Rose
I try to focus on the movie.
I give a sincere effort.
But the girl seated a few rows from me and Abel is going to die.
I never thought something as trivial as jealousy would plague me. But this feels much more suffocating than something as simple as that.
It feels like a direct threat to my lifeblood.
So, when she stands—to use the restroom, no doubt—I whisper that I’m going as well. Abel is so engrossed in the film, his hand full of buttery popcorn, that he only offers a nod.
The restroom is quiet as I walk in and step quietly toward the stalls. I notice her black sneakers peeking from beneath the door.
So as not to alarm the other patron, I get in the stall across from her. There’s this giddy part of me that wants to kick her door in and take it from there. To let my violence take over, with no plan, with nothing but her pain as my destination. I hear the toilet flush as the adrenaline spikes in me, making my hands shake. Her stall door opens, and she slips out. I push mine open just enough to see her stare at her reflection for a few moments before reaching for the soap dispenser.
I’m quiet as I push my door open the rest of the way. Because I assume this relatively sentient human being will become aware of my presence and will see me. And once she does, I’ll have to move quickly.
Or not.
Maybe I’ll play a little this time.
Her eyes are on her hands as she rubs them together beneath the water. Her gaze flickers to me for a moment. And then down and up again. She’s recognized me.
But from where? I can almost hear her ask herself that question.
I’m the girl from the lobby. The one you glanced at just before you tried to take Abel from me.
“You look so familiar,” I tell her, my voice sounding an octave higher than usual. “What’s your name?”
“Mackenzie,” she offers, hesitantly as she continues rinsing the soap from her hands. “Yours?”
She’s only asked out of an ingrained politeness. She doesn’t know it’s wasted on me.
Trina Montgomery
George
Mackenzie
My list grows.
She doesn’t recognize me.
Until I drop the hint. “That’s right. You were the one who hit on my boyfriend in the lobby.”
And I can see the moment it all connects in her brain. Her mouth opens and her eyes widen.
There’s probably an apology or some claim of misunderstanding on the tip of her tongue, but no.
A scream should be forcing its way up instead.
But she has no idea.
How could she know that she’d meet me today? That I would become the most powerful person in her existence?
She should scream.
Biologically, we know when our lives are threatened. Our body has something we’ve come to call “instinct” and it’s a powerful thing. But we’ve been so conditioned, so softened by our desires, that we forget to listen to our instincts.
Your instincts will save you.
By now, it’s too late to call for help. I’ve already gripped the back of her neck and forced her face into the mirror several times until she slid lifelessly to the floor.
Some deaths are drawn out and painful.
Mackenzie got lucky.
Don’t try to take Abel from me and you can have your life.
There’s no blood on my skin, none under my fingernails, but I still wash my hands thoroughly. I stare at the lifeless body behind me in the mirror, past my own reflection, not quite smiling, but not frowning either.
Just as the blood oozes slowly from her skull, thick and dark, I step over her and head back toward Abel.
He’s exactly where I left him when I return, smiling around a mouthful of popcorn when he sees me. He offers me some and smiles wider when I place a few pieces in my mouth.
And I want him to look at me like this forever.
Trina Montgomery
George
Mackenzie