So young and so untender. I sat at a desk with three police officers, navy-blue uniformed. Two women and a man, they looked fairly young. Maybe new recruits, I had no idea. I sat with an icy can of soft drink, Pasito passionfruit. Pressing it against my forehead while the policemen listened and took notes. If this was an interrogation room it didn't look like one.
My neck had purple bruises. Jake had a gash on his cheek and a dent in his skull. He'd been concussed and bled out into his brain. He probably died quickly. Forensics and other analysts would determine that Jake slipped on a mug while chasing me in a mindless, murderous frenzy. He'd initiated the attack, though I'd come to his unit, but he'd undone the locks and let me in. And he'd messaged me his address after I'd said I wanted to see him.
When they asked for my story I decided to give them the truth. Without admitting to being a believer of occultist witchcraft, I confessed to being suspicious due to a series of random coincidences including a near-death experience earlier on in the week. The officers didn't scoff but observed me silently. Maybe it'd make me sound like a psychotic killer, but I was too exhausted, both emotionally and physically. So I was truthful. I told them about my conversation with Jake at the rocky beach cliff-face Saturday night. He was clearly obsessed with me as well as delusional. With no intention to cause violence or make him upset, I'd shown up to ask about black magic and request that he stop using it on me. I did this in person believing that the authorities would be unable to help me. It wasn't my intention to provoke him.
"I just wanted Jake- sorry Jesse, to stop."
The overhead lightbulb hung on a cord, making the white table and walls brighter. The carpet was dusty blue and the walls cream gyprock. When they let me leave my parents were both pale-faced as they came in to take me home. The front room of the police station had a line of people waiting at the counter, security glass over the top like in banks. Papers and little cards pinned up about domestic violence and other services. Both Dad and Mum spoke quietly to me in the car. If they spoke to police and were told it was suspected Jake had been obsessed with me romantically, maybe they'd soon start to speculate I was gay. My older brothers all had girlfriends in high school and I never had. Maybe they would ease off the pressure after all.
Jesse Jackson Cowles was a creature I wouldn't soon forget. His insanity, his sadism, his anger. His all-encompassing spite. His supposed magical powers. My eyes had been opened to the darker side of humanity, a part of life I'd been fairly naïve to before now. I was probably going to feel unstable and distrustful for a while. After seeing how bad things almost were, how bad they could've been I found myself satisfied with normalcy. I could live a quiet and mediocre life and be both thankful and satisfied.