Niteblade – March 2009

“Uh… okay, look…” she said, “I’m going to put some clothes on, all right?”

The man nodded.

Mustering all of her courage, Melanie dashed across to her room then shut the door firmly. A quick glance around revealed nothing that she could wedge under the knob. She let go of her towel and dove for her coat, which was laying across a pile of stuffed animals on her bed. It took her a few seconds of digging to fish her phone out of her pocket. Once she had it, she flipped it open and dialed 911. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps.

“9-1-1 operator, what is the nature of the emergency?”

“Someone has broken into my house,” whispered Melanie. “This is Melanie Cardin. There are policemen parked right outside my house. The man who killed the police officer this morning is in my apart—”

“9-1-1 operator, please state the nature of the emergency?”

“Hello? My name is Melanie Cardin. A man in is my house.”

“Is anyone there? If you can’t speak, please remain on the line, and we will dispatch officers to your residence.”

Melanie looked at her phone. The flip part of the phone hung at a funny angle, one of the hinges broken from when she had thrown it. Looking closely, she could see something that had the shiny copper look of a severed wire.

She went to her bedroom window, but it faced the back of the building and not the street. She was also four floors up and didn’t have a fire escape. “Shit, shit, shit.” Melanie looked around in desperation for something, anything that might make a weapon. She finally settled on a pair of short stubby scissors that belonged in her writing desk. Then she threw on her underwear, a pair of jeans, and a thick sweater. She was already too hot, but in her mind the sweater’s padding was like armor. If he went crazy and started swinging a butcher knife around, she wanted as many layers between her and it as possible.

She looked at her broken phone again. The connection was still open, so perhaps they’d trace the call. In her frazzled state, she couldn’t remember if that was possible with a cell phone.

Okay, she thought, do I stay in here, or do I go back out there and try to escape?

“You seem mad,” said the man in the living room. “I just did what you wanted. I just want you to stop hurting me. Please, just get out of my head. I’ll do anything.”

He is definitely insane, thought Melanie, but he doesn’t talk like a babbling insane guy.

“I…I can’t see anything but you. And my head hurts all the time. Killing that cop was supposed to make you happy, and then you’d leave me alone, but it hasn’t helped at all.”

Melanie clutched her hands in fists and dug her knuckles into her forehead.

“Come out here, please,” said the man. It wasn’t a request.

Her heart skipped a beat. She squared her shoulders and began to pace. A glance at the phone showed her that the connection was still open. I think I’m supposed to keep control of the situation… or play for time… or do both….

“Come out here now.”

Melanie paused in her pacing. “I want you to leave,” she hollered back. “Can you just leave now?”

“If you don’t come out now, I am coming in.”

Oh shit, thought Melanie. She went to the door, opened it, and stepped gingerly out into the living area. The man held a large knife gripped tightly in his right hand.

“What do you want?” Melanie pled with him.

“You to stop hurting me. I did what you wanted, now leave me alone.”

“I didn’t tell you to kill Jerrod!”

“Yes, you did. I had no choice.”

The carefully constructed emotional barrier she had built around her anger over Jerrod’s senseless death cracked apart. “No!” she heard herself say. Her anger flowed out to fill her. “I loved him, you stupid piece of shit! I hate you for what you did! I want you to die, not him! You going to stab me now?”

“No,” said the man.

“Then get the fuck out of my house!”

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