Image by Mihai Lazar
The drive to that long-vacant house had been long. Now, standing in the hallway, jaws clenched, memories flooding back, goose pimples on his arms, he struggled to control his breath, pulse, and the visions in his head.
As the years rolled by, he'd kept the power connected and paid the water bill. He needed the house he hated and the memories he didn't want. It was who he was, what he was, what he'd always be. He saw it all, heard it all, and relived every minute of it, right there in that hallway.
Within minutes, lips quivering and eyes fluttering, he knew the time had come. He'd have to turn around and face the four-hour drive. It was time to kill again.