The Sweetest Kill: A Young Adult Paranormal (3 page)

Florence crawls up on the bed and curls up against my stomach. Her purring vibrates through my body, as I slowly run my fingers through her soft dark fur. She kneads the blanket draped around me while unknowingly lulling me to sleep. I don’t think much more about the serial killer as my eyes begin to close.

Meanwhile, across town, the very man I want to be the scapegoat for my death is giving me another reason to find him.

FORLORN

My eyes open to a bright ray of sunlight shining directly on me. I blink a few times, just trying to let my eyes adjust to the light, before sitting up to look at my clock. It’s nine a.m. and I have three hours until my shift at the café starts. With that depressing thought, I lie back down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Florence doesn’t take long to join me and begins rubbing her face against my hand. I smile a little as I turn over to pet her behind the ears, making her purr loudly.

My stomach growls under the covers, but I ignore it. I don’t feel like eating and even if I did, I wouldn’t give into it. What’s the point of eating when all I want to do is sleep? I busy myself with watching Florence’s fur curve under the pressure of my petting before she becomes tired of me. Jumping off the bed, she heads for her food bowl and I glance at the clock again.

I should probably get up now. I don’t want to, but I should. The idea of going to work turns my stomach to knots, and my mind is already coming up with excuses not to go. I gnaw on my lower lip, ripping off some dry skin and tasting blood on my tongue when I lick the area. Reaching up, I stretch my arms over my head only to realize that one of my bandages must have come off last night.       

I sit up, move my covers, and look around for it. Then, I notice a small bloodstain on the yellow flower-patterned sheets of my bed. Looking at my arm, I see one of the cuts that just started to heal have opened again. The bandage on my right forearm is also stained with blood. With a light sigh, I decide to just change the bandages on all my wounds and start peeling them off.

Five.

Five irritated and scabbing cuts are scattered on both of my arms. They’re all in various stages of healing, the fresh cuts are the ones that stained my sheets. I run my index finger lightly over each one. Some cuts were inflicted using stolen box cutter blades from work. The rest were done with a pair of scissors that I stashed in a place that only I know about. I can’t risk anyone finding them and taking them away.

As of two months ago, I was still living with my parents. This whole ‘moving out’ thing is against my parent’s wishes, but one of the few things Dr. Reynolds backed me up on. I needed to get away from their watchful eyes and the painful memories of that house. How they can still live there with the ghostly memories of Charlotte running through the halls is beyond me. Or maybe that’s why they stay there in the first place, as a remaining link to her.

Before I can depress myself more, I push that train of thought away and replace it with the drive to get out of bed. Glancing at the clock again, I swore under my breath, “Shit, I have to be at work in an hour.” With a sigh, I push myself off my bed and head the bathroom to wash my face before getting dressed. I turn the faucet on and watch the water pool in my hands before splashing the cool water on my face.

I pull my black skinny jeans from the pile of clothes on the floor. I also pick up a black long sleeved thermal, and my other sort-of-clean work shirt from yesterday. I get dressed and still manage to have half an hour to get to work. Grabbing my jacket, I take a quick glance out the window only to notice that it's snowing again. I slip on red wool mittens and the matching red beanie winter cap before snatching my keys from the top of my desk. Going through my mental checklist one last time, I make sure Florence’s bowls are full before leaving.

Once I’m outside of my apartment building, an immediate change comes over me. I’m not myself out of my apartment. I don’t know who I am, really. Outside of my apartment, everything sort of feels like a show. My shoulders curl in as the sidewalk begins to become more populated with people. I shy away when they get too close and try to avoid them if I can.

Mostly, I keep my eyes on the cars passing by. The idea of just pushing past all these people and jumping in front of a car comes to my mind. I’d do it too quickly for them to stop me. It would be seen as a traffic accident. I would be considered as someone distracted, someone who did not see the car coming towards me. It wouldn’t be the driver’s fault because he pedestrian wasn’t paying attention and he didn’t see her.

The world looks different to a person who wants to die. Everything appears like a tool to end it all. Take a pencil, for example. To a normal person, it’s just a plain old writing utensil. But if you were in the same frame of mind as I, you’d find yourself thinking of all the ways you could use it to take your life. You’d be daydreaming about how to end it all with that specific pencil. Perhaps you can stab yourself in the eye with it, hoping it would get into your brain? You can stab it into your jugular, maybe? Soon, you can’t stop looking at that stupid goddamn pencil because it’s your one chance to get out of this misery, out of your own personal hell. The whole thing can really make you hate pencils.

I jump back into reality, as someone’s shoulder rams into mine. I look up to see a young man, maybe around my age, with long dark hair and annoyed brown eyes glaring at me. I immediately look away and try to walk past him but he grabs my wrist, stopping me. I gasp quietly, trying to take my wrist back, but he just growls at me and holds me in place. I look up to meet his eyes and I’m surprised when they suddenly soften.

He immediately lets go of my wrist, “Sorry.”

“I-I-It’s okay.” I mumble.

“Just watch where you’re going huh?”

I nod quickly and step back from him, “I’m s-s-sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he assures me gruffly before starting to walk away.

I look over my shoulder at him, only to find him already looking at me with a frown on his face. I quickly turn my eyes to the front and wrap my arms around myself. I don’t know why but I feel like I know him. Maybe he’s one of the regulars at the café. Or maybe I’m just confusing reality again. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

When I get to work, I try to ignore the twist in my stomach when I see my boss, Lawrence there. He’s a gangly little weasel, in his mid-thirties, who with a fairly young staff on his hand, likes to play a game of ‘inappropriately touch the employee’. I am, to date, his favorite target. I refuse to react to him when he tries to play his games but it only seems to fuel his fire when it comes to his advances. I’m not interested and never will be, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Lawrence’s beady green eyes land on me through his round thin rimmed glasses, as he licks his lips with a smirk. I keep my eyes averted as I pass the front counter and head to the back storage room to take off my winter gear. I let out a sigh of relief when I spot another person in there getting ready for their shift. At least I won’t be alone in my torture.

When I finally work up the courage to leave the back room, my hands are shaking at my sides. I can feel Lawrence’s eyes on me, but I don’t meet them in fear of what’ll happen if I do. I don’t want to give him any reason to think I want him. I’ve told him ‘no’ so many times, it could be my mantra. But he always plays it off like I don’t understand his intentions.  As if all of the ass grabs weren’t enough of a hint. 

It’s another reason to quit this job. Of course, to quit this job I’d need another another one. The problem is, nobody is hiring. So, to keep Florence fed, and myself out of my parent’s wallets, I put up with it. It also doesn’t help that everyone knows that it happens, but no one says anything. Sometimes you have to take the good with the bad, I guess.

“Hey, Shoshanna.”

I turn and give a weak smile at my co-worker for the day, Frank. Frank is in his late teens and is going to college at the university downtown. He’s a nice guy and always seems willing to step in when I can’t do something. He’s also not hard on the eyes either, with his messy blonde surfer style hair and hazel eyes.

“Hi.” I greet quietly.

“Who’s the manager today?”

I don’t say anything but my eyes shift over my shoulder. Frank lifts his head and groans when he sees Lawrence hovering nearby. Dropping his volume, he stands uncomfortably but necessarily close, to speak to me.

“I don’t know how you put up with it.”

I shrug and continue stocking to-go cups.

Frank dips his head close enough to make me flinch when he speaks, “I would have kicked him in the nuts if I were you.”

I smile a little at the image but shake my head, “I can’t. I need this job.”

“If I talk to my aunt about getting you a job down at the library will you quit?”

I stare at him before frowning, “W-Why would you do that?”

He shrugs with a slight smirk, “Because I want to see you kick him in the nuts.”

I bite my lip to hold my smile, but Frank sees it and bumps my shoulder with his. I freeze at the contact but he doesn’t seem to notice. As subtly as I can manage, I take a step away from him by pretending to reach for something. He thankfully doesn’t call me out on my ruse and soon leaves me to help a customer.

I’m taken out of my discomfort when I sense someone watching me. Looking around, I see a few regular faces and a few new ones but nothing that stand out, that is until I settle on a pair of blue eyes. I lower my gaze instantly when I see those eyes looking directly back at me. I glance back up and see those same eyes still looking at me, but this time, the person adds a kind, dimpled smile to the mix.

He’s a handsome guy and way out of my league. Actually, I’m not even sure we’d even be classified in the same stratosphere. I try to tell myself he’s just being nice and kind, but he just keeps staring at me. It’s making me nervous and when he finally does approach the front counter again, I purposely ignore him. I did mention I wasn’t a people person, right?

I watch out of the corner of my eye as the blue-eyed guy talks to Frank and gestures to me. I don’t move a muscle until he leaves, and when the bell finally dings, I feel like I can breathe for the first time. Pushing my hair behind my ears, I itch my nose with my shaking hand as I try to calm myself down. Frank tapping my shoulder nearly makes me jump out of my skin, so you can see how well that’s working.

“Hey, Shoshanna? A guy left this for you.” He says before handing me a piece of paper with the name Jeremy and a phone number written on it.

I look at the paper for a few minutes before whispering, “Throw it away.”

“What? Why?”

“I won’t call him.” I tell him quietly with a shrug, “So why keep it?”

“He seemed nice though.”

I give Frank a small, sad smile, “I don’t date.”

He frowns, “Why not? You’re cute and sweet. Guys like that.”

“I just don’t.” I sigh before taking the paper and ripping it in half, “Thanks though.”

Frank drops the subject and I’m thankful for it. I’m not trying to be horrible about it. I’m really not. I’m just trying to avoid the inevitable let down. We’ll go out. He’ll ask me about myself and if I can get past the urge to run every time he stares at me, I’ll give him vague answers. Then, just when I start to like him, he’ll try to touch me. I’ll freak out and when I’m in the middle of my panic attack, he’ll run for the nearest exit. I want to say that this is just an assumption but it isn’t. Just ask Tom, Chris, and Colin. All of them were great guys and all of them were fast runners.

As the day goes on, I start to relax a little. Frank does me a big favor and works at the counter while I mix the drinks. We both know it’s a good move for everyone involved. When our shifts are over, Frank’s replacement comes first. It’s a girl named Kayla and though I don’t know her, it’s obvious she doesn’t like me. That is quite obvious, since her face always looks like she’s smelled something rancid.

“Hey, do you need a ride home?” Frank asks as he comes out of the back.

I shake my head but says nothing as Kayla’s glare intensifies.

“You sure?”

I glance at Kayla quickly before nodding, “I’m okay.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you Monday, alright?”

I nod but don’t say anything, as I busy myself with changing the filters on the machines. It’s not long before Melanie comes rushing into the building looking both contrite and disheveled. Her blue eyes widen when she sees me behind the counter and comes over to explain in a rush.

“Oh my god, Shoshanna, I had no idea I was your replacement. I feel so awful. Trevor drove me over here, but then he wouldn’t let me get out of the car. He’s adorable but he always makes me late for my shifts. Please say you’ll forgive me! I feel so awful for making you wait. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

I gnaw on my lip and shake my head, “It’s okay.”

“So you’ll forgive me?”

I just mumble an affirmative but it does the job. She jumps up with a grin before unraveling her scarf from her neck, “I’ll be back in a second. Just let me go hang this stuff up in the back.”

“Shoshanna!”

I jump and turn around to see Lawrence glaring at me. I don’t know what he thinks I’ve done this time, but I don’t like the look in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything more, but he urges me to go towards him. Stumbling a bit on my sneakers, I hesitantly do as he asks. My palms begin to sweat, and a twisting in my stomach begins to wrench its way through my body, the closer I get to him. I know this will be bad but I can’t escape, and I realize this is just how he wants me to feel. Shoving all emotion down into a tight little box, I meet Lawrence’s eyes with a blank look.

I feel nothing and I am nothing.