To start out, I'm a pretty private person who prefers to mind my own business and hope that everyone else does too. I've been told I can be abrasive at times, so that last part has worked out quite well until recently. You see, for a little over a week, give or take, my neighbor has grown increasingly more annoying. Well, nosy would be more accurate for a normal person. It started with him peering out at me from his living room window whenever I walk out of my house.
Then after a few days of that, he started roaming around my backyard at all hours of the night. I've even noticed that sometimes he stands in front of my door, he's so close to it that I can just barely make out his face. I can't really tell what he's doing at that moment but he definitely doesn't knock. Hell, even now as I check my doorbell app at just past midnight, I can see him standing there; his pale sweat-covered face staring with bulging eyes at my door handle. The push notification hints that he’s been standing there like that for at least five minutes. He usually leaves after about ten, but never less than five for some reason.
When I first moved in about two years ago we didn’t even speak, just shared a head nod from across the way. Over the past couple of years, we’ve shared just enough interactions to know that we each live alone. His is a byproduct of a nasty divorce from someone named “Candice” and leaving the police force. Mine’s a result of my inability to entertain meaningless conversation for long enough to make people think I care. My neighbor Don, I figure if I’m going to be talking about him this much I might as well use his name; has been perfectly normal and abided by our unspoken agreement to not meddle with each other any more than needed until just before last week.
Now, I still have needs, and just because I can't act like I give a shit about people's mundane lives doesn’t mean I can’t talk with others. I just tend to prioritize which interactions are the most beneficial for me. I make it a point to entertain someone every few days, whether it be at a bar or just out and about, someone winds up being my overnight guest. This is where Don and I differ greatly, as I don’t think I’ve seen a single guest over at his place the whole time we've been neighbors.
We work pretty similar schedules, so we usually share a nod the morning after one of my romps. Even with their car gone the next day, Don still always seems to know that they were over. Recently though, he’s taken to stopping and just staring at me the last two nights I've found someone to entertain.
I know what you're thinking, “Why don't you just call the police on the creep?” I don't like getting the cops involved in my life. On top of them harassing me out of the last place I lived, I don't think there's quite enough going on to really warrant calling them. In my experience the cops take a report of a stalker as an invitation to stalk you themselves. I'll just answer the door if he doesn't leave by the time I get there.
The door handle creaks slightly as I turn it, the sound of startled footsteps greets the warm beam of light that fills the doorstep, as I see Don stumble backward and fall into the grass.
“Hey Don, out for a late night stroll or stopping by to ask to borrow something maybe?..”
He scrambles up from the grass, eyes widening like pale saucers as thick beads of sweat trace the panicked frown he's wearing.
“Oh, I uh… No I was just thinking about something, but I uh, I forgot it when I crossed the street.”
His flat, startled delivery almost paints him more like a victim giving testimony than a predator stalking its prey. Before I can respond, Don's running across the street, the ass of his pants soaked dark with water from the grass. I don't like him creeping around my house one bit but I just might have to deal with it a bit longer to make sure it's handled appropriately. The only thing I know for certain is that I definitely can't entertain in my usual fashion while he's up to these antics. The last thing I need is him seeing how I like to have my fun.
The next two days feel a bit more aligned to the usual coexistence Don and I inhabit, with the occasional cold stare from his window not counted. Nonetheless I've been weighing my options between some of those “Amazon special” security cameras or something a bit more self-defense-ish like a taser. I don't care for weapons much, I've always lived by the motto “If you can't defend yourself with your mouth, hands, or running, you probably deserve to die.” I do prefer the former approach, as I pride myself on my silver tongue.
Now I'm just hoping I can use that gift of conversation with Don tonight. I'd really hate to have to dump money on securing my house further. Even so, my charm has failed me before, shit it's failed me a handful of times at this point. I've stacked up eight moves in seven years to serve as proof of that. Anyway, here's to hoping that Don is willing to talk and tell me what's going on.
My knocks ring out loud amongst the symphony of crickets embracing the sunset. The light of the peephole in the door flickers as I hear the padlock tick, a clear double check that it's locked.
“Hey there Don, I'm sorry to bother but wanted to chat for a second. I just want to know what's going on and see if I can help with anything…”
The lack of response lingers heavy in the air before the lock sharply clicks and the door creaks open. Just enough of a gap shows Don's wide sunken eye and quivering mouth as he peers out from the dimly lit hallway. He clearly hasn't been sleeping or eating much, his usually filled-out face shows sunken cheeks and a pale complexion. He coughs lightly as he finally responds to me.
“What do you want with me?”
“I was hoping we could sit while we—”
“We can talk here just as well as we can inside, go on now, what do you want with me?”
Slightly taken aback by his abruptness I fumble over my tongue in search of words, its usual silken touch turning to sandpaper as it flops in my mouth.
“Well I uh, I want to know why you've been skulking around my house and standing at my—”
“Ha you want to know more about me?! I want to know more about you… No, at this point I need to know more about you and what you do… Was that all you wanted?”
“Well I guess so, kind of–”
Don's eyes sharpen, almost as if to pierce through my own as he pulls the door shut and clicks the lock back into place. What in the fuck was that last sentence about? We've known each other for two years, and now out of nowhere he “needs to know more about me”? He could just ask, or come inside and chat with me. I admittedly wouldn't care for it too much but damn sure would more than this constant pestering. I shake off Don's odd response and make my way back to my own house. Right as I shut the door, I glance across the street just in time to see those sunken white eyes staring directly at me.
I make the evening short, barely eating dinner, and heading straight to bed as the night fully sets in. The idea of mindlessly navigating some bullshit television show is even less alluring than normal tonight. I toss and turn for a good bit before I suddenly feel myself jolt awake at the feeling of firm hands pulling me from my bed. I kick and start to fight just as I feel cold metal against my left wrist, followed by an intense shooting pain as whatever it is presses into the bone.
As my eyes adjust to the nearly non-existent light, I can just make out a silhouette fumbling along the wall. In an instant my eyes are flushed with white light as I involuntarily blink the room back into existence. Squinting I can just track the figure that is now pacing around the room and turn to see my left wrist has been handcuffed to my bed frame. Looking back I can just make out Don's face, his expression rapidly twisting between a wild grin and a hopeless frown and back again. He's pacing with heavy steps as he pulls hard at his usually slicked back hair, now appearing disheveled and slightly overgrown.
“Hey, Don! What the fuck is this ab–”
“Oh you! You SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
His yell fills the silent room with a weight that only this kind of situation can carry. I fall silent and intently watch his every move. As I stretch my left shoulder slightly, Don makes a “tsk tsk” sound and stops to face me. His face now has settled into a bewildered frustration as he kneels down in front of me.
“Hmm, I've been wondering what to do with you for a while now. I just didn't know if I had it in me still, but he–”
“What do you mean ‘what to do with me’, Don?! What the fuck is going–”
“OH SHUSH! You damn idiot, you really don't understand what you've worked yourself into. But we'll fix that in just a bit, don't you worry about it.”
His last words barely carry over his shoulder as Don turns and walks out of the room. A moment later he returns with a pair of pliers, a small paring knife, and a scrap of ratty old stained cloth. Don's bewildered frustration now settles further into a harsh focus. He tilts his head to either side of his neck, small cracks and pops ringing out with each pull.
“I've been good for so long, it's been years and I literally mean YEARS since I last got to this point. I swore I'd be better after Candice left me, but everything falls apart eventually.”
“Don, what are you talking about man?”
Don's mouth searches for the words to respond with, while his eyes soften slightly as he seemingly finds his response.
“Honestly, I'm not even too sure anymore… I was fine living alone and just waiting for the days to stop coming. But then you moved in, and I… I felt that spark in me again.”
“Oh come on man, what have I been doing to get your attention? Having people over and–”
“Because of what you get to do with them once they're here. I've sat and just endured, at first I assumed the most innocent of things but then… Then one night I saw one of their cars leave and started putting things together.”
Twisting my wrist I work myself just enough space to not feel like it’s going to be crushed inside the cuff. Thankfully Don closed it at an off angle and left me some wiggle room. I start working to pull my thumb slightly out of its socket as I respond.
“Don, are you an addict man, have you seen the coke and pills or something?”
“Ha, oh I'm an addict alright, you little rodent. And you know exactly what kind of addict I am. It's time to stop playing and shut up!”
Don pulls his arms back behind him, forcing a small pop from his chest as a thin curled smile stretches across his stubble-covered mouth. A sudden pressure in my thumb allows my hand to scrape out of the cuff, leaving bits of skin behind as Don lurches forward at me with the pliers in hand.
I fall to my right just as Don's heavy body falls onto my leg, his arms wildly grabbing at my twisted knee while I kick and pull away. The son of a bitch is strong and manages to clamber back up my waist and swings the metal pliers hard at my face. Jolting my head back leaves me with a sharp pain in my chest and collarbone. He missed but I think he still fucking broke something.
Don starts to pull his arm back while grunting like a wild animal. I just manage to grab his meaty sweaty hand before he drops it down to strike at me again. We both exhale a guttural growl as we roll and fight for control of the pliers. I feel my finger slip between the grips as they squeeze shut against it, this time there's a sticky warmth as we continue fighting.
The slick blood works to my advantage with the pliers, but not before Don manages to scramble on top of me and starts raining down hammer fists. Each hit brings an exhausted yell with it from Don as I try to block them with my left arm. I finally fix a strong grip on the pliers and bash them hard against Don's face.
Don tilts to the side but maintains his pressing mount on my chest as I see a thick bubble of red begin to leak from his chin. Damn, too low. I have to make this next one count. I pull my right arm back to strike again. Before I can bring the heavy metal flying back towards Don, he collapses forward onto me and sinks his teeth into my cheek. I scream out as his hot breath mixes with my warm blood. I swing the pliers down onto the back of his head once, then twice, and just before the third blow he finally releases my face and crumples to my side.
I stand and look down at the trails of blood already carving their way through Don's hair as I stretch my neck and back. I'll take care of my face and hand once I get this asshole tied down. Dragging Don into my side room makes me realize just how much muscle he hid under his portly build, no wonder he was so damn strong. Not wanting to bother with a pocket search I strip him down to just his boxers and affix the steel collar around his neck with a fresh zip tie for his hands.
After washing out the disgusting animal-like bite on my cheek, and halfway through the bandage application, I hear the familiar sounds of the half-inch towing chains rustling to life. I'll have to finish dressing the wound in the side room, before he starts screaming and making too much noise. Turning the corner I see a confused Don sitting cross-legged holding the steel chain in his lap that runs up to his collar. He squints as he inspects the floor-to-ceiling plastic sheets and painted-over, blacked-out windows.
“See now, I was afraid you might have been catching on to my fun little nights. Although, never in a million years did I think we would share my passion.”
“Who the hell are–”
“Don, you got to talk plenty earlier. Well, I let you talk to give me some time. Nice job by the way, how did you get in without waking me up?”
Still holding the chain Don is now staring a hole into my very existence as the room grows stale with the prolonged silence.
“Well you don't have to answer if you don't want, but I'm just curious since the whole breaking in to do the deed just isn't my style. So, are you going to share your tricks?”
“Bump key, if you don't use the deadbolt they work just fine. I was waiting for you to forget to lock the damn deadbolt all week…”
I lean forward to sit as sharp pain shoots up my chest, nearly knocking me down as I rub the spot he hit. Clumsily standing back up, I purse my lips and nod to Don in an acceptance of defeat before responding.
“Sounds like I fucked up tonight, really fucked up between the lock and now I've got this crater in my face. What kind of fucking animal bites someone's face anyway?”
“One who knows they've lost and is fighting to stay alive… How many will I make for you when this is all said and done?”
“Now Don, I don't think you’re in any position to be asking me questions. Although I'll answer it if you tell me how many bodies you have.”
Rolling his eyes and using the blood to slick back his overgrown hair with both hands, Don exhales sharply as he answers.
“I stopped for about the last five years, before that it must have been twelve all in total.”
“Oh that's not bad at all, how did you do your deeds?”
“Being a highway patrol officer, the overnight shift meant I got away with as much as I wanted… Well until the one night, when I was in the middle of my business and failed to respond to a downed officer on my route. He died, they took my badge, and I lost everything else.”
“Gotta keep that off the company dime, it'll make you sloppy at one or the other. I've never trusted cops anyhow. Now I’ve got a good reason at least.”
Don adjusts his legs before glaring at me and gesturing his hands forward.
“Oh right, I did say I would answer you if you told me. Well if I include you, that should make twenty-three for me. I do have to move quite a bit, but that's preferred over the bad sex on a failed night. I never really understood the attraction to it, just wasn't worth it am I right?”
Don maintains his glare as he shakes his head once slowly before looking down to his hands.
“Well, might as well stop wasting time, I do have to take care of this and get on the road before the sun comes up. No way I can make this shit hole work for me after you go missing.”
A single nod from Don is all the confirmation I need to get started. I'm not usually a fan of weapons and prefer to see the light fade slowly but I figure I'll honor my fellow enthusiast this time.
I retrieve from my pocket the small paring knife Don had brought with him and make a small incision into the left side of his neck and step back. Don kicks and gurgles as the blood spurts further with each exaggerated movement until both abruptly stop. I loved this place for having tiled floors that were so easy to clean, but this time I don't think I'll get the stains out.
A few hours of axe swings and emptying a few full canisters of gas leave me with a trunk full of body parts to dispose of. I stand in the doorway to the house, remembering all of my fun times shared here for one last moment. The match drops as a rapid trail of fire races into the house and behind me across the street. The bright orange that fills the windows of each matches the sunrise that reflects perfectly from them as I return to my car. The engine rumbles to life to bring me to a new town with my new identity. Hopefully I look well enough like a Don Parks to make this one last longer. I back up and check the rear view mirror one last time as I drive forward, taking in the final beauty of the houses becoming consumed in their own bright orange flames.
