41. Strange Days

41

STRANGE DAYS

LESTER

My heart has lost all its function as I watch the six o'clock news play out before me on the television screen. I feel like I'm hallucinating. Because this can't be real, can it?

My murder from six years ago. Recreated up to the last detail.

They keep mentioning my given name―the Sculptor of Death. They've connected this murder to me, and the authorities are just as confused as I am.

Because I would never do this. Never this close to home. Never when it's not June 19 th .

Beads of sweat trail down my forehead like an excruciating tickle. I feel like I can tear apart my own skin and step out of it any second.

I have never once blacked out, and I was at the university when the murder happened, so even when doubt settles in, I'm quickly able to debunk those thoughts.

All I'm able to think now, when the news moves on to the weather forecast, is that I am no longer the only predator in our midst.

I have a copycat killer on my hands.

"You look like your balls are stapled to your butthole or something," Daisy observes with furrowed eyebrows as her eyes examine me. "You okay?" She stays behind in the classroom after the other students leave, like she always does.

"I'm fine," I snap, my whole body tensing at my tone. I have no right to speak to her like that. I watch the color drain from her face at my cold behavior. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired."

"So we're not meeting up tonight?" she asks with disappointment in her eyes.

"Not tonight." I turn around and gather my belongings from my desk, putting it inside my leather satchel bag.

"Something is going on." I freeze when those words leave her mouth, and I try to pretend it's nothing. But she knows me too well by now.

"No, there's not," I reply, closing the straps of my bag with the bronze buckles.

"Yes, there is. Don't you do this to me, Lester Gilbert. The air around you is dark. I can fucking feel it."

I've been on edge since yesterday, when the notion of having a copycat killer came to light. I'm in a circumvoluted state of fear. So much so that I almost grabbed my bags and left my home behind, along with every beautiful thing I've ever built or owned.

A copycat killer is at play in my own town. The city I've resided in for years and years, always with a feeling of peace and safety. It's the place where the monster lives, where he lives freely and uninhibited.

Never has anything regarding the Sculptor followed me this close to home. It's the utter secret of my being, one that only Landon and I know. No one else.

But that statement might no longer be true. Matter of fact, I know for sure that it's not. Because recreating one of my kills in my environment? On my turf, in fucking Desdemona Hill ?

That's a message.

And the message is clear as day.

Someone knows who I am. And that someone wants to play.

"I need some space, Daisy. I can't do this right now," I grit out, the words feeling like a stab wound to my own chest.

It hurts me to do this to her. But if someone has their eyes set on me, they will soon know about Daisy, too. And I cannot risk that.

She's everything to me.

And she can't get caught in the crossfire when this dangerous killer comes for me.

Every passing moment since yesterday has been filled with questions swirling around in my brain. The main question being: how ? How did someone find out about who I am? Fucking how ―when I have been so careful? Then there is the why of it―why would someone do this? Do they want to become friends? Become hunting buddies? Or is this a threat? Do they want to end me?

I don't know a thing.

I can't figure it out as long as my little nymph is near. Because I can't fucking think when she is.

"You know what, Professor? You can just choke on a big fat cock, right now." When I meet her gaze, she's crossing her arms and shaking her head in disbelief. "Or do you need help yanking that cactus out of your ass ?" The last word is a shriek that rings through the room, making the hairs on my arms stand up with unease.

"Daisy…" I whisper with a sigh, stepping closer to her.

She holds her hands up, making me stop in my tracks. "No. Fuck you, Mr. Gilbert. I don't want to see you right now. Not until you fix whatever secret battle is going on inside your head."

She leaves me there inside the empty classroom, with even more fractured shards of a broken identity held in my palms.

I stand frozen for a few minutes before more dismay and apprehension hit me like a shipment of bricks. I don't know how long the copycat has been watching me. What if they've been watching me from the shadows for months?

Then they'd have seen Daisy.

When that realization hits me way too late, I run to my car and drive to the city, where I know I'll find her. At the record store―Bobbie's Tunes.

I park my car on the edge of the street and find that the lights are still on in the display window. Knocking on the glass with desperation, I wait until a chubby man with curly hair eventually walks to the front door.

"We're closed, man," he tells me. "We're open at 9 AM tomorrow."

"I need to see her," I choke out, looking over his shoulder past the cases of albums. "Daisy. I know she's here."

There's a light on in the backroom, and I catch a sliver of her face as she looks in my direction with headphones on. She only shrugs and disappears from view, the message that she doesn't want to see me clear.

He crosses his arms. "And who might you be? The guy she's upset about, perhaps?" He looks like your typical fun uncle, one who always has good jokes to tell. But whereas I imagine his usual face is kind and happy, it's now looking completely pissed off. "She's got the Linda Ronstadt album on, mister. No going back now. You better leave."

"Please. I need to speak to her." I try to set my foot in the door and push past him, but the man is surprisingly stronger than I thought, so he locks me out. A defeated sigh leaves my mouth as I walk back to my car.

I end up waiting inside my bronze Chevrolet until she leaves the store hours later, getting inside the car with the record store owner. I follow them behind all the way to her parents' house, which is where he drops her off before he leaves.

A breath of relief leaves me when I know that she's at least safe with her father in the house, which gives me enough alleviation to go home.

When I'm back there, I cuddle with Luna on the couch as I try to unwind and eventually find myself in my Red Room, where the videotape of our LSD trip is still placed on the projector. I turn it on and skim through the scenes, only to focus back on the things she said in her drug filled haze. I was too far gone to realize that they might've meant more than I thought.

" I know who you are, " is what she said while we fucked. Then a little later she whispered, " Just wait and see. The truth will come out and it will set you free. It will set both of us free. "