Chapter Six: The Thespian

The night sky feels as though it has never been darker, with the fleeting hope of vengeance compelling me I will attempt to recollect myself and resume my chase. But what is it that I am chasing? Am I really chasing anything at all? Or am I simply drowning myself in revenge to avoid the horrifying truth? I’ve lost the only thing that made me feel truly alive. Are my hands responsible, are his, who was he? Who was the madman that stood before me tonight? I swear I’ve seen his face before. I know I’ve seen his face before.

The sun began to set, the colors smeared into the blue horizon. I walked down the roads, twisting and turning. As the moon rose I could hear Annabel’s voice calling my name. Her face was stuck in my mind and I screamed, everywhere I turned, everywhere I would run she was always in front of me. Chasing me, haunting me, bringing the painful memories of her death back into my life. I started losing my self-indulgence.

I started to think about the first time we had met. The very first time I had told her that I love her. I thought of her smile, and then the memories seemed to usher back into my mind.

The grass was tall; we pranced around on the train tracks and laughed. We were talking about life, the stories of our pasts scattered through the silence, the sun was shining bright on Annabel’s beautiful face. Her long blond hair was down past her shoulders; her beautiful brown eyes sparkled in the light. Her smile was breathtaking, impossible to describe other than perfect. Her soft and gentle hand brushed against the palm of mine as she twined her fingers through mine.

We kept walking, we talked about more and finally we reached the end of our town. Slough seemed so perfect, I laughed to myself and she looked into my eyes, as she did it felt as though she was looking into my soul.
“I love you,” I whispered silently in her ear, just barely loud enough for her to hear.

As the memories returned to mind, I scrambled towards home. I ran through the town seeing her reflection, a silhouette was all that was left dancing in the windows of the shops. I raced through the night trying to beat the sunlight. Finally I saw the familiar small house, the door was open from when I had rushed away the night before. I stumbled towards the porch. A tall, slender figure stood before me on the steps and laughed; in his hand he held the same knife, still freshly covered with Annabel’s blood.

I gasped staring at the man. It was the same madman who was glaring at me before, I was sure of it.

“I’ve been expecting you for some time sir, allow me to introduce myself,” his voice was deep; a slight growl seemed to slip through his throat. “I’m the one who pulls on all the strings, son. You’re lucky I don’t kill you where you stand.” He mused and rocked back on his heels. This can’t be real, nothing is left, and Annabel’s gone this man is the one who killed her. I know it was him…he laughed and his eyes locked into mine; the pain hit me once more. I felt my stomach churn and tightened. “They call me The Thespian.” He took a step down and glared at me once more. Suddenly he ran into the night. The urge to follow was strong, yet for some reason I just stood perfectly still trying to think about what just happened.

Date: 2016-03-03; view: 916