King of the Bugs
Ralph perched nervously in the uncomfortable psychologist's chair, waiting nervously for her diagnosis.
She glanced up from he clipboard and over he glasses at her senior citizen patient. "You obviously have a deep past trauma. Were you ever abused?" Seeing he patient avidly shaking his head, she continued, "Did you ever see anyone beaten or killed?"
"No. I already told you. I never saw-"
Then he remembered. A flash, and he saw a group of boys chanting in near-crazed madness, poking a screaming boy with sticks until he keeled over. He saw a boulder come crashing down on the head of a boy of twelve. The boys only had time for a half scream before he was dead, the matter of his brain mingling with seawater. He was back there, running from boys painted like savages yelling and carrying sticks. They wanted to hurt him. He knew they would get him if he stopped running. There was a raging fire, the heat pressing him from all sides. And smoke-Oh the smoke! It was everywhere, filling his lungs, blinding him, making him cough. He had to keep running! Ralph saw the younger version of himself trip and fall on the beach. They were gaining on him-"
"Sir, sir are you alright?" Her voice cut through his horrible vision. He shook his head slowly. The world regained its peaceful modern state. He was back on the awful chair. "Sir, did you just relive a traumatizing event in your life?"
What was she saying? Oh,. Yes. Trauma. "Yes. You see- There's something I did not tell you. Something I myself have tried to forget. When I was twelve I was plane-wrecked on an island with some other boys. They all turned into savages. I stayed with the few who abstained, but the monsters killed two. They were chasing me when I was rescued. They were going to kill me. That's what I relived." Ralph took a deep breath and glanced up at his doctor to gauge her reaction.
"I assume you have never talked about it?"
"No. I never told anyone. I myself nearly succeeded in forgetting."
"Why don't you tell me everything that you can remember? I think this might have been what was giving you your paranoia attacks."
"It all started during London evacuations in World War II"
Jack readied his knife and looked around furtively, his eyes straining to see in the dim light. Good. No one. He smiled malevolently. On the island he had never gotten to get even with Ralph. He would settle the score tonight. The naval officer had stopped all fighting, and there was no opportunity to get Ralph during the trials. That would all change to night. Sneak in while Ralph was sleeping, lift the knife, and BAM! Tonight he would kill that beast that had haunted him for so many long years. Slit his throat, bash him in. Tonight, Ralph was going down. He glanced down at his watch and then back up at Ralph's window. 9:30, but the light was still on.
"Come on, turn it off, buddy" Jack muttered under his breath. Within a few moments, his prayer was answered.
Jack entered the building and crept up the stairs.
"How many floors can this building have?!" Jack cursed and continued upward.
Then he was there. Apartment 16F. The door was not locked.
"Over-trusting little sucker. Like taking candy from a baby."
Jack crept in, raised the knife, thought about the enormity of the downward stroke, then let his arm fall.
