“We have to stop him,” Eden whispered as I helped her into her nightshirt. “He killed Dave. We have to stop him.”
“I want to tell you a story,” I said, trying to sound calm. I kept my voice low and steady.
I guided her to her bed. I kept my arm around her trembling shoulders. I tried to soothe her.
“I don’t want to hear a story, Hope,” Eden choked out. “I want to call the police— now.”
I tucked her into bed. “It’s a short story,” I said softly. “Lie back, Eden. Close your eyes. You’ve had a terrible shock.”
“Darryl is crazy,” she whispered. A single tear ran down her cheek. “Crazy. Did he really think I was you? Is that why he killed Dave? Is it?”
“Eden—sshhhh,” I replied. I smoothed my hand over her light-brown hair. “Take a deep breath. You’re okay. You’re safe and sound now.”
“But Dave—” A sob escaped her throat. She jerked herself up from the pillow. “Call the police now, Hope. Please—do it now.”
“I can’t,” I said, keeping my voice low and soothing. “Let me tell you my story, Eden. It’s a very short story.”
She settled back on the pillow. Her chest heaved up and down. She whimpered quietly with each breath.
Smoothing my hand through her hair, I started my story. “When I was a kid, my mother used to buy all my clothes for me. Even in high school, she wouldn’t allow me to choose what I wore.
“I know that sounds kind of mean. Because all kids like to have a say about what they wear. But, believe me, Eden, choosing all my clothes wasn’t the meanest thing my mother did.
“The meanest thing was the size she picked out for me. You see, my mother always bought my clothes a size too small. I’m not talking about one or two items. I mean everything I ever wore.
“All of my skirts, all of my tops and T-shirts, all of my jeans. Even my shoes. Year after year—my whole childhood—I had to squeeze into my clothes.
“When I was a six, my mother bought me all fours. And when I was a ten, she bought me eights. And if I protested, if I made a fuss about the size, she threatened to take the clothes away and leave me nothing at all to wear.
“And so I got used to squeezing into my clothes, Eden,” I continued, trying not to reveal my anger, trying to keep my voice calm. “I got used to always being uncomfortable. Always looking gross and ridiculous.
“I got used to being unhappy,” I said. “And do you know why my mother did it? Do you know why she always made me wear clothes that were too small for me? You know the answer, don’t you?
“Because she thought I was too fat. And she never wanted me to forget it for a minute. Every time I got dressed, I was reminded. Every time …”
My voice trailed off. I couldn’t go on. So many bad memories. So many horrible things I held inside.
“Why … ?” Eden murmured, staring up at me. “Hope—why did you tell me that story tonight?”
“Haven’t you guessed?” I asked softly. “I told you that story because Darryl is the first person in my life who doesn’t care that I am overweight.”
“But, Hope—” Eden started.
I smoothed her hair. Gently. Keeping a steady rhythm.
“He’s the only one who ever liked me just the way I am,” I told her. “And that means so much to me. It means everything to me. I can’t give him up that easily. Do you understand, Eden?
“I can’t give him up no matter what he does,” I confessed. “Because he’s the only one I’ve got.”
Eden whispered a reply. I couldn’t hear her. I wiped a tear from my eye. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying.
I sat beside Eden’s bed, soothing her, trying to comfort her. I’m not sure how long.
Finally, she fell into a fitful sleep.
I gazed down at her, watching the rise and fall of her chest beneath the covers, listening to her shallow breathing.
And then a voice from behind me rasped, “Okay, Hope. Go ahead. You can strangle her now.”
chapter 20
I whirled around. “Darryl—” I whispered.
He stood behind me, breathing hard, his hair wild, his sweatshirt stained with dark blood.
“Get out!” I cried. “I mean it. Get out! Get down to your room.”
“She saw me, Hope,” Darryl whispered, gazing down at Eden, his eyes red-rimmed. Crazy eyes. “She saw me. I can’t let her live. I can’t trust her. I have to—”
He reached out both hands as if to strangle her.
I shoved him away.
“Get out,” I repeated. “Get out now, Darryl Leave Eden alone. And go away.”
“I want to tell you what happened,” he insisted. “I saw your clothes. I saw that other boy. I—”
“Just leave,” I said firmly, staring him down.
“I have to explain,” he protested. “Hope—you’ve always listened to me before. Give me a chance.”
He pulled me to my feet. He slid his arms around my waist and held me close. “You’ve always listened to me,” he whispered. “You’ve always understood.”
I let him hold me for a moment. Then I lifted his hands and pushed him away. “Darryl, there’s nothing to explain,” I whispered.
His mouth dropped open. He swept his thick, auburn hair off his forehead. “No. I want to explain. Give me a chance, Hope.”
I glanced down at Eden, sleeping so lightly. Whimpering in her sleep.
“Explain,” I told Darryl. “Go ahead.”
He stared back at me, his mouth still open. Blood had caked on his neck. On his chin.
“Explain,” I repeated, challenging him.
His expression changed. He stood tensely. He swept his hair back again. “I—I can’t explain.” He sighed. “You’re right. There is no explanation. I lost it, Hope. That’s all.”
His eyes locked on mine. “What can I do?” he asked. He sounded like a lost little boy. “What can I do now, Hope? Tell me.”
“Go downstairs to your room,” I instructed him.
He nodded obediently.
“You don’t want to be caught up here on the girls’floor,” I continued. “Especially with that blood caked all over you.”
He rubbed the front of his sweatshirt.
“Get rid of all your clothes,” I told him. “Put them all in a bag. Toss it in the incinerator. Then get yourself cleaned up. Take a long, hot bath.”
He nodded again. “Then what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He lowered his gaze to Eden. “What do we do about her? We can’t let her tell the police.”
“I’ll deal with Eden,” I promised.
“How?” Darryl cried. “How? If she turns me in, Hope, they’ll take me away forever. We’ll never see each other again.”
“We—we can’t talk about that now,” I stammered. I felt a sharp stab of anger. “You should have thought of that before,” I told Darryl. “Before you started killing people.”
The light in his eyes faded. “I only did it for you,” he murmured, turning away.
And then he turned back to me, his mouth curled in a defiant sneer. “And I’ll kill again, Hope. I promise I will Tell that to your friend Eden, I won’t let anyone separate you and me. Tell her I’ll kill again if I have to.”
His words sent a tremor of fear down my body.
I couldn’t let him kill again.
But what could I do? How could I stop him?
chapter 21
The clock radio woke me up at eight the next morning. And the first thing I heard was a news report about Eden’s friend.
I sat up, feeling cold all over. A deep chill.
Instantly wide awake, the words rang through my mind. And stayed there. I remember every word the radio reporter said:
“The slashed and mutilated body of an Ivy State student was found late last night at the Garrison Corners Driving Range near the campus. The student’s name is being withheld until police can notify his parents.
“Police are s
eeking a young woman for questioning. The attendant on duty at the driving range saw the young woman with the murder victim.
“Since this is the second vicious murder of a student in the past two weeks, police have opened a widespread investigation. College officials are meeting this morning to discuss how to deal with frightened students.”
The words sent chill after chill down my back. I sat up stiffly in bed. Picturing Darryl. Picturing the poor dead boy.
Eden’s friend.
The police were looking for Eden.
I tried to shake off my chills.
Eden … Eden … Eden …
I turned toward her bed. She lay on her side, snoring lightly. One arm trailed down over the bed, her light-brown hair tumbling over her face.
I knew what Eden would do as soon as she woke up. As soon as she heard the police were looking for her.
She would go to them. She would go to the police station and tell them everything. She would turn in Darryl. And describe what Darryl had done.
And I would never see Darryl again. Never see the only boy who ever cared about me.
“I can’t let you do that, Eden,” I murmured aloud.
I climbed up from bed. Stretched. Straightened my nightshirt.
Then I crossed to Eden’s bed and shook her shoulders gently. “Eden—wake up. We have to talk.”
She awoke with a start. Blinked her eyes wide. “Huh?” She stared up at me as if she didn’t recognize me. As if she didn’t know where she was.
“It’s me,” I said. “I have to talk to you.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Oh, wow. Hope—I was having the worst dream.”
I sighed. “Real life is probably scarier than your dream,” I said sadly.
She sat up slowly. I could practically see the thoughts running through her mind. I could see her remembering … reliving the horrifying scene at the driving range.
The radio news droned on in the background. The distant, high wail of a siren floated in from the open window.
“Dave…” Eden said softly. Her voice was still hoarse from sleep. She cleared her throat again and turned to me. “Hand me the phone, Hope.”
I didn’t move. “Why?” I demanded.
“I have to call the police,” she replied firmly.
“We have to talk about this,” I insisted. I put a hand on her shoulder. But she brushed it away.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she replied sadly. Her eyes were dull. Dead. She spoke lifelessly, almost as if talking in her sleep.
“I can’t think straight,” she continued. “I can’t think at all. I can’t think of anything but Dave. And Darryl. Darryl being so vicious. Like a wild, ferocious animal.”
She took a deep breath. “Hand me the phone, Hope.”
I shook my head. “No. Wait, Eden.”
“Wait? Wait for what?” she demanded sharply. She lowered her feet to the floor. Her hands gripped the bedspread tightly, tensely.
“I don’t want you to turn Darryl in,” I said, slowly, softly. “Not yet, anyway.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Eden said in a trembling voice. “I really don’t.”
“Let me deal with Darryl,” I urged. “Let me get him the help he needs.”
“Help? Help?” A scornful laugh burst from Eden’s throat. “He doesn’t need help. He needs to be locked up. He needs to be put away—forever.”
“Eden, please, listen—” I pleaded.
But she jumped up. Pushed me aside. Moved toward the desk, her bare feet thudding on the carpet.
“He’s a dangerous animal, Hope,” she said, her jaw clenched. “He’s a vicious animal.”
I hurried up beside her. She reached for the phone on the desk. But I pulled her hand away.
“Wait. Let me tell you a story,” I pleaded. “It won’t take long. Then—”
She let out a shriek. “No! No more stories, Hope! It’s too late for stories.”
She turned to me and put her hands on my shoulders. She brought her face close to mine. Her eyes burned into me. “I know how you feel,” she uttered in a trembling voice. “At least I think I do.”
“No, you don’t,” I insisted. “If you did—”
“I know how much you care about Darryl,” she continued. “I know how much you want to be with him.”
Her expression hardened. “But it’s time for a reality check, Hope. It’s time for you to realize that you can’t protect Darryl. You can’t protect him, and you can’t hide him. He has to pay for what he’s done. And you’ll just have to get over him.”
“No … No, Eden. Please—” I begged.
But she picked up the phone and raised it to her ear.
She pressed 0.
I can’t let her! I told myself.
My heart thudded in my chest. The room started to tilt and sway.
I can’t let her make this call!
“Eden—please!” I felt so dizzy. The room bounced and tilted, as if we were in an earthquake. As if my whole world was falling apart …
“Eden—!”
She ignored me. Turned her back. Pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello? Operator?”
Frantic, I whirled around.
Picked up Angel’s hair dryer.
Grabbed it by the nozzle—and swung the heavy handle at Eden’s head.
It connected with a loud thonnnnk.
Her skull made a cracking sound. Like eggshells breaking.
Eden groaned.
Her eyes shot open in shock. Then they rolled up into her head.
With another groan, she slumped lifelessly to the carpet.
She sprawled on her stomach, one leg bent beneath her.
The phone fell from her hand and bounced across the floor.
“Ohhh.” I dropped the heavy hair dryer. Pressed my hands against the sides of my face.
And stared down at my friend’s unmoving body. Stared in disbelief.
“What have I done?” I shrieked.
“What have I done?”
chapter 22
Eden groaned.
Her hands twitched.
“Oh, thank goodness!” I cried.
I hadn’t killed her. She was alive. She’d only been stunned.
I knelt down beside her. I saw a dark red bruise already forming just below her hairline.
But she’s alive, I saw gratefully.
Now what?
My heart pounded. The room tilted again, and I lost my balance.
I rubbed my forehead. Blinked, trying to make the room stand still.
I suddenly felt so hot. Burning hot. My face. My neck. My entire body.
As if a raging fever had swept over me. Like those rivers of red-hot molten lava you see in films about volcanoes.
I trembled from the heat. I struggled to climb to my feet. But the room danced around me. And the waves of heat—rising all around—made me so dizzy.
My head … swimming … swimming …
Sometimes when you have a high fever, you see crazy things. Bright colors. Strange objects.
And you think crazy thoughts. You believe you’re okay, that you’re thinking clearly. But your thoughts are wild. Totally insane.
I think that’s what happened to me.
I think that’s what the fever did to me.
Because as I struggled to steady the spinning, tilting room … as I struggled to stop the loud throbbing of my heart… to stop trembling … sweating … shaking all over from the raging heat … As I struggled to think clearly, I acted.
I moved.
I acted without thinking. Without even realizing what I was doing.
And when my mind finally cleared, I saw what I had done. I had tied Eden’s arms behind her back. Tied her ankles together.
I had tied her up with bath towels. Bath towels rolled up, rolled tightly. I had tied up my friend and taped her mouth shut with strip after strip of masking tape.
I had pulled her to a sitting position.
Her eyes were open
now. She looked up at me groggily. Struggled to speak but could only grunt.
She stared at me, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. Questioning me.
What are you doing, Hope? What are you going to do to me?
Silent questions I couldn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know what I was doing.
Gripped by the sudden fever. Gripped by my desperate desire to protect the only boy who ever cared for me.
Gripped by some crazy, invisible force, I didn’t know what I was doing. Or what I was about to do.
But I bent over Eden. Slid my hands under her armpits. And pulled her.
Pulled her over the carpet.
She squirmed and tried to kick me. But I had tied her tightly. She couldn’t free herself. She couldn’t get away.
I pulled with all my strength. Dragged her. Dragged her …
She tried to hold back. But her body slid over the carpet.
“I’m not going to hurt you!” I gasped. My voice came out so high and shrill.
“Mmmmmm! Mmmmmmppppf!” she tried to protest. She tried to shout at me through the layers of masking tape.
I dragged her across the room. Past the bunkbed that belonged to Angel and Jasmine.
It’s so lucky they had early classes, I thought.
And then I thought: If they were here in the room, would I be doing this? What would I be doing?
Eden kicked out both legs. She tried to dig her heels into the carpet.
But I dragged her past the bunkbed. Into the clothes closet against the back wall.
“Mmmmmppp! Mmmmmmmppph!”
I shut the door so I wouldn’t have to hear her muffled cries. I slammed the door hard. And leaned back against the wall, gasping for breath. My heart pounding … pounding so hard, I thought it might burst.
My mouth felt so dry. My throat ached. Every muscle in my body quivered.
I wiped sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my nightshirt. Took deep breaths. Slower. Slower.
Waited for my breathing to return to normal. And listened.
Could I hear Eden’s gagged protests through the closet door? Could I hear the thud of her feet kicking the closet floor?
No.
Silence in the room now. Silence except for my wheezing breaths.