"I'm starting to think that you might know more about me than you let on."

He gave a broad smile that showed too many teeth. "Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you?"

I looked up into his blue eyes, recognizing the tone he had said the words in. Chills raced down my spine, adrenaline pumped through my veins. His hand crept up my shirt slowly, his eyes sky blue and locked on mine. Butterflies followed his touch. I bit my tongue to keep from begging him to come closer.

“Is it wrong that I like it?” I asked the gorgeous man that kept many secrets about himself. He shrugged, his thumb fingered the bottom of my bra. My back bit into the tree he’d pushed me into, his muscular, tatted arms kept me blocked in, unable to escape. Not that I would try, or wanted to move from the spot.

We stood in the middle of the woods, surrounded and completely alone. He could’ve killed me right there. And no one would’ve found out for months. My body could’ve been pushed into a pitted trap for wild animals- never would I be seen again… but there was something about this man. Something I liked. Something dangerous.

His hair swooped into his eyes, poofed with the humidity, but soft like that special sand. He leant forward, his hair brushed my cheek, his lips met the soft, fleshy part of my neck.

“Are you scared?” He whispered it gently, every part of me wanted to run. But instead, I ran my hands up both of his biceps, tracing them up to his neck. “No.”

His lips crushed mine, biting and tugging. He was rough, but tasted sweet. His hands found their way into my bra, my fingers tangled in his hair. He smelled like pine and river. He growled deep in his throat and shoved me away. My head thunked into the trunk behind me, I gasped as warm liquid trickled down my flushed forehead.

He broke away from me, his hands dropped off both my sides. He put them both on his head. Something evil glistened in his eyes. He turned his back, muscles flexing under the white T-shirt he’d worn for the hiking trip.

“I do know more,” he was hoarse, his strong, egotistic manner dropped like a rock in a river. “I’ve been around a lot longer than you think. I’ve been watching you. For so long… Windows, doors, cameras, pictures, red tapes, computers, phones, tablets. Work, college, hobbies…”

I backed up slowly while his back was turned. He spun around when my heel snapped a twig. He rushed forward, faster than a normal human. I choked, his hands were around my throat. I clawed at them helplessly, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t tell him to calm down. That it was okay. Because it wasn’t.

“Then I started falling in love,” his blue eyes darkened, a cold breeze embraced us both, he shook his head. “Hunger settled in… I couldn’t help it. I tried other girls. I tried several. Nothing quenched my thirst. It begged for you. You, Amelia.”

He brought out a shiny blade. That’s when I knew I wouldn’t make it out of the woods. My gut had been right when it had told me to run like hell and get away from the man with the pretty blue eyes.

“And now,” he whispered, bringing the smooth blade across the same part he’d kissed, “now I’ll give in and have what I wanted, since the other girls didn’t do their job.”

Something washed over me. He wasn’t going to violate me in the woods. He wasn’t going to give me what I wanted. He wasn’t talking about his dick. I covered my mouth, because there wouldn’t be a body. He would make sure.

That’s when he bit into my cheek hard, blood gushed into his mouth. I screamed, gripping his shoulders, struggling. He pushed the blade into my throat, it stung numbly, then burst into a million fires, racing along my flesh. My screams turnt to gurgles, choking on my own blood as he licked it up from my paling skin.

There wouldn’t be a body. There wouldn’t be a witness. Because he would get rid of me, he would eat me. As twisted as it sounded— I almost liked it.

Until August, I had never seen anyone so gorgeous, and he is mine and mine only. Amber eyes pure honey, warm heart pure gold. His Prince Charming smile is a blessing to all those who are lucky enough to catch it—before it fades away, that is.

Every year, someone is randomly selected from each household by the government because the amount of people being born exceeds the number of people dying. Ten billion might be our planet’s limit, they say. We don’t have enough resources to sustain that much life.

It’s bullshit, honestly. Such a bullshit excuse put out by the bullshit government to let the world know that they still hold power over us—that they still control us.

And in one week exactly, my best friend’s brother, the love of my life, August Fisher is going to die.

I have learned from experience (years upon years of my family members being picked off like grapes on a vine) that it’s much better to pretend it’s not happening and value your time before it’s gone.

So I’ve decided not to bring it up to August, nor has he brought it up to me. As far as he’s concerned, I don’t have a clue who’s being picked from his family. Probably because we’re not supposed to talk about it.

But, naturally being best friends, May and I told each other. She told me about August, and I told her about Germaine—my emotional cousin who is probably crying about his fate over a cup of Starbucks with his wife right about now. Sure, I’m sad about Germaine, but we’re not particularly close, so I’m not as torn up about it as I was the years my mom and dad were picked.

Until August, I hadn’t opened up to anyone but May about anything—about everything. My parent’s executions broke me and built walls around the shattered pieces of my heart so no one could get in.

Until August, no one had penetrated those walls.

In one week my castle will crumble once more.

Because I knew he was going to die.

And I chose him anyway.

•^+*

“Baby, what’s wrong?” August whispers, stroking a hair gone loose from my messy braid. We’re in his room, laying on his bed—fully clothed, of course. I’m still a lady.

I sigh, a shuddering, broken sigh, and collapse into him. “You…”

“What is it?” He asks, picking up my chin and forcing it towards him. His eyes are full of sorrow and pain—for me and him both, I suspect.

I don’t say anything, instead burrowing my head into his chest. The breaths I take are hot and painful, scorching my throat and lungs like a reminder of the pain I’m going through.

In one day—

“Willow,” he persists, kissing my head, just the way I like. “Please.”

I sigh, giving in. “Tomorrow… tomorrow…” I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t even know what I’m about to say.

But August does. “I’m starting to think you know more about me than you let on.” His face darkens, a storm cloud passing over his bright features.

I sit up, grinning a bit to lighten the mood and tension. “Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you? I’m best friends with your little sister.”

His brows furrow in confusion and delight. “You and May talk about me?”

I suppress a laugh. “You’re basically all we talk about. May likes to discuss our relationship quite a lot, and she likes to tell me what our child’s names are going to be and what our wedding’s going to be like—“

I suddenly stop. I’m so insensitive. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, August—“

I look at him to find a single tear sliding down his tan cheek. “I thought about it too, Willow. I thought about it a lot.”

My heart has been covered by a blanket. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, pulling a box out of his pocket. A ring box. “So much, baby.”

Thump thump thump thump thump. The sounds are coming from my chest. “Oh my gosh.”

“I bought this before the selection. Before…” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Before I was picked.”

I’m suddenly pissed. “They can’t do this to us, August! It’s not fair! We—we were going to get married!”

At the word “married,” I see him flinch. “Willow, it’s just not possible—“

“Yes it is!” I practically yell. “We could run away, anywhere where they couldn’t catch us. We could do it together: get married, have kids and create the life we dreamed about.”

“Baby, you know they’d catch us. They always do. There’s no point.”

In this moment, I watch beautiful August Fisher break. It wasn’t worth it to push him anymore, so I just whispered to him, “Okay,” and we laid there until the end of time.

•^+*

Until August, I hadn’t learned what real loss was. What real pain felt like. A bullet through the heart would be better than this. Heartbreak, in its purest, is the worst thing anyone can go through.

Until I watched August burn, scream in pain, thrash in agony, I had never said “I love you.” But I said it a million times just then, over and over with tears streaming down my face.

It’s been two years exactly since the day he died. I have never found anyone else and nor will there be anyone else, for no one could ever compare to my August Fisher.

Because until August, I had never learned to let go.

Wordlessly, you rose. There was nothing to say. You had all that you came for… the next time would be the last time.

“Leaving so soon?” Asked the man who rested his weary arms on the slick sheen of mahogany wood, “It is such a shame, we were having a nice time and you know it’s not often I get asked to go on a date.”

You weren’t sure if the glint in his chestnut eyes was one of sadness or one that warned of danger. Shrugging, you turned to leave before returning your gaze to meet his, “I have work in the morning.” Begrudgingly, you produce a lopsided smirk, silently hoping that would be the end of the exchange.

Studying his plump fingers with a strange intensity, “I’m starting to think that you might know more about me than you let on.” He gave a broad smile that showed too many teeth, as if proud of drawing this conclusion.

Unable to bite your tongue, you snap, “Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you?” With that parting gift you march out of the posh restaurant. It was a place that stunk of money, yet in places a certain frayed tackiness peeked through. From your research the reservation lists for Dama Dama were almost two years long, and you hadn’t known the sleazy fellow for that long.

Restraining a smile from gracing your lips, you slid on your mask- a face that warned, a face that gave no clues. Hailing a cab, you barked out a simple instruction, one that can never be repeated lest the life of the driver be in peril. Hearing the slick road slide under the wheels, you let your eyes twinkle briefly. Reaching into your bag you pull out a mobile, with a cracked face from months of abuse. You knew the model and that it had only been released that year. Tapping the screen tentatively you watched it light up at such a gentle touch, skillfully unlocking the device you disabled the tracking app.

Never let yourself be caught by a fool, even you can be that fool.

You could imagine his panic as he realizes that both his phone and wallet had been stolen. He could try in vain to get hold of you, but that would be impossible with the wrong number. A low chuckle finally escaped your lips causing the elderly driver to look at you through the review mirror, catching their faded gaze you slowly shook your head. There would be no more warnings.

As your sharp picked up the revolting sound of saliva being gulped, a melancholic tear landed hollowly. That solitary tear led the way for millions of other spilled diamond jewels, catching in the weak beams of diluted nectar. Casting an eerie glow in the concrete towers and paving slabs. It seemed as though the world was lamenting for a scene that is yet to pass.

“Stop!” You slam your fist violently on the taxi’s backseat, a small flurry of dancers leapt gracefully upwards, twirling dizzily before slumping down. Shrilly screeching the breaks frantically wrestled with the wheels causing them to momentarily lose purchase, skidding down the road before lurching painfully back. Tossing a handful of change onto the seat you just vacated, you fled the taxi.

If you weren’t always watching, you would never have seen the stalking Mercedes that lurked in the shadows. The first time you clocked the smart obsidian paintwork, you thought nothing of it, but after the third time you knew.

You knew who that car belonged to.

You knew this town; you knew its secrets. They were a stranger… an outsider.

Nimbly, you darted up an alley, one that lead to a dead-end. A trick you had used before. The deluge let you go, tracing your smooth skin with longing fingers and soaking into your neatly done hair. Its tingling sigh of want ruffled the loose edges of fabric. No one could have what they wanted.

Slowing, you let yourself merge with the shifting tourmaline chiffon. Inhaling deeply through your nose, you tried to still your heaving chest. In a lull in the weather heavy feet pounded and clanged over a metal covering. Soon the whistling came back in full force masking any other sounds that were generated in the alley.

Pulling your curtains closed a fraction, you ensured that no gleam of frost would be seen. As the unknown figured brushed past, you sucked in sharply through your teeth, you were being stalked by the potbellied man. The scent of tabaco, pinewood and wine trailed dutifully after him in a nauseating wake. Still dressed to the nines he reached the end of the path… literally and figuratively.

Tilting your head a fraction, you picked up the faint asthmatic wheeze. A wheeze that you had not encountered before. If you had, you would be able to pull it from the bank of relevant sounds. This dying tea kettle would not be around long enough to become acquainted with you. Swiftly, the wheeze drowned out into a gurgle. Death would always be alacritous to that call, sweeping its scythe across the living-dead pulling the soul away with a brief rattling fight.

Whoever had followed, now lay in a shallow pool of memories, a star of mortality embedded itself in a new night sky.

Your target tensed, inching around to face his escape. Only to come face to face with his date. “I guess work came early,” you reveal your ivory teeth in a predatory snarl.

His features contorted in confusion, “I thought you worked as a freelance photographer and part-time in the supermarket?”

“I guess not,” padding menacingly towards the businessman. You could see the fear gripping his soul in a tight fist, gradually suffocating his senses, “You might want to retain some awareness.” You raked him with a condescending glare.

“You…you took my phone?”

“Is that all you can say?”

“Yes...” A childish squeak clambered from his gluttonous lips

Laughing lowly, “I took more than your phone.”

“You did?” He seemed almost incredulous that you were the same person that he had enjoyed a meal with merely an hour ago.

Through pursed lips you hummed, tossing down the thieved items at his feet; observing how they tossed restlessly before landing with a muted splash. “Why are you giving them back to me?” Your eyes hardened into slabs of slate, disapproving of his character.

“So many questions,” following the line between the blurred corner of his lips to his ear your frigid fingertip felt every blemish.

He seemed enchanted as he leaned into your touch, muttering, “My friend is coming, left the car just after me.”

Leaning in closer, trying not to gag at his rotten breath, “Oh? I’m afraid your friend has already met their maker.”

“Where did your pretty clothes go?” He mused, not registering the news you had just shared.

“Pretty clothes are not for killing in,” you let your breath fan across his lips. Flicking your gaze down you watched his light pink tongue moisten his drooping fatty lips. Anticipating a loving kiss, that would never come, he snaked one branch-like arm around your waist. You matched the gesture, grazing over his left side undoing the fine stitches with ease. Leading him to believe that it was your proximity that was the cause for the puckering of his pale flesh.

Temporarily, air forgot how to enter and leave the cave, hitching and catching on the sloping tunnel, as an exquisite nail inched upwards. So lost in the moment, he didn’t feel the pattering of crimson beads slithering down his flank.

Pressing in closer you squeezed any remaining space dry of air, his pudgy fist tightened against your t-shirt. Adjusting your stance, a fraction he gasped, as warm metal tucked itself in between rails of cartilage and bone. Tunneling deeper it found what it came for, a skilled flick and rich rivers of garnet were unearthed.

Tumbling excitedly down the polished bedrock, the rivers paused shivering at the entrance, before the pressure forced the molecules outside. “Pleasure doing business with you,” you sibilated, as you withdrew your tarnished blade. Still propped against you the deadweight whistled slightly as the last inhale petered out anxiously, pushing him away he fell to the ground. Joining his possessions, you thought about the sound he made as he landed, it reminded you of a watermelon being smashed followed by a sickening squelch.

Wiping your trusted companion on the back of his trousers, you spun it once around your fingers. Without a single glance back, you strode to retrieve your shuriken from the sticky grasp of the child that was long forgotten.

No one would know of the shadow of the night, the assassin of the new dawn.

Let the records show that Rhian Archer did not like her History teacher.

Mr Delarosa was extremely creepy, particularly towards her and classmate Snow Wilder. To the rest of the class, it appeared that Snow could not give less of a damn, which made sense. That kid didn’t care about anyone. But it made Rhian feel all wrong, like she was caught in some kind of lie.

She hated lying.

Snow, however, always seemed to be a bit more than merely indifferent. They were hardly subtle about watching Mr Delarosa, and often Rhian herself.

Rhian prided herself on being a person who struggled to hate many people. Mr Delarosa was on her four person list. Snow might make it to fifth if they continued watching her, though.

Still, when the teacher called for Snow to stay after class one lesson, Rhian convinced her friend Ettie Redwin to eavesdrop on them with her.

“This is stupid, Ree.”

“I’m worried,” Rhian whispered, leaning closer to the door. She could see Mr Delarosa’s face, and he looked positively menacing.

“Sir, what did you want to speak to me about?”

“Have you given up on finding August yet?”

Ettie flinched beside her, and Rhian kicked her ankle hard. “Careful.”

“Prick.”

“Not a chance.” Snow’s voice was venomous, and Rhian could clearly picture the expression present on their face.

“Do you even have an idea what happened to her?”

“I don’t even know if she’s alive, but if I find a body it’ll be better than nothing.”

“And how about Dove?”

Rhian knew that Dove was Snow’s younger sister — had met the girl herself — but also knew that Dove Wilder didn’t have Mr Delarosa. She never had.

“Weird,” Ettie murmured.

“She’s fine.”

They didn’t seem particularly worried.

“And… hm, how far along is your mother now?”

“Do you know, sir, that none of this links to History?” Snow’s voice was deceptively calm, as if this whole situation wasn’t creepy as all hell. “Can I leave?”

“Not a chance.”

Now Ettie went pale, her skin almost the same colour as Snow’s hair. Rhian watched Mr Delarosa’s face carefully, trying to work out what he was thinking.

“How bad would it hurt if I were to… hm, kill her?”

What. The. Hell.

“It wouldn’t hurt me. You’re asking the wrong person.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to lose another sibling? Or is it two? Three? Forgive me, Wilder, I don’t recall the exact details about your family.”

“I’m starting to think that you might know more about me than you’re letting on.” The sarcasm was heavy in their voice.

Mr Delarosa gave a broad smile, showing far too many teeth. Ettie sucked in a breath, two-colour eyes wide open in shock. Rhian imagined her own expression looked very similar.

“Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you? Your family? Even the whereabouts of your poor, lost sister?”

Snow did not really care about their family. Or their classmates. Everyone knew that.

But at the teacher’s words, they tensed up.

“What did you do? Where is she?”

“Oh, right outside that door. She’s been listening in for a while now.”

Rhian grabbed Ettie’s wrist in a death grip, finding herself frozen.

Snow turned their back to Mr Delarosa, eyes the colour of a frozen lake locking onto Rhian’s for a brief moment. Then an arm was hooked around their neck, and Ettie jerked her to the side.

“Run,” she hissed. “We have to go, now.”

And the friends ran.

“Anna?” someone questioned me while shaking my shoulder. I realized that I had zoned out yet again during class. No surprise, of course. I was not a science/math person. “Sorry,” I muttered and asked where we were in the lab. The four people at my lab table filled me in. Class finally was over, and as I was leaving the room, a guy from my lab group came up to me and asked, “Hey, Anna. You going home or?” I shrugged and said, “Probably coffee first and then home.” “Can I join you?” he asked. I nodded, and we began our walk to Starbucks near the campus cafeteria.

As we waited in line, I didn’t know what to say. “So,” I began. “You know what you want yet?” “Oh yeah. The butterscotch Frappuccino is back, so I already know,” he smiled. I smiled back and replied “Oh yeah those are good. I want—“ I was cut off by him saying “iced coffee with an espresso shot and a pump of vanilla?” I stood there with my mouth open slightly, and my eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. I had never gotten coffee with him before? I couldn’t even remember his name? We were next, so I had no time to ask. When the barista asked for a name for his drink, I heard him say “David.”

As we were waiting to the side for our drinks, I asked nervously, “So how did you know my typical order?” He smiled and said “I just know.” I got a weird feeling in my stomach and nervously laughed. Our drinks were ready, and we sat at a table near the entrance. “I don’t remember us ever getting coffee before?” I insisted once we were seated. “No, we haven’t,” he replied and smiled. “Then.. How?” I asked, feeling my heart rise in my throat. “What else do you know?” I continued despite the room spinning around me. “Your birthday. Your favorite color. Your preferred coffee. It’s nothing weird to know. Why does it matter?” David retorted. “Well.. Because. I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you let on. More than those three things possibly,” I trailed off and hoped he would speak more.

He gave a broad smile that showed too many teeth. My skin crawled at the site, and the pit in my stomach sunk even lower. “Have you considered that I do indeed know everything about you, Anna?” he asked menacingly. Sweat formed on my palms as I surveyed my surroundings. “Everything?” I asked. He nodded. “I know last night you wanted to order pizza, bur your roommate talked you into Chinese food instead. I know you own 10 sweaters. I know you still sleep with your stuffed animal that most likely grandma gave you. I know you—“ “Stop!” I cut him off. “That’s enough.”

“I know you’re freaking out, because you don’t even know my name. Or at least it seems like you didn’t. I know I’m going to leave, and if you say anything to anyone, there’s nothing you can do about it,” he said with a smile and stood up. “See you tonight,” he grinned and walked out the exit door.

The man walked in the night hidden in a great overcoat in the dead silent streets. He looked shifty as he scanned the streets suspiciously.

The gate creaked open on his approach.

“Jimmy!” Lord Cushing boomed and echoed in the chamber. “Cushing. It’s good to see you.” He responded matter of factly. “It’s so nice to... see you here in The Middle. What brings you here... Business?” “I have more of the beasts to trade.” “Ahhh great. Good. I assume our usual trade lines are healthy?” “Yes, yes.” Jimmy nodded. “Well then, what pleasure do I have you to come personally?” “I’m keen to increase the supply of... my favourite product.” “I’m already pushing as fast as I can. My fans are starting to see me as ruthless.” “But my business needs your contribution Lord Cushing.”

Lord Cushing nods with acceptance.

“You want me to take on more beasts so that there is more fodder to be thrown down for you. Am I right?” “I’m starting to think that you might know more about me than you let on.” He gave a broad smile that showed too many teeth. “Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you.” Jimmy smiled curtly. His body seemed to shrivel further back into his great overcoat.

“I’ll take your extra beasts which will give you extra produce but I want 10%.”

“That seems fair.” Jimmy said.

“10% of money made as well as 10% in the final product. I really do love you’re steaks.” Lord Cushing grinned from ear to ear.

“Yes. Alright.” Jimmy accepted hesitantly. “Great. I would ask you to stay but you know... law and all that.” With that Jimmy turned and walked back into the night.

Emilia: “I’m starting to think that you might know more about me than you let on.”

He gave a broad smile that showed too many teeth.

Luke: “Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you?”

Emilia: “No, I haven’t.”

Luke: “Well, you should because I do.”

Emilia: “Okay, tell me everything about me.”

Luke: “I know that despite you being shy and being an introvert, you actually love the attention. You just are afraid of judgment and criticism. You are a great person Emilia but you need to get better at trusting people. I try my best to be kind, respectful, and honest with you Emilia so please trust me.”

Emilia: “You are right about the attention thing. I’ll try my best to trust you more Luke, I promise. You are a kind friend to me and I really appreciate it.”

Luke: “I know, I am right. And you’re welcome, for being a good friend to you. I will do my best to help you trust me more. Because, I want us to become more than friends. I really want to get you to trust me enough to go out with me because you are the girl for me.”

Emilia: “I am?”

Luke: “Yes, you are.”

Will Emilia start trusting Luke more and say yes to going out with him? Find out in “I know the secrets that you keep” when it comes out on March 27, 2021! It is sure to be quite a interesting read!

Anna was woken by the curtains around her bed being pulled aside, and after a breakfast of toast and watered down coffee, she tried to prepare herself.

She’d mentally rehearsed this day, from what to wear, how to sit, even where to look. She tried to wrestle her “Depression-hair” into a neat ponytail, but ended up looking like she’d lost a fight. She hadn’t washed or brushed her long hair for two weeks, it was knotted and tangled, and at this point Anna felt she was going to have to shave it off.

Gone were the saggy leggings and food stained sweater she’d lived in for the past two weeks. Instead she dug out a pair of jeans and a grey tee that had been freshly laundered. The hooded zip up sweatshirt was 5 sizes too large, but it felt comforting, like a security blanket. Somewhere to burrow into when things got too much, or questions became too hard.

Ever since Anna had checked herself in to the hospital, she found that life had distilled to its simplest form. Sleep. Wake. Take medications. Eat. Three laps round the ward block for exercise. Stare mindlessly at the wall. Play cards with, what she realised quickly, was not a full deck. She’d actually laughed out loud at that. In a psychiatric ward, of course it wouldn’t be a full deck. And then she’d considered that by laughing out loud alone, she’d cemented the belief in the nurses and fellow patients that yes, she was indeed in the right place. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to get away. She’d mentally shut down by the time she was admitted, and the routine was a relief. Don’t think, don’t decide, just do as instructed. Take a pause from reality which had felt like too much to cope with.

Unlike some of her fellow patients, Anna was here by choice. She’d been brought here by a concerned friend, and was given a choice about whether to admit herself. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But what she hadn’t processed back then was that the only way out was to be signed off by a doctor. To prove that she wasn’t a danger to herself or others. And then her assigned doctor had gone on sick leave, and her case had somehow fallen through the cracks. What had started as a feeling of safety and comfort, soon became claustrophobic. The institution green walls, the same faces. Anna had felt her mind was starting to reawaken, and wanted more than the daily routine of food, pills and sleep. It was four weeks before she found herself assigned to a new doctor, and by then Anna wanted out. She wanted to go home.

On the day that she’d marked in her mind as FREEDOM DAY, Anna was called through into a large office, where Dr Christensen introduced himself, and there was an informality that didn’t sit right. He sat on the sofa in the room, rather than at the desk, and gestured for Anna to sit in the chair to his right.

He talked through the basics of her case, and asked her to detail the very public breakdown that had led Anna to become a patient. The fact that the store didn’t have a baking tin of the correct size, so she’d thrown everything off the shelves and lay on the floor crying. Security had escorted her out, where she’d curled up in a ball, sobbing. How a friend had come to meet her and taken her home, where she’d done some damage with a pair of blunt scissors and then had a panic attack and collapsed.

Dr Christensen nodded as Anna talked, flicking through a large sheaf of paperwork, making notes in pencil in the margins of documents. He would occasionally smile, but made little comment. Anna began to feel suspicious at the lack of questions. She’d been running though things that she could be asked and prepared her answers, to demonstrate that was wasn’t crazy, she’d just had a bad couple of days, but with no questions being asked, her commentary about her own life felt stilted.

After yet another awkward pause, Anna stated “I’m starting to think that you might know more about me than you let on.”

He gave a broad smile that showed way too many teeth.

“Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you?”

“No” Anna responded honestly, because that had genuinely never occurred to her. “But is there any chance you can give me a clue, as I’m not sure I’m not sure I know everything about me.” As the words came out she was shocked to realise that they were true.

“I do know that you don’t take rejection well” he replied. He closed the folder with a snap. “I’ll see you next week.”

She began to scream.

The diner was small but surprisingly spacious. The lighting was soft; softer than you might expect. There were booths along one wall, all back to back, and a few tables spaced out evenly. The stools at the bar were slightly frayed with age but seemed to hold most of their original padding; the same could be said for the booths.There was only one member of staff out front working the night shift with, at least, one unseen worker out in the kitchen.

The layout meant that Axel knew of three relatively easy exits and two slightly harder, more brutish, ones. He had headed over to the only booth with a solid wall behind it and was sitting facing the rest of the diner. He held a hot cup of coffee in his hands, trying to absorb the warmth.

By the time the bell over the dinner door rang again, Axel was on his third cup and the contents had become lukewarm.

The man that entered looked like he’d stumbled out of the Matrix. He wore an all black three-piece suit, hair slicked back up onto which he pushed his sunglasses. He probably couldn’t stand out more if he tried. He approached the bar, where the kid on staff seemed to be in awe.

“Could you get me a cup of coffee,” Matrix man paused and leaned in a little closer to the kid, “Daryl?”

Axel saw a slight blush appear on Daryl’s cheeks. He finished off the last of his mug and placed it down with a resounding thud. “Another for me too, if you don’t mind, kid.”

Daryl snapped his head around. “Yes, sir,” he looked back around at his second customer and added, “right away, sir.”

Matrix smiled at him and gestured to the booth where Axel was seated. “I’ll be sitting over there with my friend.”

“O-okay,” Daryl said flustered. He turned and busied himself with making a fresh batch of coffee, muttering to himself all the while.

The stranger approached and asked, “would you mind if I joined you?”

Axel smiled up at him. “It seems like you’ve already invited yourself,” he said gesturing back at the bar where Daryl was tripping over his own feet. Axel raised his eyebrow incredulously.

“Ah, yes,” the stranger said. “I guess that is true.” He slipped into the booth as he spoke and then offered Axel his hand. “My name is Harrison.”

Axel nodded and reached out to shake Harrison’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you Harrison, I’m Axel but you already knew that.”

“Indeed.”

Daryl choose that moment to approach their table with one fresh mug and a pot of coffee. He placed the mug down on the table in front of Harrison and poured till the man gave a slight nod of his head. He turned back to Axel and started to pour another helping into the mug held out to him. He stopped pouring without prompting. The kid was a fast learner.

“Let me know if you need another top-up or anything else,” Daryl said with a small smile, “I’ll be just over here.”

The two men watched him leave before turning back to face one another.

“You’re training most definitely shows,” Harrison stated.

Axel didn’t like the way he seemed to be appraising him. “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you let on.”

He gave a broad smile that showed too many teeth. “Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you?”

I opened the mail box and spotted the long white envelope immediately. My heart started to pound and bundling up the rest of the bills, magazines and fliers, I ran into the house and tossed the mail in the counter. There it was, the logo on the envelope and I stared at it. I was scared to open it and scared not to open it.

My hands were ice cold with a kind of expectant dread but I grabbed a knife out of the drawer and slit open the envelope.

  We are very pleased to offer you the position of Executive Research Assistant to 
  Dr. Armon Drucker at the Institute for Psychological Studies at the 
  University of Rostock.    

I grabbed my cellphone out of my purse and dialed. It rang twice before I heard her pick up.

“I got it! I got it! “ I was laughing and crying and I heard Caroline chuckle on the other line.

“That is fantastic, Glo! I am so happy for you! Do you know when you start?”

“I haven’t read beyond the first line. Hang on. Ah. Here it is. It says I have to be ready to begin work on February 1st. Oh! And I will be boarded at the Institute as part of my compensation package and can move in any time the week before I start work. Oh, Caroline this is all so overwhelming!”

“You earned it, Gloria. It’s your chance to put all the “stuff” behind you and move on. A new job, new city, and new country where people most likely have never heard of you. It’s all good!”

February 1st I woke up and for a moment could not recall where I was.  Then it hit me!  I actually was in Rostock and my first day working at the Institute with Dr. Drucker.  We had talked yesterday for a couple of hours and he showed me the Institute, introduced me to the small staff and explained a bit about what we would be doing.  He told me that initially I would have to go through the protocols that our clients went through so I could understand the whole system, but not to be nervous.

“It’s just surface things, Gloria.  We will put you under with the new drug, you will fall asleep, we will ask a couple of basic questions and then you’ll wake up feeling like you have had a deep sleep.  Let’s say be here in the lab by 9am and dress comfortably.  We’re informal here.”

Dr Drucker was not what I had expected.  He was a lot younger for one thing, and very put together; every inch the typical German university professor.  He was handsome in a very Nordic way with a mane of blonde hair and deep blue eyes.  I would have to keep reminding myself this was my boss was my thought as I went back to my room after that meeting.

I jumped out of bed and remembering his “dress comfortably” speech yesterday, I threw on my easy jeans and an oversize sweater and made my way to the lab.  It was delightful living where I worked.  The apartment was up near the top floor with several skylights and was usually flooded with light.  All-in-all I had landed on my feet and was incredibly grateful for this second chance to move on past the murder accusations and the memories of Kevin.  I shook off those thoughts and pushed the laboratory door open.

“Ah!  Good morning, Gloria!  Ready to get this out of the way?”

I nodded, and he gestured to the examination table.  “Just climb up.  You see it is quite comfortable.  Pillow, blanket, all the nice bed linens.”  He laughed and pulled over a cart with a couple of needles and vials.  “Two quick jabs and you will wake up feeling like you have had the best sleep of your life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I came to and was lying on a deep sofa in what must be Dr. Drucker’s office.  He was sitting behind a large, intricately carved mahogany desk and staring at me.  I immediately sat up, embarrassed to have him watching me as I slept, a bit confused on how I had gotten here.  I remembered nothing after Dr. Drucker injected me.

“That went well, Gloria.  Now indulge me for a few minutes as we review the results of the protocol.  All of this is, of course, necessary for you to be of use to me here at the Institute.  We have certain...uh...criteria for those who stay.”

“Stay?”  I know I looked shocked.  “But I assumed this was a full time position.  I have sold my home and came here thinking...”

“Oh please don’t worry.  I am sure you will be perfect, particularly after the information we gleaned from the protocol.  Settle back and tell me about the Kevin Montrose episode and your subsequent stay at Valley Hills Hospital after your breakdown.”

I gaped at him.  “I’m starting to think that you know more about me than you let on.”

He gave a broad smile that showed too many teeth.

“Have you not considered that I do indeed know everything about you?  It’s why we offered you the job, Gloria.  You are exactly who I need to further my research into the psychological issues of murderers.  Now.  Shall we start?”