III: Loss of Motivation 

It was Sunday and Jack was ready to make a kill. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t trust that Peter would leave Heather out of his vendetta so he camped inside his car a few yards away from her apartment. He has been waiting for Peter since 5am. He told Heather not to leave her apartment and to call him if she noticed anything strange. He had been on the phone with her multiple times to check that she was fine. Although he didn’t give her any details to explain his odd behavior, Heather didn’t seem to question it. She had even gone to the window and waived at him.

Jack became irritated that someone so weak and scrawny like Peter had made him take all these persuasions; Jack even felt nervous. It was now 8pm and a part of Jack felt his rage begin to surface: Peter must have tricked him in order to save his own skin. Even though these thoughts were getting harder to ignore, he couldn’t help but repeatedly look at his rearview mirrors and check over his shoulder, half expecting to see Peter hidden in the backseat ready to plunge a knife into his back. Jack suddenly felt like calling Heather again.

He waited for her to pick up, but the line was busy. He waited half an hour and called again but it was still busy. Jack felt a chill; something must have happened. He immediately bolted out of his car and ran straight to Heather’s front door. He banged at the wooden door with his heavy hand yelling, “Heather! Open the door!” but he was answered by an eerie silence. He banged at the door again and yelled, “Heather it’s me Jack! Open the door!” but still no response. Jack kicked open the door, the hinges shattered as it swung open with a bang. He entered the apartment and to his left was Heather behind her ajar bedroom door. She was sitting at the foot of her bed, staring back at him with devastated eyes. A gun materialized from behind the door and pointed directly at Heather’s right temple. Gun cocked and trigger pulled: Bang. It was 8:34pm.

Jack stood frozen, paralyzed in shock. The gun dropped to the floor, Heather’s body slumped over and onto the floor. The door frame concealed her corpse from the waist up, making Jack doubt what he saw. He slowly walked down the stretching hallway towards Heather. The closer he got the further away she felt. He finally reached the door and he saw her: blood ran down her face and an expanding pool of scarlet formed around her head. Jack couldn’t bear to look into her eyes. He saw the gun by her feet, the smoking barrel pointed towards a cellphone that laid on top of her bed. Jack stood in silence, unable to process the incomprehensible series of events. He calmly walked out of the bedroom, closed the door behind him and sat down in the living room couch, and waited. He stared at the broken door that laid on the floor, recounting in his head the past few seconds that had transpired. The more he thought about it the less it made sense to him. Why did Heather kill herself? Did Peter somehow do this? Why wouldn’t she let him into the house? Suddenly Jack’s mind fell quiet as he heard footsteps approaching. Peter walked into the apartment.

Peter stepped over the smashed door and leisurely walked towards Jack and sat across from him. Both men looked at one another, certain that one of them would not see the sun rise again. “Before we do anything hasty, I’m sure you must have questions. Please, ask me anything you like. I’m sure we have ample time before the police respond to the gunshot. The least I can do is give you some sense of peace of mind.” Jack remained silent. Both men sat facing each other, Peter with cold blue eyes and Jack with fierce red eyes. Jack finally spoke through clinched teeth, “You are going to regret ever having met me. I’m not just going to kill you, I’m going to make you experience a hell you never imagined existed.”

Peter retorted, “That’s not a question.”

Then in an instant Jack pulled Peter to the ground and while on top of him gouged out his left eye. Peter squirmed in agony screaming a blood curdling scream. For the first time Jack saw Peter in pain. Jack stood up and held his blue hued trophy up to the celling light but felt nothing. The nerves in the eye still alive contracted in response, all the while Peter continuing to roll over in anguish. Jack stared into the ice blue eye and said, “You’re the first person whose eye looks more alive once I’ve plucked it out of your skull.” Jack sat back down on the couch all the while staring at Peter’s eye in his hand. His focus was broken by Peter whose screams broke into a laugh. Peter laughed as though his sides were splitting. “Why are you laughing?” Jack asked in a whisper.

Finally calming himself down to a slight chuckle, Peter picked himself up off the floor and sat back down on the couch, “Good Jack, Very good! I was starting to think you weren’t serious, that you didn’t care for that poor girl.”

Jack winced, “for someone that works for the suicide hotline you’re really bad at keeping yourself alive. Tick me off again and this conversation comes to an end. I’ll make you watch as I start hacking off pieces. Questions be damned.” For the first time Peter thought it prudent to remain silent. Jack’s eyes turned to Heather’s room as he choked out the words, “How did you do it?”

A stream of scarlet red flowed out Peter’s empty eye socket and down the raised corner of Peter’s mouth and continued down meeting with the recently sealed cut at his throat. It looked like he was crying a tear of blood.

It was Saturday at 7:43pm when Peter called Heather. “Hello Heather, sorry I had to leave in such a rush yesterday, but I’m sure Jack explained everything to you afterwards.”

“Yes of course, he said you had to go prepare to make a killing. I didn’t know you were a comedian Peter! No wonder you’re so funny!” Peter’s eyes shut in exasperation by Jack’s ridiculous cover story.

“Heather, I wanted to ask about when you locked yourself in your room. Has Jack ever abused you? If you feel trapped or afraid I can…”

Heather interrupted, “No, no, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s an understanding we have with each other. I understand there are things about Jack he would rather not tell me.” She let out a soft laugh, “To tell you the truth, I think he’s just too embarrassed. But I don’t mind, really. As far as I know, he’s perfect.”

Peter said somberly, “If I told you I knew Jack’s darkest secret, would you want me to tell you?”

“What? No! Of course not! I would want Jack to tell me . . . when he’s ready.”

“You’re lying Heather, not to me, but to yourself. You made it clear yesterday that you don’t want to know what Jack really does. In fact, I think you already know, but can’t admit it to yourself.”

After a long pause she said, “Peter, why are you calling me?”

“I’m concerned about you Heather. I think you might be in danger.” “What? Why?” “I think Jack is a murderer.”

Half laughing, Heather said, “What? You can’t be serious.”

“Do you know where he is right now?”

Heather hesitated before answering, “Outside sitting in his car.”

“Why?” Peter asked even though he knew full well why, “Is he watching you?”

After a moment she answered, “Yes… I waived at him and he waived back.”

“Please tell me you find this whole thing rather strange.”

“Yes okay, He is being a little odd but I don’t see what makes you think he’s a murderer.”

“He threatened to kill me,” Peter said bluntly.

In an attempt to try to sound reassuring she said, “Oh well Jack can come off intimidating sometimes that’s for sure, but I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Heather, I’m being completely serious. The guy pulled out a knife and was going to slit my throat. I have the scar to prove it.”

Finally concern and doubt began to strain Heather’s voice, “But why would he want to kill you?”

“I think he wants to keep you separated from everyone, that way no one goes asking around when you go missing. He knew that I was getting closer to you and he must have realized I was the one that told you to reconnect with people. He wanted me to never speak with you again.”

“Why are you telling me all this now?”

“Because I wasn’t able to build the courage to tell you until now. I was afraid because, like you said, he can be very intimidating.” In between Peter speaking, it dawned on him what a fantastic liar he was. “I know how crazy I must sound right now but is there anything in the house that you can use to protect yourself with?”

Trying to hold back tears she replied, “He’s hidden a gun behind my fridge that he doesn’t know I know about.”

“I want you to take the gun go to your room and wait there. I’m going to call the police, whatever you do don’t let him into the house, just wait there...” Peter hung up the phone and went straight to Heather’s home.