"It is done," he whispered.

He was right. The blood falling from his hands was real, and yet everything seemed as if a dream. She didn't know what to think.

"It isn't over," a voice, speaking, she knew it was hers but it came from that distant dream, another reality.

"But it is, and it'll always be. Just as it always has been."

Why was he saying these things to her? She wanted to run, fly, do anything to get away from him. The night was not supposed to be this way. Through mystic eyes, he smiled at her.

She wanted to bludgeon him the way he'd swung a the woman who was once her mother.

They had planned a confrontation between her and her mother. He'd wanted something different. As she looked at his blood stained hands she saw her mother's green eyes screaming wordless cries and she saw the unspeakable pain that lay behind them. When the trance fell away, their gazes met and she bolted from the room. This house no longer held any good memories. The only thing left was her mother's screams and smashed body. Her life was now over, her mother gone.

She ran for days it seemed. She didn't know where she was. She felt the thorns rip at her flesh. Every time one scratched at her leg she saw her mother's hands reach for her, grabbing, for the rug that was out of reach. Trying to get away as the bat came down on her back. Each time the bat made contact the sound of muscle and bone cracking under the force of solid aluminum echoed through the house. The sound echoed in her ears with a dull throbbing resonance.

She kept her eyes focused on the ground, mindful of the sounds she heard coming from the rear. She knew he would follow her. The terror filled her. She never wanted to be the object of his sick obsessions. He has always been so kind to her. She always ran to him. Now she ran from him. She knew that her life was held in his hands. But, Why? Never in a million years had she thought that her dearest friend would be a ruthless killer. Now he had become one. She relied on her weak legs to get her away from him fast. As she ran she thought of the goodness she'd believed was in him.

"What did she do to you?" He demanded.

"I just ran in to the wall.

"Like hell you did. She was hitting you again wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"That bitch. I want us to show her how wrong it is to cause you this pain."

"Please, I don't need this shit. We can't make her mad. I don't hate her the way you do."

"Do you hate when she hits you?"

"Yes."

"We will show her what it's like to hurt. We'll show her what it's like to feel pain."

She felt her body give way to the earth. In a pit. She surveyed her surroundings: a dull red line flowed past her eye. Fallen leaves, mixed with mud. A good enough place for a killer's accomplice. Her eyes welled up with fear. She is gone. Her mother is gone. The thoughts would not leave her alone. Soon, she felt a dizzying sleep come upon her,

"Oh, God, if you are up there, let me drown in this pit." She knew the prayer wouldn't be answered. Still, she had to try? Surely, God was looking at her with a wordless scorn no mortal could match. Her head ached so badly. Her forehead was sticky.

What if she fell asleep and never woke up again? It's a better fate than being stalked, she thought. Against her better judgment she gave into the sleep. The visions came.

She was looking for him. He'd be in the library. He's always there glooming over Hamlet or those books whose plots were tied together with a silver string. When she entered the library she saw his hulking frame bent over a very thick book -- rereading the Book of Revelation. She never liked his personality after he read it. She always thought that he flirted with disaster when he brought the Holiest of books into a public school. She approached him. He looked up at her. His stare was blank. Soon the blackness of rage filled his eyes. His glare was constant, then he whispered, "Did she hit you again?" She said nothing. He ran for her and held her tight. He lifted her face up and looked deeply into the blackish-purple welts on her face.

"I...I fell down the stairs."

"Like Hell you did. She's been beating on you again."
"No..." She felt her voice slip away. She shouldn't have looked for him. He'd always taken this to extremes. Her mother hit because she loved her so much.

"I will kill her, if she ever hurts you again."

He started to change. His face became black. It began to rot away. She started to scream. "Help! Get the hell away from me! Help! Mother, help me!"

She was awakened by her own screams. She rose out of the pit for a few seconds, then collapsed back into her hell. He was always so good to her. Mother was good to her. Mother hit because her she disobeyed. That was the only reason. He had never fully understood that. She had not expected him to, either.

She felt the sleep come upon her again. No, fight it, she told herself, he might have followed you. She needed to stay awake. And yet her eyelids grew heavier, heavier. She saw her mother. She followed her mother's beckoning hand into the living room. "Mother, I cannot fall asleep."

"Come with me Hyley."

"Mother..."

Her mother stood before her. Blood filled the carpet. Mother was smiling, almost angelic. She fell to mother's feet and cried, "Mother, I am so sorry." Her cry went unanswered, "Mother, it was all his idea. I didn't know. Mother, please, please, forgive me."

Suddenly, he was there. He had the bat. He screamed at mother, "You bitch! How can you beat her? You say you love her? I will show you what real love can do." Then he started to kick her. He smacked Mother's face, punched her in the stomach, and threw her around the room by her hair. Clumps of gold hair dotted the floor.

"No! No! No!" She tried to scream in mother's defense but he heard nothing. He was still torturing mother. Then he remembered the bat that he had left by the steps.

"How does it feel, bitch? Does it make you feel loved?" He spit in her mother's face as she tried to get off the floor to fight. He swung the bat, knocking mother back. The sound of the bat hitting Mother now sounded like twigs breaking under wet leaves. It was done.

Mother was whispering. "Hyley. Hyley, I forgive you, I love you. But Why? Hyley, why, Hyley?"

"Hyley. Hyley. Dumb bitch. Hello, did you think I wouldn't find you?"

She tried to focus her eyes. Where was she? Who was calling her? "Mother?"

"No. The Devil is dead. Remember? It's me, Michael."

"How?"

"Why did you run Hyley?" He had crouched down so he could look her in the eye.

"I..." She didn't want to keep eye contact with him.

"I did it for you Hyley, and you ran from me. You ran. Why did you run? Why did you leave me there? I thought you would be happy with what I have done for you. But. You ran."

"I loved my Mother. I never meant for her to die."

"She deserved it! You knew that."

She realized she was still in the pit. He had blocked off any escape route she thought she had. She better find one quick. Distract him. Maybe if she told him the truth he would come back to reality. "Michael. She was my mother. She beat me because she loved me, because I deserved it." Her tears reappeared.

He fell to the ground, buried his head in his hands, "No. No! NO! No one deserves that!"

Her plan had failed. She told herself to get up and run. It was her only chance. Climbing out of the pit, she thought: He will not keep me in here! She made it half way out of the pit before his large hand was anchored around her neck. He thrust her back into the darkness.

He raised his eyes to her. "Hyley, trying to run again, are we? You have betrayed me." His eyes glazed over.

"Michael what's wrong? I love you and I trust you. Let's run away together."

He let out this laugh, chilling her to the bone. "Our time together has passed Hyley. YOU FUCKED IT ALL UP! It's over. We have both been judged, and you are the guilty one."

"Michael you are wrong. Please don't do this." She knew it wouldn't work. He had crossed a line when he killed her mother. "Please let me live!" She cried to the scornful God -- maybe He would see her now.

"Hyley, look at me."

"No."

"Then it is over for you."

"What are you talking about?" He still had the bat. "What are you gonna to do with that thing?"

"Bury it, along with the old bag."

Old bag? She thought. Then she saw it, the garbage bag. Was that? No, it couldn't be.

"You are going to keep her company. I guess what they say is right. Like mother. like daughter."

"Michael, what are you talking about?"

"No witnesses, the perfect crime. I would have no motive for a joy killing, and you are my friend, no one needs to know that you are an ungrateful little shit just like your mother. So why not end your life here and now just like I did for her?"

Consider it a blessing from your angel. No one would think it was me. I loved you too much. Maybe I'll even have a nervous breakdown over your death. Nah, that would be too emotional for me. You don't deserve that kind of respect. Your suffering will be over. And I can move on."

Her last thoughts flickered: Oh God no. I am going to die in this pit. Now the bat was above his head. She wanted to scream. Tell him that she loved him. But the Michael she knew no longer inhabited that body. He was Death, Madness, Judge and Jury.

"Good night Hyley. May flights of angels wing you to your rest."

She looked into his eyes before the blow took its toll. There was nothing in those eyes. They were black. Like his heart, like the night.

© 1999 Jennifer Brigid Conner