Jessie reached for her doorknob, hoping she'd left her door open. Yes! Thank god she had, Jessie had forgotten her key inside. She could've sworn she'd locked it, though. Oh well, she thought, better than being locked out.

"Honey, I'm home!" Jessie called, hearing only an echo in response. Jessie lived alone, so this was normal. The upside was, despite neighbors complaining, she could sing as loud as her heart desired without someone telling her to be quiet. She began to sing "Making You Love Me" by Fame Town. Fame Town was Jessie's all-time favorite '80s boy-band. "Making trouble is easy to do," She sang, "But making you love me, is painfuuuuuul!" She sang out.

Chris cringed at the sound of Jessie's vocals, he'd written them so long ago.

Jessie finished off the song as she stepped into the hallway leading to her kitchen. She stopped and turned the thermostat up to 80, it was cold. It was dark, too. Jessie didn't bother turning on the light as she opened the refrigerator, yawning as she did so. She scanned the contents for something edible. Mostly all that was there was what leftovers her mother had given her so she wouldn't starve to death during the holidays. She sighed and took a cup of yogurt from the top shelf and opened the lid, keeping the refrigerator door open with her right hip. When Jessie stood upright, she dropped the small cup of yogurt with a scream.

Chris grinned. "Why hello there. Were you expecting someone?" he chuckled and twirled a knife skillfully in one hand.

Jessie backed up into the fridge. "Who the hell are you!" she demanded, but her voice was quiet and squeaky, much to her annoyance.

"Name's Chris. And you are Jessie." he said, pointing to her with the knife. "You may ask what I'm doing here? Simple. I need names, and you are going to give them to me."

"I ain't gonna give you shit!" she yelled, her voice full of venom. "Now get the fuck out of my house or ill call the cops!"

Chris laughed, "I don't think that's even possible." he pointed to a table where all of the house phones had been gathered and the batteries taken out, then the actual phones had been melted in a pan. "You were certainly gone long enough. Personally, I hate the twilight movies though. Although, I didn't really see Brick and Scott ever getting together." he smiled sweetly.

Jessie started to Hyperventilate. Chris's smile disappeared and he picked up a white cylinder off of the counter. "Asthma; one of the largest killers of children ages nine to thirteen." he stated and tossed the inhaler to her.

She grabbed it out of the air quickly and took a hit off the inhaler. Her breathing slowed and she slid to the ground. She stared forward, almost dreamily. "This isn't happening. No, this cannot be happening." she murmured.

Chris walked over and crouched next to her, "Oh, it's happening. Now, would you mind telling me the names of the people who work with you?"

Her gaze snapped upward and she slapped him hard across the face. Or rather, she tried to. Just before her hand connected with his face, it stopped, her wrist stuck in Chris's firm grasp.

"I don't think you want to do that." His eyes darkened and he stood up, hauling her to her feet along with him. He walked, still pulling her by her arm, to the living room. He pushed her and she tripped and half fell, half sat down on the couch. "Names!" he demanded, pulling a jackknife out of a sheath on his belt.

"No!" she persisted. "Not if it will harm my friends!" she spat, her voice like venom.

Chris shrugged, "I was going to consider letting you live. Oh well." he said almost half-way sad as he advanced with the knife raised in his hand.

*LINE*

"Hmm, Rafi. He should be easy to find." Chris muttered as he took off his gloves and dropped them on the fire he had blazing in the living room. He kneeled down and held the blade of his bloodied knife into the flames. The blood started to evaporate and he sat there for a while until he was satisfied with the result. He grabbed the limp arm of Jessie and pressed the red-hot tip to her forearm, and started to burn a message into the stone-cold flesh. When he finished, he walked over to his duffel bag. He packed up his knives and looked around once more to make sure he forgot nothing. He grinned at the massive blood pool around the couch where he had killed the girl, and then he slung the bag over his shoulder and walked out of the house.

He took a phone out of his pocket and pressed a button. It rang once and was picked up on the other end. "Hey. I need you to search the company records for a first name "Rafi"." he said and was quiet for a minute. "Okay. I got it." He hung up and got into a black SUV on the curb and drove off- thinking of how Jessie had fought back, calling him every swear word in the book and then some, threatening to haunt him, saying he'd never get away with it.

*LINE*

The next morning, Christmas morning, there was a stony silence that was usually replaced by the happy voice of Jessica, singing her out-of-date tunes to her iPod. The neighbors, an elderly couple, had come to check on what was the matter. The scene was horrifying, disgusting, terrible. The wife had exclaimed, "Dios Mio!" and called the police with her cell phone. The husband had to run out of the house so not to hurl on the spot. Neither had the slightest clue what had happened, but did know that it wasn't good at all.

*LINE*

Scott received a call, one that he half expected to be Jessie, and was devastated. "Sir," said the detective on the other end, "we need you and your friend Mr. McArthur to come down to the station right away." Scott held it together for a few seconds after hanging up, then completely lost it. Scott threw his land-line phone at the wall, shattering it to pieces, then knocked over his kitchen chairs, punched a wall, and ended up broken down crying in the middle of his living room.

Brick had also gotten the call, and decided it best to go see Scott immediately. Knowing Scott, the neighbors probably thought he was committing a murder for all that screaming and yelling. Brick knocked on Scott's door, trying to hide the fact that he'd been crying his eyes out.

Scott heard the knock and immediately pulled himself together, being a natural response to the possibility of anyone seeing him cry. Scott opened the door and saw Brick. The two were quiet for what seemed like an eternity before Brick spoke up.

"The police told me." Brick stated, trying desperately to keep a stiff-upper-lip, as he'd always been trained to do.

Scott took in a sharp breath and began to cry again. All Brick could think to do was hug- and cry with -him. Scott tried not to cry so much, but how could he not?

*LINE*

When they arrived on the scene, a police officer gave the two boys paper bags. Whatever awaited them, they'd thought, must be pretty bad. Oh, and it was. Brick immediately had to make use of the bag the cop had given him, and Scott couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. All Scott could do was stare at Jessie's body, and the message on her arm.

You're Next

Author's note: Yeah, I went there. Review please!