Page 6 of The Trick

Winning.

I reach for my phone in my back pocket, sending a quick text to Cam.

Me: Done…on my way to the quarry now.

Cam Moeder: Ok? Not where we discussed it happening but at least it’s finished

Cam Moeder: and the head?

Me: still attached…

Cam Moeder: not good enough. I want it severed.

Me: It’ll be my pleasure.

Cam: and Maddox, try to lay low tonight.

Me: That's my specialty ;-)

CHAPTERTHREE

October 30th, 2008

“Miss Murder” by AFI fills my earbuds, accompanying me on this impromptu evening stroll. Humming along to the beat, I become lost in the song, allowing my legs to decide where I will end up this evening. Fingers crossed that I cross paths with the psycho killer that’s decapitating their unsuspecting victims one by one.

Double fingers crossed he’s hot and masked.

It feels so good to be out and about when most people are heading in for the evening. This part of town is my favorite to walk through at night since it’s filled with retirees and empty nesters who like to settle in early, serial killer on the loose or not, which gives me free rein to roam the streets uninterrupted.

I swear, I must have been a vampire in another life, or at least some sort of nocturnal animal, because nighttime is always when I feel the most energized. Especially this time of year,when the sunlight is minimal, and the rising moon allows the houses with lit jack o’ lanterns to shine as the autumn gods intended for them to. It’s orgasmic.

I continue my aimless walk, my hands buried in the thinly lined pockets of my jacket, when a gust of wind sweeps across my face. My blunt bangs shift from their usual spot just above my brows and begin to rise, tempting the hoodie that rests on the crown of my head, to go up with it. Raising my hand to my now disheveled hair, I try to reposition my bangs back to normal when the song ends.

The momentary silence before the next song beginsis overshadowed by a heavy thud that echoes behind me. Past the music that scratches at the speakers of my headphones, all I can hear is my mom’s nagging voice, ripe within mysubconscious.

“Blair, you always need to be aware of your surroundings. When you’re driving, when you’re walking, when you’re going anywhere. Especially at night. Nighttime is when bad things happen. Remember that.”

She’s right, Ishouldbe aware of my surroundings. Just like Ishouldbe concerned that I am standing in front of the secluded park that backs up to the abandoned mill. There are a lot of things that Ishouldbe. But right now, the only thing I feel is a grin beginning to creep along my lips because I have a strong sense that the knife, I brought with me “just in case” is about to make an appearance.

My hands break free from the confines of my pockets and instead sweep the inner lining of my jacket. Pulse swishing at my ears, my palms become clammy as I reach for where I stashed my knife when the thud sounds once more. This time it’s followed by the scraping of gravel against the uneven pavement.

Gravel scuffs against the bottom of my boots as I pivot my stance. The soles of my UGG boots mimic the sound that has been grating at my ears. Time feels like it’s moving faster than my body can synchronize with my mind. The few seconds I need to secure my knife slips away from me as a pair of black gloved hands appear in my periphery causing a surge of warmth to form where a large, curled hand has attached itself to me. It radiates against the crisp autumn air, traveling through the fabric of my jacket and centering itself within my core. My heart begins to race, fear and excitement flirting with each other when the rich, smoky scent leather nips at my nose before it engulfs my mouth.

The smell of worn leather mixed and woodsy cologne attacks my nostrils as the pressure of the hand that is engulfing my face increases. I attempt to inhale, but the palm covers my nose, making my breathing shallow. However, the odd combination of scents, mixed with the very real,very trapped, positioning of my body begins to cloud my already dim conscience, causing delirium to burrow itself in my mind when Ishouldbe experiencing fear. Or at the very least a major warning flare or a red flag but it’s all systems go for me.

I’ve been waiting for a moment like this and here it is, being handed to me on a silver platter on Halloween Eve of all nights. I couldn’t have planned this better if I tried.

Not sure what to expect next, since scenarios like this have only presented themselves in my life through a television screen, I wait. For what exactly, I’m not sure. Maybe more restraint or more assertion, but neither come. If anything, this entire interaction feels anti-climatic and surprisingly dull.

Feeling that initial burst of twisted excitement begin to dwindle, I opt to take things in my own hands andhopefullymove this thing along. Taking a quick step back, I center my foot in between the staggered stance of whomever is currently standing behind me and I turn my body, moving into the hold my attacker has on me instead of against it. A frustrated grunt vibrates against my ear, as their grip loosens quicker than I expected.

No longer restrained, my free range of motion allows me to grab my knife. My pulse quickens the moment my thumb grazes the button lock of my pocketknife. Moving my digit along the edge of the lock, I apply pressure to the small button that releases the sharpened steel forward.

Blade ready and adrenaline burning through me, I turn to face my attacker, but a familiar voice creeps its way to my ear. Disappointment enters the party real fast when my gaze falls to a pair monogrammed white converse that I know belong to my ex, Ethan Campbell.

Great.

I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that he’s wearing a fucking green mask reminiscent of the gilled monster from Creature from the Black Lagoon or that he completely desecrated a perfectly good pair of chucks.

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