Shift
She would walk around the city late at night, haunting the darkest places she could find, hunting for the darkest souls who were foolish enough to think that she was helpless. She would pretend to be scared as they cornered her, slammed her against the grimy walls of broken down buildings. They would usually hold a knife to her throat, tell her to be quiet because no one would come to help her, and – this was her favorite part – they would always be surprised when she would start to laugh. Sometimes, she would say something like "What makes you think I need help?" before showing them that they had picked on the wrong person. But, frequently, she would just punch her fist through someone's face and then the fun would begin.
She was strong, so strong. She could break a man in half without even trying. But that was too straightforward, too boring, breaking a man in half. No, she liked to play a little with them first. Rip off a limb here, a limb there. Get a good grip on the spine and, holding tight to it, smash the body against the ground like one big squishy mallet.
Then she would go home. Creep into the little apartment oh so quietly. Mustn't wake anyone up. Not her husband. No, he should never, ever find out about these little nocturnal outings. And certainly not her son. The poor baby had to be up early for school, so let him sleep and dream of superheroes and comic books. And, staring into the bathroom mirror at her flushed expression, the same expression she always had after sex, she would towel off the blood and hide her soiled clothes at the very bottom of the hamper. Her family wondered why she had suddenly become so obsessive compulsive about doing the laundry every day. But, bless their loving blind eyes, they just shrugged it off as another one of her 'quirks'.
However, these things always had a way of being found out eventually. She came home one day after picking up her son from school to find her husband reading the newspaper and looking grim.
"Micah, would you go to your room, please?" DL said quietly, so quietly that their son immediately knew that he had to obey.
"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, actually thinking for a moment that the world, or the city anyway, was about to end, and that they had to do something about it again.
He held out the newspaper toward her so she could read the headline.
"Body parts, body parts, were found in a dumpster." He studied her reaction very carefully. "Police say it looked like they had been ripped apart with incredible strength. Niki, I want you to tell me: has Jessica been getting out again?"
She started to cry. "I – I think so," she whispered. "Sometimes, I wake up and I'm sitting in bed, and I just know that she's done something awful."
He took her into his arms, murmured comfortingly against her hair. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you have to do this alone again?"
"I didn't want you to be afraid," she told him. "You know that I would never let her hurt you or Micah, but I didn't want you to look at me and see her and be afraid."
"Oh, baby." He believed her. He told her that they would figure this out together, the way they did before, and they would stay strong and love each other and everything would be okay. That night, they made love, and she couldn't remember any other time when he had been more gentle with her.
Once DL was asleep, she went to check on Micah. He had kicked off his blanket and she tucked him in again, placing a soft kiss on his cheek which made him smile even in his dreams. Then she went into the bathroom and looked at the familiar reflection in the mirror.
"Fuck this. Let's go out."
Jessica smiled. "You're reading my mind."
the end