The Monster With Pretty Blue Eyes

Story about the unrelenting pressure of societal norms.

The Monster with Pretty Blue Eyes

 

     I am defiantly crazy…at least I hope I am. No one has exactly told me so yet, but I do believe with great vim and vigor I’ve longed since departed from my formal sanity. That is a most defiant fact. You see, I’ve made sure of it. For the past three months (or has it been four?) I’ve plunged myself head first into Edgar Allen Poe and Stephen King’s darkest tales and focused my eyes on the indecency of vast horror and crime films (my favorite so far being The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde). Through this engulfment of dark art I have in a way constructed a wall betwixt society and I. I no longer care or am properly informed of what happens outside of my apartment. I haven’t the time for such petty things! Instead I’ve invested in darkness with hope that one day I myself will become it incarnate. An established master of malevolence.  I look the part. That is most certain, for I am reminded so whenever I pass another human being. But you see, dear reader, I simply haven’t exactly gotten my mind in the right place. Of course, being the demon in practice that I am, I have devised a way to solve such an issue altogether with a simple and single act.

     Daisy Oceans has become my light at the end of the tunnel. She lives across from me, you see, in apartment 677. I know her well. I’ve never spoken to her, but I do indeed know her well. Very well. I know she was raped. I know she is pregnant. I know she is merely twenty-one-years-old. I know she can’t afford an abortion. I know her parents refuse to give her any more money for her rent or anything else she needs money for. I know she’ll be leaving the Upper East Side soon to live with her cousin in Queens. I know she has bright blonde hair. I know she enjoys makeup but has lately become lax on it. I know she’s been to practically every country in Europe and Asia. But most importantly (in my case) I know she lives alone and from my general knowledge has not even one friend. This factor makes it all the more simpler to murder her today. What time shall her killing commence, you ask? I’ve settled with 12:00 A.M. I at first was bent on six, but annoying spring has switched around the usual time of night’s arrival and a murder during daytime does not do justice to what I have learned from my dark tales (so I suppose Lucifer’s sacred number must wait to be used for another one of my deep dark scary adventures). Twelve is fine, though. My dear, sweet, blonde, lonely, pregnant Daisy does not take to bed until the lateness of 2:00 A.M., usually occupying herself with adventure movies and such. How have I come across such specific details of my next door neighbor, you ask? I admit, I have many times pressed my ear against her door, engaging myself in her phone conversations, and also during many occasions stealthily ventured into her apartment. You see, dear reader, the pretty little fool often times neglects to lock her door. She leaves her life wide open to me each and every day, having no inclination she has done so. I suppose it is fair to mention I too neglect to lock my apartment door, but in my defense, it is known to everyone in the building that a monster takes fort in Apartment 676 and daring to venture inside might possibly result in death.

     Daisy Oceans! The light in my tunnel. Her demise shall be a simple and quick one indeed, no research or hard preparation required. The weapon I shall use? I decided yesterday upon the choice of a butcher’s knife, given to me by my dementia-stricken grandmother three or so years ago. It is an awfully large knife, with size enough to slice poor Daisy’s pretty head off with one swift swing. I shall not take her life in that way, though. Such an act would be too quick, and the experience unsupportive to my cause. Ms. Oceans’s demise must come through slow torture and agonizing pain. She must beg for her life by spitting out continuous lies and promising what little she has to me. But how shall I go about this torture?! I’ve thought about cutting her heart out. Digging my knife in her chest and cutting around until I can lift her giant organ in my hands would be pain enough, but the symbolism in taking someone’s heart is just too irrelevant to my situation (too romance themed), which requires no collision with poetry but instead only mindless, corrupt, painful, impulsive, evil. I could perhaps settle with stabbing her across her body one hundred times, but…no! That is perfect! I shall stab the broad one hundred times. Softly at first for the first fifty times, and then more roughly the last half, picking my spots carefully so her life won’t end too abruptly, but enough to place her in ecstatic pain. Oh, what an undeniable evil mastermind I have at last become! My path towards blind insanity and darkness is nearly complete. Only ten more hours to go! But alas, one task must be completed before my exciting adventure at midnight. A loose end I can no longer avoid that if further neglected could result in my untimely placement in a sanatorium. A place probably most suiting for me, but also a place where a monster of my highest achieved quality could not possibly belong nor fit. I am not suffering from a disorder like those other empty minds. I have chosen my darkness. I like my darkness. I wish to keep my darkness. It is mine and only mine and no one else is deserving of having its company except I.

…

     Dr. Shifting is expecting me at 3:30. There is most likely traffic so I decide to leave at 2:30. After a quick snacking on apples and caramel I throw on my black hoodie, grab my cell phone off the kitchen counter, and leave my apartment. Once I position my hood over my head I begin walking down the hall towards the elevator. I stop in front of it, and just a few moments later it opens. Mr. Berkshire, the landlord, and his wife Mrs. Berkshire (a young couple) step out and go behind me. I attempt to walk inside the elevator but I feel a rough pull on the back of my hoodie and I am suddenly toppling across the floor. I look up and see the elevator doors closing. Mr. Berkshire and his wife are laughing hysterically. “Why don’t you get up you piece of crap!” Mr. Berkshire says.

     I prudently get up, first on my knees, and then up fully. I reach out to press the button for the elevator but Mrs. Berkshire painfully slaps my hand away. I yelp in pain. As I hold my hand I see a red bruise forming. I reach for the button again, but Mr. Berkshire grabs me in a headlock and pulls me backwards. His wife comes up towards me and begins poking my stomach. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in your apartment? You’re gonna scare everyone off,” she says.

     “Yeah,” Mr. Berkshire says. “We don’t want anyone seeing this do we?” He removes the hood from my head and Mrs. Berkshire grimaces at me. Mr. Berkshire laughs while he throws me down on the floor. He then walks off with his wife, the both of them still laughing. I get up, place the hood back on my head, press the button for the elevator, and I wait.

 

…

      I am inside Dr. Shifting’s office, sitting across from his desk. My hood is still on. He has a large wide window behind him. I can practically see the whole city (or perhaps the whole city can see me). He has an assortment of papers organized on the desk, which are most likely my files. I’m somewhat interested in what he’ll say to me because I once heard he is the top psychiatrist in New York City and possibly most of the country.

     He finally opens his mouth to talk. “I am somewhat flabbergasted you came today. You’ve managed to avoid nearly thirty appointments. Two more and the people from St. Augustine would’ve come to your apartment and evacuated you.”

     “How do you know I live in an apartment?” I ask.

     “I was informed by your recommenders.” I sneer at him. He doesn’t notice because he begins lifting up several papers and skimming through them. I want to hurt him, and badly. He’s a handsome man with glasses. He probably has a pretty little wife and kids on Long Island. He’s at the peak of his career. Perfect. A perfect man who enjoys witnessing and playing with people who suffer distressed minds. He wants to laugh at me, like everyone else. He wants to ridicule my deformation. When the b*****d does I’ll be ready. I could choke him to death. He has no idea what evil force sits across from him. A force powerful enough to rip him into tiny pieces and send him flying into Nowhereland. AND D****T! Why does his window have to be so big?!

     “Does it bother you that I know where you live, Collins? That is your name?” I nod my head. He actually looks at me now. He removes his glasses and folds his hands on the desk. “So Collins, does it bother you?”

     “I nodded yes, didn’t I?”

     “I thought you were referring to my question of what your name was.”

     “You were wrong.” That hurt. I just know it. He smiles and pretends I didn’t say anything.

     “Why have you avoided me for so long, Mr. Brightrainbow? That is your last name, isn’t it?” I nod. “I only want to help you.”

     “I don’t need help.” He’ll need help soon enough after I toss him out the window.

     “Perhaps you believe you don’t need help, but many people do, Collins. Let’s look at your overview, shall we?” He lifts up a paper with a yellow tint and puts his glasses back on. He holds it up to his face. “I have neglected to mark specific dates so please just be mindful of my generalizations. Okay… Near the end of October last year you were in a small car accident. You suffered minor damage on your lower body, consisting of only small cuts and bruises. However, due to a large quantity of alcohol on your face you suffered severe burning. But the burning was only on your face. Is this correct?”

     Stupid b*****d. Couldn’t he tell just by looking at me? “Yes.”

     “How did your face catch fire again? I have a presumption, but I’d rather your own explanation.”

     “When I crashed the inside of my car caught on fire. Before that I was drinking and right when my car hit the other one I accidently tossed the alcohol on my face. That’s why my face caught on fire.”

     “And then you were hospitalized until the middle of November before your release. The doctor claimed you as perfectly healthy and fit to carry on life as you had before the accident. Is this correct? This was written by one of your recommenders so I just want to be sure.”

     “Yes!”

     He smiles at me. “Because of the whole ordeal your face became distorted in color and texture and looks as though you’ve suffered massive and abnormal swelling.”

     “Who the hell wrote that?!”

     “I haven’t the right to reveal names, Collins. Nevertheless their claims are quite accurate.”

     “So why exactly did I have to come here?”

     “Excellent question, Mr. Brightrainbow. You are here because you were recommended. A person of your fine and healthy background usually is not required to see a psychiatrist based off a recommendation, but you were recommended by over one hundred people, the majority being your own family.” I stare at him blankly. “People care about you, Collins. Your family wishes you well.”

     “I am well.”

     “According to my overview of you that is not accurate.”

     “Where the hell did you get that damn overview?!”

     “It is a collection of my own research and claims from your family along with others, Mr. Brightrainbow. And on this overview it says that you haven’t had contact with any one of your family members since December. Is this correct, sir?”

     “Yes. So what? Do I have to talk to my family?”

     “It says here that you regularly called your mother and sister before the accident in October. The average being five times a week. Is this true?”

     “I guess.”

     “Yes or no, Mr. Brightrainbow?”

     “Yes. I called them five times a week.”

     “Why did you cut off contact from them?”

     “I just did.”

     “Is that all? You just did?”

     “Yes.”

     “That is an acceptable answer. I cannot force you to reveal your true feelings�"”

     “Can I leave? Is my time up?” I like the fact that I interrupted him. He was getting too much power. Only I, the master of darkness, shall have all the power.

     “No, Collins. Your time is not up. I have more matters to resolve with you.”

     “Hurry up with it!”

     He smiles at me. “You also quit your law firm, Wellington and Alastair. You were one of the top partners of the law firm and resigned the second week of January. Your employers inform me your resignation had no exact cause. Is this true?”

     “Somewhat. But there was no reason for me to continue on there. I was not being assigned cases. I hadn’t had a case since October.”

     “I have been informed by your employers that you had disagreements with each client assigned to you.”

     “What?”

     “Disagreements. You disagreed to accept their cases. You continuously denied all the work granted to you and eventually resigned the second week of January.”

     “That is not true!”

     “Please calm down�"”

     “No! The clients denied me! No one wanted to work with me with my face looking like this!” I pulled the hood off my head. Dr. Shifting was wide eyed only for half a moment before he retained himself.

     “Anyhow, you resigned from the top criminal law firm in New York City. No one has seen or heard from you since, besides several residents from your apartment building.”

     “Is my time up?”

     “No. Is there anything you want to say? Do you realize the situation you’ve gotten yourself in? You are thirty-years-old, unemployed, and isolated from the world. Your family believes you are suffering from severe mental disorders. What do you think about this situation? You were a perfectly healthy, vibrant, man. Now you’ve secluded yourself. Is this all because of your deformity?” I do not answer. “Do you want to hide from the world because of simply how you look? You are afraid to be who you truly are because of what people may say? That is a foolish thing, Collins. Life is far too short not to be who you are. Never let the world shape you. Shape the world.”

     “You don’t know a thing about me. You don’t have the right to judge.”

     “I have an assortment of information concerning your life prior to the incident, actually. I am told that you were an extremely handsome man. You donated to a vast amount of charities constantly for nine years. You once assisted a woman who was being mugged. You volunteered for numerous search parties. You invested three thousand dollars into that new homeless shelter near Harlem.” He pauses and looks at me solemnly before going on. “You were also engaged to a woman named Violet Winds. You’d been seeing her for a total of six months before the proposal. The engagement was cancelled in November of last year.” He stared into my eyes. “I am sorry that some of these things may be unpleasant to remember now, but is this all true, Collins?” I do not answer. I refuse to answer anymore of his questions. He looks like he realizes so, for he takes on an unenthusiastic expression and leans back in his chair. “I am informed that you attended University of Pennsylvania. Afterwards you went on to attend Yale Law School.” He looks at me, awaiting a response. He does not get one. I instead pull my hood back over my head and stare at the ground. “You know, I too attended�"well, I had planned on attending Yale Law School and becoming a lawyer. I had looked forward to it since high school. Being one of the top lawyers in New York City was always my dream. But my father had a change of heart upon the matter so naturally I�"well, it isn’t important. I am one of the top psychiatrists in the country. What do I have to complain about? Right?” He frowns. I look up at him. When he notices my looking he makes a smile at me. I can still see sorrow in his eyes. “You know something Collins,” he went on. “You see, I’ve noticed you have very pretty blue eyes. You know, many women fall for any man with the right sort of eyes.”

     He needs to be punished. He talks too much. He is wasting my precious time. He is distracting me from my future with Daisy Oceans. I must make him feel something negative. I must make him feel anger towards me. Oh, what would my dear forefather Edgar write for such a situation!? If only I had a knife. Even a simple butter knife would do! Impulsively, I reach across Dr. Shifting’s desk and send every single one of his papers flying towards the floor. Afterwards I get up and walk with a fast pace towards the door to leave.

…

     DAISY OCEANS! Your time draws nearer and nearer by the second! Your demise an inevitable train roaring towards you! You strapped helplessly to the track awaiting your crushing. I the conductor, smiling devilishly and in hysterics! There is no escape! Only death! Death, death, and more death! Offer yourself as a martyr to my cause! Deliver me into everlasting darkness once and for all! Allow me to establish myself as the monster I’ve for so long dreamed to be! Oh, only if your time would come faster, my sweet dearest. If only midnight was under my persuasion. It is not, unfortunately, so enjoy your last hours. Watch your adventures! Lie on your couch, for a monster comes, bearing nothing except harm and death.

...

     I brush aside my corrupt ramblings of Daisy Oceans as I rest. I arrived at Central Park fifteen minutes ago. I figure it is best that I avoid my apartment as long as I can. The thought of waiting just yards away from my prey for eight hours is heart wrenching. I must keep away from her a while. Taking solace in the park is my best option. The people make me want to throw up, but at least no one bothers me. My isolation in the nature is nice, but I dare not take joy in it. The beauty of nature goes against every last one of my ideals. My comfort can only be found in darkness. This park is but a tool to be used for today and only today.  

     My hood is over my head. I am sitting against a tree a couple of yards away from a bridge that goes over a small pond. As I lift my head back against the tree’s bark and close my eyes, I hear soft laughter. When I open my eyes I see a little girl hopping on one leg across the bridge. She is all alone. There is no one else in sight, or perhaps there are but the assortment of trees are blocking them. Nevertheless, there is no one actually next to her.

     I haven’t seen a child since October. It was the day of the accident. I saw a little girl walking down a sidewalk on Broadway. This girl here, though, is different. She is happy. Very happy. She embodies everything a perfect girl should. Pretty brunette hair. Skinny shape. Innocent voice. Pleasant atmosphere. All qualities of a perfect little girl. She is too good, though. I am a monster. Things so good should not be around me. For earth’s sake! What am I doing?! All I have learned goes against this! This positive piece of goodness which hops on one leg before me is an insult to my dark nature. I must act quickly! No innocence such as her should be permitted in my presence. Repercussions are inevitable!

     I get up, making sure to look in all possible directions for any human life as I do so. There is no one, except me and the innocent, so I act, and quickly. I dart towards the bridge. The girl stops her hopping and looks at me bewildered. I stand across from her, contemplating on my next actions, sweat sliding down my warped skin. A few moments pass and she notices my face under the hood. She had to have notice because she draws on a disgusted expression. That is not normal for a child of her perfection. I grab her by the waist and with a strong thrust I position her all the way up over my left shoulder. She screams and cries. “Shut your mouth or into the pond you go!” I threaten.

     She keeps screaming, so I pace over to the left side of the bridge. The pond isn’t very deep, but it is deep. I tell her once more to stop. She ignores me. I throw her small body downwards. SPLASH! She makes a big enough wave that sends water flying on my hoodie. I smile. It disengages quickly, though. Her screaming increases to a violent level. I run off the bridge and then down the hill towards the pond. I help her out, pleading to her that everything will be fine. My heart pounding and sweat running down my face, I remove the mess from the pond that got on her clothes. “Claire! Claire, where are you! Johnny I don’t see Claire! I think I heard her screaming!” Her parents are coming.

     I sprint up the hill. My hood comes off my head, but it doesn’t matter at this point. I continue to run as fast as I can down the pathway. The trees outlining the path become more and more until I find myself in a sort of thicket. This is the most depopulated area of Central Park.

…

     “Where is he, d****t?! Why would he just run off like that?! He’s so stupid!”

     A young couple is behind me (they have been for almost ten minutes). The woman has been frantic for a good five minutes. Apparently their German Shepherd has run off somewhere into the thicket. It serves them right! The woman had been yelling at the dog ever since I came into view of them. I passed them, hearing her scorn the stupid mutt for his old age and unattractive fur. Who actually scorns dogs?! A cruel woman she is. She must be. OH NO! Do not think me sympathizing the runaway creature! I am merely speculating upon the incident at hand. I have no genuine feelings for the mutt. It could be eaten by a bear I would never think a thing of it.

     As I walk on, my hood comfortably over my head and my face hung towards the ground, I hear a slight whimpering. I come to an abrupt stop. I turn around. The young couple has stopped. They are a far distance away. I can’t hear them, and it looks like the woman is angry at her husband. I ignore them and follow the sound of the whimpering. I am drawn off the path and into the wooded area. I examine all my surroundings carefully. As I continue on the whimpering gets louder and louder until I see it. The mutt is next to a tree, its leg caught in a large piece of barbed wire. I should be happy. I am happy, I suppose. I should tie the rest of the wire around the canine’s throat! I should choke him. I will! I will kill the mutt! I’ll throw his corpse to the babbling woman and her man. I’ll kill him! Yes, yes! That is it! The dog must die! He shall be practice for my midnight appointment! Die mutt!

     I rush over to the dog, a mischievous smile spread across my face. My hood falls off, but I pay it no mind. I kneel down to the dog. I pet its head and give it a kiss. I carefully maneuver the wire off of him. When it is completely off he limps forward. I scratch his ears and afterwards he licks my hand. I have decent strength, so I pick the dog up, walk out the thicket, and start down the pathway towards the couple. Immediately the woman notices what is happening. She punches her husband’s shoulder and points towards me. She then sprints to my front and reaches her hands out for the dog. I put it on the ground and she embraces it. “He was caught in barbed wire,” I say. “You should take him to a vet. He has some pretty bad bruises.” She looks up at me, notices my face, and bursts out laughing. “You should really get him to a vet. He’s hurt bad. He has a limp.” She continues laughing and stands up.

     “Matt, come look!” Her husband, Matt, comes jogging towards us. He stops and looks at me with sheer revulsion. “Look at him!”

     “I don’t want to. Let’s just go,” he says trying to avoid looking at me and turning his attention to the dg.

     “He looks like Elephant Man! Doesn’t he, Matt?!” Her laughing increases. Matt smirks. They soon begin to walk off. “Come on, Georgie.” The dog makes a happy bark. Before turning to follow his master, Georgie licks my hanging hand. In a matter of seconds they are out of sight beyond the curve in the path. I am alone. I hear nothing. No whimpering. No laughing. Only nothing.

…

     I arrive at the end of the thicket. There is a large twenty foot archway marking the exit (or perhaps it is the entrance). Past the archway the stone path leads out into an open circular space with a giant fountain in the middle. Right next to the archway is a large ice cream stand. An elderly man dressed in a white uniform with a white top hat is serving a chocolate ice cream cone to a middle-aged brunette and her toddler son in a stroller. No one notices me. My hood is back over my head, and I pass the stand without garnering attention. The woman rolls her son in the baby stroller to the fountain. She sits on the fountain’s edge and begins going to work on her ice cream cone. Her toddler son does the same. I also sit on the edge of the fountain. Opposite the side of them, though. I begin to notice there aren’t many people around. And the few that are around are heading into the thicket path.

     I look over to the woman and she has finished her cone. The boy is still working on his, barely having done any damage. How pathetic! He should be punished for his cute innocence! What a spoiled brat he must be. Eating ice cream whenever he wants. Pooping whenever he wants. Crying whenever he wants. His mother probably has never disciplined him in his life. He should die. Or perhaps he should be thrown in an orphanage. He is spoiled. His life must be turned around. Nevertheless, she won’t rid of the brat. She hasn’t the will. The child’s fate rests with me. I must teach him a hard lesson. I must show him that life is cold and he has been trapped in an illusion. Ha! Run boy, for a monster comes for you!

     The mother heads over to the stand, most likely to get napkins for her messy brat. The stand is a good distance so I have time. Quickly, I hop off my edge and rush towards the brat. I stand in front of him. He smiles at me (this isn’t normal). I swiftly reach down and snatch the cone from his hand. My hood falls off in the process (I don’t care!). The kid starts crying. I didn’t figure he would start crying. I turn and see the mother looking. She begins walking briskly towards my direction. “Get away from him! You leave him alone! I’ll hurt you!” She is brave. Any woman is brave if she has courage enough to take on a monster. But I won’t let her break me. I’ve been broken today too many times! I throw the ice cream cone to the ground. It splatters everywhere. Ha! A victory! She grabs the sleeve of my hoodie as I attempt to walk away. She is weak, so I easily slip away from her grasp. As I walk off I am surprised she didn’t notice my face. The old man is shaking his finger at me from far off behind his stand. Stupid! As though a finger will persuade me from my evil! I am a master in training! This is what I do! I cause trouble! I am a monster! Ethics are naught in matter to me!

     I then sprint towards the stand, sweat rushing down me. I pay the old man two dollars. He is confused and disgusted at the same time. I pay no mind and tell him I want a large ice cream cone. He tells me he doesn’t make large ice cream cones. I throw him three more dollars and beg him to try. He smiles and after a minute gives me a contraption of two shells beneath a mountain of ice cream. I walk to the mother and her son. She immediately scorns me and stomps her foot. I ignore her, and hand the boy the ice cream. He smiles. Not at me but the delicious treat. The woman looks to him and then back to me. “You ugly creep! You’re just an ugly creep! Don’t you ever touch my son again! Why don’t you go hide under a rock?!”

      I walk off, back into the thicket. What did I just do? Did it matter?

…

     DAISY OCEANS! DAISY OCEANS! DAISY OCEANS! Dae-zy O-Shons! Merely four more hours! Four more hours and you leave this world! Smile, my dear. For today you become a sacrifice for the darkness. Your life now has meaning. Oh, take in your remaining time slowly. Rest, my dear. Rest. Before long your skin shall be pierced by a knife a hundred times. You shall writhe in pain while I scream in glory. Oh Daisy, my light! Oh Daisy, my martyr! Oh Daisy, my sacrifice! You have no idea, my dear. YOU HAVE NO IDEA!

…

     I am in the Bronx. My hood is on. I feel it is unfair to my cause that I spent four hours with tranquil nature. The dirty streets of Bronx have welcomed me with open arms. It is dark outside now. I feel evil. I like it. As I walk down the sidewalk I know that my transformation is nearly complete. Only two or so more hours and I will be what I’ve prepared to become for so long. I go crazy imagining my midnight rendezvous. Finally my identity shall be given to me. Finally!

     The streets have been quiet and empty so far. Not long ago I passed a group of nasty looking hookers but that is it. Where are my brethren! My fellow nightwalkers! Perhaps they are out causing torment elsewhere. Never mind them, though. I must walk and further become one with the darkness. This gloomy, messy part of town has done me well. I’ve never felt so powerful, but at the same time I feel an aching pain in my stomach (easily can be ignored, of course!).

     I hear screaming. I halt my pacing. I am but a few feet from the entrance to an alleyway. It is a woman screaming, “Help! Somebody help!” My brethren are attacking! I shall help them! I should learn from them. I’ve failed my attempts of evil thrice today, but now is my chance at redemption. With the help of others I shall come out victorious!

     I take a deep breath and rush into the alleyway. My hood slips off (damn thing!) as I charge through the dark way, multiple fire escapes hanging above me, I see three men and a woman. The woman is half-naked. Her pants pulled down. One of the men is pinning her to towards the wall. He too is half naked. His pants pulled down. The other men watch and smile. No one notices me. I sprint towards the half naked man and tackle him to the ground. The other two jump on me. Out of the corner of my eye I see the woman scrambling to put her pants back on. She picks up a large pipe and hits one of the men in the head. His eyes close. She hits another, and his eyes close. I ceaselessly punch the man I am on top of. His whole face bleeds and eventually he begs me to stop. I get up and run to the woman’s side. “Are you okay?” I ask.

     “Sure. I’m fine.” I notice she is an extremely beautiful woman. She is wearing a silk white blouse. Her pants are fine black Lenin. Her hair is dark, long, and in curls. Her skin is a flawless white. She has lush lips painted with red lipstick. Her eyes are pretty and blue. Her figure is perfect. I realize as she further straightens her clothes out and I stand in front of her that she hasn’t noticed my deformity. “Let’s get a taxi.” She gently grabs my hand and we walk out the alley. Luckily, a taxi is just coming up. She waves her hand and it pulls up to the corner. She gets inside. I stand still watching her. The door still open she says with wide eyes, “Well get in. Unless you want to walk to wherever you’re going.” I get in the taxi as she moves over. The driver asks where to. The woman looks at me.

     “Oh, you can go where you’re going first.”

     “No,” she says. “You first.”

     “Upper East Side,” I say.

     He starts driving. The woman places her hand on my thigh. “So, what is a rich man like yourself doing down here in the dumps?”

     “Walking.”

     “Walking? Walking in the Bronx? Why the hell would you wanna do something like that?”

     “I just thought I would.”

     A long silence. “Well, aren’t you gonna ask me why I was in this part of town?” I don’t respond. I stare straightforward as she looks at me. She notices my ugliness. I know she does. She has to. “Well aren’t you?”

     “No.”

     “Well I’ll answer anyhow. You see�"what’s your name?”

     “Edward Hyde.”

     “You see, Hyde, myself and three gentlemen were at a bar not too far from here and we decided to have us a little fun.”

     “How so?”

     “A foursome in that alleyway. I’ve been intimate with two men before but never three. It seemed natural. You see, they had all came up to me tonight at separate times. Oh man! They were all so attractive! So sexy! I couldn’t just pick one. So why not all three. I convinced them easy enough and to the alley we went. I like doing it in alleys. How about you, Hyde?”

     “You were being raped. You were screaming.”

     “Raped? Where’d you get a silly little idea like that�"oh! I was screaming because�"well haven’t you done it before, Hyde? Great God almighty! Maybe you haven’t done it right, huh? Huh?” She winked at me and nudged my shoulder.

     “I helped�"you hit two of them with a pipe.”

     “I thought it was all good fun.” She made a great big smile. Her eyes were bright and wide. “I thought it’d be amusing to play along with you. And good God! I had no idea I could hit that good! I got two knockouts and both with one swing. I should’ve hit Rob but you were in the way. Believe it or not I was gonna hit you but�"I sorta missed the first time so I was down on myself and just calmed down. Funny, huh?”

     “Where do you live, Miss?”

     “Don’t call me “miss”. My name’s Evelyn Rivers and I live in the Upper East Side too. You might know my husband, Malcolm Rivers. The mayor. You know. The Mayor of New York City. The good ol’ Republican everybody likes.”

     “Malcolm Rivers.” The driver glanced back at Evelyn and then went back to the road.

     “What? Weird, huh. A rich woman like me down here in a dump. I like it, though. I feel good around here. I like runnin around peculiar places at night. I figure you do too, huh?” I make no response. “I have had the most interesting day, you know. I kicked a dog. I hit an old woman. I had sex with a taxi driver. I had sex with a waiter. I stole a lollipop from a little boy. I had sex in a bar about an hour ago�"”

     “You shouldn’t joke like that.”

     “No, Hyde. I am not lying. You see, I was at Central Park and this ghastly looking old hag was walking her Labrador or whatever you call it. I was just walking past them and the b*****d started barking at me. Naturally I kicked him and told him to shut his trap. That old lady grabbed me by my sleeve and cursed at me. So naturally I smacked her one across the face and went on my merry way.”

     “And the sex?”

     “Oh! Sex?! I give it up all the time! It’s really know big deal. No one ever finds out.”

     “The little boy?”

     “It happened at the park too. You wouldn’t believe it. Some woman had just let her toddler boy eat a mound of ice cream. Right after he got done she went right ahead and gave him a lollipop. A lollipop after ice cream?! I walked right over to them and snatched the candy right away. Naturally the woman had all sorts of words for me but I laughed in her face all the same. The whole thing is still funny now, actually.” She laughs. She laughs ecstatically.         

     I think to myself, “Am I, Collins Brightrainbow, even the most minimum amount capable of behaving in such an ungraspable manner as she?”

     “I like you, Hyde,” she says. “We should see more of each other.”

     I don’t like her. She makes me uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

…

     I walk towards my apartment. Three young boys are waiting by the door, smiling with their fists balled. As I near them I ask them to move. Instead they laugh. One spits in my face. And then another. And then another. All at once they jump on top of me. I curl into a fetal position. They punch me at all angles. People open their doors to see what is happening, including Daisy Oceans (too much is happening for me to take true notice of her). A woman and a man tell them to stop. They don’t. Another man runs up to one of the boys and grabs him by the back of his shirt. A woman comes up and yells at them, telling them to stop and go back to their parents. She then offers to help me up by reaching out her hand. I smack it away. There is no use in taking her hand. What does it prove? Nothing. Taking her hand proves nothing. Showing kindness proves NOTHING! I am and will forever be a MONSTER!

…

     THE TIME HAS COME!    

     I change out of my hoodie. I go to my closet and decide between my black and white tuxedos. I choose white. I quickly dress in it, put on my black leather shoes, go to my bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face, and straighten my hair. It is time. I go to the kitchen. On one of the counters wrapped in a thousand dollar silk cloth is the butcher knife. I slowly unwrap my darling weapon from its cover, take hold of it, and embrace it to my chest. It is time. It is time. It is time.

     I open the door of my apartment, step out, and slowly close it behind me. All is silent in the hallway. No one dares disturb a monster when he is on the prowl. The knife in my left hand, I walk straightforward to Daisy’s apartment. I reach for the doorknob, turn it, and the door opens. I am happy she has stayed true to her foolish ways so the ritual may go as planned. I close the door behind me and leave it slightly ajar. I creep slowly through the entrance. On the walls next to me are pictures of Daisy, taken when she visited her hundred or so countries. As I get further I can already see into her living room. She is lying across her white leather couch. Her flat screen television is on. She is watching some adventure movie. I forget the name, but it is a kissing scene. Obviously an important one because she continuously rewinds two or three seconds back to see the kiss over and over again. I get closer, and I am standing right over the couch. She does not notice me. Her eyes are glued to the screen. She is dressed in a cotton shirt with silk pajama pants. I raise the knife, my eyes growing wider and wider. I notice a tear slipping down her face. I force the knife down to strike her shoulder (that seems like a good place to start), but I halt. Something is wrong!

     Out of the corner of her eye she sees me and leaps off the couch, clumsily falling to the floor. Stealing my chance, I run around the couch and jump on top of her helpless body. She screams. Loud enough that my ears begin to hurt. I try to focus. I try to position the knife above her shoulder but she resists me by kicking and attempting to slap me. I move further on top of her to the point when my face is above hers. She isn’t very disgusted by my face. She’s seen it many times before. I pin her left hand down with my right. She slaps me and suddenly falls quiet. I look at the knife. I have it in the perfect position now that she is done fighting. I then look at her. She looks as though she wants to say something but is terrified to do so. I begin to sweat, but only a little. She doesn’t notice. I am not nervous!

     “Please.” Her voice is soft but has slight determination behind it. She wants something. She wants something bad. “Stab my stomach.” With her left hand she rubs the bottom of her stomach and nods her head. “Just do it.” She is crazy. She has gone insane. I must act quickly, but I can’t. Another failure! “Stab my stomach. Please. Please do it.” She is crazy. She is delirious. She’s lost touch with reality. She is asking me to free her from her burden. I won’t!

     This all makes me mad! She is supposed to be sane. She is supposed to be screaming and crying for help. I am a monster! Damn it! She must fear me!

     I forcefully stab her right shoulder. The knife gets stuck in deep. Blood stains her white shirt. She cries in pain. I pull out the knife and I strike her on her left shoulder, but softer this time. More blood. She starts crying and tries to fight her way up. Realizing I’m too strong she subsides. I look into her eyes. I look into those eyes. She weeps. What life would she have anyway? What would be the point?

     I drop the bloodied knife. I leap up. I sprint out, slam the door behind me, and then head into my apartment. I quickly go into the kitchen and retrieve my cell phone from the counter. I dial 9-1-1. A woman answers. I yell, “Help! Someone is hurt! She’s been stabbed. We live at the Strathmore! Please hurry! She’s dying! Apartment 677!” I throw the phone down on the counter and I start exhaling. I curl up on the floor and lean against the counter. I’m fine, though. I’m fine, though. I’m fine, though! Or am I?

     Blood. Blood. I spilled blood. I actually spilled blood. I stabbed her. I actually stabbed her! I might’ve killed her! Me! I stabbed a human being! ME?! Collins Brightrainbow?!

     Voices. Voices! Voices? Voices?! Where are they coming from?!

     Daisy? Evelyn! Violet. Matt. Johnny. Shifting. Dr. Jekyll. Mother.

     “He looks like Elephant Man!”

     Who shall be the next victim? Perhaps Evelyn Rivers. No. That is too hard. Perhaps the building. No. I haven’t enough fire. Oh, but I can steal some sure enough. No! That doesn’t make sense. You can’t steal fire. No! The whole idea is stupid anyhow!

     I spilled blood!

     “Maybe you haven’t done it right, huh? Huh?”

     Mother. Yes! I shall kill Mother. No. No. That isn’t logical. No killer ever kills his mother. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! NO! How do I do this?! I am forgetting! I can’t remember what I’ve learned! Why?! Why am I crying?! Why can’t I kill!? Aren’t I a monster?! Aren’t I?! I look the part! I LOOK THE PART!”

     I actually stabbed her! I actually stabbed her! I actually stabbed her! I stabbed her!

     But        my               mind           isn’t          in          the        right       place   .

     “Ha! Ha ha ha ha. Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! AHA HA HA! HA !”

     “What the hell’s wrong with you, you damn freak?” It’s Mr. Davis! I left the door open! “Hey, Helen! Helen, call the police! He has blood on him!” Helen! HELEN! Her names is Helen?!

     “Her name is Helen!?”

     “Collins, what happened?”

     “Her name is Helen! Ha! Her name is Helen! Her name is Helen!”

     “Listen, buddy, if this is about not letting you read to my daughter�"”      

     “Daughter?! I don’t have a daughter!”

     “My daughter! My daughter, Collins! Yesterday, remember? You asked if you could read to her. What the hell is wrong with you?!” He gets on one knee next to me! The fool is next to me!

     “Read! Kill! Read! Kill! Kill! Read! Kill! Kill! Kill! Blood! Blood! Blood! Blood! Kill! KILL!”

     “For God’s sake, Collins…”