Chapter 1

A Chapter by Viney

Nice drawings, kiddo. Still got a long way to go though. -Jack

“If I'm dead I can't help you!” My mind reflected on those words for the hundredth time that night as I lay in bed, too scared to sleep and sweating up a storm. I'd messed up so bad. Or had I? I couldn't tell. I was confused, scared, relieved, and angry all at the same time. Mostly confused. I didn't know why I said what I said and I deeply regretted it, but there wasn't much I could do now. Besides, if I hadn't said it I wouldn't be here to panic about it.

My story is a little confusing. I made a spur-of-the-moment choice, and I wasn't sure what was even going to happen to me. It couldn't be that bad, right? I wouldn't get too involved, it'd be fine. I knew it would be. I was certain. Sorry, I was rambling again. Where was I? Oh yes, my story. It started like any other normal day. Isn't that how all bad days start?

I was walking home from school. I was even with friends. I thought I was perfectly safe, but I guess I thought wrong. Big cities like San Francisco, commonly referred to as the City, are confusing though; there's no telling what might happen. A few more friends had grouped with us today so it'd be extra safe. With the current crisis, people weren't taking any chances. See, the City was panicking over a serial killer case. Multiple deaths had occurred all over the Bay Area, fourteen to be exact, and the police had confirmed it as a serial killer. It had parents freaking out, but I personally found it really exciting, like something out of a book. After all, I never thought I'd be the victim. Does anyone?

We were crossing the street when things went wrong. In the morning when people are heading to work and in the afternoon when people start to get off are the difficult times to be walking, which meant every high-schooler had to slog through lots of foot traffic every day. I got momentarily disconnected from my friends, nothing to worry about on normal occasions. They would stop and check to make sure they had everyone with them before moving on. It was like second nature here. “Hey guys! Wait up!” I shouted over the crowd. I didn't need to, but it always felt a little better. However, instead of making it across, I felt a hand grab mine own.

“Come on, this way!” said a voice softly in my ear, encouraging and helpful, not dangerous or threatening as one might expect. People here are generally friendly, unlike most cities are expected to be, like New York City or Las Vegas.. There it'd be creepy, but I was seriously just expecting some friendly hipster or someone leading me, so I went along willingly. It was a safer part of the city anyway. We kept going the right way, and I looked up at my helper now that we were out of traffic.

“Thanks sir! Have a good day!” I smiled gratefully and started to walk away, but he didn't loosen up his grip and kept walking with a relaxing smile. I stared, confused, and a little nervous. Yes, people were normally nice, but not everyone. There were too many people for there not to be bad ones here and there.

“No, trust me, we have to keep going this way.” By this point I was a little nervous but trailed behind, pulled by him. Like I knew what was going on.

“Sorry, but I really have to get back to my friends.” I tried to pull away again, but his grip was like iron. He smiled again. His smile was strange, and somehow it made me feel a little better, and I almost smiled myself. He reached up like he was going to put a hand on my shoulder, but instead of a hand I felt a sting, and in shock I craned my neck over, true fear jolting through me at the sight of the syringe needle.

“No need to be worried, just relax now and let's go.” He said, voice enchanting. Things started to blur together, but I wasn't passing out. I was barely staying on my feet. In retrospect, he probably didn't want me to pass out there on the sidewalk in the first place. I vaguely noticed being pulled again, and fought to keep up with him, unable to think straight. Suddenly, the hustle and roar of the main road faded away and things were a little darker. I thought I went up a staircase, but couldn't be sure. I just wanted to sit down and wait for everything to fade away. Then I was on a couch, and I relaxed instantly, glad to be able to stay in one place for a moment. I wasn't even worried, just relieved. It seems whatever he put in me wasn't done yet though, things kept getting fuzzier and feelings more disconnected. Eventually there was nothing, and I blacked out.

The first thing I felt was the pounding in my head and the dryness in my throat. My first thought was, Damn, I need an Advil. I couldn't see anything, like it was really dark. I was blindfolded. If that wasn't scary enough, I then tried sitting up and felt duct tape rubbing against my wrists, which were held above my head, and ankles, and the fear came back. I had just been drugged and now I was tied up somewhere by some creep. I couldn't even speak on account of being gagged. It was probably sensible to do that to me. I was ready to scream until my throat bled. I started to struggle, trying wriggle my way out and my mind was overwhelmed with panic. A hand rested on my forehead, cool and gently.

“Settle down, there's no reason to be scared.” the voice from above me spoke. It was the one from yesterday, only clearer since I wasn't around the noises of the street. It wasn't a really deep, gruff voice, like you would normally expect out of a kidnapper. It was relaxing, and had a hint of a New Jersey accent. As soothing as it was though, I wasn't going to relax anytime soon. I actually thrashed harder, trying to call for help through the gag. The hand stroked my hair, and I heard a chuckle. “Look, you're not going to get anywhere with that. If you calm down, I'll take off the blindfold. But you can't panic, okay?” I stopped moving, still afraid but wanting to see where I was. “Good. Now, just like I said...”

The blindfold was untied from around my head, and I squinted at the light. It wasn't super bright, no, but it wasn't dark either. There was a small window in the middle of one wall with curtains drawn over it, a little bit of sunlight trickling in. The light made me feel a little better. Things always feel safer in the daylight. It was a little humid down here, and warm too. I was starting to sweat. I shook my head a little to get some stray hairs out of my face and focused on my captor.

He was smirking, and seemed amused. He didn't look scary. He had a black messenger bag with him and he was sitting on a chair next to what I was laying on, which was a table. His hair was about shoulder-length and jet black, which wasn't uncommon at all in the City. There were lots of unique looking people, and this guy was not one of them. No makeup, no piercings, and no tattoos. Not the stranger looking type. His face was thin and oval-shaped, his lips were thin, and he had green eyes. Not piercing green or anything, just normal, brownish green eyes. I bet he'd be pretty tall when he stood up, too. He didn't look super young, definitely in his thirties, but he wasn't awful-looking. I think if I was closer to his age, he'd be quite attractive. But I was fifteen and currently tied up in some place by him, so there wasn't much room for those thoughts.

“There, that wasn't so bad now, was it?” his voice was light, and he took his hand away. “Now, Vanessa is your name right?” He inquired looking curious. My eyes widened a little further than they already were. “Right?” he asked again, slightly annoyed this time. I nodded, wondering how he knew my name. “Age fifteen too, I'm guessing?” he saw my confusion and laughed like it was a good joke. “You had your student ID with you. It wasn't rocket science. Heh, you must've thought I was a stalker or something.” I wanted to laugh along, I really did, but I couldn't. He made me want to laugh too.

“Now, down to business. Do you know what's going on, Vanessa?” he said, looking genuinely curious about my answer. He pulled down the gag, but was ready to put it back on if I screamed. I shook my head, for some reason not as scared now. “Well let me tell you, there's no reason to be afraid.”

“Because,” I tried hopefully, voice a little strange to hear, “Because your going to let me go?” he laughed again, a little more ominously, and ran his free hand through his hair.

“You're smarter than that, I can tell. Now why would I go through all the trouble of this if I was planning to let you go? No, I've got plans. But you still don't need to be afraid, trust me.” he pulled the gag back up and looked down and opened the messenger bag, and I was trying not to be scared. He said I shouldn't be, so nothing too bad could be happening, right? That's what I was hoping until he pulled out a knife, shining in the light. He leaned in, face very serious. “You don't need to be afraid, because it won't help one goddamn bit.” I lay there frozen with fear as he rested the blade of the knife against my cheek. I didn't want to move, scared of cutting myself. “I won't lie to you, this will go on for as long as I can make it, and it will hurt quite a lot.”

He slid the blade across my cheek quickly, and my skin erupted with heat and sharp pain. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks and I tried to protest as much as possible. His grin was really scary now, a new light in those previously sane eyes. His voice was still calm and he kept speaking. “Don't get too worked up about it, we're just beginning.” he traced a finger on the cut, making it hurt more and the blood smear. The tears rolled down my face, and I was willing to do anything to get away. My chance arose soon, fortunately. Or unfortunately, depends on how you look at it. The knife came to rest on me once again up by my ear. “What kind of person would I be if I didn't allow last words though? If you scream I'll make everything much worse for you though.” I didn't know how it'd get worse, but I nodded. He pulled the gag down, letting me speak.

“Y-you really shouldn't kill me.” I stammered. It was lame, but it was all I had. My mind was racing, and I came up on something that I decided was my last option.

“And why would I do that? Corpses can't go around talking. If that's all you've got to say...” He started to pull the gag up again.

“Wait!” He stopped, looking impatient. “If I'm,” Please work, I was thinking, I don't want to die. “If I'm dead I can't help you!” I had gotten his attention now. He pulled back the knife and crossed his arms.

“Now that's one I haven't heard yet, I'll give you credit for that. Most everyone says something along the lines of, 'Oh please let me go! I won't tell anyone!', which I don't care about. But help in exchange for life?” He smirked. “I like that. Might help me do my job even better.” At that time, I was so relieved. I was just glad I wasn't going to die. It also struck me that that's when my suspicions were confirmed: He was the serial killer the police were after.

“Y-yeah, help you cover and stuff.” I added. Like I said earlier, I was ready to do anything. He raise the knife up, and brought it down fast. I shut my eyes and braced myself, but instead of another wound I felt my wrists go free. I shakily sat up and started rubbing feeling back into them. I kept waiting for him to cut my ankles loose next, but he just talked instead.

“Just because I'm not getting rid of you right now doesn't mean you aren't expendable. I don't take bullshit, so don't go telling your friends or parents or the police. I'll reach you before they reach me. And if they don't, I'm dragging you into court with me, Vanessa. Remember, you're now helping a wanted criminal.” He was deadly serious again, and I didn't doubt a single word he was saying. “So you can go home tonight, but your lips are sealed and I won't be simply forgetting about this.” It was at this point that I started having regrets. “I hope you know what you're getting into.” He slashed the tape on my ankles and I stood up. “Go now, while you can get home.” He stood an unlocked the door. I stepped out, but before I did I looked back.

“What's your name?” I knew he wasn't going to give me his real name, but I needed something to call him. He grinned dangerously.

“Call me Jack.”

I shut the door behind me and found myself in an old building I didn't recognize. The City often tore down buildings like this, but I guess they can't get everything. I found the staircase I'd been led up and went down, and I realized I was still pretty close to the sidewalk where I got into this mess, so I knew how to get home from here.

Then I remembered the cut on my cheek. I wiped off the blood as best as I can with my jacket sleeve, and was glad that my jacket was black. It hurt like hell, and I had no way to cover it up, so I tried hide it as best as I could with my hand.

Finally, I got back to my apartment in another building. I'd never been happier to see it. Just a short time ago I wasn't sure if I would ever go back to it. I messed with the house key which was still in my pocket. It then struck me that I didn't have my phone, ID card, and... my book? The little drawing book I kept with me was gone. I dismissed it, figuring I had to focus more on the problem at hand.

I didn't know what time it was, and was hoping that it wasn't late. If it was, I was as good as dead with my mom. I opened the door and was faced with them in the living room. It was four thirty in the afternoon, school gets out at two fifty, and I normally get home at about three fifteen. Grand. Mom stood up and put her hands on her hips.

“Where were you, Vanessa?” She gasps. “And what happened to your cheek?” She hurries up to me and pushes my hands away so she can look at it better.

“We stopped at one of my friend's homes and time got away from us while we were screwing around, and things got out of hand.” Thank god I was good at thinking quick. It has saved me twice now.

“They didn't help you out there?” She sounded skeptical.

“They didn't want my friend's parents finding out.”

“Which one was it? Never mind, like I know any of your friends.” She sighed and shook her head. Mom seemed to buy it, and I guess what happened next was the best I could have asked for. “Go clean up and do your homework. I'm picking you up from school tomorrow.”

I went to the bathroom and washed off the cut. It wasn't very deep, but it sure bled a lot. It hurt, too. I was very gentle the entire time, wincing every time I got to close. I used on of the bigger Band-Aids and thought about how I was going to explain this at school tomorrow. Great, another thing to worry about. However, Mom and school still paled in comparison to Jack's words.

I could hardly concentrate on my homework. How was I supposed to be doing math after I nearly died? How could I study for a history test now that I was assisting a killer? I decided I'd just get my work done at school the next morning, before the first bell rang. I ate a small dinner, not sure if I'd be able to keep down anything big, and went to my room, shutting the door behind me. Now I felt like I could think in peace.

I flopped down on my bed, grabbing my laptop off the nightstand, and when I rolled over onto my stomach I layed on something hard. I sat up, and my heart raced when I saw my phone, ID, and my sketchbook laying in a small pile. There was a note tucked into the front of my book, and I pulled it out and unfolded it.

Nice drawings kid. Still got a long way to go though. -Jack