BROKEN BODY
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Marcy Bellows was alone in the girl’s locker room. She had just finished
her gym class, and she was glad it was over.
She despised gym, and didn’t understand why she was stuck taking it her
senior year of high school. It all seemed pointless to her.
As she stared vacantly into her locker, she thought about the letters she
had received all year from the psycho who was after her, and she felt a
strange chill crawl down her spine.
Then she smelled it. At first, she thought she imagined it, but she knew
better. In the letters, he said he would set the school on fire. He told her that
when he came for her, she would smell the smoke of her high school first, as
it went up in flames.
She closed her eyes, feeling shocked that she had received that one
letter only this morning.
Now as she dug her purse out of the locker, she carelessly dropped the
contents out of it, and everything spilled to the floor. The only thing Marcy
was holding was the letter. With trembling hands she unfolded it, and stared
at the haphazardly words glued on the paper.
Marcy,
When I come to kill you, you’ll know what day it is because first you will
smell smoke, much like a fire, then you will feel my hands around your
throat, squeezing until you die.
I will leave your body in the burning school, and be far away from here; by
the time, the authorities realize what happened. They won’t find your
remains for several days, and by then, I’ll have moved on, and found a new
victim. There will be ten of you total. Ten young beautiful girls, dead, in high
schools fires, and the irony of it will be I’ll never get caught. I’m too smart
for that.
Marcy dropped the letter, and watched it drift slowly to the floor.
As the smoke became thicker, Marcy couldn’t bring herself to move
because she knew he was already there.
Every letter, the psycho wrote to her, explained what he wanted to do
to her in vivid detail, but Marcy didn’t tell anyone about what was going
on.
She wasn’t about to upset her diabetic mother, or her drunken father,
knowing neither one of them would help her. She chose not to tell any of
her friends because she didn’t want to involve them, either.
She coughed, then, slammed her locker. She saw him standing there,
then tried to scream. Her voice echoed in the deserted locker room, mingling
through the smoke, but only for a moment. When she felt her feet leave the
floor, she knew this was it.
Marcy clawed his hands, that were around her neck, with her own, but
he never let her go.
She couldn’t believe after all her careful planning; none of it meant
anything to her anymore. When she heard the snap, she felt the air leave her
lungs, much like the air would leave a balloon.
Now she knew he would kill her, just the way he promised to do.
As she struggled to concentrate, she remembered in the letters he sent her,
he said he would kill her before she graduated, and he succeeded.
In the letters, he told her he was on a mission to kill high school seniors’
girls, for what they had done to him. He told her now he wanted to thank
each one of those girls; he dated in high school, by killing one innocent
senior every year. He told her every time he killed, it wasn’t his fault; it was
the fault of the girls he knew in high school. He blamed all of them for
leaving him with a: BROKEN BODY.
her gym class, and she was glad it was over.
She despised gym, and didn’t understand why she was stuck taking it her
senior year of high school. It all seemed pointless to her.
As she stared vacantly into her locker, she thought about the letters she
had received all year from the psycho who was after her, and she felt a
strange chill crawl down her spine.
Then she smelled it. At first, she thought she imagined it, but she knew
better. In the letters, he said he would set the school on fire. He told her that
when he came for her, she would smell the smoke of her high school first, as
it went up in flames.
She closed her eyes, feeling shocked that she had received that one
letter only this morning.
Now as she dug her purse out of the locker, she carelessly dropped the
contents out of it, and everything spilled to the floor. The only thing Marcy
was holding was the letter. With trembling hands she unfolded it, and stared
at the haphazardly words glued on the paper.
Marcy,
When I come to kill you, you’ll know what day it is because first you will
smell smoke, much like a fire, then you will feel my hands around your
throat, squeezing until you die.
I will leave your body in the burning school, and be far away from here; by
the time, the authorities realize what happened. They won’t find your
remains for several days, and by then, I’ll have moved on, and found a new
victim. There will be ten of you total. Ten young beautiful girls, dead, in high
schools fires, and the irony of it will be I’ll never get caught. I’m too smart
for that.
Marcy dropped the letter, and watched it drift slowly to the floor.
As the smoke became thicker, Marcy couldn’t bring herself to move
because she knew he was already there.
Every letter, the psycho wrote to her, explained what he wanted to do
to her in vivid detail, but Marcy didn’t tell anyone about what was going
on.
She wasn’t about to upset her diabetic mother, or her drunken father,
knowing neither one of them would help her. She chose not to tell any of
her friends because she didn’t want to involve them, either.
She coughed, then, slammed her locker. She saw him standing there,
then tried to scream. Her voice echoed in the deserted locker room, mingling
through the smoke, but only for a moment. When she felt her feet leave the
floor, she knew this was it.
Marcy clawed his hands, that were around her neck, with her own, but
he never let her go.
She couldn’t believe after all her careful planning; none of it meant
anything to her anymore. When she heard the snap, she felt the air leave her
lungs, much like the air would leave a balloon.
Now she knew he would kill her, just the way he promised to do.
As she struggled to concentrate, she remembered in the letters he sent her,
he said he would kill her before she graduated, and he succeeded.
In the letters, he told her he was on a mission to kill high school seniors’
girls, for what they had done to him. He told her now he wanted to thank
each one of those girls; he dated in high school, by killing one innocent
senior every year. He told her every time he killed, it wasn’t his fault; it was
the fault of the girls he knew in high school. He blamed all of them for
leaving him with a: BROKEN BODY.
