Print Page
Send to FriendAccording to the police reports, as you said in one of our conversations so long ago, I kept repeating the word “Hikaru” over and over again and wouldn’t stop. In truth, I don’t remember that at all, nor can I remember ever having been arrested. I suppose this isn’t surprising, given the state I was in.
After Hikaru had gotten me, the next thing I could remember was waking up in a prison cell with the physical ailments that I had been afflicted with the morning after I had killed Rosie. I think now that those might be residual symptoms of the out-of-body experience I had endured at the hand of Hikaru, or perhaps it just had something to do with the way Hikaru had done it to me. I can’t be completely sure, of course, but at the same time, that explanation would make the most sense. In any event, the symptoms came and went in the timeframe of about a day, and the morning after that, I awoke to find the symptoms gone and I was physically one hundred percent.
After a while I was read my rights and after they compared my prints to those of other crime scenes, I’m sure you know what happens next, Officer Johnson. You were there, after all, so I’m sure you must remember.
Ellen Blaise—after recovering in the hospital from her injuries—would reluctantly testify against me, telling the courts at the hearing exactly what had happened and answering all the questions. “I don’t know what happened or what stopped him from killing me,” she had said, finishing her testimony. Her voice had been husky and hoarse, weakened from the damage done to her vocal cords, yet I could still sense the fear and loathing she now felt for me for what happened the night of June 17, 1989. You could tell from the subtle stammer in her voice how difficult giving her testimony had been, and of all the horrid memories that had resurfaced as she gave her narrative. Yet at the same time, it was something she felt she had to do so that justice could be served. “He just sort of snapped somehow and collapsed to the floor. I don’t know what happened. All I can think is that God saved me, and if it weren’t for His intervention that night, I wouldn’t be alive now to give this testimonial.”
Ellen was wrong on that account, though, for it wasn’t God that had saved her that night from my wrath, but Hikaru. But she apparently hadn’t seen Hikaru, for she gave no indication that she was lying or hiding anything at all. Therefore, I was the only one who knew the truth of what had happened that night and had no way of proving anything. None of that mattered, though, for no matter how the courts would look at it or who had really saved Ellen Blaise, I would be looked at as the villain, the scum who deserved to die for his heinous crimes against women. But I didn’t really care about that either.
And to make a long story short, because we both know what happened, I pled guilty and spent the next twenty years of my life behind bars.
For the most part, I was a model inmate. I kept out of everyone’s way and never caused any trouble, did what I was told, and the prison faculty rarely if ever had need for disciplinary measures when it came to me. And through that time, I was rarely plagued by dreams of Hikaru or felt her presence, which was, of course, a blessed reprieve from her torment (perhaps she had other fish to fry while I was incarcerated). And for the most part, I hadn’t thought much or cared about attaining satisfaction either, strangely enough.
From time to time, I might role-play inside my head while the lights were out and I was laying on my cot in the darkness. While I did that, I would masturbate, and then find myself sitting in the darkness covered in semen, like during puberty after a wet dream, though as I’ve grown older, these masturbatory fantasies grew more infrequent, and for a while, I thought I had lost the desire to attain satisfaction.
But as the months, weeks, and days finally begun to wind down to when I would be released, the desire returned, and I knew that once I would be released, the urge to kill would become overwhelming, the sexual tension would become unbearable, and I would eventually have to kill again.
With this realization came the reappearance of Hikaru.
Last night, while in the showers, looking in the foggy prison mirror after I dried myself off, I could see not my reflection looking back at me, but the face of Hikaru. In the twenty years since I had last seen her, she hadn’t changed a bit. The golden hue of her face was still smooth and without blemish, while her coal-black eyes were just as full of hate for both me and my father as they had been all those years ago. I could hear the hissing of snakes as her eyes glowered with a demonic glare, causing me to back away from the mirror, barely able to stifle a scream.
“Hey, what’s wrong, Gordon?” Earl Jones, one of my inmates asked. “You look like you seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I said, stuttering a bit and realizing that I was sweating as well.
“You seem a bit nervous,” he went on. “I hear you’re getting out. Maybe that has something to do with it.”
“I am getting out in a few days, yeah,” I replied.
He clapped me on the back companionably. “Congratulations!” he exclaimed. “I know how it is. I’m getting out next month, myself. Kinda scary when you think about it. I been in here so long, I’m not sure I can function in the outside world, but I’ll do the best I can. I paid for my crimes, so I earned my freedom. Just kinda nervous about it, that’s all. Kind of funny, really—I was so scared comin’ in here thirty years ago, and now I’m scared to leave. Had friends who were released after a long prison stay, and they couldn’t handle the outside world. I’m scared that’ll happen to me.”
I nodded, feigning agreement. “I know what you mean.”
But of course, that wasn’t it at all. What scared me in reality was Hikaru, and knowing that even after all these years, that bitch still had me in the palm of her hands.