Kevin

Hi. Simple, eh? Fine, I’ll say something else. Hi, my name is Kevin. Like I’d really tell you my last name? My age is between 20 and 40, can you guess? I love guessing games, they’re so fun. I don’t have a house, or a job. But I’m not a hobo. I label people, so I label myself as a killer. Not your shoot-at-afar-run-from-the-police killer, I’m your horror movie-slasher-hard-to-kill-killer. Ha! Nobody can kill me! I might as well be immortal! Anyway, I was just done with my last killing, and looking for somebody else, when I found them. It happened just today, as I stalked around the mall. I spotted her, a girl. A teenager maybe? She seemed nice.

But that look she was giving me.

She knew.

You see, people today only worry about thugs and biker dudes and guys with lots of tattoos and Mohawks. And very few know to watch out for people like me. The dark brown almost black haired tall young man with the charming smile standing in the shadows staring at you with crazy eyes. She knew.

Oh, this would be fun. Very fun.

The rest of the day I silently stalked her, staying at least a block away from her though. Hiding in crowds, trash bins, anything. And not only does one need to watch, one needs to listen too. And by listening I found out her name was Devin. Devi for short. I found out days later she hung out in a tight group of friends.

There was curly-haired bright-eyed Sylvester, long-haired shifty eyed Tom, dark-haired low strung Christopher, or Chris, and paranoid the-world-is-out-to-get-me, or-is-it?! Short-haired Molly. They seemed like nice, well kept young people. Shame I would have to kill them off in order to get to Devi.

So there I was, taking my time watching them from a just emptied trash can, peeking out the lid. They where in the mall, like before, sitting by the fountain talking. Jeez, didn’t this kid have a job or something? I was trying to listen, although my mind began to wander, which it didn’t do often, when I heard a soft munching noise. I tried to ignore it and pass it up for something else, but it became dearly important to me when I felt a sharp pain in my big toe. Drawing my eyes away from the small group, I looked down to the foot where the pain had come from. A rat! A rat was nibbling on my shoe and had gotten through to my toe! How cute. I tried shuffling my feet in hopes of ridding myself of the rat, but alas, no such luck. The rodent stopped chewing on my shoe lace and looked up into my face. And I swear, if rats could grin, this one was grinning like an idiot.

I could see what was going to happen from a mile. The rat dropped the bit of lace it had been munching on, and scurried up my pant leg. “Ah!” I let out a yelp, shaking my leg in hopes of the rat running away. But it worked its way up and then out and into my shirt, using every inch of claw it owned. “Get out!” I cried. The trash can went tumbling over, and with me in it.

THUD!

Knocked short of breath and dazed, I watched the world get clearer from the grounds point of view and watched the rat rush out my shirt collar and away.

 I looked up. Oh great, Devi was staring at me. AT ME. Not a good sign. In fact, the rest of her friends where staring at me too. Panicking, I leapt up and raced into the nearest store. Kitchen Supply. There I listened to the rest of the chat among friends. 

“Aw, Devi, you’ve got a crush. And he’s stalking you!” I heard Tom say. You die first. I warned him silently in my head.

“Maybe he’s just a hobo.” Sylvester said next. You die after Tom. I noted.

“He looked too clean to be a hobo. Oh! Maybe he’s working for the government!” Molly, duh.

Aw, how nice. She’ll die second to last, which leaves Christopher. Yes, now I had my line-up. From first to die to last: Tom, Sylvester, Christopher, Molly, and then Devi.

I looked around, Kitchen Supply, eh? A sudden thought popped into my mind, and I grabbed the biggest and shiniest set of steak knives they had. The set cost me the last of my well-saved money. But that was okay, I’d find some way to eat.  And what I was gunna use them for would be well worth it.

 

I waited, waited in hiding in the dark alley beside Devi’s house. I almost went insane with waiting. That rat that had scurried up my pant leg didn’t seem to want to leave me alone. The poor thing seemed lonely, about as lonely as I felt. I picked it up from its hiding place, the damp cardboard box sitting by my hip, and stroked its soft black fur. The rat peered up at me, sniffed the air, and then went back to basically enjoying being petted. Like I said before, I felt lonely. Being a mass murderer had started to take its toll. All the watching and learning, the blood staining my hands. But I could never go back to a normal life. Never. I had tried that once, I had gotten a job at a mini mart.

A simple one, re-stocking the shelves. I liked the job, but I didn’t like my boss. He was a harsh man with a booming voice, and suddenly something clicked in my mind one day without my telling it too, and my boss wound up with no head in the ice chest the next day.

I dully banged my head against the brick wall of the alley, thinking back to my past life. What was it? What gave me that powerful desire to kill anybody I didn’t like? Whatever it was, it was getting worse. The thing is I didn’t hate Devin, I didn’t even dislike her.

I could never start a proper life, living in a real house. Picture that! Me! Living in a real house! With windows and carpet…I let out a lazy chuckle at the thought of a real house. All for myself. Ha! No house can hold me, KEVIN!

The hot heat of the day blared down into the alley, bouncing off the hot brick. The shadows barely hid me as I watched the sun rise above my head. The rat ground its teeth together, bit my finger, and scurried off before I could do anything. The heat was really getting to me. And in hopes of escaping it I lied down, rested my head against the pavement, and fell asleep.

 

It came to me as I was sleeping that I really was trapped in this life I lead. If I got a house, settled in, made friends, the police would be able to catch me. They’d use some tactic to track me down, pull off fingerprints, and talk to my friend’s about the murders. You see, to the police, I was nobody. They had none of my fingerprints, not a single picture of me, not a single profile to hold against me. If I became normal, they’d get me.

I awoke from my deep thought-like sleep some hours later around dusk. Like before, it was a sharp pain that awoke me. Not even thinking, my eyes hardly even half-open, (god, I was tired!) I kicked my feet to scare the rat away. Listening carefully, I heard no rat feet trotting away, but I felt another sharp, stinging pain.

My eyes flickered open fully, and I sat up to see what was causing it. AGH! It was that rat again! It was chewing on my finger. “What?” I moaned sleepily. The rat pointed it’s snout up toward the sky, and it was then that I fully reflected on what time it was. The sun was dipping below the sky line, enclosing the world in darkness. I grinned, and looked down at the rat, then my grin turned to giggles, and my giggles turned into a light chuckle, then a full-fledged laugh. Not an insane crazy laugh, an amused happy laugh. I scooped up the rat and put it on my shoulder, and snatched up a kitchen steak knife and gripped it firmly in my hand. “Come, my pet.” I told the rat in between giddy laughs. “We rise with the moon.” I brushed the remains of the alley off of myself, and took off toward Devi’s house.

Now, since you’ve gotten this far in reading this, you must’ve figured out by now that I’m just a tad bit insane, mad, delusional, and disoriented. But that’s okay, I’m fine with that.

I stayed close to the walls of the houses, ducking in any alleys I came across, taking time to stop and get my bearings, then setting off again in the dark street. I was the only one out here tonight, lucky me! I stepped softly, the only sound the bushes rustling in the wind, and the often bark of a dog. Devi’s house wasn’t hard to find, it was the biggest. A giant, Victorian house, with more stories then I could count. I raced across the street, and easily jumped the low brick wall; it was the landing that hurt. I was unaware that they had planted rose bushes below, and I landed in the thick of them. The rat easily maneuvered through the thorns and onto the wet grass, sitting on its fat rump watching me through big coal black eyes.

I on the other hand, wasn’t as small, nor able to hold in my cry of pain as the thorns stuck and stabbed my skin. And it sounded a little like this: “Eee-OW!”

I saw a light flicker on in the house, had I cried out a little too loudly? Holding my breath, lying there in the rose bush, I watched the shadow of someone move into view, stare out onto the seemingly empty lawn, then move away from the window. But the light did not turn out.

That had been close, too close. Biting my lip, I scrabbled out of the bush and onto the damp grass. Slinking into the covered shadows of a willow tree, I took time to look myself over and take account of the damage the rose bush had done to me. There were scratches littered all over my arms and legs and even a small one across my face.

 Letting out a growl of anger, I brushed away the dots of blood forming on my face from the cut, smearing it on the back of my hand. Catching my breath, I peered out of the shadows and across the lawn, then with one deep breath I lazily walked across the grass, heading toward the house. Everything seemed sharper at night, I could hear the grass shifting under my feet as I walked, I could see every bug that buzzed across my path, and I could hear every cricket as it played its midnight tune, something I’d gotten used too. And I could feel the rat that was following me latch onto my pant leg and crawl up it to rest on my shoulder. I could hear its fast breathing; it’s breath in my ear, the race of its heart.

I came around the house and moved into the backyard, staring up at the house, standing alone in the darkness. I could see more lights on now, the shadows of the things inside bouncing off the garden wall. And based on the knowledge I knew of these old houses…Yes! Just like every other Victorian house in the world, this one had a thick, hard line of ivy crawling up the wall and over onto the roof. I looked around once more. Everything else a house should have. It had a basement; I could see its small window down by the ground. The rain gutter, good place for sliding down for a quick getaway, and your normal chimney.

I made a mental list of ways in: The window leading to the basement was a good way in. The front door, duh. And I could always crawl up the ivy and pick a lock on one of the windows. Then, once placing the metal list in the back of my head, I made one of quick, easy ways out, and saw how my choices were very limited: The basement window was too small for me to simply jump through, I’d have to carefully work my way down the ivy if I didn’t want to break my neck falling. That left the front door and the rain gutter. The rain gutter seemed good, I could easily slide down it and run, and the front door…well, people might see me. Great, I had one good way out.

Now that that was done, I looked around the yard, the people next door had dogs, couldn’t hop their fence. The person on the other side’s fence was too far up. Seeing, once again, my only choice, I silently walked over to the back wall and peeked over. It was an empty lot. Bushes lined the fence, big thick bushes, and if I kept going I’d get to a small river, which I could easily swim across. I could hide in the bushes, the water, but after that was town. I’d have to crawl through the bushes a long way silently and come out at least a mile away from this house if I didn’t want people to spot me or get suspicious.

Having my escape route in my head, I walked back over to the wall with the ivy. The rat could tell what I was going to do, and scurried down and into my pants pocket. I grabbed the thick, twisting ivy with one hand, grabbed a brick jetting out of the wall with my other hand, and pulled myself up, bracing my feet against the building, knife still in hand. I firmly gripped the ivy with both my hands, and pulled myself further up, my feet slowly shuffling along the side of the building.

Now, scaling the side of a building in movies or shows might seem easy. But it’s far from that, very far, pulling your own weight up a narrow building isn’t easy or fun. Two times I slid half-way down, and had to start over, and it was clear I wouldn’t be using this way much. Half-way up, my feet clinging to the side of the house for dear life, I took one hand and carefully slid it up the ivy, (I was afraid if I let even one hand go, I’d fall) did the same with the other hand, and pulled myself up, feet crawling madly to try and push myself up. I was tired. It seemed like it took forever to get up to the ledge, but finally I did it, and I was able to rest my arms on it and listen carefully to what was going on in the room. The window was open, and I heard something being picked up, then soft, almost silent beeping noises, then it came to me what Devi was doing. She was calling someone! My heart started racing, was she calling the police? Had I been that careless as to let her see me climbing up the side of her house? I tried to remain silent as I heard her speak.

“Hi mum, it’s Devi.” I let out my breath. Just her parents. “When’re you guys gunna be back?” Pause. “That long? Yeah. No. No. I’ve been feeding the cat.” Oh. She had pets. I wasn’t very good with animals. “Alright, see ya. Love you too, bye.” I heard the phone being hung up. Slowly I let myself slide down the ivy, deep in thought. Her parents were gone. Or at least her mum was. For a very long time. But still, my long and Devi’s long could be two totally different longs. So I had to act within the next two days. That would give me time to do what I had to do, clean up the mess, hide the body, then go on to the next murder. A simple pattern.

Only Devi was smart. She wasn’t the type of helpless screaming sissy that would run away from the cop I had just killed without taking the gun, leaving it for me to add to my weapons. She was the type of silent girl that would take the gun, nightstick, pepper spray, and then wait around a corner to shoot me. And if that didn’t work, chuck the gun at my head.

I jumped down from the ivy and dashed across the lawn, around the house, through the front lawn, and ran down the street back to my alley. I could feel the rat begin to stir in my pocket. I should name it. Jason, yes, I liked that name, just like the killer. Jason.

I scampered down the alley to my resting place. Tomorrow I would strike, late, late at night. I knew they’d gather then. Devi, Molly, Christopher, Sylvester, and Tom. I felt sorry for Devi’s friends. But they had to go. They’d already seen my face.

 

I spent the rest of the night carefully planning the murders, the way each one would go. It seemed almost flawless. Enter through the front, exit through the back. And when the sun began to rise, so did my hopes. I pocketed my weapons. The giant knife I had just bought. A small hand pistol and 4 rounds. I moved from the alley, the rat I had named Jason faithfully following me. Jason raced up to my side and crawled up onto my shoulder.

I raced from the alley way, my heart racing, the blood rushing in my ears. I had butterflies in my stomach. I rushed to the other side of the street and ducked behind the trash bin across the street from Devi’s house. It was early. Maybe about 7 in the morning. This place where I was hidden, it wasn’t enough.  I moved away from the trash bin and jumped into the bush; Jason jumped from my shoulder and scampered off. There I made myself comfortable. I’d be here for a while.

I looked up at the sun slowly moving across the sky, and leaned back in the bushes. They were nice, thick, and big, nobody would be able to see me here. I rested my head against my hands. The day went by slowly, the summer heat barely getting through the shade of my hiding spot. And at about 3 in the after noon, I heard a door swing open. I sat up quickly. It was too close to be Devi’s. I heard the jingle of a dog tag, the scatting of small feet on the driveway of my hiding house of choice. The owner had come out to get their mail.

I held my breath, I couldn’t see much from in the bush, but I could hear. I could hear the woman walk down the driveway, trailed by her toy dog. Then, the bush began to move, the dog stuck it’s snout in the bush. I blinked, then bared my teeth and growled. The dog gave a whimper, and ran away. Smirking, I heard the lady open the mail box and…She screamed. A high pitched scream I swear Devi could hear. Something dropped to the ground, the woman ran away as fast as she could, and Jason came crawling back in the bush.

“Foolish woman.” I hissed. “You were foolish to mess with the pet of Kevin.” I picked up Jason and stroked his fur. “She was bad to you Jason, and soon she shall pay.” I cooed to my rat. “But not now, my mission stays as it is.” I set the rat down again, and peered out the bush toward Devi’s house. A car pulled up in the driveway, a white mini van, and Tom and Sylvester hopped out. The car pulled out of the driveway, and the two went up to the door, minutes later Devi came and let them in. Christopher and Molly where left.

Half an hour later Christopher came up on a bike, closely followed by Molly on a scooter.

Everything was coming together.

I watched carefully as the two entered the house. I was about to spring from my hiding place, when another car pulled up into the driveway. A small, black car. It was the pizza guy. I watched the teenaged boy step out of the car balancing three pizzas and lamely knock on the front door. Christopher got to the door first. Feeling a bit careless, I raced across the street and hid behind the trash bin. Now I could hear every detail.

“First one to the door has to pay!” I heard Devi shout. I watched Christopher’s face wrinkle with displeasure, he pulled the money out of his back pocket, and handed it over, taking the pizzas and kicking the door shut with his foot. The pizza guy left, and I jumped the brick wall again, this time I was careful not to land in the rose bush. Jason followed suit. My feet hit the ground running, and I didn’t stop, rushing into the backyard and jumping the fence. My feet hit the ground with a crunch; I landed in hard, brittle, dry dead bushes. Oh great.

I slumped to the ground, taking a deep breath. First part done; now I just had to wait.

In the time I had I began to think about what could happen. Devi was, like I had said a million times before, smart. Her parents might keep a small gun in the house, or pepper spray. I didn’t have time to worry about guns. I thought proudly, thumping myself on the chest. I always wore a bullet proof vest. Don’t ask where I got it though.

Jason waddled up from behind me and crawled up on my lap, sniffing the air and looking up at me. I scratched the small creature behind the ears.

Now pepper spray on the other hand wasn’t like bullets. That stuff stung. But hey, where does one get pepper spray anyways?

Jason bit me lightly on the finger and I saw I had been scratching him too hard. Odd how fond I had become of the small rodent, almost like my partner in crime. And sadly I saw he was my only friend in the world, and probably the only friend I’d ever have. “We’re alike, us two.” I told Jason. I knew he couldn’t understand what I was saying, but he seemed to enjoy hearing me talk. “We’re un-wanted in the world, cast aside because of what nature tells us to do. We must stick together, and everything will be okay.”

With being a murderer, not only are we required to go insane in our killing, but a lot of self control is needed too. See, I wanted to burst into that house and slay every one of them right now, don’t hold back! But if I didn’t want to get caught, I had to work at night, silently, and follow my murder list.

When not murdering and killing, I was a very calm, decent, person with proper pronunciation, but when chasing someone down, getting ready to stab or shoot them, watch the light fade from their eyes, I became a wild, blood-thirsty animal with no self-control.

The hours passed by slowly, consisting of nibbling on a bit of dead straw, doodling on the fence with a bit of chalk I found, seeing how far I could throw a rock, and napping. I couldn’t move, confined to the one spot by the fence. If I moved too much, someone would see me, and then I was dead. The bushes barely came up above my stomach, and there were very few and they where thin. Oh, why did I have to pick to murder on such a hot day! There where no clouds in the sky, and the fence was the only shade for miles around.

Jason sniffed the air, looked up at the sun, then retreated by going up the sleeve on my long-sleeved dark gray-blue shirt. Lucky little rodent. I wish I could do that, curl up in even the smallest space and find comfort. I didn’t mind him being there, as long as he didn’t go up my pants again. It was then a thought came to mind. How would I feed Jason? I had no idea what rats ate, and now I looked at Jason as fully my pet. I’d never had a pet before; my parents wouldn’t let me have one. But oddly pets were the only things I wouldn’t dare harm if they made me mad. Not that I beat my parents or anything.

I had always been the kid they never wanted. The one they ignored for hours, or suddenly went away on trips without telling me. I was the only child. The mistake. The un-wanted.

So when I turned 15 I left, ran away, packed my things and fled the state. My parents didn’t care, didn’t even report me missing. So I made a new life for myself, living off the streets for so long. And for 5 years I stayed in a homeless person’s house. Of course, after that I taught myself how to con and steal. And the best part, I was the best teacher I ever had. Nobody caught me; nobody even knew what was happening.

I looked up, the sun was starting to disappear below the trees, and half an hour later it was pitch black. Oh, I loved sleep-overs.

That’s what Devi was hosting, a sleep-over, containing only Molly, Christopher, Sylvester and Tom. Someone had posted the idea on the net.

I shook my sleeve and Jason’s head popped out, followed by the rest of his giant body. I stood up stretching, plucked the rat up, and put him on my shoulder, and hopped the fence. The night felt good on my bare face, the wind nice on the back of my neck as I ran across the lawn just in time to avoid the sprinklers. Though that would’ve felt good too, to carelessly run through the sprinklers like the youth I had always wanted to be.

I dashed around to the front yard and to the entrance, and after careful thinking lightly knocked on the door.

The door creaked open slowly, and I saw Devi poke her head out-halfway.

“What?” She asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Are your parents’ home?” I pondered. Devi didn’t seem to want to answer this. “They’re not, great.” I said, and pushed the door open, inviting myself inside. It was a charming house, looked much bigger on the inside, with every bit of pristine furniture your classic stereo-type house would have.

I took my time looking around the room. Devi had backed up against the wall just as the rest of her friends joined her.

I shuffled across the floor back to the front door, opened it, and put Jason outside.

“This is not your fight, friend.” I told Jason sternly. “Go. I will call you when you’re needed.” The rat gave me one last look, and scurried off into the night.

I straightened myself, turned around, and locked the door.

“Sorry, but who are you?” Devi asked uneasily. I spun around to face the group of frightened children.

“Who am I? I’m your worse nightmare, and I’ll give you ten minutes to run and hide.” I said, flashing the knife at them. They got the picture, and fled up the stairs at mach ten.

Chuckling to myself, I wandered over to another door across the room, and like I guessed, it lead to an even more pristine kitchen. I walked through it and through the back door and into the garage. I flicked the switch and the garage buzzed to life. Drat, no power tools. No cars, a mower shoved off to the side, bug killer, plant food. Dirt scattered across the ground. Moving across the field of spilled dirt, I made my way over to the power box. Ah, nobody bothered to lock it. I easily let it swing open and ran my finger down the labels and the switches they went too. Hmmm…..Phone line, computer, upstairs lights.

Using the very tip of my knife I slowly un-screwed the panel, I could hear each screw clatter to the floor. Then, when all the screws where out, I ripped the panel off, plunged my hand in the tangle of wires, and ripped them out.

I felt a suddenly shock of electricity run through my arm and into my body, which sent me back about 20 paces and onto the floor. I blinked, the world coming back into focus. Nothing broken, though I was slightly burnt. “Whoa!” I said, shaking myself to rid myself of the dizziness and the tingles running through my body. Can we say wake-up call?

Feeling like I had just eaten ten pounds of coffee, I stood up shakily and checked myself over, then looked around. Hm, the lights had gone out. Luckily, I was used to the dark and knew how to cope with it. My senses heightened, I fast-walked over to the door and yanked it open, moving through the kitchen at top speed. The blood was pounding in my ears; my hearting was beating about as fast as those kids had been running, I could feel the animal rising in me as I pushed open the kitchen door and looked around in the dark light. The full moon shone through the front window, casting eerie shadows around the room. Now I wished I had at least brought a small torch.

“I know where you are!” I called out in my creepiest voice. I stopped, listened. I could hear foot steps running about upstairs, frantic yelps and squeaks as they tried to hide. I took my time walking up the stairs, making sure each step was long, and each time I listened as it echoed through the house. The excitement building up in me, suddenly I couldn’t take it anymore, and raced up the stairs, my steps short and pounding now.

Alas, I reached a problem. Which floor where they on? “I’m almost there! I can hear you!” More foot steps and hushed whimpers, but this time they didn’t come from above me.

They where on this floor. “Hurry! Run and hide! The coppers can’t help you now!” Coppers, where did that word come from? In my animal state my vocabulary became very limited and I used every slang and swear word I knew. I listened again, I could hear them. I slowly crept down the hall, pressing my ear against each door.

“You can’t hide, you know that. I know that.” I pressed my face against a door. They where in here.

I stepped back a few paces, stretched my arms and legs limber, gripped my knife very firmly, and kicked the door open. CRACK! CRUNCH! Creak…The door burst open, slammed against the wall, and then slowly swung back. I moved swiftly into the room, twirling around to get a look at everything. This room was un-used, I could feel the floor boards weaken under my feet and the decaying smell of mold reached my nose. But the oddest part, nobody was in here. It was empty. Totally empty. SLAM!  I spun around. No! I’d fallen for their trap! And so soon in the murders. I tried the door knob once, locked. As always. “Get the axe!” I heard Tom say. Not good.

“Who are you?!” Devi screamed.

“I am KEVIN!” I screamed back with boyish delight. “And I will take joy in plunging my dagger into your heart!”

WACK! WACK! WACK! I heard loud thumps, then the sound of wood splitting. What where they doing? Where they trying to get back in?

“Why?!” Devi shrieked back.

“Because I can.”

“Work faster!” Was it just me, or was the roof getting closer? I snapped my head back and rubbed saw dust out of my eyes. Now I could hear the roof creaking.

“Run!” I heard them shout. I backed up. The whole house seemed to shake, and the roof caved in on me.

 I saw it fall on my head, heard it, smell it. Sudden pain surged through my body and I collapsed to the ground as the weight of the roof crushed me. I was trying desperately not to black out. Then another smell reached my nose. It was blood. MY blood! Oh, darn those kids! Darn them!

Using my aching legs, I kicked and shoved the rubble off of me, slowly but surely. A beam holding up the roof had fallen right on my chest, and I struggled to wiggle free of its grasp, kicking and clawing at it, trying to push it off. An inch! It moved an inch! And another, and another! Yes! I could wiggle free; the rest was just bits of plaster and wood.

I was alive. Bloodied but alive. And full of goo, mission goo. My desire to kill grew stronger, and I looked myself over. Of course, my clothes where bloodied. There where gashes on my arms, legs, one across my left hip, and a deep cut above my right eye. They ruined my clothes…I wiped the blood away from above my eye and tenderly walked over to the door. The whole frame of the doorway had been smashed when the roof caved in. Wincing, I straightened from my limp and peered out the doorway, no signs of the kids. Had they gone further up? Or maybe down. But there was nothing worth using as a weapon down there. Barricade yes, weapon no. Besides, what would they barricade down there? The front door? The garage? A quick swing through the back, or simply opening the garage door from the outside and I had them.

I looked around, and after careful thinking I decided to go upstairs. My body ached as I raced up the steps, stinging pain biting through the darkness of the night. Another flight of stairs, great.

The roof caving in on me on the 2^nd floor meant one room in the top floor couldn’t be used. Unless…no, I don’t think even Devi could find a way to use that room. I dashed onto the landing, scanning the hall slowly. “I’ll find you!” I cried a little louder then I had wanted. Though my voice squeaked with pain.

So this was the game we played. I tried to kill; they ran to the next landing, and so on.

Oh, fantastic.

“I can hear you!” I taunted, slowly moving through the narrow hallway. Boards creaked, pipes rattled, the house settled. “Go! Run! Hide! Hide all you can!” I called out, swinging open another door. It was a bedroom. Devi’s parent’s room, I could only guess.

I froze. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end, I could hear heavy breathing. I wasn’t alone. Just like I had guessed, I wasn’t alone. As soon as I was fully in the room, the door slammed shut and a battle cry rang out through the room. Tom sprung at me, to which I side-stepped. He went tumbling across the room and landed on the bed, springing back up and charging at me.

I must admit, as dramatic as it was, it was rather amusing, watching Tom try at a fight, his blunt weapon (a lump of wood I can only guess he got from the caved in room) swinging wildly at my head. Tom hit the wall again. Panting, the young boy turned around to face me, and charged again. I stuck my foot out, he ran into it full on, tripped, though I grabbed his shirt collar before he hit the ground.

“Let me go!” He cried, struggling. “No, that’s the least thing on my mind.” I said, raised my dagger, and slit his throat. Blood spilled over my hands, dribbled on the floor, making neat little pitter patter noises. Tom’s body hit the floor with a thud, and I took time to watch the blood run over my hands. Then, I looked down to Tom, bent down next to the body, and searched his pockets. Old bubble gum, a key to something, lint, more lint, Oh! Money!

I pocketed the 5 pounds and stood up fully, stretching my aching back. I wiped the blood off my hands, and took a minute to look around. Cute little bedroom, it was. Single bed, dressers, two closets. A window.

I stepped lightly over Tom’s bleeding body, moving over to one of the bedside tables, and yanked open the drawer. It came clear out and everything spilled to the ground.

I bent down and shifted through the stuff. My total find was 10 more pounds, and a small gun. Once again, I stood up and walked over to the door. And to my utter surprise Jason scurried up to me. “How’d you get in?” I asked as I watched the rat scale its way up onto my shoulder. It was only then that the truth dawned upon me, and even then it took a few minutes for the full affect to dawn upon me too. How could I have been so careless?

I ran down the hall and down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. The only sound my feet pounding on the wooden floor as I reached the last floor and skidded to a stop, taking time to catch my breath. I bounded across the room to the front door. It was intact. Well, some of it. They had used the same axe to bring down the roof to bash open the door, and in result there was a giant gaping hole in the door. I stuck my head through just in time to see the group run off, silent as sheep. If sheep where silent, that was. Swearing to myself, I dug into my pockets and pulled out the key and stuck it in the lock and twisted it. This activated the Tumblers, which opened the door. Only this one door didn’t easily swing open. It fell with a rather loud bang on the ground.

 

“Where d’we go from here?” Sylvester cried helplessly, looking around the deserted town. The only problem with living in a small town was at night if you where the only person out, you where the only person out.

“Classic movie answer.” Devi replied. “Head for the diner.”

“You mean that old 50’s diner on 6^th street? Kinda tacky, don’t you think?”

“We haven’t got time! It’s got strong double doors!” Devi said, and the small group dashed down the dark street into the night. Luckily, 6^th Street was only half a block away. “So what’re we doing once we get there?” Christopher asked, running alongside Devi. “Since when did I become the leader?”

“Since you’re the one that knows what she’s doing, and since the killer’s after you.” Christopher pointed out.

“Ah, well, block the doors with anything we can find. Call the police; hope everything turns out like it does in murder movies.” Devi said uneasily, her legs tiring.

“I saw a movie once, everyone died in it.” Sylvester said from behind.

“Thank you Sylvester, your witty and demented sense of humor always keeps everyone perky,” Molly said dully as they rounded a corner and came up to the diner.

Devi was the first to the front door, and pulled on it with all her might.

It swung open easily, unlike the not-so-lucky front door to her house.

“Why doesn’t anyone lock their doors?” Devi asked, mostly to herself.

The diner was dark and cold, and gave each child the chills. The moonlight came in through the back window, giving off dim, growing shadows. It looked and felt like a ghost town, the 50s style diner standing alone in the darkness. The jukebox was covered with a white sheet, and over that a thin layer of dust, which made it look like a still-standing ghost. The jukebox had been broken for about a month now, to the displeasure of many teens, with the rumors that they would be getting rid of Oldies music and re-stocking it with Green Day, Counting Crows, Simple Plan, Panic! At the Disco, and Fall Out Boy.

Devi’s mind was going at 100 miles a minute, but luckily the fast-paced mind was almost working at 100 miles a minute, and at once Devi went over to the jukebox, ripped the sheet off it, and pushed it slightly forward. The group watched clueless as Devi reached behind and pulled the plug. “Well, help me!” She said, struggling to move the jukebox over to the front double doors. Sylvester went over and helped push, while Devi shouted orders at the others. “Grab some chairs and block up the back door!” She said. Molly and Christopher sprung to life. The two grabbed three chairs at a time, racing to the back door and back.

“That’s it, move it right between the two.” Devi said, the bottom of the jukebox scraping the carpeted floor. The jukebox came to a stop, and Devi and Sylvester stepped back from it, panting. “That won’t hold him.” Devi pointed out. “He survived the roof falling on him, getting past a jukebox will be easy work.”

“Maybe he’s immortal.” Sylvester said.

“Nobody’s immortal, they just seen immortal. How many murder movies have you seen?” Devi asked.

“A lot.”

“Right, and every time the hero stabs the murderer millions of times, when really all it takes is a bullet to the skull.” Devi said cleverly.

“Have I ever told you how much you frighten me?”

“Alright! Our crazed killer over there won’t be able to get through that!” Molly said happily.

“We moved the coffee machine in front of the door and then stacked the chairs up.” Christopher reported.

“Crazed killer??” Devi repeated.

“Yeah.” Molly replied. “What now?”

“Start stacking chairs and tables up in front of the doors and windows.” Devi said.

“What about the phone line?” Christopher asked.

“Dead.” Sylvester said soberly, hanging the phone back up. “He killed the line.”

“Nice choice of words.”

“Hey, where’s Tom?” Christopher asked suddenly, ending the silence that had been gathering over the span of seconds. Devi looked around, for the first time she saw it was only her, Molly, Christopher, and Sylvester. Had they left Tom outside? No, they would know. He’d be screaming to get in.

“You don’t think…?” Molly began.

 “No! Don’t even start to think about that!” Devi replied sharply, though deep in the back of her mind she knew Molly was right.

 

I pocketed my knife, having just found the outside power box and cut each wire easily. This time, I didn’t get a 100-volt wake-up call, just a slight tickle in the knife handle. I stepped back from the power box and calmly walked over to the front, passing the windows. It was then I saw that each window had been blocked out with anything and everything in the diner, right down to the menus. The tables, the chairs, the cash register.

I came up to the double doors and pressed my face up against the cold window to total darkness. I stepped back and moved over four feet before pressing my face up against the window again. They had blocked the door with the jukebox, how clever. Sylvester was the first to spot me, and said something to Devi that I couldn’t hear. A look of fright and dread spread across Devi’s face, and she turned to Christopher.

 

“Chris, where’s the axe?”

“I thought you had it.”

“I thought you had it!”

“That means it’s outside…”

 

It was only then I saw the axe they had been talking about. It laid on the ground, cold, the blade chipped and half-rusted. Jason poked his head out my pocket. He seemed to be enjoying this. I picked the axe up. It was heavy and had it not been for my strong grip on it it would’ve fallen on my foot.

Struggling, I lifted the axe up above my head, where I let it fall back behind my back just a tad. Then, with all my might, I swung as hard as I could toward the glass doors. The left one easily shattered, sending glass chips flying. Now I could hear every word, they were…screaming. “Get to the back!” Devi screamed, and no one stopped to think. They all sprinted toward the kitchen. “We’re gunna die!” Molly shrieked.

I swung the axe again, and brought it back toward the other door. That shattered easily too. But alas, the jukebox was in my way.

So I brought the axe back again and swung it at the jukebox. It hit with a self-satisfying crunch, and I pulled the axe upward, ripping bits of the music machine to the floor.  I brought the axe up again, and this time let it down full force, the wind rushing past the blade with a buzz. The axe hit something hard, and an eat-shatter clang rang out, a shiver was sent up through the wooden handle and into my hands, making them tingle. I looked to see what I had hit. Now what blazing idiot had made a metal doorframe?

I dropped the axe, where it hit with a clunk. Then, I started kicking violently at the jukebox, which inch by inch moved out of my way. My feet would hurt terribly after this, I knew that.

My shoes crunching in the freshly broken glass, I worked my way over the jukebox and into the lonely diner.

With the sudden cold breeze running through the place, the air was a mix of warmth and cold. Cold spots here, hot spots here, mild mostly around. A white sheet blew in the night breeze next to my feet, flapping in the wind, trying to wrap itself around my ankles. But I kicked it off and walked over the mess of my released anger through the diner. It was quiet, way too quiet. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end again, and I could hear the floorboards creak behind me.

The sweat almost dripping off my forehead, I spun around to see a shadow trying to size me up. Sylvester! What a surprise! Only, this wasn’t the happy type. He welded a chair, and was raising it above his head. He reminded me very much of Tom.

The chair came whizzing through the air, cutting it like a butter knife, the shear force of Earth’s pull making it go faster and faster. I had no time to run, or duck, or block, because on that very second the chair came crashing into my skull.

Why me? Why is the killer the one that always gets knocked out?

And then, at that moment, my limp body came crashing to the ground and everything went black.

 

“You think he’s dead?” Molly asked; the first to re-surface from under the counter.

“No, he’s still breathing. I didn’t hit him that hard.” Sylvester said, letting the chair fall to the floor. Kevin looked so peaceful, lying on the floor breathing lightly, his eyes lightly shut. In fact, it almost looked like the young man was asleep.

“Who is he?” Christopher asked, head cocked to the side slightly as he stepped out from behind the counter, followed by Devi.

“Who cares? Let’s get out of here.” Molly said. None of them dared to speak above a whisper, in fear of waking the murderer. Devi nudged Kevin in the side with the tip of her foot, staring down at him.

“He looks familiar.” She muttered. For once Christopher, Sylvester, and Molly saw her point.

“Yeah, he looks like you.” Sylvester said, not joking in the least.

“Well, we can put this all together later. C’mon!” Molly said, tugging at Devi’s sleeve. Giving one more backward glance at Kevin, Devi fast-walked away, followed by Molly, followed by Christopher, followed by Sylvester.  

 

I was standing in totally blackness. No, a road. A lonely empty road in the middle of nowhere. It went straight on, curving only miles away. Trees surrounded me, waving in the light breeze. It was a moonless night, and the only sound was the sound of leaves being pushed by the wind. I had been here before, I knew that. And I never wanted to go back again. My feet where rooted to the ground with fear as I stood in the middle of the road, staring at the dull lights of an on-coming car.  The driver never did see me, standing there with my always dark clothes on. I doubt he was sober. The car sped faster and faster toward me, never slowing. Closer! Almost there! The lights flooded my eyes and I shut them tight.

Blue and red light blared in my eyes as the world came into focus. I sat up, blinking. My head hurt. My name? What was my name? Kevin, yes. That was it. Kevin. But what about my last name? Douglass? Yeah, I think that was it. Kevin McKinnon Douglass. But…my age? Well, I knew it was somewhere between 20 and 40. I knew for a fact I wasn’t 41 or anything over that. Now, what was going on? Something to do with blood, yes, the fresh smell of blood, staining my hands, the limp body hitting the ground. The murders! I had set my mind on killing. Killing Devi, Sylvester, Christopher, Molly. What was that other fellow? Tom. Yeah, that was it. Tom. He was taken care of.

Now what was it with these damn lights? Red and blue. Police? I could hear them shouting, cars pulling up. I leapt to my feet just in time to see them scurrying over the mess I had made. I dashed around the counter and into the kitchen. This had never happened before! I was getting careless. I was trapped! The kitchen smelled of rotting fish and milkshakes, and the pots and pans needed cleaning. It was a small place, and if one wasn’t careful one could easily bump into the stove when working. No! Wait! I wasn’t trapped! There was a door; around it mangled chairs and other pots and pans. The Scooby-Do gang must’ve blocked it up in hopes of keeping me out, but rushed to get out when I had been bashed bloody. And speaking of bloody, (Which is a great word) the blood I had smelled was my own, yet again. My head was bloodied in several places, and it was taking an awful lot of work to think straight.

I franticly pushed past the chairs and struggled to get through the door and back into the night. The weak chair legs snapped under my weight, and snagged at my feet, trying to hold me back. I pushed at the door and it swung open. I was free! Never in my life had I been so glad to smell the fresh night air and feel the cold breeze. I was free!

The rest of the night passed slowly. I had to be careful; they knew I was out there, looking for Devi. They’d have cops near her house.  I stayed near the house, oh yes, but saw no cops. And that’s saying something. Though once I even walked right past a police car, and the policeman simply ignored me, as if I wasn’t there. So here I was and here I stayed, lying in the neighbors bush, listening closely to the telly. The news was on and I was the star. “...A body was found at a local residence…and a group of teens claimed to be chased and then attacked by the killer. Reports showed that there was forced entry at the diner, and a weapon was found. Though after careful examination Scotland Yard found no finger prints or any other traces that the killer was there…” The voice became muted and I guessed they where showing pictures of the body bag and diner. “…description was given by one of teens attacked by the killer, who wishes to remain anonymous. The man was described as being tall, looking to be in his early 30s, with thick brown hair. He was wearing a long-sleeved blue-gray cotton shirt, black pants, and a dark green trench coat. If you see anybody fitting this discretion you are to report it to the police at once.” This caught my eye. They had description of me out there? I peered up from my hiding spot below the window and into the house. A shadowy figure of a man was settled in a fluffy chair watching the TV. Ignoring the man in front of the TV, I drew my eyes away and locked them on the television. Oh! There I was! A crude but pretty good pencil drawing had appeared on the telly. It almost looked like me, but I had more hair, and my forehead wasn’t that big. Damn Sketch Artists didn’t know how to doodle anymore. “Hey, you see this?” The middle-aged man sitting down asked someone in the backroom.

“What?” Came a female’s voice. Wife, I could only guess.

“Some teenager’s been goin’ ‘round claimin’ they’ve been attacked by a psycho.”

 I ducked down slightly as the woman of the household entered the door. There was silence between the two as the TV droned on, but at last the woman spoke. “He’s kinda handsome…” She said thoughtfully. My eyes widened and I couldn’t help but hold in a snicker.

“Ah, what’re you know?” The man replied gruffly.

I had never really stopped to think if I looked good or not. I had never had a girlfriend, or any friends, for that matter, unless you counted Jason. But he was more like my trusty little side-kick. I had never really cared about my looks, but that didn’t mean I didn’t take care of myself. I kept myself fit and well-fed, but I guess I wasn’t good at feeding myself, because I was pretty darn skinny, and my clothes hung loosely on me. I had never been to a school at all in my pitiful life, so I guess that helped. “Get over your looks and get on with your life.” My boss at my old job had told me once when he found me messing with my hair one late Friday afternoon. All I wanted to do was see if it could be spiked. And, of course, I killed my boss. I liked my hair, it was very…hair-ish.  I combed it every once in a while, but I never let it get knotted or too messy.

Anyway, back on subject. One of the Scooby-Do gang wanted to remain anonymous? Cool. It was probably Sylvester, Tom was dead of course, and Sylvester probably got a good look at me when he struck me over the head. By the way, who on Earth names their kid Sylvester?

Speaking of being struck over the head, I ran my hand through my hair and felt a small bump there. It hurt when I ran my hand over it and I winced. Oddly enough, there was hardly any damage done. When the roof caved in it felt like it had bruised and/or broken a few of my ribs, but now they felt fine. The cuts on my face and hands from the rose bush and many other things where healing rather quickly. I felt Jason stir and then wake up, poking his head out the front of my shirt. Wait; hang on, the front of my shirt? “Get out!” I scolded the rat as Jason scurried out and onto the lawn. It was either that rat liked me, or my clothes. How he got in my shirt I shall never know. I crawled out of the bush and onto the dead lawn of the elderly couple and grabbed my trench coat, which I had been laying on. Despite my constant need to keep moving homes about the city, the alley by Devi’s house had become a favorite of mine, and in my spare time I had even made a small covered bed made out of cardboard boxes, and my coat served as my blanket. Of course, a homeless shelter was always a choice. But those darn suck-ups there just tried to shape up your life and get you a real home. I didn’t want that! Well, a REAL home would be nice, but like I had said before; I’d be caught if I settled down.

I sneaked across the lawn and into the street, shaking out my trench coat then putting it back on. It was a chilly fall afternoon, the sun hung lazily in the sky, and a light crisp breeze was blowing, disturbing any leaves fallen to the ground. The sky was blotted with gray clouds, the sun peeking through every once in a while. The strong smell of smoke hung heavily in the air as people burned piles of leaves and whatnot. It was so peaceful and lovely. There were times like these when I wish I lead a normal life.

It was strange how the weather could change so suddenly in this town. One day it was hot and sunny, and the next it was cold and brisk. Nonetheless, Jason, feeling the full effect of the cold air, retreated to my coat pocket, curling up into a tight ball. I stroked the rat on the head for a minute, and then took off down the street. My almost-worn out shoes where softened by the leaves that had settled everywhere overnight and I could see young children playing football, riding bikes, jumping in piles of leaves. They stopped and stared as I walked past, and I waved an airy hand at the groups of kids. It seemed sometimes people totally ignored me or couldn’t see me at all, and sometimes I was the main attraction. I admit I could be creepy, a first glance would tell you that I wasn’t average.

But still, I could feel the stares of everybody as I made my way into the alleyway. It was even colder in here and I hugged the coat closer to myself as the smell of old damp wood reached my nose. “Move it vagabond.” I told the dirty hobo in the alley. The hobo glared at me, then jumped up and ran away. Luckily, I had hidden my pre-made bed just in case any wandering drunken homeless scum had decided to take a nap. I pulled it out from under the pile of other boxes and set it up, lying a thick layer of cardboard on the floor, then propping a large piece of it over my bed with a bit of wood. It wasn’t very steady, but I liked it. And almost at once upon lying down I fell asleep.

It was like a continuing dream. In fact, it was. The car lights were blaring in my eyes, making them sting and water. As much as I wanted to close my eyes, I couldn’t. I couldn’t close them as hard as I tried. I couldn’t move them or blink them.

My body felt stiff and sore, and my bones felt crunched up in my body, but I felt no pain. The car lights dimmed as the door swung open and a boy stepped out. He was a collage student, staring down at me wild-eyed, clearly panicking. He looked around quickly; making sure no one was around. The way he was driving you would have guessed he was a drunken frat boy, sobering up when he felt the impact of my limp body. I wanted to cry out, to beg for help. But the collage teen kept staring at my body, horrified.

He disappeared for a moment behind his car, and I heard a trunk pop open, then slam shut. The fair-haired kid quickly wiped the blood off the front of his car, going over spots now and then and then standing back and looking at the hood. The boy then walked across the road and chucked the cloth over the guardrail, then wiped his hands on his pants and got back in the car. The car backed up a little ways, turned slightly, nearly avoided me, and drove off at high speed down the road, the night closing in around me. I don’t know how long I lied in the road, seemingly helpless. Flies crawled over my body and my face, the buzzing still ringing in my ear. Gradually I began to feel better, I could twitch my hands and feet and it felt as if I was repairing myself, the bones slipping and sliding back into place, the smell of blood beginning to dim and dim. I watched the moon glide across the sky, dipping behind dark clouds now and then. That was when my eyesight got more used to the night then the day. Just when I thought I could move I was prodded awake by a hand.

A human hand.

 As I began to stir the soft finger turned into the hard barrel of a gun, its cold tip poking me right above my ear. Sucking up the drool that had dribbled down the side of my mouth in my sleep, I blinked and looked up as the world came into focus. “Hm?” I grunted as I sat up, scratching the back of my head lazily. The blurred figure came into focus and I had to rub my eyes to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. And just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming Jason bit my finger then scampered into my pocket.

“Cute pet.”

“Thanks.” I said, slightly uneasy at the fact I was staring down the barrel of a gun. “Where’d you get the gun?”

“You didn’t take dads only gun.”

I raised my eyebrows. “He keeps more then one gun in his house?”

“Just for this sort of thing.”

 I grinned. “You mean facing down the person that’s trying to kill you?” I chuckled. She frowned and pressed the gun to the side of my head.

“Don’t try anything tricky or I’ll shoot.”

“But you’ll mess up my hair!”

“I mean it!”

 I shrugged. “I’m sure you do.”

 Devi looked unconvinced.

“Why’re you here?” I asked, sitting criss-cross and running a hand through my hair, something I’d do instead of a brush. She settled down on the alley floor across from me, the gun not pressed against my temple but aimed at the middle of my forehead.

“Your arm’s going to get tired.” I told her calmly. It was odd how a cat and a canary could sit down and talk together, so calmly, so controlled, even though the cat had tried to kill the canary only a day or two ago. Speaking of days it looked to be around early morning, there was a warm breeze running through the alley and the sky was a bright blue. Though most of the sky was blotted with gray clouds, and the sun kept going behind them now and again.

“I’m here because I want to know why you want to kill me and my friends.” Devi said angrily.

“‘My friends and I.’’ I corrected her. She rolled her eyes and lowered the gun, pressing it to my lips.

“I’ll blow your brains you.” She threatened. The gun was cold to my mouth, and the material it was made of didn’t taste very good.

“Well?” Devi demanded. I looked from the weapon, to Devi, to the weapon, and then back.

“Well…” I began, my words slurred slightly as I spoke around the barrel. “I really have no idea.” Devin seemed interested, so I pressed on; “It’s kinda like a beckoning. There’s just something about you that makes me want to rip your throat out, in a manner of speaking.” I held up my hand. “No offence!” I added. “You’re a pretty girl, trust me, and I’m sure you’ve got guys falling at your feet, but something just kinda clicked in me.” I shrugged again. “And I woke up one morning and thought I should kill you. Simple.” Devin seemed neither flattered nor disturbed by my complements.

“And my friends?” She asked. I moved the gun away from my mouth and wiped it on the back of my sleeve to rid myself of its coolness and bitter taste.

“D’you remember at the mall?” I asked, like an old friend trying to stir up good memories. Devi nodded slowly, keeping the gun aimed at my head. “When I fell out of the trash can your little groupies saw me? I’ve got to kill them, I have no choice.”

Devin seemed to understand; even though her face never changed. “I could kill you here, right now.” She muttered bitterly.

“You can’t kill me.” I told her firmly.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because then you’d be just like me. Because you won’t really kill me.” I thought for a moment then grinned, adding: “One murderer is killed, another is born. Or made, really.” I watched the gun closely and it lowered about an inch as Devin considered this.
”I could take you to the police.” She added.
I shook my head again doubtfully. “There’s no way to prove I did anything, and you’d be the one they’d be locking up for threatening me with a gun.
”Just go. If it’s your time for death, then accept it.”
I watched as she stood up and backed slowly out of the alley, gun aimed at my chest.  

The Death March. That’s what I had been humming as Devin left the alley. The Death March. Only at first listen it wasn’t recognizable because it was high, fast, and delightful, something only few could hum happily and dance too. Not that I was dancing to it, that is. In fact, I had no idea if I could dance. I’d never really tried it. It’s like that little voice in your head. Even if you think it’s not there it really is, hiding in the back of your thoughts, silently waiting.

Now, I had made good friends with that little voice in my head, and through ways only I know I could sometimes control that little voice. But only sometimes. Now it was screaming at me with rage: YOU IDIOT! It shouted at me. YOU SHOULD’VE KILLED HER RIGHT HERE! IN THE ALLEY! WHAT, ARE YOU STUPID OR SOMETHING?! It screeched, making my head hurt badly. “I couldn’t have killed her.” I told the voice, closing my eyes as it screamed on. “Not here.”

YES YOU COULD HAVE! Why was it screaming? Was it the voice that commanded me to kill? Was it able to take over all my thoughts at a single time and make me kill someone?

 “Stop screaming.” I begged, my head was killing me.

Oh, the irony.

YOU’RE AN IDIOT! A TOTAL IDIOT! It went on. LISTENING TO WHAT YOUR GUT TELLS YOU TO DO! It mimicked. FOOLISH BOY! THINGS LIKE THAT WILL GET YOU CAUGHT!

“I’m not a foolish boy!” In fact, I wasn’t even a boy. I was a fully-grown adult that acted like a boy. Wanted to be a boy. My head stung now, I clapped my hands to the side of my head in hopes of ridding myself of the noise, but it went on and I think I might’ve been partly in the fettle position, whining pitifully. You listen to me from now on. It growled, leveling slightly.

“Never!” I spat back. I was in charge of myself, my body, and my mind. The voice got angry and started yelling again. HAVE YOUR PAINS TAUGHT YOU NOTHING?! It shouted. YOUR SCARS ARE NOT TATTOOS FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT! I was trying to keep calm, but it was becoming very hard.

“I know that!” I shot. “Just leave me alone!” There was silence, and the voice was gone. I had forced and shoved it into the back of my mind as other thoughts surfaced. The scars…

I held up my left arm and rolled up the sleeve, peering at my skinny arm. A long forgotten tanned mark ran up my arm, one continuous scar that curved at my shoulder and continued down my back about a foot then suddenly stopped. I ran my fingers over the soft spot and winced as I hit a bruise. Nonetheless from the rooftop falling on me. The wound had healed long ago, but the scar had remained and shown easily. Running alongside the scar was another one; this one was shorter and cut off at my shoulder. I pulled my sleeve back down and rolled up the other one on my right arm. Tons of small, tiny little scars where scattered along this arm, a half of one blotted out by another bruise. Sighing, I pulled that sleeve back down too and…sniffed my shirt.

Ew.

I needed to change my clothes, or, at least, wash them. They where starting to smell. I scooped Jason up and put him on my shoulder, and reluctantly stood up and headed out of the alley.

 

I felt uneasy and out of place in the shop. It was a little off-brand one hiding in the corner of town, you know? Where they always have the coolest clothes for cheap prices? Mostly their off on their own, not a retail outlet or anything.

So there I was, browsing through the limited selection, searching for something or anything. Some people where staring at me, but most where minded their own business. I was shocked at some of the colors of shirts they had. Hot pink, neon green, neon orange. Who wears this stuff? Or really, who would want too? “Finding everything okay?” I jumped slightly as the saleswomen spoke, totally unaware that she was there. “Huh?” I stuttered. “Oh, yeah. D’you have anything…less bright?” I wondered. The lady nodded and pointed to the back of the small store. God knows where or what she was pointing at, but I said my thanks and strolled over, stopping to look at a shirt or pants now and then. I planned on buying one simple set of clothes and paying for it with the money I took from Devi’s house.

“Mummy! Mummy! Look!” A small girl clinging to her mother shouted, pointing wildly at me. “It’s the man from the telly!” I panicked and dived behind a rack of men’s clothes.

“What man from the telly?” I heard her mother ask.

“The man from the drawing!” So she had seen the sketch.

“You mean the man from the News?” The woman chuckled. “Honey, there’s no one there.” I looked up just in time to see the mother pull the child away and leave the shop. Letting out a sigh of relief, I stood up and continued browsing.

Have I ever told you how hard it is to shop? Well, it is. First of all you have to find somewhere to shop, then you need to find something that suits you, then you have to try it on, and if your lucky enough that it fits, you have to make sure it looks good on you. And if it doesn’t fit, you have to put it back and search again. Once you’ve finally found something, you have to make sure it doesn’t cost too much, then you buy it, go home and wash it, then put it back on and find out its shrunk.

To my utter amazement I found something. It was a mellow green shirt with a plain company logo on it and a slight design and a pair of blue denim jeans. They fit, they didn’t itch, and they looked good on me. And for even more utter amazement I could afford it all plus a pair of white tennis shoes lined with mustard yellow. It got me to thinking: How much money did Devi’s dad keep in his nightstand?  

Leaving the store I saw people looking at me. I wasn’t sure if any of the looks where good, but none where very bad either. My old clothes where bundled up and I was carrying them under my arm like a small package. Let’s see...I looked around the outdoor mall, a line of small shops together. Burger joint, no. Furniture? No, what use would I have for furniture? You need a house and money first.

I watched a grumpy old guy walk past and noticed a fat wallet in his back pocket.

I took it.

That was easy, being a pick-pocket. The old man didn’t even know his wallet was gone.

Leaning against the wall of a random shop, I flipped open the wallet and shifted through it. There where a few credit cards. Useless, I didn’t like credit cards, and I didn’t like credit card fraud. I chucked the credits cards to the ground along with the ID of the man. John Fisher was his name, it didn’t suit him. Also there was a member card for a market, a note with reminders on it, and money, lots of money. With everything else gone the wallet was a lot lighter and defiantly smaller. I tucked it into my own back pocket and continued on my way.

Wash-N-Go, it was called. It was cheap, but smelled like dust and soap. It was a one-room place, with a line of beaten up washing machines on one side and a line of rusty dryers on the other, and a vending machine full of moldy food in the middle. A single desk had been stuffed in the corner and a graying old man was half-asleep, watching people through half open weary eyes. His chair had been pushed right up against the white tiled walls, the tile starting to brown with age, just like the man. This place really brought meaning to the word slum.

As I stepped in the floor creaked and I began to regret coming here.

 

At last, at long last my clothes where clean, lying in a wrapped up bundle next to me. The burger joint was a lot cleaner then ‘Wash-N-Go.’ I was sitting in a seat by myself, sipping on soda pop and staring at a greasy burger in front of me.

I sucked up more soda and peered around. A couple was sitting in a corner munching on chips and chattering away loudly. A man that looked more like a hobo was sitting at a table in the middle of the restaurant chewing on a rubbery burger. Behind the counter a sleep deprived teen stood, struggling to stay awake with the ever-lasting boredom. He cast a glance at me for a second, eyeing me closely, then went back to picking his nose, watching a fly wander about on the counter. I looked back at my burger and pushed it away, suddenly not hungry anymore.

As I slurped up even more pop the bell on the door jangled and I turned to see who it was, then slumped down in my seat, trying to remain un-seen.

“Why’re we eating here?” Molly whined.

“Yeah,” Christopher began. “It looks kinda…not good.”

“Because,” Devi defended. “Mum said to stay around here and this is the only place that’s got semi-good food.”

“Shh! Don’t let them hear that!” Sylvester snapped. The rest of the group struggled not to laugh.

I listened closely as Devi spoke again. “Darn, short on cash.” She cursed, and I heard footsteps. Not me! Oh god, not me! Ask the hobo guy, or the couple in the corner, or that fly crawling on the counter! I tried to slump down lower and almost went under the table. “Excuse me. Could you…” She trailed off as I reluctantly looked up, peering up at her. “Oh my god.” Christopher muttered. Devi looked at me with pure horror and pulled a small red-labeled bottle out of her pocket. “What’s that?” I asked, although in my mind I already knew what it was.

SPISSSS!

“ACK!” I felt a sudden stinging pain in my eyes and squeezed them shut, the sensation burning as I rubbed them hurriedly, falling out of my seat and onto the floor. The people in the burger joint stared at my wildly as I rubbed my eyes, wincing in pain as tears welled up.

“Let’s get outta here.” Devi whispered, and hurried out of the joint. I squirmed on the floor until I leapt up and ran down the hall into the back. My eyes burning painfully, I could hardly see, and plunged headfirst into the first door I found.

It smelled like…soap. A bright florescent light forced its way through my eyelids and my feet hit solid tile. A bathroom? Perhaps. It wasn’t the kitchen, because if it was it was the cleanest kitchen in the history of kitchens in the history of fast-food chains.

Panicking and in searing pain I rushed forward and slammed face first into a wall. Stumbling back, I peeked through my shield known as my hands and saw a blurry image.

A sink! Oh, thank the gods and goddess’s in heaven above! A sink! I bounded forward and turned the tap. Instantly my hands where filled with cool water and I hurriedly washed my eyes out as fast as I could. Hence the hurriedly. My face was soaking and it felt great! I let the water run over my face a couple more times and turned the water off. Relieved, my eyes didn’t hurt as much, but as soon as I turned around I got the shock of my life.

SLAP! An overly-dressed elder woman struck me across the face, gasping, she hurried out of the bathroom. I guess I’d been in the wrong one. Go figure. “Nice to see you too.” I muttered under my breath, drying my face off with my own shirt, I’d just saved half a forest. Slinking next to the door, I opened it part-way and peered out. An employee walked past and I slammed the door shut at once. I heard the footsteps walk away and finally disappear.

 

That afternoon wasn’t any better. It was rainy, storms sputtering on and off. Lucky for me, this wasn’t a hit town, so as you could’ve guessed not every building was filled. I thought every time I entered it it would fall in on. It was one story, an empty library, long forgotten, it was filled with mold and torn books and a birds nest. Not to mention it was covered in layers and layers of dust. A cracking window was off to my left, and my bed was made of cardboard and tablecloths. Why they needed tablecloths in a library I would never know. Jason had his own little bed. It was my shirt. Lately he would crawl into my shirt and when I would go to pry him out he would already be asleep. I hated my life. Utterly hated it. I really wanted to give it up. But how could I? I’d be caught! Thoughts swarmed in my head and I started using my intelligence again.

Life.

Was it meaningless? I thought just that. What was the point? It was a repetitive world. A material world. An elemental world. So what happened if you added the human element? The past, the future, the right now. Get up, kill, and go to bed. But besides the past, besides the future, besides the right now, what was there? There was before time. Before the planets, before the suns died and turned into dwarfs and exploded. Before the gods warred and destroyed millions. Before friends and foes, before love and hate, before life and death. And after that there was beyond time. Before and beyond.

Everyone dies, but life still goes on, in mind, matter and soul. The government can try all it wants, but the world will end. It will shift and change and slowly so will we. The sun will expand and the earth will blow up, destroying all life in its path and most likely wiping out the moon as well. The humans will be all dead, and every other sub-species on this wonderful planet will be too. And everyday we destroy and ruin another part of earth by doing something stupid. Global Warming I blamed on myself. When I say myself I mean the whole human race.

But this all won’t happen for a very long time.

I picked at the carpet peeling up by the wall and stifled a sneeze. Even though I was the only one in the building it was growing louder and louder as heavy sheets of rain crashed against the windows scattered about the building. A roll of thunder cracked through the sky and there was a flash of lightning, lighting up the dimming light. There was another far-off roll of thunder. Wait, no, that wasn’t thunder. It was a rusty creak. A rusty creak? The door, of course! The air suddenly got colder as the door was lazily pushed open.

“I’m telling you Hank, this place ain’t worth much.” A loud, commanding voice said. I roughly snatched up Jason and popped him into my pocket, grabbing my trench coat and dashing across the room. Where to hide?

Lady Luck seemed to favor me today. A closet! Oh, a closet! I almost ripped off the door trying to get it in, and slowly closed it. Books where piled up in one corner, and boxes lined the walls, full of labels and old newspapers and such. “I don’t care how much it’s worth.” Another younger voice came, it sounded determined and strong.

“With a little refurnishing and a couple pounds spent we’ll have this place tip-top.” The younger voice, Hank, it had been called, replied. I couldn’t see much from my hiding place.

“Its gunna take more then a couple of pounds.” The other, older voice chuckled. “See? There’s mold growing in the corners.”

There was an uneasy pause. “I’d be more then glad if you’d take the place off my hands.” The older voice urged.

“And this used to be a library, Jim?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, went out of business a couple of years ago.” Jim informed the younger man. “I’ll throw in the furniture for free.” Jim said. I could hear them noisily moving around the place.

“I might be able to sell the bookracks for some extra money…” Hank considered. Their footsteps faded off to the other side of the room. “Cracked windows. Might be able to save a few.” Hank muttered to himself. The footsteps grew louder and heavier as they came across the room. Had I been discovered? Had I really grown that careless?

“What’s in the closet?” Hank wanted to know.

“Ah, don’t bother, just a bunch of dust and rats.”

Hey, what was wrong with rats? I liked rats! They’re cuddly, cute, and loyal, make great pets, and spread plague. I heard Hank let out a sigh of defeat.

“I’ll take it.” He gave in.

 “In no time this’ll be the best restaurant in Britain.” Hank exclaimed.

“And until then it’s a moldy library. Shall we go back to my office and discuss…payment?” Jim asked; his voice eager.

“Yeah, sure.” Hank’s voice was right on the edge of sarcastic. I heard the floorboards creak and shift under human weight as the men moved toward the door. I was hiding in the dark like a time bomb waiting to go off. The floorboards stopped squeaking in turn to the footsteps. One lone floorboard was left squealing under Hank and Jim’s weight. “How old is the place?” Hank demanded to know.

“About ten years, after a while the place just kinda fizzled out of business.” Jim explained. “The owners stopped caring for it and all the employees just stopped showing up, so naturally the place went into bankruptcy and it was sold off.”

“By who?”

“Me, to you.” Jim laughed. The door creaked open and the room was flooded with a cold wind and rain, then it slammed shut. Slowly, very cautiously, I pushed the door of the cupboard opened and looked out. Jason squeaked and shifted in my pocket, poking his head out and sniffing the air.

“I know,” I said to my rat. “I’m hungry too.” I walked over to the front door and pulled it open, peering out into the night. Where were they? I stepped out and into the chilling night rain, each drop hitting me like a stinging bullet. A stinging, freezing bullet, mind you. Another crack of lightning rolled overhead and I just caught sight of two, lumbering shadows turning a corner. Jason squealed again and dug into my pocket for shelter. I pulled him out and stroked his short soft fur, then pushed open the door again and set him inside. “Wait.” I ordered, and let the door swing shut. In a mere matter of minutes I was almost soaked to the bone and cold. I made a jog down the sidewalk, tennis shoes slapping against the flooded pavement and water splashing up onto the cuffs of my pants. The street lights glowed orange in the purple sky, one constantly flickering on and off at the corner of the street, under a phone booth. I stopped at the phone boot and watched the two men walk down the street halfway, and then get into a minivan. The engine started, sputtered out, then started up again and the van made its way down the road, spewing out smoke and smog. I sighed and cursed myself, running a hand over my face then through my dripping hair, blinking away the rainwater and spitting it out onto the ground. A van! Like a getaway car, I watched it zoom away well over the speed limit and disappeared into the night. Then there was silence. Many different things were buzzing in my head. I wondered if I had enough money to…Nah, that was daft. But still…My gaze drifted over to the phone booth. I could always hire myself out for things. Small, little tasks, like delivering stuff or cutting grass or something. Tomorrow, when it was drier, I would return to this spot and write down the number of the phone booth and my jobs would begin. But until then…The only noise was the far-off sound of a dog barking and the rain pattering against houses and ground below my feet.

I couldn’t help it, as I thought of an apartment for myself my face cracked into a half smile and I stuffed my hands in my pockets, turning around and walking back toward the library.

“Your own fault you made me stay late!”

“I wanted to beat my high score!” I looked up at two familiar voices. Christopher and Sylvester where running down the sidewalk across from me, raincoats glinting in the artificial light. Their footsteps slowed down to a walk, and then a halt and I felt gazes bore into me.

“Look who it is.”  Sylvester taunted. “All alone, soaking wet, with nowhere to go.” Christopher teased. “Devi’ll be sad to know her boyfriend’s gunna catch a cold.”

I glared and stuck my tongue out at them, regretting it at once as I caught a couple of salty raindrops and had to spit it out on the sidewalk. The Dream Team burst into a fit of laughs and ran off again, leaving me by myself in the dark. I wasn’t afraid of the dark; I enjoyed it more then the daytime sometimes, but only sometimes.

I had another dream that night. A twisted, demented dream I hoped I would never have again.

It started out nice and delightful. I was roaming a lush green field, small white flowers scattered about. A soft blue sky was overhead, bright white clouds floating above, a few black birds blotted out the sky as they flew past. But…one bird seemed to stall; it squalled and chirped painfully, twitching. Its fellow birds circled around it, watching in horror, as did I, as the twitching bird’s wings began to glow bright red. The bird was struggling to stay up and its wings caught fire, spreading rapidly. The bird cried out one last time and plummeted to the ground, sizzling as smoke curled up around the burnt remains. The other birds panicked and began flapping as hard as they could, but it was no use. They squealed and clacked their beaks as their wings caught on fire. They circled around and around, bashing into each other as the fires spread and engrossed their heads, burning out their small beady eyes.   

What madness was this?

The air began to grow heavy and thick and humid, the remains of the burnt birds where beginning to dry out quickly, leaving hard bones that almost at once began to crack and crumble. The grass was loosing its color, turning into a light green. I could hear it crunching as it turned a soft brown and curled up and died. I looked up at the one single tree giving off leaves. The leaves where falling much faster and drying up too before they even hit the ground. Then all the leaves fell off in a huge clump, landing on the dead ground with a soft thump. The tree itself was beginning to look older and cracks appeared in its trunk. The branches shrunk and dried up and curled back, then fell off. The tree shriveled up and fell over, sinking into the ground. The ground itself was becoming harder and harder as the dead grass caught fire. And I was standing on it. I yelped as the fire danced around my feet like a demented circus act and burned at my clothes, screamed as it burnt through to my ankles and singed my flesh, howled in pain as it kept to my feet and didn’t seem to want to spread elsewhere, melting my old shoes to the ground and forcing me where I was. Blood flowed over the fire and onto the ground. I could smell my feet cooking in the inferno and bit down on nothing, eyes squeezed as I yelled at the top of my lungs as the skin around my ankles was reduced to sizzling burnt remains, so like the birds I had just seen combust into flames. The fire was slowly dying out as the grass turned to ashes, no longer able to support the hell that I was stuck in. The ground too was sizzling like my feet, coals littered the floor, and the barren winds blowing through stirred up the ashes and pushed them into my face. To my amazement I was able to stumble back, but to my horror I inhaled a lungful of ash. Hacking, coughing, the hot ashes caused my throat to burn and sting, as though I had swallowed a nest of wasps on fire, all still alive, struggling to get free. I tumbled over onto my stomach, the heat from the ashes on the ground burning through my clothes and making me cry out in pain. Only crying out in pain was a very hard thing to do because I was choking. I stared down at the dead land that had once been a living heaven, now turned into a living hell, and I was going to die in it. Dream or not.

As gross as it sounds, I managed to hack up a giant glob of spit, and naturally I spat onto the ground, letting the ashes leave my throat and soak into the dry, cracked earth. I coughed and sucked in air, the cool breeze coming in relieving and comforting. But my moment of comfort was over in a flash as the ground split beneath me and I crawled to one side of the split earth. Two long, sharp, black, curved, hard horns came out, reaching into the sky and blotted out the red sun. The horns reached up and up, followed by a huge, giant head. The skin of the giant head looked like dried up crumpled leather or newspaper, and every time a muscle twitched in the face the dried up skin creaked and shuddered. The mouth was huge and gapping, as though it was breathing for the first time. Like a fishes mouth it was opening and closing, letting out a hot breathe that smelled of dead animals and sickness. The teeth where long and sharp, white as though the creature had brushed them every day. The tongue was flapping about inside its mouth, running over the non-existent lips now and then, drool sliding down the thing’s face. Hard unforgiving blood red eyes stared at me, never blinking, focused on my small, tiny, helpless form as I gasped for air. The round head twitched on ignoramus shoulders, and an evil smile spread across its face. 

The devil?

Its mouth finally closed but the stank remained, dwelling in the air like a group of flies buzzing around someone’s head. Then its mouth opened again, curving to form words. It growled one word I hoped it would never say.

“Kevin.”

And I woke up. I woke up screaming. Cold, clammy sweat was rolling down my face, giving me chills. I looked around quickly. No burnt fields, no devil-like creature speaking my name. But why had it spoken my name? Was it a beckoning? A warning? A threat? Perhaps I would never know. I had woken up just in time. Besides, it was a dream, an afterthought of my tired mind once I fell asleep and slipped into my own little world. But was that my world? A living hell reduced to cinders every time I stepped in it?

Jason’s back right leg twitched and the small creature shuddered in my pocket, and then curled up into a tighter ball. I was still in the library, still in my makeshift bed made of tablecloths. I grabbed one and covered my right hip with it to keep Jason warm. I was afraid I might loose my little buddy. I didn’t know how old he was or how old rats can get, and the cold weather and dirty food surely couldn’t be good for his system. I feared for my friend, and I wondered if he feared for me. If he was suffering in any way he didn’t show it.

Jason twitched again and woke up, making his way through the mess of clothe and sitting firmly on my chest, gazing up at me lovingly with those big eyes of his. I stared back and realized that his eyes weren’t the coal black I had thought before, but a deep, thoughtful blue. Almost black, it was a soft yet dark color that I loved.

Since Jason had joined my single-manned team I had noticed how less…murderous I had become. Less violent, saner, with just a bit of Londoner-slang that amused my weary mind. This was odd, since I was Scottish.  I picked up the plump rodent and admired him, head tilted to one side. “Jason, are you a Londoner?” I asked. Jason blinked, staring at me blankly, then went back to sniffing the air, whiskers twitching and working in tune with his tiny nose. 

I sighed, peering up at the cracked window. Light was seeping through, covering the room in a golden glow that warmed up the building, and slowly slipping across the floor like a spirit. “What time d’you think it is?” I asked my little buddy. To my utter shock he replied.

Maybe five?

I nearly gagged on my own spit. “What d-did you just s-say?” I murmured weakly.

What? Oh, I said maybe five.

“No, I mean…You talked.”

I’m thinking. Not talking.

I slowly regained my sanity. My pet rat was talking to me. “How long have you been able to do that?”

Everyone can think.

“But in my mind?”

Jason looked up at me. I like my name. He told me.

“Um, thanks. I guess. What’s with the sudden power?”

Something supernatural. I woke up this morning and thought ‘Hey, why not try to talk to the ape? Maybe this time he’ll listen.’

“All I had to do was listen?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.

Yeah. You’re the one that’s supernatural. I’m just thinking.

I shook my head, unable to believe it.

I’m hungry. Feed me.

The rat started nibbling on my finger, tail swishing from side to side as his chest heaved with a stifled yawn. I felt stupid talking to an animal. But hey, who cares?

“I’ve got something to do first.” I told Jason.

What? He wondered, looking up at me.

“I’ve got to make some flyers.” I explained carefully. “So only I can hear you?”

It’s you that’s thinking, isn’t it? Can I help make some flyers? Jason asked hopefully, his voice echoing in my mind, thankfully clouding my currant thoughts. The dream kept replaying and replaying in my head like a broken VCR.

“Sure.” I said, standing up. I heard my back pop and gave a satisfying sigh. “Go find some paper.”

Jason waddled off in search of some. I looked around. Was he really suffering? Like I had said before, he was doing a good job at hiding it. His voice sounded strong and proud and it never quivered. He was a plump, strong rat full of muscles and apparently brain and he had served me well as a sidekick. But wasn’t a sidekick just a glorified slave to the boss? I surely didn’t want to think of Jason as my slave. But he was taking my orders well. Couldn’t a master release a slave? What if I did that? What if I told him he was free to do what he liked? Perhaps he would just laugh at me and say I was crazy, that he was always able to do what he wanted. Perhaps he would squeal with joy and run off. Maybe he would die. What if he was a spirit sent to me?

Okay, now I’m starting to sound cheesy.

Found some! Jason said, run-hopping across the room, dragging cardstock behind him. I picked up the thick piece of paper and held it tightly, looking around for something to draw with.

Want me to find some sharpies too? Jason offered, standing on my foot and peering up at me.

“Nah.” I shrugged him off. “The closet over there will have some markers or something in it.” Jason bounded from my shoe over to the door and stuck his snout under, sniffing wildly. I smell ink. He replied with distaste. Nasty smell that is.

I began to walk over to the door, careful not to tread on any rat tails on the floor, so to speak. “Jason,” I began, bewildered. “You are a Londoner!”

With the door open and the light seeping through the closet looked bigger then it felt when I was forced to hide in it. Am not. Jason said bitterly. It’s northern, not Londoner.

Well, that proved how much I knew about the world.

A grin cracked across my face. “A rat with a northern accent, imagine that.” I chuckled.

It is not very hard to imagine. Jason shot at me. I shrugged innocently and began digging through the boxes in search of some markers.

 

(A/N: Incomplete chapter.)

The voice in my head hadn’t said anything since I had forced in to the back of my mind a couple of days ago. Now I wondered if I had totally gotten rid of it.

Oh how wrong I was.

The sharpie was almost totally dried out and half of it was gone, but still it worked and that was really all that matter.

With my head propped up on one hand and Jason sitting by my side, I began to draw out the flyer.

“Jason,” I asked, unsure if he was listening or not.

Yes? He asked while starting to clean off his face. I watched his small almost human-like hands run over his tongue and then through his fur at lighting speed. “Are you okay?”

Jason looked up at me, blinking his small beady eyes.

Why do you ask? He inquired. What if Jason’s voice was just my own mind playing tricks on me, and he was just responding according to when I looked at him?

“I meant…Well, it’s not the best life we’re leading you know, not the best food.” I began. “I was wondering if you know, being an animal…If that was hurting you or anything.”

I swear the rat shook his head.

I am fine. He assured me. And to answer anything that may be on your mind, I am getting smarter.

I grinned and went back to writing. But, then another thought hit me. Unable to look at Jason at the moment, and trying to concentrate on my writing, I asked; “Are you that voice in my head?”

No Kevin. Jason replied sternly. That voice is the fuel to your rage. He was a very philosophical little rat, he was.

 “You think so?”

Yes Kevin, I am your rage and your sin.

My whole body shook with chills for a split second.

“What?”

I didn’t say anything.

That hadn’t been Jason’s light northern voice; that had been a much deeper, more demonic one. Like an upgraded version of the voice in my head.

As your urges grow stronger so do I, and soon you will be able to meet me face to face. It spoke with a venom-like demonized voice, gliding off and jabbing at my head like pins.

“You’re the voice in my head.” I acknowledged, nodding slowly. You are correct.

Kevin, don’t listen to it! Jason cried, nudging me.

Be quiet! You two are natural underlings to my power. The voice snapped with a growl. I saw Jason cower out of the corner of my eye.

“Who are you?” I demanded to know.

I have told you, Kevin McKinnon Douglass, I am your rage and your sin. And then it was gone. The upgraded voice wasn’t screaming anymore, it didn’t need too. Its darker tone was enough to scare the crap out of anybody, no matter their size or age.

How come I could hear it too? Jason whimpered. I ran a hand over my face. It was slick with cold sweat and I was shaking.

“I think it wanted you to hear.” I said glumly, returning to writing, although it was hard due to the fact that I could hardly even hold my marker. I felt like I was going to faint.

Jason came over and looked down at the flyer, taking time to read the whole thing.

You want to start over? He asked. I shrugged, brushing the little rat out of the way as I continued.

“It’d be nice. Earn some money; get a flat, maybe some friends.” I said.  

I’m your friend! Jason chirped.

“Yeah, I know that. But…maybe If I try at a decent life…maybe they’ll stop.”

Stop?

“The urges.”

Jason squealed a little at the mention and went back to reading the flyer.

 

Kevin Douglass.

Hired help.

Farmhand, paperboy, gardener, ect.

Pay depends on job and time.

Contact Kevin Douglass via operator and ask for local phone booth number near abandon library.

He’ll answer. Any job, anywhere.

 

Jason stepped back a few paces and allowed me to add a couple of finishing touches.

I thought you were going to get the number for that phone booth. He reminded.

“I’m feeling too lazy today.” I replied, beginning to copy it down on another piece of cardstock.

The only noise for a while was the scrawling of the marker on the thick paper.

Jason latched his claws into my shirt and pulled his fat rat self onto my back.

“What are you doing?”

Jason hop-wobbled over onto my neck and I cringed as his claws hit my flesh.

Sorry. He said quickly, and then leapt onto my head.

“Okay, seriously, what are you doing?”

Just…watching. Jason replied simply, weighing my head down. Rats and their…rattiness. It was adorable. I couldn’t help but love the little fellow that had become my best and only friend. Then, instinctively, Jason grabbed a small paw-full of my hair and began gnawing on it lightly.

Finally satisfied, I let the marker roll across the floor and looked at my freshly made fliers. They all had odd little finishing touches on them; an over-large I; a small extra dot of ink, a torn edge, all small things that made each one special in its own way.

Kevin! Kevin! It’s snowing! Jason suddenly blurted out, bounding from my back and scampering away to get a good view of the window. I rolled up the fliers and stuck them in my pocket. I liked the pocket, it was better then the tattered one on my own clothes. And finding a size of pants that fitted wasn’t hard. I wasn’t what you would call a fat person, having lived off the street most of my life.

“Charming.” I said, picking Jason up and putting him on the windowsill so he might better view the weather.
The warm sun that seeped through the window, mixed with the cold air, gave me the feeling of an immortal, or one trapped in a dream. But only one of those rare dreams, were one could fully control himself. I stood in the light, basking in it, soaking it in. It felt kinda like…Well, you know, like one of those dreams were you end up dying a painful, mangled death, and you wake up with a start feeling refreshed and more alive then ever, like receiving a sudden electric shock. Yeah, that’s what it kinda felt like.

“I’m going to go hang up some of these fliers around town. D’you wanna come?”
Jason waddled around on the sill and gave his ears a twitch. No. He said. I could tell by the tone in his voice that he wasn’t trying to be rude, but the snow wasn’t his best friend. Nor was it mine.

“Okay, fine, suit yourself.” I replied grumpily, grabbing the fliers from the ground. “If those two buggers, Hank and…that other guy, if they come around, leave the building, kay?”

Jason wanted to know why.

“Because they aren’t nice men, and I don’t like they’ll like seeing a rat watching the snow fall.”

Why? Jason wanted to know with interest, even though his Northern tone sounded innocent and small. I sighed and shook my head slowly.

“Because the guy named Hank thinks that this is his place.” I explained it in the simplest way I knew.

But we got here first.

“Yeah, but Hank thinks just ‘cause he gave some fat guy a lot of special paper that this place is his.”
He wants to buy our home? Jason suddenly sounded frightened.

“Yeah, he does. But that’s why I’m going to get a job. Then we’ll have an apartment all to ourselves and nobody can kick us out.”

Glad to hear it.

 

The air was so cold it was shocking. The sidewalk seemed to crack under me; like I was either too fat for its own good, or it was too skinny. But it was just a thin layer of ice, hiding under a blanket of snow.

There were very few people about and the buildings were bare, almost seeming empty, with no children running about in the streets, or the washing being hung from windows. And because of that every time I took a step the crunching ice echoed and bounced off the walls, sounding like I had on a pair of stereo headphones, or the neighborhood had suddenly grown surround-sound speakers.

In an effort to warm up, I had bundled up by wearing both my T-shirts, although only one pair of pants and my trench coat. My trench coat was the only jacket that I owned.

I stared down at my shoes. Unknowing to me, they were converses. My mustard-yellow lined shoes were converses! Not real ones, oh no, I’d never be able to afford them, but fakes.

I had heard an old woman scream the other day “Damned husband’s converse’s smellin’ up my house!” And she had chucked a battered up old pair of black ones out her window. They nearly missed my head.

I had sworn loudly at the old woman, thrown the shoes back through the window, and ran away. That was funny.

With no rat stuffed in my pocket, my load seemed lighter and I was able to go faster without the threat of a plump rodent rolling out of my pocket and smacking on the ground.

I passed Devi’s house, and I saw a light flicker on. Why the hell someone would turn a light on in the day eluded me. An elderly man pressed his ugly face to the window. He had a crown of balding hair, sharp, hawk-like eyes, and seemed obsessed with sweater vests. His mouth curved to form a perfect O, and he left, leaving the curtain swaying where he had been.

“Crap!” I blurted out, smacking myself in the forehead for forgetting. What was I supposed to hang the fliers up with? My amazing mental abilities?

Yeah, I know, shut up.

 I don’t know why, because I was perfectly safe from being hit, but I moved out of the way as I heard the alarming repeating cry of a fire truck. I guess it was just out of personal respect, because I had always admired the brave men and women as they risked their lives every day to save even just one human soul from a fiery death. The truck whizzed past, stirring up a chilly breeze that pulled at my coat and made me shake. The alarm was still ringing in my ears loudly, even though the truck was already all the way down the street. It slowed down slightly, and took a long, jarring turn around a street corner, and whizzed out of view.

I entered what I called the flat street. It was a long, narrow street lined with large buildings of up to five stories, each one old in age, made of brick, and haunting and looming, like when a cat tries to stare you down. This was the first sign that the town was near, having left my own neighborhood. The buildings, as I should’ve explained, had flats inside them, and I could hear the muffled crying of a child from deep within one of the flats.
There was graffiti all over the tall wooden walls that served as garden walls, and the gardens served as a space-filler, the tenants probably having no use of the alley. The tenants probably had no use of the alley because the trash bins were lying on the curb, one knocked over by the passing fire truck, and large black trash bags overflowing with garbage. It smelled like rotten veggies, and this was a horrible part of the neighborhood.

Normally, people would take the other street, and looped around tons of other houses, and all just to avoid seeing the buildings. But my library was two blocks away from this street, and this way was faster.

As I came upon a cleaner part, the starting of the real town, a couple of businesses here and there, I was passed again by another fire truck. And again I stepped out of the way. The fire truck sped away and I saluted them, and what made my day was the fact that even though they had been called out on an emergency they still honked their horn at me.
The fire truck was followed by an ambulance, a police car, and another ambulance. The line of emergency vehicles went down the street, each one almost bumping into each other. I watched them rattle down the street before my inquisitiveness took over and I followed at a jog. I knew I could not keep pace with any type of automobile, but I could still hear the sirens and the now faint roar of the motors.

In this small town of ours, you knew where everything was. The town was like an isolated island and anything that was out of place, one little thing that was new, and it was on the news, people would panic, and it would take forever to get used too.

The beginning of the town (and as I have probably said before, the name of this town I will not enlighten you on for not only the protection of me, but of my victims) always began with the police station.
It was a grand building nearly two stories high. It was made entirely out of old bricks that were broken and chipped but amazingly could still hold up the weight of the lot. The upper part of the second story was painted a dark navy blue, now somewhat fading and peeled off, giving the whole structure a sort of old and rustic appeal. The words “POLICE STATION” were painted across the fading blue in a dull white that now had a gray tinge to it.

But not any more.
There was nothing in its place, nothing at all except the crumbled ruins of where the building used to be. The entire thing had been blown, or possibly smashed, to pieces. It was a horrific sight. Men and women from Scotland Yard were cleaning up the remains of the police officers who had lost their lives; picking up the dismembered limbs and carting away the bloodied bodies.

More officers were holding back a crowd of people that had gathered to see what had been happening. I pushed my way through the mass of people, wrinkling my nose as a snow flake landed on it. But snow flakes weren’t warm…I rubbed my nose and looked at my finger. Gray soot covered my forefinger. It wasn’t showering snow, it was snowing ash.

I continued to shove my way to the front of the crowd until I could address the officer keeping the mob of people back. “What happened?” I asked. The officer shook her head sadly.

“I don’t really know.” She admitted. “We got a call saying a home-made bomb the station had taken away from someone had been set off, and then the line went dead.”
I could have sworn my jaw dropped open. “All of this happened because of one home-made bomb? How many did it kill?”
”All of them.”

“All of them?”
”Nearly all."