I spent the rest of the night with John, still half-heartedly evading whatever Mark planned to help me with. John was showing me some of Amanda's sketches; she was napping, snoring quietly with her blanket pulled over her head.
I flipped through a few of her drawings, some more disturbing than others. My fingers trailed over one in particular, a sketch of an iron wrought casing that would be surgically hooked into one's ribcage, I could tell from the small notes written on the side of the drawing. My eyebrows knitted in mild concern. I looked at John; he then glanced at her petite frame curled up peacefully.
"You think she's ready…for this…I mean, emotionally?" I flipped through a few more, each more grisly than the last. John's traps were never like these…
"I believe in her, as I believe in you." He paused, "I chose you both for a reason…and in the end, all the pieces will fit together."
I threw my arms around him, he did not protest.
-
Nearly an hour after I had gone to sleep, something jolted me awake. I sat up like lightning, looking in all directions; trying austerely to see through the darkness. Getting up, I went for the light switch. By some force of will, I found my way quickly and safely across the room, stumbling only once. I flipped on the light, seeing no one besides myself in the workroom. I was now genuinely frightened by the way I had woken up, seeing that there was nobody around who could have broken my sleep that way.
I looked at the clock on the wall. It was a quarter past two in the morning.
Too nervous to get back to sleep, and too tired to stand around looking at the clock, I decided to try and wake myself up. I left the workroom guardedly through the double doors, and walked a few paces slowly; I then turned left to get into the bathroom. I washed the fear off my face; leaned into the sink and took a drink. From the outside, I could hear footsteps, despite the sound of the running water before me. I turned off the water; listening hard. The footsteps were small, almost tip-toeing, and I knew this was neither Mark nor John.
I stepped into the corridor, she was startled by me.
"Amanda… It's late. What's going on, where are you going?" I hugged myself, the cold air chilled me. Or maybe it was more than that.
Her eyes were the eyes of someone haunted.
"Don't worry about it." She didn't sound malicious in any way; it was very genuine. She truly didn't want me to worry.
So I didn't worry; instead, against my better judgments of Amanda, I grew intensely suspicious. Keeping my wariness a secret, I nodded solemnly and went back towards the workroom. She hurried off in the other direction, to the exit.
I waited approximately two minutes, threw on my jacket and shoes, and I followed her.
-
Looking back now, I know why I was able to follow her undetected. I couldn't understand then, how she didn't notice, or hear anything that would've given me away. The more I think back on it, the more I shudder to put myself in her shoes and feel the overwhelming guilt she must have felt. Her sentiment so distressing that it made her unfocused, as I climbed into the back of the van from the rear. I closed the car door just as she closed hers, so she couldn't well hear the distinction between the two sounds. I crouched down, hushing my breaths and limiting my movements as she drove. Her weeping was free and audible as she believed she was alone.
At first, I couldn't think, I was just experiencing. I went with the flow, not knowing, not even caring yet. Even when she stopped the vehicle, and got out; I didn't move right away. In all honesty, I was a little scared to know where we had stopped. So, I counted to thirty, and looked up. My eyes widened as I took in our scene. She had driven to the game house.
Once I was sure she was inside, I popped open the side door of the van, hopping out.
I dashed stealthily towards the entrance, rushing inside. I heard nothing at first and then, Amanda's brisk footsteps. Afraid of the sound of my echoing footsteps which would give me away, I slowed my walking. I took off my shoes, leaving them behind, and began to walk in my socks down the cold floored hallway, making my feet like a cat's: quiet and surreptitious. I was far enough behind her that as I held my nose for the smell of the doctor's corpse, I could hear her slamming open the bathroom door. My heart stopped.
What is she doing? I didn't want to come any closer and give myself away. I was only a few feet from the bathroom now. I could hear her moving about inside, I heard a mumble, a groan and hushed whispers. I strained my ears to listen. After a moment, a struggle could be heard and then Amanda's muted whimpers. I battled with myself whether or not to go in there, to confront her. My hands flew to my mouth, stifling my gasp, as I heard a sickening impact; like something slamming against a hard object. And then… with sudden, ghastly disbelief, I knew what she was doing.
"He's…is he still alive?"
"It doesn't matter." I told her sourly. "He's already dead on the inside."
Immediately, I took off, grasping that I could not linger any longer, realizing what Amanda had done but not allowing it to sink in. I could only think of John, and what he would do.
And yet, it hurt to think of what John would do.
-
Once I was out of the house, shoes in hand and still running, I didn't get back into the van; instead I pulled some spare change from my jacket pocket and called Mark on a nearby payphone. It was late and I prayed he would answer.
Come on pick up, pick up pick up-
Hello?
"Mark, please…can you come get me-" My voice cracked in distress.
Where are you? What's going on?! His voice was urgent and troubled, but it calmed me in a strange way.
"I- I'm- I'm at the game house, I'm using a payphone, Mark this is bad. I need you to-"
Stay where you are, I'm coming now.
I hung up the phone, and leaned against the outside of the closed convenience store that I called from. It was very late now, the wind howled and rustled the trees near me, and it was unsettling to say the least. I exhaled deeply, watching my breath come forth like smoke. I slipped my shoes back on, having almost forgotten that I was holding them. As I bent down to lace them, I hadn't noticed the approaching shadow.
"Hey lady. Haven't I seen you before?"
I looked up, squinting at this stranger who wasn't a stranger. I had met him before, in unflattering circumstances. He held a bottle in one hand, concealed by a brown paper bag.
"I-" I choked, "I-uhm, don't think so." I was backing up now.
He grinned crookedly; I supposed he was handsome when he wasn't this inebriated. But this was the second time we met, and he was just as smashed the first time.
"Yeah, I do know you!" He was laughing now. I wondered if I could make a run for it, but my legs wouldn't move. I tried to laugh along and make the situation lessened, throw him off; but all that came out was a nervous titter that sounded more like a whimper.
"Yeaaah," He cooed, "You work out here…pretty little thing, I haven't seen you around lately, what's the going rate nowadays, sugar?" He came closer. I skittered back too fast, forgetting there was a wall behind me. He closed in on me; I was a scared block of marble.
Stay the hell away from me-
And then he touched me, I felt his rough palms on my cheek. It was familiar and nauseating. I shoved him with strength and courage I didn't know I had. He stumbled, dropping his bottle. It smashed on the pavement, splattering at his feet.
And right before I took off, I saw him pick up the broken neck of the bottle, its end was pointed and sharp, its green glass shone under the street light. I was running, one shoe tied and not the other. He followed me; wielding the bottle's jagged edge, yelling obscenities. I was quick and got farther away than I imagined being able to get. Up ahead, I could see car headlights. I stopped in my tracks, very aware of my attacker's proximity. He was gaining on me, and I became frantic.
"Mark!" I waved my arms in the air.
Just as he pulled up alongside me, I was knocked off my feet. Rick, because that was his name, wrapped one arm around my neck, holding the bottle to my face. He whispered something to me, I didn't hear it. All I could sense was the sight of Mark's car door opening and the sound of the gunshot.
Rick fell, releasing me. I broke away, hurrying towards Mark who held the gun, still pointed at the target. I looked back, there didn't seem to be any blood on him, and I couldn't tell where he was shot.
"Get in." Mark ushered me to the passenger seat.
I was freezing, shaken and tired. My teeth shuddered together in a small chatter. As I tried to explain everything to Mark, he turned the heat up in the car. I was worried about him. With a shooting, other police could get involved and Mark's career would be jeopardized.
"Where did you s-shoot him?" I hugged myself, staring at my feet.
Mark's eyes were focused on the road. "I shot him in the stomach." He noticed my expression. "Don't worry, it was a rubber bullet. And if this wasn't urgent, I probably would've beaten him unconscious for good measure."
I laughed; I had been fretting over nothing.
Mark looked over at me. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth."
I nodded.
"Are you okay?"
I shook my head.
Mark said nothing; he simply drove faster and made sharp turns, onto unfamiliar streets. I could not read his expression.
-
"Come on." He turned off his car, I got out reluctantly. I followed him up the front stairs of an apartment building. His, I supposed. We went up in an elevator, and came to his apartment. I looked around Mark's well furnished living room, he asked me to take a seat. He offered me a cup of coffee, I accepted. He shook off his jacket, hanging it in the hall closet.
As he was getting the coffee, I noticed a shiny silver frame on his fireplace mantle. It held a picture of Mark and his sister, standing together, on the shore of a beautiful body of water. They were smiling brightly, and I felt everything I was supposed to feel, deeply. Before I could begin to muse over it, he returned.
"Start at the beginning, why were you at the house?" Mark handed me the warm mug. I took it gratefully, smiling softly.
"I followed Amanda there. She looked so upset. I wanted to know what she was up to." I sipped the coffee; its heat flowed through me soothingly.
"What did she go to do?"
"I didn't know at first, I-I was confused. And then I saw her go into the bathroom. And I remembered Adam was in there." I was shaking, so I sat my mug down.
Mark was taken aback as the same thought that I had clicked in his mind.
"I think…I'm- I am sure she killed him."
"She was trying to put him out of his misery." Mark thought aloud.
I put my head in my arms, sighing with the stress. I could not tell John.
"You have to tell John."
I raised my head quickly. "I can't!"
He reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. "You've got to."
I shook him off, shaking my head frantically. "I won't hurt him. I won't see the look on his face when he realizes his work has gone to waste!"
I stood, so did Mark. He embraced me, I held him back. My arms around his neck; face buried in his shoulder. I was sobbing, and he was consoling me. "I don't think I can do this." I sniffled into him, he held me tighter. We stayed that way for a long time, consumed with each other. And then I wasn't focused on the situation any longer, I was exhausted. I glanced out the window; it was raining lightly, and could possibly become a storm soon.
I let go of him, now clinging to myself, and rubbing my eyes. "Mark, we should get back."
He didn't understand, "For what?"
It seemed very clear to me, "So I can sleep."
He shrugged, "So sleep here."
My shoulders dropped, I was torn between myself. I was so tired, and so wary. I bit my lip, considering. I nodded, taking his arm and looking at his watch. It was now a bit past four in the morning, and all I needed was five hours.
"I'll take the couch; I know you're tired." Mark offered. I assumed this meant I could sleep in his room.
"It's alright, really, I'll just crash here." I wasn't sure if I could sleep in his bed guiltlessly, even if he wasn't in it.
He had no objection. He brought me a blanket and a pillow; he even sat up with me until I drifted off.
"Mark?" I spoke gently, I was moments from sleep, and nevertheless, I had to let him know.
"Yes?" He sat near me, calmly watching me through the dim light.
"Thank you." I pronounced every syllable clearly and purposefully, so he would hear the meaning in my voice when I said I was grateful.
"For what?"
"For saving me…" I considered, "Again." I grinned.
I saw something indecipherable in Mark's cerulean eyes, and for once, John wasn't the last one to run though my mind.
-
