Post by barf on Oct 18, 2005 20:24:36 GMT -5
it's kind of never-ending (2700-ish words) and i apologize if it sounds familiar (i have Thr3e sitting next to me as i speak, lol). and it's supposed to be "scary", but it's really not. and you can critique it but by the time i read it i will have handed it in. ;D
Sam I Am
Mark Peretti should have turned off his cell phone.
It was hard to be gloomy on such a gorgeous fall day, but he walked to his car with a heavy heart; his girlfriend had just called him at the university to tell him that they “needed a break”. She said he loved Jane Austen more than he loved her. He sighed and opened the driver’s side door, sliding his long, lanky frame behind the wheel. Pizza, he thought. Pizza would be good right now.
₪ Five minutes later ₪
“Hey Ty, make me a pie,” Mark yelled over the clang of the indie pizza shop his best friend Tyler worked at.
“No problem, dude,” Tyler shouted right back. “Be with you in ten.”
Mark took his regular seat at the window booth closest to the door – being seated in a small place like this where he could not see outside made him slightly claustrophobic. He hummed along with the radio and leafed through the menu, even though he knew it by heart. Soon, his pizza was resting in front of him in its traditional cardboard box. Mark looked up at his friend, smiling slightly at his green Mohawk.
Ty noticed the smile. “You like?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from Mark.
“Yeah, it’s nice, better than the pink…” he faded off as he reached the end of the sentence, still hung up on Jess.
Mark left after making plans to meet up with Ty after he got off from work and headed for his car in slightly elevated moods. The aroma of the pizza rose to his nostrils, comforting him. His mind was already at home sitting on the couch when his phone rang.
He reached for his cell, balancing the pizza on one hand. The phone rang again before he realized that it wasn’t his phone. Continuing back to his car, the ring swelled as he approached the corner and diminished when he stood waiting for the light.
Again the phone called to be answered and he realized that it was coming from the phone booth behind him. Odd, he thought.
He slowly retraced his steps until he reached the booth, and stared as the phone rang once more. He looked up and down the street as people passed right by without acknowledging the phone in the slightest. Annoyed, he went into the phone booth and roughly picked up the receiver in the middle of the seventh ring.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mark. What took you so long?”
Mark frowned. The voice wasn’t one he knew, but it could be disguised. It was low and gravelly, like the speaker had a sore throat. Probably Tyler and one of his pranks. He decided to play along.
“I’m sorry, who-”
“No matter. It’s really too bad about your girlfriend Jess, and you know, I’ve always found pizza to be a satisfying comfort food as well.”
It must be Ty, he’s the only person that saw me getting pizza, he thought. But I didn’t tell him about Jess.
“I don’t think I-”
“It doesn’t matter if you know me. I know you. I know everything about you, from the time you wake up in the morning to how you greet your English lit prof.” Here he paused. “But you’re not what’s important. What matters is your father.”
“What’s my father got to do-”
“Shut up and listen to me!” the voice demanded. “The game is simple. All you have to do is agree to kill your father, and I won’t blow up that pizza joint your friend Tyler works at.”
“No!” said Mark automatically. “I’m not killing anybody!”
“Fine with me,” the deep voice said nonchalantly. “That pizza joint is history in two minutes.”
Click.
1:58
Mark panicked. Was the voice for real? Think, man, think! Okay, a man calls me at a payphone and tells me to kill my father or he’ll blow up the pizza place. Who would do that? And why do they want me to kill my father?
1:43
Mark decided to treat it as a real threat. He couldn’t waste time. He dropped the pizza and sprinted back to the shop, silently thanking God he did Track this year. He burst through the doors and into the warm pizzeria.
“Get out! Everyone get out now!” he yelled, pushing to the front of the line. “Ty, listen to me, there’s a bomb in here, you’ve got to get everyone out!” Behind him a woman gasped, but he barely registered it. “Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but you gotta believe me. Get these people out now!”
Ty nodded with wide eyes.
0:58
Mark ran towards the bathrooms and pulled the fire alarm on the wall. He checked the bathrooms. Empty. He hurried back to the main area and hoarded everyone through the main door, pushing them to make them hurry.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered.
0:12
Nearly everyone was out. Mark glanced over his shoulder and swept the restaurant with his eyes. The mass of people kept shuffling forward until they were all out and standing on the street.
“Get to the other side!” Mark yelled, repeating his words up and down the row.
0:01
Everyone was waiting, watching the sprinklers rain down on their meals, the shriek of the alarm filling their ears. Mark looked worriedly at the building. Surely two minutes was up by now, he thought. He slowly approached the building, waiting.
“I thought there was a bomb?” the people gathered murmured amongst themselves. A few were even beginning to step into the street, following Mark.
The shop exploded.
₪ three hours later ₪
“No, I can’t think of anyone that would want to hurt me. Am I done?” Mark said exasperatedly to Detective Cole Winters. Didn’t they hear him the first time?
“Alright, you can go,” Winters conceded. “Would you like an escort home?”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Hopefully it was a one-time deal.”
“We don’t place much on hopes, Mr. Peretti. We’re wiring your home and tapping your lines. We’ll go easy on the surveillance for now.”
Mark rose from his chair and thanked the detective. He couldn’t wait to get home and dull his mind with some television, which is what he did until 1am, when he fell asleep on the couch.
A few minutes later, a masked man took his gloved hands off Mark’s windowsill and stole into the night.
₪ two weeks later ₪
Mark woke up quickly, shaking the recurring nightmare from his head. For years he’d had the same bad dream; his doctor had told him that he’d grow out of it. Fifteen years later, the dreams stayed with him. He began to think back to the events that had caused them, the pain still as powerful now as it was then. He recalled his father, whom he hadn’t spoken to in a decade – and for good reason, Mark thought grudgingly. After what that jerk did –
The phone rang, bringing him mostly back to the moment. He picked up the cordless, still distracted by anger.
“Hello?” He thought he must sound horrible, first thing in the morning like this.
There was a click at the other end. He punched the power button.
He couldn’t stand to think about his father these days. He couldn’t even let himself think about what had happened so many years ago.
The phone rang again. He raised the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mark.”
The voice sent shivers down his spine. The memory of the pizza shop in a fireball came flooding back. He jerked upright, his neck hairs standing on end.
“What do you want from me? Who are you?”
The voice laughed, and Mark felt sickness rise in his gut. “Who am I? I’m Sam I Am, but you can refer to me as Sam.”
Mark shuddered at the allusion to his favourite Dr. Seuss book. Who was this creep?
“You know, your father’s the one that’s dragging you down. Eliminating him will repair that piece of you that’s been claimed by him.”
Mark shut his eyes as though it would make this man disappear. He opened them, and the voice continued.
“All you need to do is go over there right now and pull the trigger in his ear. It couldn’t be simpler, Mark. He’s just down the road. What do you say?”
“I told you-” his voice shook – “I’m not a murderer, unlike you.”
“Oh, but Markie-boy, I haven’t killed anyone,” his voice sickly sweet and suffocating. “Yet. However, if you aren’t at your father’s place in two minutes, your girlfriend might be the first.” He hung up.
₪
1:58
Mark panicked. Kill his father or let his girlfriend die? But they weren’t together right now; she’d wanted a break. He still loved her. Would she even believe him if he called her and told her to leave her home or else she’d be blown to smithereens? He doubted it. What to do, what to do…
His eyes searched for an answer and found one lying on the kitchen counter, right where he’d left it two weeks ago. He picked up the business card and dialed the number, fumbling with the phone in his clammy hands. He began to speak as soon as the ringing stopped. The words rushed out of him.
“Listen, Detective, he called again. He’s threatened to blow up my girlfriend – ex-girlfriend – whatever –“
“Whoa, slow down, we can handle it,” Cole soothed, though his voice was traced with worry. “What’s her phone number and address?”
He relayed the information and hung up. He was about to go out and head to Jess’s house, but remembered the instructions to stay put. His car might have a bomb. He could only wait.
₪
He looked down at her mangled body, hardly able to identify her.
He puked.
₪
Weeks passed and the dreams of Jess as a zombie and following him everywhere had ceased. There was no longer an unmarked vehicle across the road from his house. The gravelly voice – Sam – had not haunted his phone since Jess died.
He had gone back to school and immersed himself in his English literature program. He spent his spare time in the library, engrossed in the works of Jane Austen (he painfully recalled Jess’s words to him), George Meredith and Thomas Hardy. He looked up and saw Miss Maple, the elderly librarian, standing over him. He realized hours had passed.
“I’m about ready to close up, love,” she said in a rather apologetic voice. “You can take those with you, if you wish.”
“No, it’s fine, Miss Maple,” he assured her. “I’d lost track of time. I’d better be going anyway. Thanks though.” He crammed his books into his backpack and headed for the door. “Have a good weekend, Miss Maple,” he called.
“You too, son. Don’t work too hard, now.”
He rolled his eyes. He had to work to get his mind off Jess. He slid behind the wheel and rested his eyes a moment, leaning back into the seat.
₪
He woke with a start and noticed it was dark out. He’d fallen asleep! Why had he awoken?
Right. His cell was ringing. It was probably Ty to yell at him for being late again. They were supposed to meet at the bar an hour ago, according to his car clock. He sighed and grunted into the receiver he’d just picked up.
“It’s been awhile, Mark. A long while.”
It wasn’t Ty.
“Listen, mister-”
“Please, call me Sam,” he said, amused.
“Listen, Sam, I don’t know what you want from me but I want you to leave my father out of it. If you want to torture me, do it in person like a man.”
Sam chuckled. Mark stiffened.
“Oh, like a man, huh? Fine. Let’s do it your way. Meet me at the abandoned warehouse on Industrial Drive in two hours. No fuzz.”
“I’ll be there,” Mark said weakly after Sam had hung up.
₪
Mark drove to the warehouse slowly. He’d called Detective Winters to let him know what was happening, but told him not to follow him. He would call when it was over. If he didn’t call within the hour, they could come for him. If they could find him.
“Take the gun,” Winters told Mark. He’d been given a gun after the second attack – “for security,” he’d been told. He took comfort in the cold barrel pressing against his skin underneath his shirt.
He pulled into the empty parking lot at the warehouse and got out of the car, slamming the door to announce his arrival. It echoed eerily against the aluminum siding.
Mark approached the main door slowly. He put his hand on the doorknob and prepared for his future. He pushed it open and flicked the lights.
The inside was much larger than it appeared from the outside; the ceiling at least three stories above him. He walked towards the middle of the room, treading silently to see if he could pick up on any noise. He heard something behind him and spun wildly – the door slammed shut, apparently of its own will.
“I know you’re here,” Mark said, more to break the silence than to threaten his challenger. He headed for the stairs and ascended, each step resonating in the desolate warehouse.
The lights went out.
Mark stopped, allowing his eyes to adjust. The only light came from a small window near the peak. It would have to do. He turned his ear towards the door he came in, but heard nothing through the thick shroud of darkness. He continued up the stairs.
Cold sweat broke out over his body as he heard a low cackle coming from the far end of the landing. This is it, he thought, gripping the gun in front of him as he slowly approached his demise. He shuffled towards the door, light leaking through the crack near the floor. Mark steeled himself for what lay beyond the division. He kicked open the door.
“Welcome, my friend,” Sam smiled. “Glad you could join me.”
Sam remained in the shadows of the room, the bare light bulb hanging over Mark’s head ominously. He squinted against the sudden brightness and tried to get a look at his tormentor, but to no avail.
“I’d like to talk to you about your father, Mark,” Sam continued. “Do you remember what life was like growing up in your house? Think back. Think way back.”
Mark shook his head. A deep moan escaped his lips.
“Remember how daddy used to like the drink, and he’d come home late, Mark? Remember that? Remember how you’d wake up on the floor with cuts and bruises on your body? Your mom would take you in her arms, crying, and tell you it was alright, and you’d look up into her face and she’d have a black eye? Remember, Mark?”
Mark slid to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking slowly, shaking his head saying, “No, no daddy, please don’t…no…”
Sam went on. “Your daddy said he loved you and that’s why he did those things. Did you believe him, Mark? Is that why you let it continue for years? But you couldn’t kill him,” he said with remorse. “You loved him too much. Why did you love him, Mark? He made your childhood hell.”
Mark screamed. “Shut up! Shut up, leave me alone!” He sobbed and shakily got to his feet. “Leave me alone…” He brought the gun up to shoulder height and aimed it at the shadow. The shadow threw back its head and laughed.
“You can’t kill me, Mark,” Sam’s shadow said. “You’d just be killing yourself.”
Mark’s arms were unsteady but certain as the shadow came into the light and ran at Mark, fist ready to strike. The blow hit Mark on the side of the head at the same moment that Mark pulled the trigger, the bullet connecting with its target.
₪
Detective Winters opened the door to the room at the far end of the landing, certain of what he would find beyond it.
The room was empty except for the body of Mark Peretti lying in a pool of blood near the centre of the room. The gun Winters had given him lay in his hand. He picked the gun up and opened the chamber.
“One bullet missing,” he told the deputy. He knelt next to the body, observing the gaping hole in the side of Peretti’s head.
“Looks like another suicide,” the deputy observed.
Winters sighed. “No, it was much more than that…”
Sam I Am
Mark Peretti should have turned off his cell phone.
It was hard to be gloomy on such a gorgeous fall day, but he walked to his car with a heavy heart; his girlfriend had just called him at the university to tell him that they “needed a break”. She said he loved Jane Austen more than he loved her. He sighed and opened the driver’s side door, sliding his long, lanky frame behind the wheel. Pizza, he thought. Pizza would be good right now.
₪ Five minutes later ₪
“Hey Ty, make me a pie,” Mark yelled over the clang of the indie pizza shop his best friend Tyler worked at.
“No problem, dude,” Tyler shouted right back. “Be with you in ten.”
Mark took his regular seat at the window booth closest to the door – being seated in a small place like this where he could not see outside made him slightly claustrophobic. He hummed along with the radio and leafed through the menu, even though he knew it by heart. Soon, his pizza was resting in front of him in its traditional cardboard box. Mark looked up at his friend, smiling slightly at his green Mohawk.
Ty noticed the smile. “You like?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from Mark.
“Yeah, it’s nice, better than the pink…” he faded off as he reached the end of the sentence, still hung up on Jess.
Mark left after making plans to meet up with Ty after he got off from work and headed for his car in slightly elevated moods. The aroma of the pizza rose to his nostrils, comforting him. His mind was already at home sitting on the couch when his phone rang.
He reached for his cell, balancing the pizza on one hand. The phone rang again before he realized that it wasn’t his phone. Continuing back to his car, the ring swelled as he approached the corner and diminished when he stood waiting for the light.
Again the phone called to be answered and he realized that it was coming from the phone booth behind him. Odd, he thought.
He slowly retraced his steps until he reached the booth, and stared as the phone rang once more. He looked up and down the street as people passed right by without acknowledging the phone in the slightest. Annoyed, he went into the phone booth and roughly picked up the receiver in the middle of the seventh ring.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mark. What took you so long?”
Mark frowned. The voice wasn’t one he knew, but it could be disguised. It was low and gravelly, like the speaker had a sore throat. Probably Tyler and one of his pranks. He decided to play along.
“I’m sorry, who-”
“No matter. It’s really too bad about your girlfriend Jess, and you know, I’ve always found pizza to be a satisfying comfort food as well.”
It must be Ty, he’s the only person that saw me getting pizza, he thought. But I didn’t tell him about Jess.
“I don’t think I-”
“It doesn’t matter if you know me. I know you. I know everything about you, from the time you wake up in the morning to how you greet your English lit prof.” Here he paused. “But you’re not what’s important. What matters is your father.”
“What’s my father got to do-”
“Shut up and listen to me!” the voice demanded. “The game is simple. All you have to do is agree to kill your father, and I won’t blow up that pizza joint your friend Tyler works at.”
“No!” said Mark automatically. “I’m not killing anybody!”
“Fine with me,” the deep voice said nonchalantly. “That pizza joint is history in two minutes.”
Click.
1:58
Mark panicked. Was the voice for real? Think, man, think! Okay, a man calls me at a payphone and tells me to kill my father or he’ll blow up the pizza place. Who would do that? And why do they want me to kill my father?
1:43
Mark decided to treat it as a real threat. He couldn’t waste time. He dropped the pizza and sprinted back to the shop, silently thanking God he did Track this year. He burst through the doors and into the warm pizzeria.
“Get out! Everyone get out now!” he yelled, pushing to the front of the line. “Ty, listen to me, there’s a bomb in here, you’ve got to get everyone out!” Behind him a woman gasped, but he barely registered it. “Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but you gotta believe me. Get these people out now!”
Ty nodded with wide eyes.
0:58
Mark ran towards the bathrooms and pulled the fire alarm on the wall. He checked the bathrooms. Empty. He hurried back to the main area and hoarded everyone through the main door, pushing them to make them hurry.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered.
0:12
Nearly everyone was out. Mark glanced over his shoulder and swept the restaurant with his eyes. The mass of people kept shuffling forward until they were all out and standing on the street.
“Get to the other side!” Mark yelled, repeating his words up and down the row.
0:01
Everyone was waiting, watching the sprinklers rain down on their meals, the shriek of the alarm filling their ears. Mark looked worriedly at the building. Surely two minutes was up by now, he thought. He slowly approached the building, waiting.
“I thought there was a bomb?” the people gathered murmured amongst themselves. A few were even beginning to step into the street, following Mark.
The shop exploded.
₪ three hours later ₪
“No, I can’t think of anyone that would want to hurt me. Am I done?” Mark said exasperatedly to Detective Cole Winters. Didn’t they hear him the first time?
“Alright, you can go,” Winters conceded. “Would you like an escort home?”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Hopefully it was a one-time deal.”
“We don’t place much on hopes, Mr. Peretti. We’re wiring your home and tapping your lines. We’ll go easy on the surveillance for now.”
Mark rose from his chair and thanked the detective. He couldn’t wait to get home and dull his mind with some television, which is what he did until 1am, when he fell asleep on the couch.
A few minutes later, a masked man took his gloved hands off Mark’s windowsill and stole into the night.
₪ two weeks later ₪
Mark woke up quickly, shaking the recurring nightmare from his head. For years he’d had the same bad dream; his doctor had told him that he’d grow out of it. Fifteen years later, the dreams stayed with him. He began to think back to the events that had caused them, the pain still as powerful now as it was then. He recalled his father, whom he hadn’t spoken to in a decade – and for good reason, Mark thought grudgingly. After what that jerk did –
The phone rang, bringing him mostly back to the moment. He picked up the cordless, still distracted by anger.
“Hello?” He thought he must sound horrible, first thing in the morning like this.
There was a click at the other end. He punched the power button.
He couldn’t stand to think about his father these days. He couldn’t even let himself think about what had happened so many years ago.
The phone rang again. He raised the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mark.”
The voice sent shivers down his spine. The memory of the pizza shop in a fireball came flooding back. He jerked upright, his neck hairs standing on end.
“What do you want from me? Who are you?”
The voice laughed, and Mark felt sickness rise in his gut. “Who am I? I’m Sam I Am, but you can refer to me as Sam.”
Mark shuddered at the allusion to his favourite Dr. Seuss book. Who was this creep?
“You know, your father’s the one that’s dragging you down. Eliminating him will repair that piece of you that’s been claimed by him.”
Mark shut his eyes as though it would make this man disappear. He opened them, and the voice continued.
“All you need to do is go over there right now and pull the trigger in his ear. It couldn’t be simpler, Mark. He’s just down the road. What do you say?”
“I told you-” his voice shook – “I’m not a murderer, unlike you.”
“Oh, but Markie-boy, I haven’t killed anyone,” his voice sickly sweet and suffocating. “Yet. However, if you aren’t at your father’s place in two minutes, your girlfriend might be the first.” He hung up.
₪
1:58
Mark panicked. Kill his father or let his girlfriend die? But they weren’t together right now; she’d wanted a break. He still loved her. Would she even believe him if he called her and told her to leave her home or else she’d be blown to smithereens? He doubted it. What to do, what to do…
His eyes searched for an answer and found one lying on the kitchen counter, right where he’d left it two weeks ago. He picked up the business card and dialed the number, fumbling with the phone in his clammy hands. He began to speak as soon as the ringing stopped. The words rushed out of him.
“Listen, Detective, he called again. He’s threatened to blow up my girlfriend – ex-girlfriend – whatever –“
“Whoa, slow down, we can handle it,” Cole soothed, though his voice was traced with worry. “What’s her phone number and address?”
He relayed the information and hung up. He was about to go out and head to Jess’s house, but remembered the instructions to stay put. His car might have a bomb. He could only wait.
₪
He looked down at her mangled body, hardly able to identify her.
He puked.
₪
Weeks passed and the dreams of Jess as a zombie and following him everywhere had ceased. There was no longer an unmarked vehicle across the road from his house. The gravelly voice – Sam – had not haunted his phone since Jess died.
He had gone back to school and immersed himself in his English literature program. He spent his spare time in the library, engrossed in the works of Jane Austen (he painfully recalled Jess’s words to him), George Meredith and Thomas Hardy. He looked up and saw Miss Maple, the elderly librarian, standing over him. He realized hours had passed.
“I’m about ready to close up, love,” she said in a rather apologetic voice. “You can take those with you, if you wish.”
“No, it’s fine, Miss Maple,” he assured her. “I’d lost track of time. I’d better be going anyway. Thanks though.” He crammed his books into his backpack and headed for the door. “Have a good weekend, Miss Maple,” he called.
“You too, son. Don’t work too hard, now.”
He rolled his eyes. He had to work to get his mind off Jess. He slid behind the wheel and rested his eyes a moment, leaning back into the seat.
₪
He woke with a start and noticed it was dark out. He’d fallen asleep! Why had he awoken?
Right. His cell was ringing. It was probably Ty to yell at him for being late again. They were supposed to meet at the bar an hour ago, according to his car clock. He sighed and grunted into the receiver he’d just picked up.
“It’s been awhile, Mark. A long while.”
It wasn’t Ty.
“Listen, mister-”
“Please, call me Sam,” he said, amused.
“Listen, Sam, I don’t know what you want from me but I want you to leave my father out of it. If you want to torture me, do it in person like a man.”
Sam chuckled. Mark stiffened.
“Oh, like a man, huh? Fine. Let’s do it your way. Meet me at the abandoned warehouse on Industrial Drive in two hours. No fuzz.”
“I’ll be there,” Mark said weakly after Sam had hung up.
₪
Mark drove to the warehouse slowly. He’d called Detective Winters to let him know what was happening, but told him not to follow him. He would call when it was over. If he didn’t call within the hour, they could come for him. If they could find him.
“Take the gun,” Winters told Mark. He’d been given a gun after the second attack – “for security,” he’d been told. He took comfort in the cold barrel pressing against his skin underneath his shirt.
He pulled into the empty parking lot at the warehouse and got out of the car, slamming the door to announce his arrival. It echoed eerily against the aluminum siding.
Mark approached the main door slowly. He put his hand on the doorknob and prepared for his future. He pushed it open and flicked the lights.
The inside was much larger than it appeared from the outside; the ceiling at least three stories above him. He walked towards the middle of the room, treading silently to see if he could pick up on any noise. He heard something behind him and spun wildly – the door slammed shut, apparently of its own will.
“I know you’re here,” Mark said, more to break the silence than to threaten his challenger. He headed for the stairs and ascended, each step resonating in the desolate warehouse.
The lights went out.
Mark stopped, allowing his eyes to adjust. The only light came from a small window near the peak. It would have to do. He turned his ear towards the door he came in, but heard nothing through the thick shroud of darkness. He continued up the stairs.
Cold sweat broke out over his body as he heard a low cackle coming from the far end of the landing. This is it, he thought, gripping the gun in front of him as he slowly approached his demise. He shuffled towards the door, light leaking through the crack near the floor. Mark steeled himself for what lay beyond the division. He kicked open the door.
“Welcome, my friend,” Sam smiled. “Glad you could join me.”
Sam remained in the shadows of the room, the bare light bulb hanging over Mark’s head ominously. He squinted against the sudden brightness and tried to get a look at his tormentor, but to no avail.
“I’d like to talk to you about your father, Mark,” Sam continued. “Do you remember what life was like growing up in your house? Think back. Think way back.”
Mark shook his head. A deep moan escaped his lips.
“Remember how daddy used to like the drink, and he’d come home late, Mark? Remember that? Remember how you’d wake up on the floor with cuts and bruises on your body? Your mom would take you in her arms, crying, and tell you it was alright, and you’d look up into her face and she’d have a black eye? Remember, Mark?”
Mark slid to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking slowly, shaking his head saying, “No, no daddy, please don’t…no…”
Sam went on. “Your daddy said he loved you and that’s why he did those things. Did you believe him, Mark? Is that why you let it continue for years? But you couldn’t kill him,” he said with remorse. “You loved him too much. Why did you love him, Mark? He made your childhood hell.”
Mark screamed. “Shut up! Shut up, leave me alone!” He sobbed and shakily got to his feet. “Leave me alone…” He brought the gun up to shoulder height and aimed it at the shadow. The shadow threw back its head and laughed.
“You can’t kill me, Mark,” Sam’s shadow said. “You’d just be killing yourself.”
Mark’s arms were unsteady but certain as the shadow came into the light and ran at Mark, fist ready to strike. The blow hit Mark on the side of the head at the same moment that Mark pulled the trigger, the bullet connecting with its target.
₪
Detective Winters opened the door to the room at the far end of the landing, certain of what he would find beyond it.
The room was empty except for the body of Mark Peretti lying in a pool of blood near the centre of the room. The gun Winters had given him lay in his hand. He picked the gun up and opened the chamber.
“One bullet missing,” he told the deputy. He knelt next to the body, observing the gaping hole in the side of Peretti’s head.
“Looks like another suicide,” the deputy observed.
Winters sighed. “No, it was much more than that…”
I probably would've guessed it even if you hadn't said it. Does your teacher know about it? And I lurve the name of the guy... Peretti... instills fear in me! 