Chapter 1 #2
After tossing a twenty on the bar, I quickly leave.
“Emma St. James,” I say out loud. It smoothly rolls off the tongue. I love her name.
It’s Christmas Eve, and for the first time since I can remember, the anxiety isn’t crippling me.
I tuck myself into an alley across the street and watch her grab a cup of coffee from the shop a block from her apartment.
I already know that her job is five blocks away.
She works at a floral shop during the day, and at night, she serves drinks at a popular bar she can also walk to.
It appears she doesn’t own a car, which is good for me, making it easy to follow her.
When Emma comes out of the coffee shop, she looks down at her cup with a frown on her face before moving on. I follow her across the street just like I did yesterday. She’s still so damn sad, and I ache for her.
The day is gusty, and the temperature is below freezing. She’s hunched into herself from the wind and in her depression.
A plan formulated in my mind when I researched her name, which she had neatly printed on her receipt. It didn’t take long to find her.
I want to ease her pain, to take away her suffering. I just know that if I help her, it will reduce my pain, too. The more I planned, the less anxiety I felt. For the first time since I’ve been on my own, I feel peace and have a sense of purpose.
Emma walks quickly toward the floral shop, so I rush on ahead, not looking at her, not drawing attention to myself, as I make my way to the little store nestled between a law firm and a deli restaurant.
I look both ways as I cross the street at the light a block past the shop, and I then start heading in her direction.
She’s heading my way, not looking up. Perfect. As soon as she’s close, I stop and call out her name, doing my best to sound confident and not some shell of a person inside, like I usually am. Then, I plaster a wide, surprised smile on my face. “Emma? Is that you?”
She looks up, her green eyes are saucers until they soften when she recognizes me. “Constantine? How can I forget such a cool name and the sweetest man ever? And you’re even more handsome in the daylight.”
She blushes, and so do I. The warmth of her compliments fills my body so much that I don’t feel the cold anymore. No one’s ever called me handsome before. I never thought I was, but I know she wouldn’t lie.
“Sorry, that was… rather bold of me.”
I rub the back of my neck, looking down at my feet. “No, I… like it. Thank you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m about to head into the floral shop and get some poinsettias for my mom’s grave.”
Her eyes water, and she places a hand on my arm. “Your mom died, too? I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Constantine.”
I shrug and give her a shy smile. “Yeah, it was a long time ago. She also died on Christmas Eve.”
“Well, that’s something else we have in common. What a small world. Why do I feel like we were meant to meet?”
Yes, she sees it too. She’s perfect.
Emma grabs my arm and drags me into the floral shop. “Come on. I work here. We’re not open yet, but since it’s only me working today, I’ll get you all set up.”
An hour later, I leave with a pot of red flowers, a date planned for tonight, and a kiss on the cheek.
Honestly, I can’t believe that worked since I’ve never asked anyone out before.
Everything’s going exactly according to plan.
I knock on Emma’s apartment door. It doesn’t take her long to open it and greet me with a soft smile, although there’s still sadness in those pretty green eyes of hers.
“I’m glad you’re here, Constantine,” she says.
When I hand her a box of chocolates, she smiles, takes it from me, and heads toward the kitchen. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
Once I close the front door and lock it, I don’t waste time injecting her with my prescription of ketamine into her neck from behind. I increased the dosage to make sure she doesn’t resist me.
I saw a psychiatrist for several months, trying to deal with the holidays, but nothing helped.
Eventually, he prescribed me ketamine to see if the treatment improved things.
I don’t like drugs, so I never took them, and I stopped seeing him.
Instead of letting it go to waste, I had the perfect drug to subdue Emma.
The needle easily goes into her neck, and it doesn’t take long for it to take effect.
She drops the box of candy, and I catch her before she falls to her knees.
I’m not very big, but she doesn’t weigh much.
Still, my arms start to strain as I carry her back to her bedroom, where I lay her on the bed. Maybe it’s time I start working out.
“Wh-wha…” Emma is completely out of it, but she’s also aware.
This drug isn’t just to subdue her, but to help her not feel any pain as I end her suffering for good.
She’ll never feel rejection from her father again.
Men will never again treat her horribly or ignore how amazing she is.
And she’ll never feel depressed during the holidays after this.
For the first time since I can remember, I feel whole. I’m doing something good with my life. Helping someone else helps relieve my suffering, too. It’s an unexpected bonus.
Regardless, I have to be careful. I know that my way of helping her isn’t legal, so I don a pair of latex gloves.
Then, I remove my coat and drape it on the end of her bed before pulling out the folding knife from the pocket.
I sit down, set the blade next to me, and brush away the dark strands from her face while I soothe and shush her struggles.
Her eyes roll into her head as she tries to focus on me.
Her mouth moves, grasping for words and trying to talk, but she can’t form coherent words. I gave her too high a dose.
Her body tries to move, her fingers are grasping at the covers, and her legs are flailing, but there isn’t much she can do now. The drug has taken full effect.
“It’s almost over, sweet Emma. I’m here for you.
You don’t have to be in pain anymore. No more rejection.
No more depression. I know what it’s like to be alone and hurting, especially today of all days.
I hope you’ll see and appreciate this gift I’m about to give you.
Soon, you’ll be happy after you reunite with your lovely mother in heaven. ”
I slowly unbutton her blouse and open it enough to expose her chest, but I am not doing it to humiliate her. This isn’t about exposing her breasts. I only need access to her heart.
First, a test to make sure she feels no pain. I poke the tip of the knife into her chest and cut a little. When she doesn’t react, I know she can’t feel anything. Good. She doesn’t need any more suffering. The last thing I want is to torment her. I’m not him. I will never be him.
“You are loved, my dear Emma. Maybe not by your father or other men, but you are by me.”
I want to kiss her, but I can’t afford to leave any trace of myself.
Confident she’ll be fine, I continue to cut into her chest, carving out a large section of skin in the shape of a heart. I want to show those who find her that she matters to someone.
Emma doesn’t flinch at all, but tears spill down her face. “Hmaloeph amothsa.”
“Shh, it’s all going to be over soon. Don’t worry, sweetheart.”
Once the skin is cut, I drop it into a plastic baggie and zip it closed.
It’s almost done now. I cup her face with my clean, gloved hand, then I slowly drag the edge of my knife deep into her jugular. Now, I wait. There’s blood everywhere, and the room fills up with the familiar metallic smell as the heart pumps it out of her.
Emma tries to move, and her eyes roll into her head again as she gurgles her dying breath, drowning in her own blood. I’m confident she doesn’t feel a thing.
As she quickly bleeds out, her eyes finally meet mine. There’s clarity there, along with gratitude and love. She’s happy she can move on to heaven with her mom. I see it now. She sees it too. Right then, I know I did the right thing.
And for the first time, I experience pure joy.