Mr. X's Revenge: From The Grave

8- Once Upon A Nightmare

Most people would say that I wasn't mentally prepared for what happens next, but most people don't know me. Allow me to put it to you this way. Think of a grain of sand, nice to dig your toes in after a long day of work, but on the wrong day the sand will be kicked up by the wind and blow right into you'r eyes. On another hand, you go to the beach on a nice and sunny day, but you don't realize that you favorite spot close to the water means traveling barefoot across sun scorched hills of firery hot sands. Either way, you get hurt. Unknowingly or just uncaring of the certain circumstances to come. Most people underestimate me.

I turned off the water in the shower and went to grab a towel upon opening the door, but my blue towel missing from its usual hanging place. I was not going to call for Sam to get one. For he had left the bathroom long after giving me his rundown. Impervious to the fact that I hadnt bothered to listen to any words he had said, he said his pardons and left for the living room to make a phone call. Yet upon exiting the shower I looked into the mirror where blood stained writing was shown on it.

"Your finger came in to use quite nicely. Call me darling, I need a drink."

That bastard used my finger to write me a fucking letter?! I stormed out of the bathroom right to Sam and punched him in the nose.

"Ow! What in the hell?!" He yells.

"You lied to me, you dirty bastard!" I scream.

"What are you talking about?!" He asks almost convincingly.

"Did you or did you not tell me that he took my finger?" I say.

"I did."

"You also said he came and went, right?"

"Yes, why are you-" I cut him off.

"But you didn't tell me that he wrote the most lovely message on the BATHROOM FUCKING MIRROR WITH IT!" He looked surprised. Fake of course.

"He did what?!" Sam got up off the couch and walked towards the bathroom, let alone the most unconvincing, horrified look on his face.

"You must think I'm an idiot! Give me you phone." Sam was leery to it at first but the handed it over. George paid for him to have the newest model Samsung available.

I quickly scrolled through his call logs until I found one number that repeated frequently, and I called it.

"Maryanna what are you doing?!" Sam yells.

"Hello?" The voice answers.

I reply to Sam. "Going out for a drink."

"Splendid, dear. You are definitely surprising me beyond I'd ever imagined." The voice says.

"Meet me at the pier." I say, I quickly hang up the phone before George could say anything more to me.

I toss the phone back at Sam, who stands at the door ready to leave.

"Oh no hunny. Your not going with me. This is my fight and my fight alone." I shoved him out of the way and exited the room.

************************************

When I got my glass of Sangria at the bar, I settled in a booth near the window where the sun could beat down on my shoulders. I kept my left hand hidden in my coat pocket. I grasped my glass ever so gently as I raised it to my lips, closing my eyes to savor the drink. When my eyes again opened, there sat George, scarred, across from me.

"How is it!?" He asks. I ignored him, but something provoked me to answer him.

"Like I've been missing out on life." He smiles. Kindly. I leaned forward and licked my lips. "Why do you do it?" George knew what I was talking about. He was hesitant but he recomposed himself again and started to think.

"It makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I have control of whatever I want. Just remember the deal though." I nod my head to assure that I'm not trying to feel him out of killing Angela.

"Im just curious. What made you like it?"

"I lived with my step dad after my mother passed away. He couldn't handle his grief very well and turned to drinking, but when his drinking turned into cocain and meth, he began to lose his temper. If I even made a sound he'd hit me. If I looked at him the wrong way he'd break my bones. When our dearest Samuel broke my arm, I flashed back to when my step dad did the same, and I lost it. I was going to kill somebody that night." He chuckled. "But you managed to get the slip on me. You did. I killed my step dad to end the abuse, but while I did so, I felt good inside. Invincible. So I continued to kill so that, that high would never go away. But when you challenged me like that. You made that high go away and I felt weak and disposable."

"You kill because you feel you have to. Its a drug to you."

"That night I went back to my mother's old house, where I killed my step dad, because I mean what better place to lick your wounds than home."

"So why me? Why Sam and Angela?" I ask.

"Artificial selection." He pulled out a pen and started writing on a napkin. When he finished he stood and left.

'You have to kill Sam. 3 days.'