The Motif

Chapter 8

Jennifer did not sleep well that night. First, she couldn't get that damn tune out of her head. When first listening to it, it hadn't struck her as particularly memorable, but like a weed, its roots clamped on to the soil of her mind and refused to release its hold.

When she finally did manage to drift asleep, it was not a restful sleep. All night long her slumber was haunted by nightmarish fragments of images, most of which were frozen, like photographs as opposed to video. Some of these images were of a thin, gangly man in his forties. What was left of his hair was light auburn. His dress was neat, and tidy, and a pair of wire-framed glasses rested upon his nose.

Then there were images of a young woman, who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, around Jennifer's own age, give or take a year or two. In some of the images, she appeared to be walking in a park, smiling or laughing. In others, she was lying upon what looked like a therapist's couch, her eyes closed and her features relaxed, as if in meditation.

And then there were images of the girl, during and after being brutally murdered, her mouth frozen in a mortified scream, blood and gore staining her once porcelain features.

Interspersed amongst all these horrible visions, there were fragments of visions of Tim and Jennifer together. Tim hugging her, kissing her, touching her. In stark contrast to the stillness of her other phantasmagoric nightmares, these visions played out in movement, but each only lasted for a few seconds before returning to the nightmarish stills.

Rather than lessening the tension of Jennifer's dreamland, these images of Tim worsened her subconscious turmoil, because her feelings for Tim had no place with those ghastly apparitions.

The music box song underscored throughout all these visions, adding an unnatural childish innocence to the images of the man and woman, and a deeply disturbing menace to the intense, sensual images of Jennifer and Tim embracing.

Therefore, it was with less than eager enthusiasm that Jennifer greeted being wakened by the ringing of her cell phone.

"Hullo..." she groggily said into the receiver.

"Jennifer, it's me, Tim."

"Oh, hi Tim," she said, trying to push out of her mind the image she had just woken up from. Tim had been pulling her onto a bed, kissing her neck in a way that still now, even awake, made every inch of her being tingle with sexual anticipation. "Sorry, you just woke me up."

"Jen...it's one in the afternoon. What did you stay up all night drinking? I know you're going through a rough time, but that's probably not the best way to deal with everything..."

"What?" Jennifer snapped, fully awake now. "Are you telling me I slept for thirteen hours?"

"Apparently."

"Jesus Christ..."

"Well, it seems you needed it. Anyway, I've got some information for you. The site was created about five months ago and appears to have been uploaded from somewhere in Boston. I'm still working on getting something more precise than that, but it'll be at least a few more hours, at best."

"Tim, you are a fucking genius! Thank you! Call me as soon as you have anything else!"

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Jen, this is me you're talking to. I can tell from the tone of your voice that you're about to do something either rash or stupid – or both."

Damnit. He really did know her better than she even knew herself. Yet another reason why it was so frustrating that he didn't want more out of the relationship. She had been barely aware of making the decision herself, until he had asked about it.