“Come out; come out, where ever you are.” I cringed back in the corner of the closet, terrified. The voice was getting closer. It was always getting closer. It was getting closer to me, and Jackie.
Jackie.
Oh, how frightened she must be I can’t imagine. I wish I could comfort her. Wish I could hold her in my arms one more time. But, I was trapped in the closet, cornered by the madman in the house.
“I know you’re in here.” said the voice. I stopped breathing. That time it was really close. I hope Jackie stays still long enough. She’s right in my reach, and I can’t even look at her! All of those dang cloths are in the way. I can imagine her face, her big brown eyes wide with fear.
Rustling came from right in front of the closet. If it were possible I would have been more still than before. Then came another rustling, but it was in the closet. Jackie.
She was getting restless, I knew it. No matter how terrified she would have to move. I sucked in a silent breath, praying the voice didn’t hear her.
The floor creaked as someone stepped closer to the closet. Each step seemed a thousand years long. The creaks stopped right in front of Jackie’s door. I felt something cold on my cheek, and knew I was crying.
Slowly, her door opened, revealing a masked figure. It was muscular, yet heavyset, and obviously a man. The creepiest smile I have seen in my life split across the man’s face.
“Found you.”
It wasn’t me who he found. It was Jackie. He had pulled her so fast out of that closet, I thought I imagined it.
What happened that night I swore to never repeat. The only time I did was when the police interrogated me. Now, if you even bring it up in the slightest, I will glare you down. It is etched in my brain forever, never to be shaken.
If you haven’t figured it out, Jackie was killed. Raped and killed. And I witnessed every second of it.
When he was done doing her, he had started to disembody her. He started with her ears, then her arms, and only got to one leg before the cops were heard coming down the road. It was the sickest thing I had seen in my entire life.
Jackie’s funeral was the worst.
They had stitched her back together and tried to hide it with cloths and hair, but it didn’t work for me. I saw her in pieces in the casket. She was a mummy that was put back together again and put on display. That’s what I saw.
Then I saw Jackie. The beautiful, wonderful, amazing girl I had all to myself. She was mine, no one else’s. We had been dating for four years now. Four of the best years of my life now lied in a box, dead and decaying.
When they closed the casket, I thought my heart was ripped out for about the hundredth time that week. I was never going to see her again. Ever. She was gone, buried away in the ground. I wished, at that moment, that I could see her smile one more time. Just once and I could move on in my life, but it wasn’t possible. Jackie was gone and I could never see her again.
We never found the killer. The only thing I could remember was his voice and what is body looked like. I swear, if they ever find him, I want to talk to him personally and tell him how he took away the most precious thing in my life. I was not going to let him getting away for taking that away from me.
Now my life is very slow and dull. Without her it doesn’t seem right. My world doesn’t spin the same way. The sun doesn’t shine like it use to. Sports have lost its’ ring. Everything has lost its’ color. Nothing is the same without my moon guiding me threw the dark night. I am walking through the darkness with no light, and I keep running into things.
One of those things is my roommate, Sam. He will not rest until I “get back in the game”. He’s tried putting me online, taking me to those singles dinner things, he’s even out me on a couple blind dates, but none of those girls are like Jackie. They never will be. Sam doesn’t think the same way I do, though.
“Come on, man. When are you gonna get over the fact that she’s gone?” Sam asks just about every day.
And every day, I answer “When you stop bugging me about it.”
Then he’ll argue, “But if I don’t bug you, you won’t go back on the field, man.” And he’d take a swig of beer. He is so predictable.
This life went on for a couple months. Every time Sam tried to hook me up, we’d have the same argue. But, one day I gave in.
“Fine!” I said, irritated. “I’ll get back in the field.”
“What?” he answered stupidly.
“I said I’ll get back in the game.” Sam’s smile was so big I thought his face was going to crack in half.
That night I signed up for three dating sites, found and noted the dates of about ten singles nights, and got one hundred hits on all three profiles.
“You’re a chick magnet, dude.” Sam said, checking all the hits. “Look! This one is an artist and she likes to read in her free time. And she’s blonde! Man, she’s fine.” I rolled my eyes at Sam, but looked at the picture anyway. The girl was pretty cute, was an artist, liked to read, she had an art studio, she liked long walks, messages, and cuddling. She also lived ten minutes outside San Francisco and loved to body bored. I also found out “she” was name Arianna Gisawski.
“Alec, she’s totally perfect for you, man! You have pretty much everything in common with her, and more.” Sam said, typing away.
“What are you doing?” I asked, looking over his shoulder at the screen.
“Settin’ you up on a date.” He said back. I said and slouched back in my chair. I was now going on my first date in four months with Arianna Gisawski of San Francisco.
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