Page 90 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

Shit.

Of course I’d had to rob the one fucker who would hunt me down because of it. Wasn’t Prudence supposed to be lucky? Speaking of Prudence—Where. Was. He? “Think you’re smarter than me, don’t you?” He continued to mutter as the distance between us and his death-trap (a real death-trap, hilarious, I know) closed step by step. “But you’re not.” His chuckle was a bit deranged. “You’re the dumb ones. All it took was one call to my credit card company to find which hotel you were staying in.”

Mother. Fucker.

Apparently things could always get worse.

Villain monologues were really very enlightening.

TV got that bit right.

It was an entirely different feeling though, to be the one led to their death. This was not fun. Not at all. I kicked out again, struggling as hard as I could as I opened my mouth to yell—

He slammed me up against the hot metal on the side of the car, twisting my wrists in front of me in one of his big hands as he squeezed my cheeks in the other and his wild eyes met mine. “You crazy little psychopath,” he hissed as I bit his palm, but he held tight. Blood burst on my tongue, and I wiggled, hard, trying to break his hold.

“I dare you to scream,” he cackled, a smear of hot spit hitting my cheek as I blinked through the haze in my mind, my vision wobbling. His nails bit into my already stinging cheeks. I could feel a piece of gravel stuck to my forehead, and my head was still spinning—spinning—spinn— “I dare you to. Let’s see what the cashier says when I show him all the IDs you had on you, huh?” He grinned. More spit hit my cheek. “Who do you think he’s gonna wanna help, then?”

He was wrong.

I knew he was.

There was no way to prove that the wallet had been mine in the first place. Buuuut the smallest tiniest, stubbornest, guiltiest part of me believed him. Believed all it would take was a single look at me for the cashier to know that all of this was my fault. Unfortunately, my silent terror distracted me long enough he was able to get the car door open.

As I stared into the dirty interior, at crumpled-up wrappers, and abandoned soda cups, my life flashed before my eyes.

I saw Betty and Adam, still chubby, still young. Their round faces peering up at me like I was God, as I evenly distributed the candy bars I’d slipped into my jacket when the cashier hadn’t been looking. I saw my first baseball game. The way Paul had torn his baseball cap off, sweaty and summer sticky, and slapped it onto my head. I saw mom. Every Betty Crocker birthday cake she’d burned for my birthday. Betty’s smile when she’d packed up her shit in her car and headed off to her first year of college. I saw her green graduation cap. The way it had flown into the air. The degree I’d paid for as she held it high and beamed at us, her dirty-blonde hair matted from wearing the hat so long.

I saw Adam’s disappointment when I didn’t show up Saturday like I promised.

I saw Prudence.

I saw the shape of his downward smile. I saw the insecurity that lay hidden in his eyes every time he talked about his past. I saw his walls, the ones that had crumpled, one by one to the ground the longer we spent together.

What would happen to him?

If I died.

What would happen to him if I was gone?

Who would he talk to?

Who would give him fries…or blow jobs…

Or, or—any number of other, equally important, equally special things.

No.

No, no, no.

I couldn’t do that to him.

I couldn’t do that to any of them.

With a surprisingly dope bout of strength, I managed to sink my teeth into murder dude’s palm again at the same time I launched my knee at his balls. He screeched bloody murder, crumpling forward as I felt the squish of his testicles popping beneath my knee.

Good.

And then I ran.

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