The Bystander Effect

Number 30

Jerri Mason stood in her kitchen, drinking apple juice from the jug. A metal ring clung to her left nostril. Two more silver hoops looped around the corners of her bottom lip. The piercings were as fake as the temporary fangs glued in her mouth. Her powdered face was as white as chalk, and her eyes were lined as black as a bandit's. When she sat the apple juice back in the fridge, dark maroon lipstick stuck to the rim.

"I'm heading out!" she called out to her sister, who doubled as her guardian.

The house was small, so the voice that came back to her didn't have to travel far. "Okay, don't forget your nametag this time! Harold had a cow last time!"

Crap, Jerri thought. She had almost forgotten the most important part of her work costume. She snatched her nametag off the table. This was a strange nametag. Rather than rectangle, it was shaped like a pair of lips. Inside was the image of fangs, and between it was her name. Only it didn't say Jerri, it said: Countess Hester. Above it were the words: Vampspot. Jerri fixed the tag on the left breast of her jet-black corset.

Vampspot wasn't the kind of place she would willingly go to during a night on the town. It's just a job, she reminded herself. The nametag was stupid as all hell, but the cheesy club paid well. And tips were especially generous when she wore the fangs she bought from Hot Topic. Something about darkness and sharp teeth got some guys' motors going, and to her delight, it worked on some ladies as well.

There was one particular regular that liked such things. She was a pretty young woman, and Jerri looked forward to seeing her every night Jerri worked.. The woman had told Jerri her name was Della, but who new if it was true or not. A lot of people give fake names at places like Vampspot.

Della was shy, sweet, and loaded with cash. Jerri would have gone out on a date with her if she asked, but they both knew it was against the club rules. Also, she didn't need her secret age to be jeopardized.

Jerri shivered as she sat down on the leather seats of her old Buick. The short skirt she had to wear lifted and let the tender flesh of her thighs and  bottom take the chilly impact.

Alex, Jerri's sister, had gotten her the job at Vampspot. They needed the cash and Alex knew how to tamper with stuff at work to fake her sister's age. According to the records, she was twenty one. In reality, she was still in high school. It scared her that cops were all around, asking students questions about Hayden. What happens when they find out she works at Vampspot. It's a raunchy place, and they will wonder what she's doing there. They'll wonder if her sister can look after her. They might put her in the system.

She had half a mind to tell on that snob Kelly. She would if she didn't think she'd be dealt with just like Hayden. As if she had been called forth, a flash of Hayden appeared in the middle of the road in front of Jerri. She shrieked and swerved, but Hayden had disappeared. Jerri slowed and looked around. Nothing. The Buick had glided right through the spot where Hayden had been standing.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Jerri told herself. She shook her head and pressed the gas pedal.

The air in Vampspot smelled like an incense called Dragon's Blood. They always kept it burning during open hours. The smoke clung to everything. When you left, everyone who bumped into you knew you'd been at Vampspot. Jerri could never get used to that harsh autumn-like, earthy scent. She preferred scents like Rose and Vanilla.

Vick, the bulky bouncer, nodded at her from the door as she passed him. He didn't look anything like a vamp. He didn't care about dressing up, because he didn't get tips and he didn't give a darn about looking a part. He was good at what he did, so they left him to it.

Lucky Vick, Jerri thought.

She went straight to work, splitting the workload with another waitress. Table four needed a full tray of drinks, and she mixed them all quickly. On her way to the table, she smiled at the three drunk gentlemen sitting there. They were so plain and typical. She always found it odd that the club got all types. Before she started working there, she imagined that only goths would like the place. She was wrong. These guys looked casual prep. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hayden, sitting at a booth, facing her. Hayden, with burned skin, dripping wet with water, like she'd just come out of the lake they found her body in.

The tray came crashing down out, glasses shattered, and the mixed drinks spilled everywhere. She blinked and stared in horror at the empty space where Hayden was.

One of the drunk guys was at her feet, trying to help her. She bent down and tried to gather the glass, but it sliced her fingers. She cursed.

"Are you okay? Let me," the plain-looking man said.

"N-no, it's okay," she insisted. "Stand back, I'll go get the broom."

She made her way to the door in back that said: EMPLOYEES ONLY. Just as her hand touched the handle, something flashed in her peripheral vision.

Della. She wore a high ponytail and a hunter green and black shirt. The top was cut so that it hung off her shoulder. GATOR was written on the front. It was odd, because Jerri's school mascot was the gator. And that looked just like the shirt she took off before putting on her work costume. She left it laying on her bedroom floor.

Della smiled and waved her hand forward, asking Jerri to follow her. Jerri's hand slipped away from the employee room door knob and followed Della's back. The shirt now said, "Mason." Now she knew she wasn't crazy. It was her shirt. Della slipped in the restroom.

"How did you get my shirt?" Jerri asked.

"I thought you'd like to see me wear it," Della said.

Jerri looked down at it again, at the way Della's chest swelled out more than her own ever did beneath the shirt. When she looked back up, she was staring directly into Hayden's burned face. Jerri screamed. Hayden's scarred hand wrapped around Jerri's neck. She switched back to Della, but Jerri kept screaming while Della pulled out a giant wad of bills out of nowhere.

"Why are you screaming?" she asked as Della again. "I thought you wanted my money."

Della shoved the bills down Jerri's throat and held her firm a moment savoring the moment while Jerri struggled. Then Della was Hayden again and she released the girl, letting her flail and struggle freely.

Jerri gagged and clawed at her throat. She tried reaching inside, but she couldn't get it out. She couldn't cry for help. Her eyes had never looked more terrified than they did when she glimpsed the mirror. She saw no Hayden beside her, even though she knew Hayden was really there, watching her die. She stumbled away, and opened the restroom door, staggering. Nobody seemed to notice that something was very wrong. Not until she fell on the middle of the club floor. People finally started coming to her aid. By that time, she was gone, and so was Hayden.