Shadow

Prologue - The Second Shot

'Richie, please, let her go!'

'Stay back, Jimmy! I'm warning you, man. I'll cut her throat, and you know I'll do it!'

Jimmy's wife whimpered in Richie's clutches. The plunging white V-neckline blouse had ripped diagonally exposing the firm, white-colored bra that she wore underneath. Her straight blonde hair was now a mess and it entwined with the single streak of blood that streamed down the side of her face.

Richie stood behind her and held the blade to her smooth, swan-like throat, while his other arm pointed the Glock .22 at Jimmy. He then inhaled the smell of her long hair as if it gave him his insane power. He looked like a stranger to Jimmy; his hair long and shaggy, but clearly balding at the top. His once fresh face now covered with a thick beard, acne, and scratches, and the pores filled with beads of perspiration. His hands visibly tremored, and his teeth chattered whenever he stopped talking.

They all stood in the upstairs hallway, right next to the baby's room. As Jimmy stood frozen with fear, a terrible thought entered into his mind. What if Richie pulled a knife to his pride and joy instead? He prayed as much as he was sweating cold fear right now that the baby wouldn't make a noise. Because even the slightest decibel would've distracted Richie, turning his attention onto little Charlie, and that would be more than he could bear.

'Jimmy,' his wife wailed.

'It's okay, Rachel,' he assured her, but he wasn't sure it would be. It was far from okay.

Richie had crossed the line which he was never meant to cross. It didn't matter if he had known the couple for years; it didn't matter that Jimmy was — was — his best friend; it also didn't matter that he had been the best man at Jimmy's wedding; all Richie craved for was a little bit of cocaine. Even little Buttons, the Himalayan cat that Richie had given to the couple on their first anniversary, as he knew of Rachel's love for felines, especially the Himalayan breed, suffered his wrath.

Jimmy hadn't heard or seen Richie for a little over a month — until now. Richie hadn't been the same since he came back from Vegas three months ago after splitting up with his girlfriend. He had become paranoid, obnoxious and vulgar, and would shut himself away from the world, away from any real contact. It was only a matter of time before things escalated into darker territories.

Whatever happened between the distance of Bakersfield and Vegas at his last trip, Jimmy thought at the time, he had lost his friend.

He mumbled quite a lot about the desert too.

Beware the desert, Richie had said.

'What kind of person are you?' Jimmy questioned. He felt a drop of sweat run down from his forehead to the tip of his nose like a skier furiously descending a dangerous slope.

'You don't like the kind of person I am, Jimmy?' Richie snapped. His eyes maddened. 'Maybe this is the real me!'

'It's that stuff you're using. It's screwed up your mind, Richie! Please, let her go!'

'The Shadow commands it.'

'W-What?'

'Jimmy, please—' Rachel started.

'Shut up!' Richie bellowed in her ear, making her squeal.

'Richie, there is no shadow!' Jimmy cried. 'It's all in your mind!'

'Oh, no, Jimmy. The Shadow is real.'

Jimmy took two steps forward, almost ready to lunge at him.