Dark Romanticism

II

II

I woke up to my alarm clock blasting 22 by Taylor Swift and I laughed. This was exactly the kind of music to wake up to when you’re planning on going to a party at night. I did a little dancing to it and then finally grew the fuck up and shut it off. I turned on my TV where the news was being recited dutifully. I caught a glimpse of a supposed sketch of a sexual assaulter in the area and snorted. Why do they even bother? No one remembers to look out for those creeps, even though they should. I shook my head of the bitter thoughts and walked off to my bathroom. I scrubbed and scrubbed, knowing I wouldn’t be able to catch a shower before the party. However, when I started reciting 22 I knew I had been in too long. I smiled and hurried to rinse the conditioner out of my hair before jumping out and wrapping my towel around me. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two-ooh-ooh. Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you-ooh-ooh,” I sang in vain as I blow dried my hair. 

To my dismay, the song was quite catchy. I stood straight, flipping my hair back once more, before deciding it was dry enough for the day and straight enough to keep down. I walked in to my room from the bathroom where the news was still spouting. Nothing seemed overly important. It was stuff stay at home moms would be interested in hearing, not a twenty-one year old art major. 

I had the long shift today with Janine. I was working from ten in the morning to eight at night. Only half of that shift was mine originally, but when Luna had called out sick I had jumped on the extra money. One thing was for sure; I was not wearing heels to the party tonight. 

A sudden alarm sounded from the television and demanded my attention. My eyes focused on a list of names. There had to be at least six and across the top of the screen it said, “Serial Killer in the Area.” 

Serial killer? In Seattle? I guess it’s not far-fetched in such a big city. Well, I better remember to lock my door. 

“It seems as if there have already been ten homicides from the latest seattle serial killer. The target has been mainly young women. The police have not disclosed much, but have told us this. The killer is impulsive and has little to no reasonable motive to his kills.”

The guy kills to kill? So he’s running around singing fucking looney tunes. Oh, and targeting mostly women my age. A shiver ran down my spine as I glanced at the broken deadbolt of my front door through the sliver of my bedroom opening. 

The news anchor continued, “Police advise that you stay inside if at all possible. The killer is considered highly dangerous and unpredictable. That’s all in the upcoming news—back to you Diane.”

I turned the television off and planned to ask India what she thought of it. She’s lived in Seattle longer than I have. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal to have a crazy killer on the loose.

I pulled on my work shoes, grabbed my bag, and locked my door on my way to hell. That’s school. 

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“Are you sure that we can get this done? I’m willing to—”

I stopped Sara, my project partner, mid-sentence. “Trust me. Mr. Wiles is just trying to make this a bigger deal than it is.”

“Okay, but it is worth half our semester grade,” Sara said as her nose srunched up and she shoved her notebook in her small book bag. 

“We also have half the semester to work on it,” I tried to calm the girl next to me. 

Sara was a freshman—this is her first semester at the University of Seattle. I don’t know why, but she didn’t think she would be coming here until long after she should have accepted her admission. The result is that now she’s taking her art history classes all out of wack. All her classes, really, are out of order. I kind of felt bad for the wide-eyed, blonde eighteen year old. I mean, hell, school’s hard. Especially if you’re taking a route less traveled by. She works miracles with pastels though. 

“Look, Sara, I’ve had to deal with things like this before. As long as we work on it throughout the time given then we’ll be fine. Relax. We can meet tomorrow for coffee; yeah? You like coffee, right?” I asked as I eyed the bright eyed youth. 

She grimaced, “I’ll get used to it. I must.”

I laughed, “If you say so.”

“It nearing the end of the class.” 

I glanced up at Mr. Wiles who had just spoken and was surprised to find we were two of seven students left in the lecture hall. I looked at the time—I had to be at work in five minutes. Shit! 

I gathered my things. “Sorry, Sara, I have to go to work! I’ll see you at coffee tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. Um, where?”

“Where? Um,” I paused as I remembered that I have to work tomorrow, “Does two work? At, uh, Marty’s Diner.” 

“Um, yeah, sure. I’ll look it up,” Sara nodded and got little determined look that she often did. “Have a good day, Elsie!”

I waved at her behind my back and made my way to the student parking lot. 

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“You’re twenty minutes late, Elsie!” 

I winced, “Sorry, Janine!” I pulled on my white apron and put my hair up in a bun. 

“You’re lucky you still have a job,” she yelled from the kitchen. That was her way of saying, Don’t let it happen again. 

Janine is one of those people who is always pissed—when she’s actually angry she’ll be quite. Her father passed away three years ago—around the time I got the job—and as far as I know she’s alway been this way. His picture, Marty’s, hangs above the doorway. I feel bad for her sometimes. 

“Hey, Honey, can I get some coffee?”

I smiled at Henry who’s a regular here at Marty’s. He always sits in my section even if I’m not here. “Hey, Henry. How’d you get in?” I teased. 

“Getting in is easy! Getting out is the hard part. ‘Specially when I get to look at pretty girls like you all day.” 

I blushed and rolled my eyes. He was a little bit of a pervert, but I indulged him. “Well that’s all you’ll be seeing of me any time soon.”

“Sure, sure. Enough for me. Speaking of pretty girls, are you watching yourself out there? I heard on the news about that serial killer. They say he’s ripping their heads off!” 

Ripping their heads off? I hadn’t heard that. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m locking my door and sleeping with one eye open. I’ll be fine,” I reassured him as much as I did myself. “So, more coffee?”

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