Chapter 2: Frankie
It was a quarter to seven and outside a horn blared as an alarm clock. Ethan jolted awake and almost busted out of his sleeping bag.
“Oh crap! Dang it! Dang it! Dang it!”
He quickly unzipped and hurried to his feet, the car horn still honked in the driveway.
“He’s going to wake the whole dang neighborhood.”
He dug through a bag of clothes laying in the floor and within seconds had most of the bag scattered about the tiny room. He managed to find his work uniform and quickly threw it on before he hurried out the door, while still slipping an arm through his sleeve. Waiting in the driveway was an angered Walter Avery.
“I told you to be ready by six-thirty. It’s almost seven now!” He said with a raised voice through the open passenger window.
“I know. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” Ethan said as he reached for the door handle.
“You dang right it won’t happen again. If it does it’ll be the last time you get a ride from me.”
He roared backwards up the driveway and slung the gear shift in drive. Walter sped away through the neighborhood, not letting go of Ethan’s tardiness.
“What did you stay up all night or something? Cause let me tell you if I hear anything from Dale or Kurt about me being late, you’re going to get it.”
Ethan just slowly wagged his head as he stared at the floor board and occasionally stole glances out the window at the speeding houses, mailboxes or trees.
“You know I just don’t get kids like you nowadays.”
Ethan turned to see where this was going.
“I mean you search for a job, finally get one, then you end up screwing it up with crap like this. You know it takes half an hour to get to work from our town, not counting traffic and yet you don’t come out until five to seven?”
Ethan just stared out the window as he did his best to take the scolding.
“I mean this is our second day on the job and this isn’t exactly starting out on the right foot.” Walter said as he turned and glared at the side of Ethan’s head.
He had no need to turn and face him, he could feel the glare penetrating his spirit. Walter continued his rant as his voice now became a faint whisper compared to the voice inside Ethan’s head.
“Who is he to think he can talk to you this way? Nobody talks to you like that, he’s not your parent. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.” The voice shouted.
Rage and anger built inside, until he could no longer restrain it.
“Shut up! All right, I get it! Just shut up already!” Ethan screamed.
“Hey chill it kid, you deserve this. This is the real world, this isn’t school. You might could get by with being late or skipping a day with them, but not here. Not in the real world.”
“Just drop it all right? I’ve done told you it won’t happen again.”
Walter gave a reluctant nod and the two hardly spoke the rest of the way to the paper mill.
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Leaving the break room of Georgetown Paper Mill while taking the last few sips of his coffee was James Randolph.
“Aww man…another day in paradise…right Jerry?” James said as he tossed his empty cup in the trash.
“Yeah, but where’s the yacht and palm trees?”
The men both chuckled at the thought as they made their way over to the cutting press.
“Oh, look…they showed up.” Said James as he pointed to Walter and Ethan who were headed for the break room to drop off their lunches and clock in for the morning.
“I thought they may have gotten enough yesterday.” Said Jerry with his old southern colored folk slang.
“Yeah…well they better not make a habit of showing up just in time to get started. That won’t last long.” James added.
Jerry nodded as he slipped on his glasses and squished in his ear plugs. James did the same as he manned the press, which began the slow-moving conveyor belt full of oversized paper toward Jerry with the guillotine like cutter. A few minutes passed as Ethan had now made his way over to the men. James paused the machine for a moment as he motioned at Jerry.
“Sorry I’m a little late. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s all right, just don’t make it a habit. You want to take this over and we’ll do like we did yesterday?” Said James.
Ethan agreed as he lowered his protective glasses and inserted his ear buds. The press roared as it started up again and the conveyor belt gently made its way to Jerry and James. Jerry handled the cuts as James separated them into different stacks. One stack for the good and another for the bad. While the whole time, Ethan had a voice inside reminding him of his morning ride with Walter.
“I can’t believe he would talk to me like that. Who does he think he is?” †††††††††††††††††††
Less than a hundred feet away was Walter Avery, Billy Ross and Hank Norton running a similar press, but this one was making raw cuts that were then passed down to James and his crew. Billy operated the machine as Walter placed the paper under the cutter before passing the cuts off to Hank, who then separated them in the good or bad pile.
“If I am not careful, that kid might end up costing me my job.” Walter thought.
“I probably shouldn’t say anything to Kurt just yet, you don’t want to come across as a whiny butt.”
“What if I just made it hard on him? Maybe he would quit, and I wouldn’t have to worry about him.” Walter went on to think as he continued pushing cut pieces of paper on down the line to Hank.
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Noon had just made its appearance for the day and all the men at the paper mill gladly welcomed it. They each made their way to the break room to get their lunch boxes or to grab their keys to search for some lunch elsewhere. Either way, they had an hour before they were expected to be back on the job.
Inside the break room was Ethan, Walter and Hank among others. Billy left with a few men to go check out a new burger joint.
“So, what’s with your house man? It get handed down from your great granny or something? Cause god knows it sure looks like a granny.” Walter said with a cheek full of sandwich and chuckle.
“Huh?” Hank asked with crooked brows.
“Yeah man, you should’ve seen this guy’s house this morning. Looked like an old shack.”
“It was left to me after my mom died.” Ethan mumbled before taking a bite of his cold sandwich.
“See man, that’s why you don’t pick at stuff unless you know the full story.” Hank said to Walter with a wag of his head.
“Well…at least she left you something I guess…just looks like you would take a little better care of it.”
Ethan just sat there quietly across the lunch table as his blood burned inside. James and Jerry had just walked in the room and caught the tail end of what Walter said.
“Take better care of what?” Asked James
“That shack of a house, he lives in. You’ve seen it haven’t you?”
“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I mean at least he has somewhere.”
“I reckon. I guess if he had anything more comfortable he wouldn’t wake till noon.” Walter said with a side grin directed toward Ethan.
Ethan ignored him and continued eating his sandwich as the spirit’s voice whispered, “In time, in time, be patient. You’ll get your revenge. Maybe tonight?”
“Oh…so that’s why you both were late this morning, huh?” James asked with a smile. “You stay up late last night?”
Ethan nodded and said, “Yeah…I was thinking about my truck and how to fix it. Couldn’t get it off my mind.”
“Well…you said it’s just a fuel pump, right?”
“Yeah, but I think there’s something wrong with the starter now, just isn’t acting right.”
“Really? Well, if you want, I can talk to my wife and make sure we don’t have plans, and maybe stay for a bit when I drop you off, to see if we can figure out something. Jerry here knows a thing or two about cars, maybe we can talk him in to joining us.” James said with a grin and wink.
“Yeah, I’ve got a pretty boring evening planned. I could swing by and take a look at it.” Said Jerry.
Ethan nodded and softly said, “I’d appreciate it fellas.”
“Well good, maybe you’ll get it running, so I don’t have to worry about running late for work.” Said Walter as he was in mid chew.
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Hours had passed, and James found himself in Ethan’s driveway. Jerry wasn’t far behind. The men get out of their vehicles and head for the Chevy.
“So that’s the ole Chevy that’s giving ya trouble, huh?” Asked Jerry as he lit a cigarette.
“Mmm hmm.” Mumbled Ethan. As the men walked over to the baby blue Chevy, James carried a bag of tools that must’ve weighed thirty pounds with all the wrenches and sockets.
He sits the bag down beside the truck as the metal clanks and rattles.
“Why don’t you turn it over and let us hear what it sounds like?” Asked James.
Ethan retrieved the keys from his pocket, found the right one and jammed it in the ignition.
Clank-Clank-Clank-Clank.
Jerry motioned for him to stop, the noise dug at him like nails to a chalk board.
“Sounds like the flywheel to me. You sure it’s the fuel pump?” Asked James
“Well…I just replaced that yesterday evening, but I’m trying to figure out what this noise is.”
“It sure sounds like a flywheel to me. What do you think Jerry?”
“Yeah, that’s definitely the flywheel. Let me crawl under here and see if we can pull it out.” Jerry said as he squatted and made his way under the truck. A few minutes passed.
“Can you get me a 5/8’s socket? That’s what it looks like.”
James fumbles through his bag, clanking metal here and there.
“Here it is. Try this.” James said as he passed the 5/8 to him.
Within ten minutes the flywheel was off and Jerry was back on his feet.
“Look at that. No wonder it was making all that racket. You’ve got cracked flywheel my friend.” Said Jerry as he held it up and showed James and Ethan.
“If you want, we can ride up to Carl’s, I’m sure he would have it in stock. This is what an 80 Suburban?” Asked Jerry.
Ethan nodded and said, “Yeah. That’d be great, I’d appreciate it.”
“Oh you got it man. Well, let’s ride up here and see if Carl has it. Won’t take long to put it in, if he does.” Said Jerry.
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Within two hours, the men were back at Ethan’s and about to finish replacing the flywheel. Jerry tightens the last few bolts before he crawls out from under the truck and dusts himself off.
“Well…give it a go boy. See what she’s got.” Said James.
Ethan climbs in the driver’s seat and turns the ignition. The engine fired up and grumbled as the muffler puffed out a gray cloud. Ethan wore a slight grin.
“Now that sounds a lot better, huh?” Jerry asked him with a smile.
Ethan nodded, killed the engine and climbed out of the cab.
“I appreciate you guy’s helping. How much I owe you?”
“Man, don’t worry about that. We’re just glad we could help you out.” Said James.
Jerry nodded in agreement as he wiped his hands clean of grease.
“Well thank you, I sure appreciate it. I guess you don’t have to worry about giving me a ride now.”
“Yeah and neither does that ole fart, Walter. I’m sure he’ll be happy.” Said James with a grin.
Yeah…Walter.
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It was just passed eight o’clock, as the Sun had recently retired for the night, a cool night breeze filled the air as did the blackness that accompanied it. Cruising through a darkened neighborhood in his baby blue Chevy Suburban, Ethan tried to remember what Walter had told him earlier that morning.
“He said ‘Amity Drive, the last house on the left.’ I know that’s what he said.”
Ethan said to himself as he leaned over the steering wheel searching for Walter’s old Dodge pickup in a driveway.
“You have to do it tonight. He doesn’t deserve to see another day, not the way he treated you. He deserves to die.” The demon whispered.
His skin was hot from the fire burning inside of him. He gripped the steering wheel and grinded his teeth.
“What if I get caught Kirkland, then what?” Ethan asked as he glanced over at the passenger seat where the demon sat appearing as a small boy.
“So what if you do, it’ll be worth it. Just like it was worth it, what you did to Will.”
“Shut up! I told you not to talk about him.”
“Sorry, forgot how sensitive you were about it. After all, he did deserve it.” Said the demon with a side grin.
“Just drop all right? Help me find Walter’s house.”
“It’s the second to last house on the left. There’s a place you can park a few blocks down the road. No one will ever see you if you cut through the woods.”
Ethan squinted his eyes and peered out the window. He found it.
“That’s his truck!” He said with sinister grin as his eyes widened with excitement.
“All right, so where do I park?”
“Take a left at the stop sign then take the third road on the left. There’s a driveway to an abandoned house nobody lives in or around. You can park behind it and walk through the woods, right to Walter’s back yard.”
Ethan followed Kirkland’s orders as he cut his lights off before easing behind the old house. He put his truck in park and took a deep breath.
“You sure we should do this?” Ethan turned and asked the empty passenger seat. “
You have to. If you want our blessing that is?”
Ethan nodded as he shut his eyes and sighed. He then leaned over and opened the glove compartment where he’d stashed a 44-revolver loaded with six rounds. He spun the silver cylinder to double check his ammo. After concealing it, he steps out of his truck and grabs a large hunting knife he’d hidden under his seat, and placed it behind his belt before pulling his shirt over it.
“All right, let’s do it.”
“Lead the way, my friend.” Said Kirkland with a raspy hiss.
After trudging through the woods for five or ten minutes, Ethan could see the kitchen light through the limbs and branches.
“Just a little further. Let’s wait by the wood line until they go to bed.”
“Well how long will that be?”
“Maybe an hour or so. Just be patient. Timing my friend. Timing.” Said Kirkland.
They make it to the edge of the wood line and peer through the branches with the kitchen and living room windows visible beyond them. The back of Walter and his wife’s heads can be seen on the couch as they sat and watched the television set show reruns of I Love Lucy.
It is here, Ethan would wait and stalk like a cat after it’s prey. The demon known by Ethan since childhood, continued for the next hour whispering lies and murderous thoughts into his mind. The longer he sat there, hidden by the dark canopy of woods, the greater the fire within became.
Finally, Walter and his wife moved to their feet and turned off all the lights. “We’re getting close, not much longer.” Said Kirkland.
Another hour passed before he gave the order to advance.
“Okay…its time for your revenge.”
Ethan retrieved his revolver from his hip and pulled back the hammer. He then slowly and quietly made his way to the back door. Living in a small neighborhood, it wasn’t uncommon for Walter and his wife to occasionally leave the back door’s dead bolt unlocked. On this night that was the case.
Ethan stood at the door and slowly tried turning the knob, but it was locked. He grabbed his hunting knife wedged behind his back. He wiggled it in the crease of the door. After a few tries, the door slowly gave way. Ethan entered as did a flood of darkness. He slowly and patiently made his way through the home. The dark figure to his right was someone he’d grown accustomed to. Black and deep-set eyes with a dark mouth that seemed to be in the middle of a silent but anguished scream. The presence floated alongside him, not saying a word.
With his cocked revolver in hand, Ethan eased toward the bedroom. The door was opened and there lied Walter and his wife peacefully asleep. Ethan just stood there admiring his soon to be kill. He narrowed his gaze, furrowing his brows and slowly smiled as he raised his weapon.
Shadows entered the room. Standing bedside admiring their prey. The room was full of these blood-thirsty spirits.
“Wh~Wh~Whaaaa!”
Ethan quickly darted back out the room and hid outside the door way with his back pressed firmly against the wall. The figures vanished like smoke.
“Dang it!” He mouthed through gritted teeth.
The sound that startled him was the cry of the Avery’s six-month-old baby girl in the crib beside them, that Ethan failed to see.
Walter and his wife moaned and tossed in bed as the baby’s cry awoke them from their slumber. By the time Mrs. Avery picked herself up from the cozy bed and attended her precious baby, Ethan was already easing out the back door, as he left the same way he came. He fussed and argued with himself for not thinking it through.
“Dang it Kirkland! They almost caught me.”
“So? You should’ve did it anyway. Just killed them all and get it over with. But…I guess your weaker than I thought.” The demon said mockingly.
“Shut up!” Ethan said through his clinched teeth as he stood back at the wood line behind Walter’s home.
Chatter could be heard coming from the sidewalk just on the other side of the woods. Ethan smiled at the thoughts passing through his mind.
“I’ll show you.” He slowly made his way through the woods and onto the sidewalk about a hundred foot behind a teenage guy and girl casually heading back to their car after a night out.
Ethan made sure his revolver and knife were hidden from plain sight and then approached the young couple.
“Excuse me. Excuse me.” The couple spun around, startled just a bit by Ethan’s presence.
“Hey, I’m sorry, my car’s needing a jump, the dang battery died on me. I was just about to start knocking on doors, but I kind of hate to at this time of night. Are you going to your car?”
“Yeah, we’re parked just right up here. Where’s your car at?” The guy asked.
“Aww, just a few streets over. You wouldn’t mind giving me a lift over there would you? Wouldn’t take a second to jump it off, I have a pair of jumper cables in my truck.”
“Yeah sure, it won’t be a problem.”
“Great! Thanks man. I’m Kirkland by the way, but you can call me Kirk.” Ethan said as he extended his hand to the guy and girl.
“I’m Steve and this is my girlfriend Melissa.” They shake hands and continue to scroll down the sidewalk towards the couple’s car while having small talk.
They approach a two-door red fiat as Steve sticks a key in the driver side door.
“You can ride up front man, if you want. Since it’s just right over here.” Said Steve.
“You sure?”
"Yeah it’s cool. Be easier for Melissa to squeeze back there than you.” Steve said referring to Ethan’s six-foot two frame.
So Melissa reluctantly climbs in the back as she passes by the folded passenger seat.
“I’ll deal with you later.” She mumbled under her breath as she plopped in the back seat.
Ethan fixed the seat, sat down and shut the door.
This is going to be easier than I thought.
He gives the last directions to Steve before they turn onto Village street where his parked suburban sat behind the abandoned house, “Dang! Did you see that big ole owl over there?” Asked Ethan as he pointed out the driver side window, diverting the couple’s attention and going for his revolver.
As Steve was about to turn his gaze back to the road, he was startled by Melissa’s scream. He felt something press firmly to the side of his head, but didn’t occur to him what it was, until he saw it. It was the barrel of Ethan’s revolver digging into Steve’s temple.
“Whoa-whoa-whoa! Hey man, chill.” Said Steve.
“Shut up! Both of you. Another word without my permission and I’m pulling the trigger. Got it!” Ethan said with bulging eyes and a red face. Veins protruding like gopher tunnels on a golf course.
“Pull in that driveway up ahead.”
Steve was trembling as Melissa sat in the back in a fetal position with tears streaking down her face. Steve eases the car into the driveway and puts it in park. His heart pounded as his mind raced to keep up.
“Now…slowly…reach down and undo your shoe laces. Hold them up when you’re done.” Steve curled his spine and reached under the wheel to begin unlacing his shoes.
All the while Ethan kept the barrel to Steve’s head, while keeping Melissa in his peripheral. Steve finishes and slowly rises to show Ethan the laces.
“Tie your hands to the wheel. Tight! Or you’ll pay.” Ethan said with searing eyes and downcast brows.
Steve finishes the last knot the best he can. Ethan tightens it to be sure. He then reaches in his pocket and pulls out a roll of black electrical tape, then proceeds to wrap it around Steve’s head and mouth, leaving only his eyes and nose exposed. With Steve’s hands tied firmly to the wheel, and his mouth covered, Ethan removes the gun’s aim from Steve and fixes it on Melissa as he opens the car door and slowly gets out, stealing glances about the area as he does.
He raises the seat and motions with his gun for Melissa to get out. Shaking in fear she mouths silently to Steve, “I love you.”
He nods with glazed eyes.
“Knock it off!” Ethan said through clenched teeth. He grabs Melissa by the arm as she stands to her feet. He then slowly shuts the door and leads Melissa behind the house towards his truck.
“Kirkland, shut up! Shut up! I’m going to do it, I’m going to show you.”
Melissa cried uncontrollably as she beg for her life.
“Please! You can have all our money, you can take our car, whatever you want. Just please don’t do this.”
“Hush it! I don’t want your filthy stuff, I want you. I have to prove Kirkland wrong.”
They make it to the truck, he flings open the door and grabs a roll of duct tape under the seat. Melissa’s eyes widened as her heart skipped a beat at the thought of what’s to come.
“No…no…no…please don’t do this.”
Ethan ignored her pleas and wrapped her face just like Steve’s.
“There…now that ought to do the trick. Usually does.” He said with a smirk.
“Get on the ground! Hands behind your back, feet in the air.”
Melissa shook her head as tears rolled down her cheek.
“I said get on the ground.” Ethan said as he forced her down before taping her hands and feet together. He then lifts her up and places on the passenger seat, face down.
“I’ll be right back.” Ethan said with a grin and chuckle as he traded his revolver for a box cutter he grabbed from his truck, before shutting the door.
Melissa forced a muffled scream through the tape, the taste of the adhesive made her want to puke. Her cries and tears were no use, no one would ever hear her back here.
Ethan trudged his way back to Steve’s car where he still sat with hands tied to the steering wheel, mostly of his own doing.
Whistling to one of his favorite tunes, Ethan gave a sarcastic knock on the window of the car, startling Steve. Ethan opened the door as he continued to whistle, before proceeding to stare at Steve as if he wasn’t sure what to do with him.
Steve shook his head as tears streaked down the black tape. Ethan stopped his whistling momentarily as he grinned slightly and wagged his head. He returned to his whistling and dug the box cutter’s blade into the dash of Steve’s car. Steve tried to read what it said, but there was too much darkness.
After he finished, Ethan returned to his whistle and gently placed the box cutter to Steve’s throat before slowly sliding it across, ripping through the flesh. Muffled gurgles fought their way through the tape as the life slowly flowed out of him. Ethan shut the door, still whistling and headed back to the truck, where Melissa awaited.
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Being bounced around with every bump and pot hole, Melissa laid in the passenger seat beside Ethan as she listened to him argue with himself or someone beside her.
“Dang it, Kirkland! I’ve done told you to hush! Leave me alone!” Ethan screamed as he beat on the steering wheel with tears forming in his eyes.
“I don’t think you have it in you, I don’t think you can do it.” The demon said as he toyed with Ethan’s sanity.
“I have to now! I don’t have a choice.” The sound of sniffles and whimpers were getting on his last nerve.
“Knock it off! I can hardly think with all your whining!” Ethan screamed at the horrified Melissa beside him.
As he turned to face her, he didn’t see Melissa, but he saw a little boy with a bleeding head injury, sitting in the passenger seat staring back at him. The sight was like a sledgehammer to his heart, as it felt like it had leaped out of his chest.
Ethan squinted his eyes and violently shook his head.
“Dang it! Stop it Kirkland! Stop it!”
“What’s the matter Frankie? Don’t you want to play?” The little boy asked in a deep grotesque voice.
“I’m sorry Will, I’m sorry. Stop it Kirkland! Stop it!” Ethan pleaded as he turned his focus back to the road.
“All right…fine…just finish what you started.” Said the demon.
Ethan turned his attention beside him where he saw Melissa bound and pleading for her life with her piercing blue eyes. He smiled, slowly nodded and returned to his relaxing whistle to the tune of “Every breath you take,” by The Police, before focusing back on the road.
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Soon after he arrived at his house, he loaded Melissa up in the back of his box truck, that he’d lied to James about. There was nothing wrong with it, considering its age. He called it, his “delivery truck.”
Ethan pulled the strap as it lowered the sliding metal door, that slowly hid Melissa, who was bound behind it. He climbed in the driver seat, fired up the rough sounding engine and off he went. He blasted some random rock music on the stereo. The local station played everything from Bon Jovi and Aerosmith to finally AC/DC as they sung, “Highway to Hell.”
Just as the song was in mid-chorus, the little boy was back riding shotgun. “Why did you do this to me Frankie?”
Startled, Ethan turned his attention and said, “I had to Will. I had to. You had to pay for what you did. It saved you in the long run. Besides Kirkland said we’d both be in trouble if I didn’t. He said Lucinda was worse than him. Please forgive me Will, please.” Ethan said with tear filled his eyes.
The boy then slowly vanished like dissolving smoke as he whispered faintly, “Frankieeee.”
Ethan shook his head and cursed.
“Leave me alone!” He turned the radio up even louder as Highway to Hell was now blaring even for Melissa.
It took him about an hour and a half to get to the small town of Shallotte, North Carolina. The whole way he argued and blared rock and roll music. Just as Ethan turned down an old dirt road that led out to a secluded pasture, his favorite song began to play.
He cut the lights off and followed the moon lit path out to an old cornfield as “Every breath you take,” played through the speakers.
Melissa bounced around in the back as she couldn’t help but wonder where he was taking her. The truck slowly rolled to a stop. Ethan sung along and waited for the song to finish before getting out.
A few moments passed, the song ended and Ethan opened his door to step out, still humming to the tune. He walked around to the back of the truck and opened the sliding door. Melissa squirms and whimpers. He climbs up in the back, steps over Melissa and picks up a wooden cross made of four by fours lying towards the front and grabs the post hole diggers that lay beside it.
He carries them out the back and walks about sixty feet into the corn field. He lays the items to the ground and comes back to the truck to get a few more things. He repeats his efforts of climbing in the back of the truck and stepping over Melissa, like she was a dead dear that awaited being gutted. He bent down and picked up a large pile of rope and zip ties, along with an pillow sack.
He marched back out to the field, while Melissa lay in the back sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. After taking the rope, zip ties, and sack, out to the wooden cross, Ethan returns to the truck to get the last item, Melissa.
He scoops her up and carries her into the field where he sets her down beside the cross. He undoes her feet and lays her on the cross, back first. He ties her feet to the wood with the rope and zip ties, then undoes her hands and after wrestling her for only a few moments, manages to tie her hands to the cross as well. Now she was bound to the cross as if she about to be crucified.
Satisfied she couldn’t escape, he then turned his attention to the post hole diggers and begin working. A few minutes and piles of dirt later, the hole was deep enough for the cross. He walks over and drags Melissa, bound to the cross, over to the hole and then lifts it up as it drops into the hole with a thud that shook every bone in her body. She thought her heart had fallen to the pit of her stomach.
Tears streaked down her face as she shuttered and quaked, with her mouth still taped shut. She now stood erect and stretched out on a cross, in a secluded corn field, about a mile from its owner. At first glance, you would think she was a cleverly crafted scarecrow.
Ethan backed away and marveled at his work. He stared up at her and smiled.
“Do you know who I am?”
Melissa shook her head.
“Do you know who I am?” Ethan asked again.
Once more she nodded.
He began to violently shake as he appeared to be in turmoil within himself. His countenance shifted, and his face contorted to something resembling a feline. He then stopped with his gaze toward the ground and slowly raised his head as glared at her with huge black and dilated pupils.
He then said in a deep grotesque tone, “I am Franklin Ethan Thompson…”
He retrieved the blood-stained box cutter from his pocket. Armed with the knife in one hand and a pillow sack in the other, he slowly approached her with an awkwardness about his gait and whispered,
“I am Abel’s vengeance…I am…The Reaper’s Helper.”