He never kills them; he just beats and rapes them. He keeps them locked up in his dark house, never to liberate them back into the sun filled world. Some girls may escape from him, but those chances are slim to none. The reason for that is because he has traps set up everywhere. Most girls do end up dying, but that is from trying to escape and running into a trap. He has no name; no one wants to even give him a fake name. Everyone knows that if you give something or someone a name you in return give them power. They all know that he has enough power as it is. They already fear him without a name, naming him would only elevate their fear of him.
He takes who he wants when he wants to and no one will stop him. Like a teenage trouble maker who steals gum and pens from a small store, they do it when they please. No one cares. No one stops them. They are too fearful to stop him. They hear the screams but choose to close their ears to it. There is nothing they can really do to stop him. Some, at first tried to stop what was going on in the beginning but lost their life in doing so. Now people are too afraid of loosing their lives from this man to do anything about him.
The city itself is a small region. It has a diminutive population within it. It is one of those small town populations where everyone knows everyone. It is not one of those cities you can usually find on a map unless it happened to be an older map from centuries ago. It is almost invisible to the outside world around it. The events that went on here were never really big enough to attract the media, and when they were, they just did not care.
I remember the day he made my life a living nightmare, the day that my life became altered forever. It was a day that would follow me for the rest of my life. Psychiatrist have tried and failed with helping me with my problem of what had happened. They only made it worse. They kept telling me to remember what happed. Whenever I start telling them, I start panicking and then end up going into screaming fits of hysteria. The events of that day invaded my sleep every night, haunting me with each and every detail from that day. I find myself waking up from the night terrors crying, or even screaming. It sometimes took me hours before the shaking went away after I woke up.
I was only eight years old. My mother and I were taking our daily stroll to the city. We usually just go to city because we were bored. Today though, we were going to do some shopping for a special dinner she had planned for me. She knew how much I loved her special dinners she makes for me when I am good. I ended up coming home the day before with good grades on my report card. When I showed it to her, her face filled up with glee and happiness. She told me how proud of me she was.
She and I have been living together ever since my father’s death. She’s been taking care of me with no help from anyone else. Some people, like my grandmother, asked if she could help in any way, but my mother always pushed her help aside. She felt she was trying to show me she was a strong woman. Even though he was gone, we were still happy. We still had each other to keep at peace with life. We each had our ways of keeping the other happy. Neither one of us would talk about his death; it was too excruciating to bring up in a subject. All that would do is open up old wounds and pour salt on it. We both cherished him dearly, he being my father and her husband. As much as we missed hum we were still able to move on. Even though he was gone in spirit, he was still here with us in our hearts. The day he died brought the whole town into remorse.
He had been the chief of the police and nothing dire would ever happen when he had been alive. Everybody in town loved him and had high respects for him. He never did anything bad. He was not a drinker. He was not the type that would get into fights. He had been the most prized man in the city. For bedtime stories he used to fathom up different stories he had of being the chief. All of the adventures he had gone though to make sure the town were safe. I would always ask if he was a super hero. He would tell me I was his little princess and he was like the knight of the castle and that he would always protect me no matter what happens. He had enjoyed the work he did to protect us and the city. When he had been here there had been no evil man chasing after the women in town, he had made sure of it. He loved us and would protect us from anything, until the day of the incident.
A teenager had found a gun and needed some money so he decided to go and rob our town’s bank. He did not think he would actually use the gun. He just wanted to scare the people into giving him what he wanted. My father was the first cop on the scene. His orders were to wait for backup before anyone goes in. He believed he could stop the kid. He ran in to try and convince the kid to stop before he hurt someone. The teenager saw my dad, panicked, and shot him. He was rushed to the hospital with blood gushing out of the open wound and the paramedics tried to stop the bleeding, but the shot had been fatal. He died on that day and mother and I haven’t spoken about him since.
My mother was like the town’s gem. She was as well known as my father was. She was the town’s spirit. No matter what happened that day she was always happy and filled with energy. She sometimes reminded me of that energizer bunny from the commercials. She would always have a smile on her face as she walked through town. Her happiness radiated off of her and went to the other people in the town. She brought the spirits up with the other town’s people. Everybody loved her. It was hard to be depressed in that town with a person like my mom living in it. She literally had beauty electrifying off of her. She had flawless skin and her hair flew gracefully in the wind. She was well known for her youth and beauty. Every woman wanted to be her and every man wanted to be with her. Since my father’s death, she had refused to take another man.
That day we went for our stroll was eerie with the skies perpetually raining. My mother and I did not mind the rain. In fact we embraced it. Only nature could predict what would happen on a day like this. The skies wept their fair share of remorse as we walked. Nature loved my mother too, for she took care of it. She respected the plants and she would hug the trees. She cleaned the parks and made sure to recycle anything that could be. She always told me that the trees and plants were just as much of a living being as we were. I was told to never harm it but only love it.
We were humming ourselves a peaceful tune of one our favorite songs by Jack Johnson when she came up with the idea of trying to reach the city faster by taking the alleyways. At first I was reluctant to do so for fear that we might not find our way out since the alleyways were nothing short of a myriad of mazes. I did not tell her this but they also scared me. After she pestered me a bit more I acquiesced for my curiosity was starting to get the better of me at that moment. At eight years old I was always interested in some kind of an adventure. Just like my father, I found adventures were always the best way to go. When we reached the entrance, my heart raced with fear and excitement.
The alleyways she wanted us to travel through were known as Maze Way, for it was just like a maze. If you were not careful enough, you could get lost. There is only one entrance and one exit that we know of but there are many areas that branch off from the main pathway that led you through twist and turns until you reached a dead end. Even the main path way had a good amount of its own twist and turns that could confuse you. It was also a perfect hunting ground for him. On days like this, the maze seems to be worse then on a sun filled day.
We wandered inquisitively through the alleyways. We both felt our hearts racing from excitement and from the fear of the unknown. My mother was speed walking ahead of me almost like she was racing me and did not want me to win. I struggled for a bit trying to keep up with her. All of the twists and turns were confusing but fun. It reminded me of the fun houses that were at the fair that came to the city every year. We enjoyed the time we were having inside of the alleyway. My mom had a decent sense of direction and I trusted that she knew how to get us through here.
We heard screams bouncing off the walls of the alleyway. We knew what caused the screams and were afraid to get involved so we ignored them. The screams to us were as common as hearing the birds sing in the trees my mother loves to hug. We acted as if we did not even hear them. We tried to strike up a conversation but it did not last. We noticed that the screams were getting closer to us and we started to get worried. Our hearts were racing faster then they were at the beginning of the maze. As we continued our walk we bumped right into the victims. One was a petite long blond hair girl with slimming features, while the other was a short stubby girl with long brown hair who kind waddled more then running. Both of them had tattered and torn clothing on.
My mother and I knew we were in serious trouble if these girls were near us. If they were this close that meant he was not to far away. We both looked at each other and I saw the fear and anxiety on her face. This was the first time since my father’s death that I saw my mother looking anything but strong. I grew even more scared knowing my mom’s strength was not there. After looking at her for a few we turned back to face the girls again. The two girls had been beaten black and blue and their clothes had been torn to pieces. They had cuts covering their body. Some of them were still open and bleeding. They scrambled past us and my mother and I both turned to find him standing right there glaring at us.
I looked in awe and fear of the sight in front of me. His torso and face were both extended and long. He must have been at least six and a half feet tall. He looked like he was a very strong man. He was probably strong enough to break me in half if he wanted to right then and there. He had a beard that was black and slowly fading to a grey color ending in a point. His cheeks sunk into his face. He had a very dark complexion on his face. He was dressed in complete black as if he was going to go to a funeral. He looked as though he could be death himself. His look matched the type of person he was. All that was missing was an immense scythe. From the way people described him, I would not be surprised if he had one at his house. His eyes appeared to be filled with nothing but darkness. I stood there hypnotized by him…by the mere sight of him. Like a bug looking at a bug zapper. It causes death but the victim is drawn to it not wanting to go the opposite way. It knows it is dangerous but can not stop.
The shouts of my mother telling me and the girls to run were quiet and muffled at first, but grew louder as I snapped back to reality. I ran praying that my mother was right behind me and that the man was still standing where I saw him. I ran as fast as I could. My slower pace kept me behind the girls. An eight year old can only run so fast. I could hear the faint steps of what I hoped to be my mother’s behind me. I did not want to look back out of fear that those steps might be him instead of my mother.
The ground was so slippery from the rain that I had to grip on the corners of the brick walls to keep myself from sliding when I turned a corner. I had some cuts imbedded into my fingers. Some were deep enough that I know I will have scars on them forever as a form of memorabilia of what had happened that day. The cuts were worth it for I did not want so slip. I knew that if I were to slip I would loose sight of the girls in front of me. I could not risk getting lost now. I needed to make it out. The alley’s maze was horrific to me now with out my mother’s guidance and I really did not want to get lost at the moment. The alley seemed to have gotten bigger and darker. It seemed like it is taking longer to get out. What used to be so strips of an alley, seemed to get longer the more I ran down it. I finally made it out but I did not stop there. I knew I was not safe until I reached an area that was heavily populated. In a town like this that might be hard to find.
Luckily, I saw a construction site where there were a lot of people garnered there. Some people were just standing there in a crowd talking amongst each other on one side of the gate that was furthest from me, while on the other side there were people working on a new building for the city. On the side people were gathered I saw a seemingly nice couple. The man looked brute and strong like someone who can protect me while the woman looked kind and loving and that will embrace anything that may have been a misfortune. A voice in my mind that almost sounded like my father’s voice, told me to go to them. I ran to the woman and held onto her not caring who she was. I just knew I suddenly felt safe. When I was in her arms I knew nothing bad would happen to me there. Neither she nor her husband objected. They just let me cry my tears. Some where in their mind they knew something was wrong but waited till I was a bit better to explain.
When I looked up to see who had made it out of the alley, I saw the blond and brunet had made it. My mother, on the other hand, was no where to be found. On the other side of the gate, just inside the alleyway, I saw him standing there. He just stared at me and would not take his eyes off me, almost like he was staring into my soul. Then a malicious smile crept upon his face. The shadows around him were slowly embracing him, like giant claws were grasping around him. I turned back to the woman and started to weep again. She asked me tell her what had made me get into this despaired state. I told her and her husband the story of what had happened only moments ago. Both of them were mortified when they heard what had happened. I could see the woman’s eyes fill with tears. I told them that I had seen the unnamed man and wanted to bring them to the location but they would not go. I begged, I pleaded, but to no avail. Defiantly, I went back to see if he was still there or quite possibly I’d catch sight of my mother. But both were nowhere to be seen. I broke down in tears for the third time that day. I heard the couple come up behind me to make sure I was ok. I knew the darkness of that man had engulfed both him and my mother.
The couple stared at each other and knew what they had to do. They had known my parents fairly well and out of respect for them they adopted me. That day was the last time I ever saw the unnamed man or my mother. She will live in my heart forever, but I know I will never be the same. On that day everyone, including the sky, mourned the loss of her from all of our lives.
Every year the town gathers around a grave we erected for her and we pay our respects. No one knows whether or not she died that day, but in a way we all hoped that was the case. That way she would not have suffered at the hand’s of that terrible, unnamed man. Ever since her death, the town stayed in a depressing state. She was the gem that brought light and happiness. That gem was shattered and can never be fixed.