Twisted

Shattered

Stacy was over at Thomas' house. While they sat on his couch together, he kissed her once again and this time she didn't resist. He felt confident that he completely secured Stacy as his girlfriend and that they would live their lives together forever. After the kiss was over, he was about to proceed further, when Stacy did the one thing she regretted. She laid her head on his shoulder, and Thomas' head laid on her hair.

They stared off into space for a couple minutes until she sighed. She told him that she couldn't stop thinking about her old boyfriends and that she couldn't distract herself from them. This made Thomas extremely mad and he was afraid he could not control his rage and he didn't want to ruin this perfect moment with her by lashing out at her. Twisting around his personality once again, he excused himself to go to the bathroom, closed the door and leaned against the sink.

Doubts started creeping into his head whether she would ever like him that way, then all the things his parents used to say, what his bullies used to say, what his teachers used to say and what Stacy's friends used to say all whirled and echoed around inside his head like a tornado. Those were the only voices he could hear as they got louder and louder by the second and he covered his ears, still knowing he could never block out those thoughts.

The thoughts of when he had killed his mother, his father, Stacy's boyfriend, the dreams he had, that he tried to make into reality, and his years right before high school suddenly filled his mind. Soon all of those thoughts combined in his nearly exploding head were gone in the raise of an eyebrow.

He was now shattered.

He didn't catch it immediately, but after a few minutes of staring at the dirty tile floors, then at his own reflection in the mirror, he had become a completely sick and twisted psychopath, with no care left for anyone, except for Stacy, but not in the way that he used to anymore.

He wrote his last entry in his diary and quietly got out of the bathroom. He looked around slowly and saw Stacy about to open the door of the room where he spent most of his time.

He then knocked her out, tied her up and dragged her into the room where all of his victims' bodies were gathered. While she was passed out, he put his knife down and knelt in front of her, staring at her for a few seconds. His eyes then slowly panned to her chest, then slowly back to her face. His heart started to race as he slowly stretched his hands towards them. His smile grew as he got closer, when he suddenly noticed her eyebrows shuffling. He angrily clenched his fists as he got up and turned around. He heard her soft gasp and his smile returned to his face. Stacy frantically looked around and almost gagged. Some of the bodies Stacy fearfully recognized, all twisted and mutilated, and some she would have never known in a million years. He then slowly turned to her distressed face and vaguely explained his reasoning, stating that now she finally knew him for who he really was. He then spilled his disturbing feelings he had so desperately wanted to tell her, crying and holding her face with his bloody hands as he did so. He, however, made a point of not telling her everything and criticized her way of taking all information she was given at face value. She never realized that she had just been lied to by him. When his back was turned, Stacy began to sink very deep into thought, when the severity of the situation suddenly hit her. She completely broke down and started to silently cry. He took pictures of the bodies, and of him kissing her, both with blood on their faces. Stacy cried even more as she looked around her, then used his obsession of her, to her advantage. She wiped her tears with her shoulder and told him she had changed her mind and wanted to go to his room.

Thomas untied her and led her to his room, stretching his arm out, stating ladies first. He started by taking his shirt off and Stacy stood on her knees on his bed. Before things escalated, she challenged him, asking if he really knew her. He spent almost five minutes telling her all he knew about her before she stopped him. She then told him that there was one thing he didn't know about her. Skeptical, Thomas crossed his arms and asked her what it was. She told him the thing he didn't know about her, which was that she was a pretty, but tough bitch. After she said that, she quickly leaned towards him and kicked him with such force in the groin. He screamed bloody murder, grabbed just her wrist and swung her into the wall. Stacy hit the wall and fell onto her stomach. She tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her legs and deeply slashed one of them with a knife. She quickly turned around and kicked him in the face with her other leg. He then tried grabbing her, but she quickly twisted away from him. She ran down the stairs and out of the house. She ran faster than she had ever before, while still hearing Thomas' haunting screams get closer and closer. She ran into the first house that was open and quickly locked all the doors right before throwing up. The house was thankfully empty and she grabbed the phone, but it was out. She swore under her breath, when she realized he had cut the phone lines. Stacy was then startled by Thomas banging on the door, screaming her name. She eyed the back door, but knew he would continue to follow her, and asking for help at another house would result with more bloodshed. Knowing she was stuck, she looked around frantically, trying to find something that would help her, until she did.

Ten minutes later, Thomas was still screaming until she walked towards the door and said that she had something for him. Thomas' tone switched and he asked what it was in a flirtatious tone, and Stacy said he had to come in to see. She slowly unlocked the door and walked backwards as Thomas walked towards her.

Stacy was slightly more relieved when he didn't notice what was on the floor. She then took out a pack of cigarettes and asked if he ever smoked. He shrugged and said if she wanted him to smoke that he would. She kept walking backwards until she was right in front of the back door. She pulled out the lighter, lit both of them, then handed one to him. She then told him that one day everyone will know of him, even how he was known to explode.

Thomas was confused and she threw her cigarette across the room and ran as fast as she could out the back door. She turned back for a split second to notice Thomas' startled face through the window, and his cigarette fell in the large puddles in front of him. She quickly turned around and   climbed over the fence, as the house completely exploded into flames behind her, just as she got off the fence.

She was in complete shock as she ran away back to her house. She was shook and terrified, with millions of thoughts running through her head when she got back to her own house.

She quickly shut the door and slouched down against the frame. All the windows and doors were locked. She stared at her hands, stained with blood. She started to sob and held her head in her bloody hands. Her sobbing intensified as sirens got closer and louder. The police found her in her house and took her to the hospital.

Thomas Jameson was pronounced dead on February 14, 1980 at 8:56 pm.

Stacy regretted every moment she didn't listen to her friends and told them everything.

They were as terrified as her. They forgave her, as they all hugged when Stacy broke down.

They partook in all the questioning and interviews that took place later. Stacy then testified in court. She heard Thomas' entire diary, which contained every little thing he ever went through, all of his thoughts and things that he had done. His dreams, his feelings, everything.

Her friends were very supportive and stayed by her side through it all, even though they were clearly shaken up too.

Stacy was not considered a suspect and was let go.

Stacy developed severe PTSD from that night, constantly seeing Thomas' bloody red sweater in her reflection and hearing his voice screaming her name. She was more than a little relieved that he was dead and never coming back.