Part 41 – Scratch the Itch

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He used to be afraid of the dark. The idea was quaint now, like most childhood fears, he’d outgrown it. It had moved from irrational to ironic. There, behind the bushes, sheltered under a starless sky, he realized he’d become the object of his fear. The very thing he worried would come for him in the dark. A roving, heartless killer.

Keep telling yourself that. Maybe someday you’ll believe it.

He slapped at the sides of his head. Even if the blows wouldn’t quell the voices, the pain was a distraction. He’d need that; the itching was getting worse. It felt different from his childhood compulsions, rubbing away at his filthy skin until it was raw. It was never enough; he suspected that was why they took him away, but even without the screaming and the beating, the itching remained.

The woods were not an ideal spot for someone like that. The dirt and the bugs, and the fragrant muck. He wasn’t built for this life.

The lights flickered and pulsed. Mocking his expulsion, denying him their warm glow and sanitation.

Just give in. I’m sure there is handwash in here. At least break into the restroom and wash up.

He couldn’t risk it, not yet.

Staying late and cleaning up in the public restroom each morning used to do the trick. He worked there, so no one questioned why he’d be around. Even if he was only there to clean up in the bathroom. He used his own stuff; the soap Sophie bought was too fragrant, but no one was ever there early enough to notice.

It was tempting, but too risky. He had to be sure.

You were sure of the last one. What makes you think this time will be any different?

It would lie to him, mislead him if it could. It had before.

Before he did it again, he had to be sure…

Crouching low to the ground, he made his way through the brush and over the gravel.

He had to be careful; even a passing car could expose him.

Go in the back. You still have the key.

It was tempting. But if he went that far, he’d have to go all the way.

Can you feel that?

He could, the low radiating power of the place. But like a slow-boiling frog, he had to endure. There was no way out of the pot.

You’re avoiding the truth.

But he wasn’t. He knew the difference. He knew what the price was to escape this cycle.

Then what’s stopping you?

He just had to ignore it and endure.

He was in the light now, obvious to anyone on the outside.

But not to her.

The blonde was standing at the counter. Completely oblivious to his presence, she leaned into a textbook. She looked so similar, especially under the radiant light of the convenience store. It was almost uncanny, but there was something missing: the unnatural weariness few people noticed. This one, she just looked tired.

No, she looks alone.

He ran his thumb over the knife at his side.

It would be so easy. She didn’t even know him; she’d never see it coming.

And with no one around, you can just double back to the woods.

They’d find the body in the morning. But by then he’d be long gone.

If there were a body at all.

That was a good point. It wasn’t the first body to disappear. Hell, some would say he disappeared.

I know a trick I can show you. We can get rid of the body together.

He slapped himself across the face…That was getting too close. He was too close.

Time was running out; he could only stay there for so long. He had to decide.

Was she the one?

The external lights of the station flickered, sending a jolt of panic through him.

He ducked down, hoping no attention was drawn to him. Hoping that bit of treachery hadn’t sealed his fate.

There was silence…maybe he was safe after all?

Peeking through the window again, his fear abated. Yes, she was still there. Still reading…a calm, unassuming smile plastered on her face.

Ignorance is bliss.

Still, his time had run out, and he wasn’t sure.

Better take one for the road, then.

A slight nod and a twist of the body.

He held up his phone and snapped a picture.


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Published by Jacob Marsh

Jacob Marsh is a horror, thriller, and fantasy author. When he isn’t writing, you can find him posting tiny monsters on social media or podcasting about video games.

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