Chapter Four: Something Sickening
The weeks went by without any im's or sightings of Michael. I was still nursing my wounds, but they were wounds that would never heal, emotional wounds. I was falling in love with Michael.
I did not know where Michael lived, so I tried calling information, asking for the number of Michael Molloy, but it was unlisted.
I knew I had hurt Michael, but I loved the handsome stranger, and it was like life was meaningless without him.
But as it always does, life goes on. And so for the next three months, I saw and heard nothing of Michael. I buried myself in schoolwork, insistent on numbing myself, not wanting to be one of those girls who basically killed themselves over a guy. But it was too hard for my mind to not trace over his face, and remember every crevice and notch. I wanted to feel him there, to lean against him and for everything to be all right again. But I immersed myself in papers and didn't let my mind stray.
I was so into this mode now, that when my mother showed me the newspaper article clipping, I didn't think all that much of it. Sure, it was terrible, but I didn't connect it with anything about me personally.
I was channel surfing, keeping things light, when my mother walked in. It was a normal Tuesday evening with my normal mom sitting down beside me on our normal brown leather couch.,
"Hey," she said in welcome.
"Hey," I responded dully. Everything about me felt dull nowadays.,
"I was reading the paper, and thought you might want to read this."
"Huh?" She had my attention.
She handed a little cleanly scissored out article from the newspaper.
I squinted to read the small print. It was about some animals – rabbits, foxes, etc.– that had been savagely ripped at the throat and drained of all blood. Creepy. The guts and everything else were completely intact, just the blood was drained out. Really creepy. The article went on to say when the animals had been discovered, there was a flash of an auburn-haired man running away so inhumanly fast, it was thought to be some animal, but whatever it was, on its neck was a scratch of red, as if one of the mutilated animals had put up a fight.
"That is sick." I handed my mother back the clipping.
"I thought so too. Some diabolical guy or thing or something completely destroying those poor creatures. If he wanted the skins or meat so much, he could've taken those, but what he did is extremely disgusting."
"Uggghh, I don't want to think about it," I replied, completely grossed out.
But I did think about it. For the next few weeks, in fact. It was such a sickening act, it really creeped me out. I had always been an animal lover. Always felt for them and treated any stray cat I found as my own. So this perverse animal mutilation completely sickened me.