Chapter Six: Alicia

"Okay... are you ready now, honey?"

I slowly raise my jade green eyes and glare at the back of Dr. Oliver's gray notepad; He's tapping his expensive pen against it. He's a slender Asian guy of about thirty-five, and has a full head of jet-black hair. He's pretty nice to me. His dull and droning voice is getting on my nerves, but I decide to cooperate. Wiping the watered-down black mascara from my cheeks, I take a drawn-out breath and sigh, composing myself.

"Stop calling me honey."

"…sure, Alicia. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Thank you."

"So… are you ready?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"All right. Now… how was… how strong was your relationship to Michael?"

It takes me a minute to hold back my tears. "We were close. Very… personal with each other."

"Well-"

"We made out a lot. Some of my friends say we did it too much. But…" I fade away.

"Do you-"

"But I didn't think so. He was a great kisser. Amazing. But his teeth were really… sharp."

I realize what I have just said, and tears well up in my eyes once again.

"Shhhhhh. Alicia, I know you're a little dismayed, but-"

"Dismayed?" I interrupt. My tears dry up. "Do you… do you think you know what I know? Do you really believe that your eyes are open to the horrible things that I've seen?"

"Honey, I'm a psychiatrist; I've seen plenty of-"

"Doctor, you may not think I'm old or wise enough to grasp the essence of horror, but I assure you, my eyes are open to a greater reality," I snap at him. I can feel an evil grin take over my face, and a spirit of malevolence graciously overcomes my disposition. Dr. Oliver seems uncomfortable in his seat. "…So when you sit there with your little pen and take your useless notes, keep in mind that I've just been through some serious shit. My boyfriend… ate someone. No – more than just someone.He's devoured thirty Goddamn people. So don't assume that I'm dismayed. Dismayed… it doesn't even scratch the surface."

The psychiatrist stops tapping his pen.

…I have no idea what came over me. I'm just so devastated by this, and it's making me paranoid.

Dr. Oliver is silent for a few seconds, then clears his throat and calmly addresses me.

"What happened, Alicia?"

It takes me a minute, and I angrily answer him, staring at the carpet. "We were fine; he walked me to class, then we made out and he walked away. I went into my chemistry class."

"And then?"

I compose myself and cool down. I glance up. "Well… then I heard these noises outside. Disgusting smooching noises. I mean, it sounded like someone was getting beat up at first, but after a while, it just seemed like… ugh. I ran outside and saw… I saw him. I saw Michael just beating the living brains of some kid! But… after he was dead, he bit the kid's throat out! I couldn't take it – I threw up. By the time I finished, he just… ran off. I never… I never knew what sparked it…"

I pause to sob for a few minutes, my reddened and moist eyes itching from the vast amount of sour tears I've wept. I suddenly feel like I need to throw up. My stomach is twisting into tight little sinews of sorrow, and my brain gradually slips away from me. It's too stuffy in this little room, and the incense that the psychiatrist is burning isn't helping me at all. I wobble back and forth, my head feeling like a cinder block. I slowly rise out of the comfy little velvet chair, but I feel as if I've been tossed into a blender. I break down and sickly howl with grief.

"…I loved him!"

I can hear the doctor screaming my name, and it makes my uneasy status slip even deeper into nausea. The acid fights its way out of my stomach, twisting and gurgling in a rabid tornado that I can't ignore. The monsoon rages around my slightly crooked teeth and soaks my braces, burning me and splitting apart my mahogany-lipsticked mouth. The waterfall of fire spews from my lips, gritty, oily, pasty and slimy as it escapes from my throat. I keel over and let my yellow stomach contents splatter to the floor, staining the rich carpet and splashing all over my chest. The final bubbles of grit and gunk dribble from my previously full and glossy lips, and I scream: "I LOVED HIM!"

I wipe my mouth and stumble over into a corner to sob, overcome by the smell of my own vomit. I know that my black makeup is running all over my face, but I don't care the least bit; the only person I ever loved, the boy that understood me and my problems… eats people. He eats people. HE EATS PEOPLE! My tongue was in his fucking mouth!

I wriggle around in my little corner, dry heaving and shaking with paranoia. Where's Michael? Is he alive? Has he killed anyone since I last saw him?

My vision is fading in and out, but I notice Dr. Oliver rushing toward me, dropping his notepad and pulling me to my feet. He holds me up, dragging my dead weight out of his office and sitting me down into a hardwood chair. His secretary calls someone, and he shines the little light on the end of his pen into my eyes. He says something that I can't make out, and in seconds, the entire picture fades to black.

---

I awake with a sharp gasp, warm and freezing at the same time. The ugly, gritty vomit taste has disappeared, and has been replaced with the generic flavor of saliva. It's pitch black, but I'm pretty certain that I'm in my own bed. My favorite pillow, personally stuffed with crow feathers, caresses the back of my head. I've always embraced the darkness as my playmate, but tonight… it seems to envelop itself around me, to choke me to death, and I jump at the thought.

Or perhaps it wasn't just the darkness that made me jump.

I glance around aimlessly, unsure about what I'm truly afraid of. It's no use – I can't see anything in this gloom. The heat is getting to me, and I throw off the thick comforter and stay alert. Truthfully, I'm not expecting anything to – AUGH!

A ragged hand grasps my arm and digs its nails into my flesh and I yelp, scared out of my mind. My limbs are flopping all over the place, and another arm wraps around my stomach. I try to wrench myself away from the assault, but my attacker is too strong – he pushes me back down on the bed and hops on top of me, pinning me to my mattress.

"Alicia!"

"NO!"

"Alicia!"

I writhe around with my eyes shut tight, kicking and screaming against this shadowy demon. I get in a powerful blow to his cheek, but it just makes him more aggressive. He violently hugs me against his body softly biting my shoulder and gripping my back with his fingers deadlocked to my skin.

"Get the hell off of me!"

"Shut up for a minute!"

Am I getting raped? What the f-

My attacker leans in and presses his wet lips against mine. I'm an earthquake at this point – it's amazing that he's still hanging on to me! I try to get away, to…

He slips his ragged tongue into my mouth, and I instantly know who it is. I sluggishly open my eyes and stare into the face of my one true soul-mate.

"Michael…!"

"Alicia."
He gets off of me, and I take a deep breath, trying to look him over as he brushes himself off; it's useless, there isn't enough light for me to really see him. He walks to my closed door and flips the light switch on, grabbing a towel off of the floor and shoving it under the crack as he did so. The blazing glow seeps in through my squinting eyes, but I force myself to adjust. Michael cracks his knuckles and his neck, then walks to my window and closes the curtains.

"They'll be looking for me; I only plan to stay for a minute."

The words slip past me – I can't get over the fact that he's actually here. My little Mickey came back to me! No! No, what am I thinking, he's eaten people! He's ripped people to pieces and shoved them down his throat! But…I can't resist the fact that I love him. I sigh and stare at him. Michael looks so pale; I wonder when that last time he ate was? Does he depend on eating? I mean are human beings all that he can eat? He did pile roast beef on everything that he ate. …or at least I think it was roast beef.

He finishes brushing off his jacket (to no effect; it's still filthy) and runs his fingers through his dusty, wavy hair. I notice that his finger has been chopped off completely. His eyes wander over to mine, and he stares at me, frowning. I frown back.

"I heard about what happened at the hospital, Mike."

"…who told you?"

"The police and my psychiatrist."

"How much did they tell you?"

"I know that you killed seventeen people in there, that's for damn sure."

"Eighteen."

"What?"

"Eighteen if you count the old woman. The police probably thought that the SWAT team accidentally shot her-"

"You killed an old woman, you fucking monster?!"

"She was halfway comatose, okay?!"

"Augh! That makes it worse!"

"Well, it was a prison hospital! She was a convict – she'd killed someone too! It's not like she didn't deserve it!"

"That doesn't matter – you killed an old lady, Michael!"

"I didn't mean to! Well, I meant to, but it was in self-defense!"

"The massacre of eighteen people doesn't count as self-defense, you asshole!"

He's quiet for a few moments, stewing in his thoughts.

"I need to get out of here. I'll be surprised if your parents didn't hear us."

He starts to the window, but I hop out of bed and stop him on the way there. There's no way I'm going to let him leave without me.

"I'm coming with you."

"Excuse me?"

"Take me somewhere where we can talk without being caught. I want to know what happened."
"There is no way in Hell that you're going to leave this house."

"Michael, if you leave I swear I'll tell the police-"

He turns around, calm. He yanks my hand around to my back, popping it out of the socket and shoving me into a state of unimaginable pain. He shoves his fist into my mouth, stifling my agonizing scream. Drool makes its way around his fingers as I collapse to my knees and sob. I'm too incapacitated to fight back.

"Shhhh, baby. Calm down…"

I scream in my head: How can I be calm when you're choking me to death and you've almost ripped my arm off?!

"Pick up your feet."

I don't respond. Holding me in this position, he quietly clicks off the light and drags me out of my bedroom and into the hallway. I squeal as he jerks my arm, lugging me into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. With his hand still in my mouth, he carefully pops my arm back into position, and I fall to my hands and knees, coughing violently and hugging my swelling joint.

"That HURT!"

"Oh, you think?"

"What the hell is your problem?!"

He rushes right into my face, and in the dim light of my brother's Spongebob Squarepants nightlight, I can truly focus on his beautiful grey eyes. The faint smell of meat is laden on his breath, and I wonder why I've never noticed it before.

"My problem is your little dreams of following me. If you come, you'll slow me down, and you'll get mekilled. They don't just want to catch me this time – they've got orders to kill me on sight. If anybody so much as glances at me, they'll pump me full of bullets."

I'm quiet as he angrily whispers at me. My eyes begin to tear up with fear and exhaustion.

"I wouldn't be surprised if I'm on the Most Wanted list already. Everything was fine, Alicia! Everything was fine until you had to fuck it all up!"

He storms from the bathroom, mumbling "Why the hell did I even come here?"

Quietly jogging around the corner and down the stairs, he tiptoes away from me, praying that my parents or little brother won't wake up. In seconds, he disappears into the darkness without another sound.

I rise to my feet, fuming with anger and sudden courage. I tiptoe off into the shadows, but the unbearable darkness stops me from proceeding.

"Damn…" I whisper, unable to follow Michael. I can hear his footsteps getting fainter and fainter, and I hastily look around for a flashlight or a candle or something… aha! I rush back into the bathroom and snatch my brother's nightlight off of the wall. A small surge of electricity, and everything plunges into darkness.

A few steps forward… one more… okay, now I'm in the hallway. The cold and cruel bathroom floor has been replaced by cheap, fuzzy carpeting. The fibers embrace my bare toes as I knead my feet into the puke-green carpet.

I don't bother to scan around; my memory must guide me through this hallway. I take four steps forward and bump into a wall. My fingers slide along the rough paint, steering me along the side of the wall and toward the stairs. I kneel down, feeling my way to… yes! I fumble with the nightlight and shove it into the empty outlet, and a blast of soft luminance fills the hallway. Something clatters downstairs in the kitchen, signifying that the cannibalistic monster is still in my house.

I take a good look at the dimly lit scene in front of me, and then yank out the little plastic Spongebob, continuing on my way through the gloom. I creak down each step with a tense excitement, clutching the light in my sweaty hand. I reach the bottom of the stairs and tiptoe around the corner.

Okay… I'm in the living room now. Three wide steps send me around another corner, and I confirm my position by laying my trembling fingers on a smooth picture frame at my left. I quickly fall to my knees and begin to crawl along the wall, searching for the next outlet… there! Once again, I shove the plug into the outlet and watch as the living room becomes bathed in a dim yellow glow. Another clatter in the kitchen.

I leave Spongebob in his place and inch over to the kitchen door, trying to catch Michael off guard. But… now that I think about it, maybe I should just let him go. I mean, what am I going to do, even if I catch him? Hold him down for the police? Convince him to let me tag along? This entire thing seems pointless… but if anything, I just want to hug him one last time, to feel his warm body against mine. I push open the door.

"Alicia?"

"Jeffrey?"

My 11-year old brother is standing in the darkness with a spoon dug into a new gallon of strawberry ice cream. I keep the kitchen door open so that the nightlight spills onto him, glinting off of his glasses. He shoves the spoon into his pocket.

"Alicia, I…um…"

Jesus Christ, where did he come from?!

"Wha... um… don't worry, Jeff…"

I let go of the door and stride over to the refrigerator, opening it to let the bright fluorescent light out of its eternal prison. Jeffrey is bathed in white radiance that is almost as intense as daylight. We both squint as I hold the door open with my foot, trying to reach over to grab a spoon from the open drawer. I shove it into the melting pink ice cream and take a feeble bite.

"You can't sleep either?" He asks.

"Um… yeah. I was just thinking."

"About him?"

I sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

"Always."

My brother smiles at me, and I return the favor. He places his sticky spoon in the sink and leaves the ice cream on the counter for me. He walks up to me and gives me a soft, affectionate hug.

"I love you. Try to get some sleep, Alicia."

I'm crying on the inside, but I grin, patting his back and sending him on his way. I let the fridge door close.

Maybe I'm losing my mind. I know I am. Shit… I wish things were different for me.

Suddenly exhausted, I forget about the melting ice cream on the counter and stumble towards the kitchen door when it abruptly bursts open; two figures blast through the threshold, given an artificial yellow aura by the nightlight in the living room. Startled and trembling, I vaguely make out the figures…

"MICHAEL!"

"Shut the hell up, Alicia!"

I'm breathless as Michael inches toward me with my little brother in his grip. His jagged, carnivorous teeth are inches away from Jeffrey's throat; one false move and his blood would be splattered along the floor. Michael's eyes are blood red, and his breathing is labored. Something has possessed his mind. Trying to keep my voice down and my tears at bay, I address him:

"P-please… don't hurt him…"

"I won't if your promise me two things."

"What?"

"One: don't follow me."

"I wasn't going to!"

He ignores me. "And two: tell me where I can find your friend Amanda Clemens."

"What?"

"You call her Mandy, right?"

I shakily nod. What does he want with her? Will she get hurt?

"She has something that I want. Something that can get the police off of my back."

I'm breathing hard, trying to calm myself as Michael's teeth creep closer and closer to Jeffrey's throat.

"Why…"

"Don't ask questions, Alicia. You want your brother to live, don't you? I mean… I'm capable of self control, but I haven't eaten in two weeks, sweetheart. He looks so… appetizing."

Michael digs one of his fangs into Jeffrey's cheek and laps up the thin trickle of blood. I melt to the ground, sobbing and reaching out at my gasping little brother. I have a choice to make between my little brother and my best friend. Jeffrey begins to cry.

"1784 Prendergast Lane, you bastard! Now let him go!"

Michael grins, and then throws Jeffrey through the door and into the living room. He bolts past me, giving me a hug as I sit on the cold floor, terrified. The front door creaks open and quietly clicks closed, and the evil cannibal is finally gone.

I pluck a knife from the drawer and put my shoes on.