touch
by elfin
Does he know I'm here, I wonder.
Crawford called him, warned him. I heard the telephone ring.
I moved closer so that I could overhear Will's end of the conversation.
I think he hung up half way through it. I've been trying to imagine
what dear Jack might have said.
I expected him to immediately arm himself, but he didn't. In fact,
he stepped into the kitchen and, for the first time since I've been watching
him, he didn't check behind the door. In the back of his mind, he's
been expecting the bogeyman. Now he knows there's a worse fate in
his not-too-distant future.
Me.
He wears only shorts, a tight white tee and a denim shirt that has been
used to clean the oil from more than one boat motor. No where to conceal
a weapon. He isn't meeting me unarmed though. His mind is the
sharpest I've ever known. I'd once thought to eat his heart.
But since then I have found another, sweeter recipe.
I've been watching for twenty-four hours, and his lack of purpose tells
me that he's simply awaiting death. Now he knows how close it is, and
how it will come to him, all that has changed is the fear with which he
seeks it. I am the devil he knows. He understands that to die
in my arms will be more personal, more intimate than at the hands of some
masked serial killer.
The sun is starting to set. I can't wait any longer.
Silently, I move along the deck to stand behind him, where he sits in the
chair overlooking the ocean.
"Hello, Will."
He doesn't even flinch, and I feel a stab of pride. When he first
came to see me at the asylum, he couldn't bring himself to approach the glass.
With each visit, he drew closer. Now there's no glass, no chains,
no men with guns watching over him.
There's only the two of us.
He doesn't even turn.
"How've you been?"
I smile at his courtesy and reach out, trailing the backs of my fingers
down the back of his neck, pressing lightly through his soft, sun-bleached
hair. And for just a moment, I truly do not want to hurt him.
"Well, thank you. They offered me a room with a view, but I decided
I'd been incarcerated for long enough."
He leans back, just a fraction, into my touch, and it surprises me.
I'd thought never to be surprised again.
"Is Chiltern dead?"
"Yes. He flew to the Caribbean and I followed him. Crawford
was late calling you. I'd already been free for a day, but he was too
busy to even think of you. Chiltern died as I cut out his liver.
I made sure he could see what I was doing."
"And now you've come for me."
I open my mouth but the word 'yes' sticks on my lips. He's still
leaning into my caress, utterly relaxed under my fingers. And suddenly,
I don't want him dead.
I need him alive.
fin
elfin
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