He lifted his hands in front of him, watching the blood pump out. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, blood baptizing his body, coursing down his arms, down his sides, down his legs, diffusing as the water splashed onto him. His long hair lengthened, darkened, as it got more and more wet with the steam, blood and water.

God help me, he thought.

Everything began to spin and blacken. Turning, he threw himself backwards, smashing into the glass door, the door flying open behind him. He hit the tile floor violently, arms above his head. Blood moved now along the tiles, a silky growing shroud underneath him. He swam in imagined water ... with Michelle ... hearing her laugh, feeling her love ... beautiful vengeance, indeed.

The sound of running water floated throughout Penthouse 2.

To be continued….