Chapter 11: A New Kind of
Nightmare

David squirmed in his seat. His mouth felt dry and his tail
refused to lay still. He couldn't believe what he was doing. Before he even
knew what was happening, he had his cell in his hand and had dialed Detective
Anya's number. Now he was telling her about a plot to kill his old boss.

“Why did I put myself
in this mess?" he wondered. What made him think that telling the cops about
a murder plot would go well? Say they did believe him, he would still need to
explain how he knew, and he still didn't have a good explanation. Telling them
he was told by some random internet weirdo wouldn't cut it, and there was no
way to prove that it anyway.

Now that the initial shock had worn off, he didn't actually
believe Eric was anything more than a stalker. Nothing suggested Eric was doing
the deeds himself, there was no way he had some supernatural power to convince
other people to commit murder.

“David? David, are you still there?" Anya asked.

David snapped out of his trance and swallowed. Whether Eric
was a nut or not, three people connected to him were already dead. He wasn't
about to take chances. “Y-yeah. I'm still here. Listen, I know this sounds
crazy—even I can't believe it. But I know what I'm talking about."

“It's okay, David. I believe you, but I do need more to go
on. Do you know who's going to kill him?"

David let out a long sigh of relief. That was one less thing
to worry about. He wasn't sure how he was going to convince her if she called
him a liar. “I
can't tell you right now. To be honest, I don't know who. Just know that someone
is after him. You need to—"

“Mr. Somerson,
I don't take orders from you," Anya interjected, her voice rising. “And I'm
getting tired of people telling me how to do my job. Now you still haven't told
me how you know about—"

 “Dammit, there's no
time!" He regretted the outburst immediately. Now was not the time to be losing
his cool, not if he wanted Anya to believe him. He took a deep breath and said
in a calmer voice, “I don't know where he lives, but he owns the department
store near the corner of Belmont and 14^th street."

“We'll check it
out, but afterwards I want to—"

“Thanks,
Detective. Look, I'll explain everything later, but right now you have to focus
on stopping Brent's murder."

David hung up
before Anya  could say anything else. He
couldn't hold out any longer. His body was shaking, and his palms were slick
with sweat. Things were just put into motion, and he was already at the point
of no return. Just thinking about it was too much. He wiped his palms on his
pants and gave the phone back to Carol.

“Thanks for
letting me use your phone, Carol," he said. “I couldn't risk making that call
on mine."

“Anytime,
David. It's the least I could do for hanging you out to dry before," the
spaniel replied, her tail wagging slightly. “I know I fucked up pretty bad, but
I really want us to be friends again."

David smiled
back, but it was only to be polite. He didn't have the heart to tell Carol the
real reason he was visiting was because he feared she was dead. He also wanted
to tell Carol she didn't owe him anything and that they technically never
stopped being friends, but the words got lost on the journey from his brain to
his mouth. Part of him still wondered if it really was right to forgive her. He
just couldn't shake the thought that he may have avoided the whole situation if
she told the truth from the beginning. Of course, there were a lot of other
factors involved, so there were no guarantees things would be different.

She looked
better than when he last saw her. The bags were disappearing from beneath her
eyes, indicating she was getting some much needed sleep. Her clothes, while
still wrinkled, no longer made her look like she fought her way out of a
clothes bin. When she moved it was no longer as if death was hanging over her
shoulder, waiting to snatch her up at a moment's notice; she visibly relaxed
around David now. Despite her improvements, her fur was still thin in places,
she'd lost a lot of weight, and she still jumped at sudden movements or loud
noises.

Her apartment
was another story. All the end tables and chairs were placed against the walls,
and nothing heavier than a picture frame could be seen. David assumed it was to
keep someone from hiding behind them and anything she owned from being used to
bludgeon her with. He had no idea how she managed to convince her landlord
(assuming she did), but all her doors had locks on them, including the bathroom
and kitchen, and Carol kept the only key on a chain around her neck at all
times. The wind chimes hung in front of the windows, and sticky traps were
placed on the sills. She also kept a knife in a leather sheath hidden under her
shirt, and when David stumbled across another one taped between the sofa
cushions, he realized she had more stashed all over the apartment.

He wanted to
ask her about the strange décor, but decided against it. He already knew why,
and there was no point in upsetting her. Besides, if he really wanted to help
her, he should do something about her stalker. She claimed there were no new
pictures or signs she was being watched, but she clearly wasn't taking chances.

Carol sat on
the sofa next to him, still wearing her smile except it was more uneasy like a
polite reaction to a joke that wasn't really funny. “So you think that this
Eric person is the one behind everything?" She knew he was being stalked by
someone he met on the internet, but he had left out the part where Eric
confessed to killing people when telling her. He didn't believe it himself, and
it was doubtful Carol would buy into it either.

The real
questions were who was he—assuming it was a “he"—and how did this person know
everything about his life. Not knowing how was what unnerved David the most. He
was very careful with his identity. He kept a close watch on his finances,
never gave away any identifying information to anyone he didn't trust, and his
computer was locked down with enough firewalls and anti-virus software to rival
the military. How could Eric have not only have gotten through his defenses,
but in a way that he never even caught on? There were only two possible
answers: One, Eric had help on the inside. It seemed likely given Rob's
involvement. Two, Eric had some kind of divine power that allowed him to defy
the laws of physics. It sounded like something ripped out of a comic book, but
one thing David couldn't deny was that something about Eric seemed…off.

Unfortunately,
finding Eric's true identity was easier said than done. With David's computer
skills, he could trace Eric the next time they chatted online. But Eric would
know that and would have a plan in place. It was a risk David did not want to
take. Rob hadn't returned any of his calls since they last spoke. Part of him
feared his friend was in on the whole thing while another part worried Rob was
killed trying warn him. Neither option was pleasant, so he tried to stop
thinking about it. He thought about telling Michael as well, but wasn't sure it
was a good idea. Eric would know about the lawyer, and probably kept a close
eye on him, too. Telling Stephanie was out of the question. Eric never mentioned
her, and David wanted to keep it that way. Besides, he saw no benefit in
telling her.

So he was
forced to deciphering the stalker's identity the hard way. He and Carol spent
the most of the day going over old photos and every examining everyone David
knew since high school for possible suspects. Unfortunately, no one stood out. David
was a bit of a loner in high school. Besides Rob, he never really hung out with
anyone else, and as far he could remember, there was no one who followed him
around. There was an Eric who went to David's high school. Unfortunately, that
Eric never shared any classes or after-school activities. In fact, David
couldn't recall ever once being in the same room with him, so that person was
out.

Carol suggested
they cross-reference everyone David knew with their social media accounts to
find out who the stalker was. The result was scarier than they expected. They
found eight other people David knew who were killed in the months after Lori's
death. David searched the news websites to confirm, but found only half made a
headline. The rest they found out reading messages from family and friends on
social media. Carol never drew a connection, but David did. A few coincidences
he could believe, but their latest findings put the death count to twelve
people, all dead within a year. It was Eric—it had to be. He had been killing
long before David met him on Chatline. The
news horrified David more than he let on. There was no evidence connecting Eric
to any of those people, but he knew Eric was involved even if he couldn't
explain it. But why was Eric making contact now, and how was he doing all of
this without making it onto anyone's radar?

After learning
that Eric had been active far longer than they anticipated, David decided to
end their search for the day. He needed to think and figure out how Eric was
skating under the radar. It was then he had decided to call Anya and give her a
heads up about Brent.

Carol didn't
object to doing something else and seemed happier for it, not that David could
blame her. All this talk about death, and stalkers, and invasion of privacy was
likely hitting too close to home, and it was still possible Eric was the one
who was threatening her. David didn't say it out loud for fear of upsetting
her, but he felt that Eric wasn't behind the creepy photos. He couldn't explain
why; it just didn't feel like something Eric would do.

Now that they
were sitting there in silence, it dawned on them they didn't have anything to
do. He could just leave, but it seemed rude and he didn't want to leave Carol
alone with her thoughts so soon after what they found out. Carol had a TV, but
it sat in a taped box flat against the wall. She claimed it was a distraction
and made it easier to sneak up on her. David suggested reading, but Carol
pointed out that all she had were trashy romance novels. He tried reading one
anyway, but found he would rather do nothing. Taking a nap was out of the
question. If he had another nightmare, there was no telling how Carol would
react. They both agreed not to go online; it was just a reminder of all the
creepy things they encountered so far. Carol jokingly suggested that they could
fool around to pass the time, and David was almost tempted to take her up on
her offer. It had been over a year since he had been with anyone, and if he
went to jail for murder, it would be an even longer time before he would see
another female. But he knew Carol was only suggesting it to distract herself
from her fear and he couldn't take advantage of her like that. Besides, seeing
her as she was now was actually a turn-off (although he didn't say that out
loud).

After more
minutes of tense silence, Carol spoke again. “David, I've been thinking: didn't
you say your friend introduced you to the website? Do you think he knows who
Eric is?“

“I thought
about it, but Rob wouldn't do that. We've been friends since high school; we're
like brothers," David said. Rob was actually the first person he suspected. He
had been trying to get a hold of his friend since Eric revealed himself, but
Rob hasn't answer his phone or the door. David feared Eric may had killed Rob,
but it didn't make sense. Eric only harmed people who betrayed David. Rob was
one of the few people David could count on.

“Maybe he
thought that he was doing you a favor," Carol said gently. “Sometimes people do
bad things with the best intentions in mind."

He didn't want
to admit it, but Carol had a point. The blind-date Rob had set him up for could
easily have caused more harm than good. But Rob also wasn't the unthinking
type. If Rob thought for even second, that something was wrong with Eric, he
would've said so.

“Rob's a good
guy. He wouldn't do anything to put me at risk intentionally. He has no idea
what Eric is planning."

“I didn't say
he was involved. I just said maybe he knew your stalker."

“And I said Rob
has nothing do with this," David snapped.

Carol flinched
and fell silent. She started chewing on the hem of shirt exposing her belly
fur. David noticed a pink jagged scar visible beneath her cream colored fur.
She must had noticed he saw it because she quickly pulled her shirt down over
the old wound.

He quickly
spoke, hoping to steer the subject to something else. “Look, I'm sorry for
snapping at you. It's just Rob is one of my closest friends. He stood by me
while my life fell apart. Even when I was a total dick to him, he had my back.
I refuse to believe that a guy like that would set me up with a stalker without
realizing it, and I know he would never do it intentionally."

For a moment,
he thought she wouldn't respond, but she said, “David, you look awful. You
should get some sleep."

David couldn't
help but laugh at her statement. “I look awful? Carol, you don't have a lot of
room to talk. And it's like the middle of the day; I don't need a nap."

Carol scooted
closer, her expression serious. “David, I'm one of the few people who
understand how you feel right now. You haven't slept at all since finding out,
have you?"

David looked
away, his ears flattening in embarrassment. It had been three days since
finding out Eric was stalking him, and he hadn't slept at all. He feared waking
up to seeing that nutjob standing over him, or waking up somewhere else
entirely such as an abandoned warehouse, tied to a table under dim florescent
lighting. He was afraid to leave his apartment, fearing every stranger he saw
on the street could be Eric.

Carol gently
took him by the arm and led him out of the living room and down the hall. “Come
on. You can sleep in my bed."

“Carol—"

“Before you
start, you're sleeping alone, and I don't
want to hear anything else about it. Trust me. If you don't get some sleep,
you'll really start going crazy."

It was clear
there was no arguing with her, so he allowed her to steer him to the bedroom. The
bedroom had been arranged like the rest of the house which meant no more
furniture than the bare minimum. There was only a single bed, a nightstand, and
a dresser all pressed against the walls to ensure there were no blind spots. There
wasn't single shred of clothing on the carpeted floor. A mirror hung over the
dresser, but nothing rested on its surface. The door to the closet was locked
just like every other door in the house. The only window in the room was also
rigged like the others in the apartment. He pretended not to see her unlock the
door and carefully inspect every corner of the room with her hand on the knife
hidden under her shirt. When she decided the room was clear, she steered David
over to the bed. He took his shoes off and climbed under the covers.

“I have some
sleeping pills if you think it'll help," she offered. “I'm afraid I don't have
any alcohol. I found being drunk didn't help much.

“No, I think
I'll try doing it the old-fashioned way. Are you going to be all right by
yourself?"

“I appreciate
that you're worried about me, but I have spent several nights in here alone
already. I can handle myself. You just worry about getting some sleep. Don't
worry about anything. If that Eric guy wants a piece of you, he'll have to go
through me first." Her tail wagged and she proudly puffed out her chest as she
smiled reassuringly.

David chuckled
to hide his true feelings. The idea of Carol being killed by Eric because she
interfered with his plans was not very comforting. She smiled again before
leaving the room.

At first, he
resisted going to sleep. It felt foreign being in a bed that wasn't his own.
Carol's scent permeated the sheets, and it wasn't a pleasant smell, but he
decided to cut her some slack. It was likely she was having nightmares, so she
spent many nights waking up in a cold sweat. Plus he doubted his bed smelled
any better. His eyes closed the moment his head hit the pillow.

****

David sat in front of his computer, watching the runtime of
his latest algorithm. It was a simple sorting program he meant to give to
Lori's father as a birthday present. In their last conversation, he mentioned
that the current one his business was using was giving them trouble. So David
decided to try his hand at creating a better one.

Unfortunately, he couldn't get the stupid program to work,
and when it did, it didn't do any better than the current algorithms already in
use.

He was taken away from his thoughts when a hand suddenly
appears in front of his face.

“Earth to David, you in there?"

He turned to see Lori standing over him with an annoyed look
on her face. “Sorry, Lor, I got a little distracted. What did you say?"

“Seriously? I asked to get dressed an hour ago! Now we're
late and I gonna have to deal with my mother's complaints about how her own
daughter couldn't bother to show up on time. Can't you tear yourself away from
that stupid machine for five minutes? Honestly, if you find a way to fuck that
thing, I don't think you'd need me anymore."

“Well, I can find porn on this thing; that's close enough,"
David replied with a wide grin.

Lori continued to stare him, stone-faced.

David's ears fell and his wide smile turned to a sheepish
one. “Not funny?"

“No! David, I'm being serious. I can't show up late for my
dad's surprise party."

“Wait, that thing is today?! Shit! I thought it was next
week!"

Lori mouth dropped open. “You forgot?"

David stood up and dropped the blanket around his shoulders,
showing Lori that he was already dressed and ready to go. “I got ready a long
time ago. I just wanted to try to finish this program for your father, but I'm
running into a snag. The gift will just have to wait. I'll just explain to
Richard that I need more time getting the program ready."

Lori punched him in the arm and stormed out of the room.
David chuckled and followed after her.

“C'mon, Lori, I'm sorry. I was just joking." He entered the
living room and found it empty. He frowned and took a sweeping glance around
the apartment. There was no sign of Lori in the living room or the kitchen. She
couldn't have left through the front door, he would have heard. He just came
from the hallway; she couldn't have gone past him with him noticing.

“Lori? Lor, you said we were going to be late; now's not the
time for games."

There was no response. He looked into the bathroom, but it,
too, was empty. David's stomach tightened. The apartment wasn't that big, where
could she have gone? She couldn't have left that quickly without him hearing
the front door. He took another peek into the bedroom and found it empty as
well. Unless there was a secret passage somewhere in the apartment or she
jumped out of the window, there's no explanation why he couldn't find her.

He hurried back into the living room. Lori stormed past him
without a word. Her face was red and her cheeks were wet.

“Whoa, hey. What's wrong?"

Lori spun on her heel. Fresh tears were streaming down her
face. “You know what, fuck you, David!"

His ears fell as he stared at her dumbstruck. Getting to
this party must mean more to her than she's letting on. But if they hurry, they
could still make it, and she was never this emotional about something. What
could have happened in the last few moments to upset her this much?

Before he could ask her, he heard a voice—his voice—behind
him, seething with anger, “Don't even try
to act like you're offended! You knew full well I wouldn't be okay with it, and
that's why you hid it from me!"

David turned around to see himself standing next to the
sofa. The other David looked exactly like him and was wearing the exact same
outfit—all the way down to the collar in need of adjusting. He looked back at
Lori then back at the other version of himself. Both were glaring daggers at
the other while ignoring him standing between them.

“Maybe I hid it from you because I knew you act like this,"
Lori said, walking back to the other David. She walked right through David as
if he's not even there. “We work together, so yes, I still have to be in the
same room with him. We're colleagues—nothing more."

The other David folded his arms across his chest and
scoffed, “You know you told me that same lie when you were still fucking him."

The air rushed out of David's lungs as it hits him what was
witnessing. He remembered this day. It was the day they had their big fight.
The last day he would ever see her again.

 Lori threw her arms
up and groaned, “Why, David? Why do always throw that up in my face but later
claim you've forgiven me? Do you just get a kick out of reminding me of my
mistake? I don't constantly remind you of that rabbit you're always hanging out
with."

“First, mistakes.
You spent more than one night with him, and lied about it on several occasions.
Second, Stephanie is just a friend. And unlike you, I mean exactly that. She's a friend. Third, how did you think I was
going to react when I find out that you're still seeing him, and to top it off,
you lied about still seeing him. In
what dimension did you think this was going to end well?"

“I lied because I knew you wouldn't believe the truth," Lori
cried, her voice breaking, whether from screaming too much or being upset,
David didn't know. Either way it hurt see her that way. “My boss told me I had
to work on this account with him. It's either that or quit my job."

“So quit," David retorted at normal volume. “Besides, we
both know your boss is making you do this because your bitch of a mother."

“You leave my mother out of this!" Lori shouted in an even
voice, “She has nothing to do with this. I stayed because I have nowhere else
to go if I quit thanks to your little outburst at the office. No one wants to
hire the employee with the crazy boyfriend."

The other David threw his head back and laughed. But the
laugh was hollow and cold. David wanted nothing more than to punch his other
self in the face. He couldn't believe there was a time when he was this
insensitive.

“So now it's my fault," the other David stated, “I guess you
opening your legs for him was my fault too?"

“What do you want from me? I told you—Luther and I are done. I just wish you would trust me. I
know I lied once, but do you honestly think I would tell you we're done just so
I could keep creeping with him?"

“Then what do you call this?" the other David asked, holding
up a gold locket. David recognized it as the same locket Oliver tried to give
him. The locket that started the whole argument. “You say you're done, but you
still have this in your bag."

Lori stared at the locket, her eyes the size of saucers.
“David…you're taking it the wrong way—"

“I don't want to hear it!" the other David threw the locket
at Lori. She flinched as it bounced harmlessly off her chest.

David felt his own chest tighten. He might as well have
struck her that day.

“I feel like I'm living with damn stranger. You tell me one
thing, then I find out it's another. I don't even know how I feel about you
anymore. You know what, just get out. Go have fun with your 'colleague.' "

Lori started towards the other David, “David, please. Let me
explain…"

The other David's hackles rose. He snatched Lori's purse off
the sofa, the locket off the floor and shoved them both into his cowering
girlfriend's arms. “Take your shit, and get the fuck out!"

Lori looked at him heartbroken. Without another word, she
turned and left the apartment. She closed the door gently, but to David it
sounded as if a bomb went off in the room.

David went to his other self who was sitting on the sofa
with his face buried in his hands. “Hey, go after her," he ordered. His other
self didn't move. He tried to shake him, but his hand passed through the
doppelganger's body. He knelt in front of the other David. “I know you don't
mean what you said. Go out and get her back before it's too late." He meant it
literally. By the end of the day, his other self would be getting a phone call
telling him his girlfriend was killed in a tragic car accident. This was the
last chance he would get to apologize for his behavior.

The other David continued to sit there, unmoving.

“Are you listening to me?! This is the last time you will
see her again. Get off your ass and go apologize!"

The doppelganger still didn't move or acknowledge the other
version of himself standing mere feet from him.

David growled and jumped to his feet. “Fine. If you won't go
after her, I will." He ran for the apartment door and snatched it open.

He was in
another room. The large bedroom had enough space for two dressers and a queen
sized bed while still providing plenty of space to move around. More clothes
and rose petals covered the floor. Unlit candles had been placed around the
room. An older woman lay in the middle of the bed wearing lingerie. Her curly
red hair hung around her shoulders. Despite her age, she was still attractive,
the teddy accentuating the figure she worked so hard to keep. The dark lipstick
and eyeliner she wore distracted from the laugh lines and the few wrinkles she
had.  As he stood there, staring at her,
the top her creamy, white breasts heaving with her rapid breathing, one thought
jumped out at him.

She wasn't
dressed that way for him.

“Richard, it's
not what it looks like," the woman said. Her voice quivered with every word. “I
found out you were coming back early, so I—"

“Don't lie to
me," David said so icily, the woman flinched. He could feel his rage building
with every word. “You were waiting for him
weren't you?"

The woman
swallowed and stared with fear-filled eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, but no
sound came out.

David stepped
closer. “ANSWER ME!"

Her bottom lip
quivered, and she broke into tears. She buried her face in her hands. That was
all the answer he needed. He walked over to the woman, and put a reassuring
hand on her shoulder.

“It's okay.
Don't worry. I'll make everything better. I know you're sorry." His voice was
void of any care. She wasn't sorry—not yet. He slowly pulled out the pair of
scissors he'd been hiding behind his back and held them high over his head.

The woman
looked up just in time to see the scissors in his hand. Her emerald eyes
widened in shock.

He plunged the
scissors deep into her chest. Immediately her blood spilled over his hand. She
stared at him, eyes bulging in shock as tears streamed down her checks. He
snatched the scissors out and stabbed her again. She tried to grab his hand,
but she was too weak. He easily shook her off and stabbed her again. He
continued the assault even after her she stopped fighting, her mouth stopped
moving, and her bright green eyes became dull and lifeless. Blood and tears
pooled into the folds of her neck and splashed onto his face and chest. His
hands felt warm and sticky.

He stopped and
stared at her. He was breathing heavily, the adrenaline pumping through his
veins gave him a high unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The woman's mouth hung
open as she stared lifelessly at the ceiling. He heard the distinct clicking
sound of the door being unlocked. He smiled. He had done something right
because things were going far too smoothly for him. The thought of seeing his
wife's boytoy walked in and seeing what he had done made him feel giddy. He
would wait until the one who ruined his marriage was overtaken with horror and
despair before sending that adulterous bastard where he belonged. He hid in the
closet and waited.

It didn't take
long before the white-furred fennec waltzed into the room with a smile on his
face, wearing nothing but a pair of socks and underwear. David's hand tightened
around the scissor's as his eyes fell on the erection protruding from the
interloper's boxers. The furry bastard was half his age, thin, good-looking,
everything he wasn't. He was old, overweight, and balding. But it didn't give
her the right to cheat—and especially not with his business rival! It didn't
give that fennec the right to disrupt his marriage and take his wife from him.

“Well,
Brent Caldwell is going lose something important tonight as well. I'll make
sure of it," he thought.

Brent Caldwell
was in the process of taking one sock off when he saw the woman laying on the
bed in a pool of blood. He dropped the one sock onto the floor. His eyes bulged
as he stared at her in horror. The bulge in his underwear diminished in record
time. “Wh-wha—? How?"

David rushed
out of the closet and plunged the scissors deep into the fennec's side. Brent
grunted in pain as she staggered away. The fennec stared at with the same
shocked expression the woman had. He looked down at his blood-covered hand as
if it were some foreign object.

The sight of
his confusion brought a smile to David's face.

Seeing the
devious smile snapped Brent back into reality. He took off running down the
hall. David was right on his heels. He swung the scissors in a wide arc, hoping
to catch the fennec in the back of the neck. Brent lurched forward, causing the
swing to barely clip the fur on the back of his neck. Brent made several
frightened yelps as if trying to scream for help. David lunged and grabbed a
fistful of his back fur. Brent swung a fist backward. David jumped back out of
pure reflex, releasing his hold. Brent continued spinning and slammed into the
wall, bounced off and took off running again. David followed close behind.
Catching the fennec was harder than trying to catch a ball bouncing around at
high speed. Every time he thought he had Brent, the fennec would lurch or
bounce off the furniture and he lost his grip.

They reached
the kitchen. Brent snatched open the freezer door, catching David full in the
face. He cried out and stumbled backward. By the time he'd recovered, Brent had
grabbed a knife from the rack on the counter. His white fur was stained with
his own blood. He faced David, his fur standing on end, lips pulled back into a
snarl.

“Come on, you
miserable fat fuck!" Brent challenged.

David raised
the scissors and grinned darkly. He wanted the fennec to fight back. He wanted
to see the fire leave Brent's eyes as he realized he was going to die.

Even if it
killed him.

****

David jumped out of the bed and ran to the bathroom. He was
lucky Carol had left the bedroom door unlocked. Even as he ran full-sprint for
the toilet, he could feel the contents of his stomach pushing upward. He held a
hand over his muzzle to keep it in, but vomit just spurted through his fingers.

He barely made it to the toilet before he began vomiting
uncontrollably. The sickening taste and smell of the bile coming up from his
stomach made him want to start throwing up all over again. Every time he
thought it was over, images of his nightmare flashed through his mind and he
started vomiting again. He did this again and again until there was nothing
left in his stomach. Even then the nightmare continued to appear before him
causing him to dry heave into the toilet.

When his stomach stopped its violent fire sale, he slumped
into the corner, exhausted. His entire body was drenched in sweat and felt as
if it was on fire. He looked at his hands. There was no blood them, but they
trembled was so badly, he felt as if someone is shaking him.

David closed his eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths
to calm down, but the images became much clearer and he snapped his eyes open
again.

“What
just happened?" he thought. This nightmare was definitely different from the
others. Even when he dreamed of shooting the others while they hung from trees,
it wasn't so…detailed.

Or vicious.

He had no idea who that woman was, why he dreamed of
murdering her, or what she had to do with Brent Caldwell. It was strange as
every dream up until now only including people he knew. Even the faceless woman
he felt had an unestablished connection to him, but the red-haired woman from
his dream was a complete mystery.

“David?"

He spun to see Carol standing in the bathroom doorway, the
knife clenched tightly in her furry fist, and her thinning fur standing on end.
He nodded and gave her a thumbs up to show he was okay before dry heaving into
the toilet again.

David stood and dragged his shaking body to the sink. He
turned on the water and licked at the stream flowing from the tap. After
drinking his fill, he splashed cold water on his face and neck. The cold water
did little to help him calm down. He then held his hands under the faucet for
several minutes, watching the clear water wash down to drain. But seeing the
clear water didn't convince him his hands were clean. He scrubbed his hands
with soap just to convince himself that they weren't covered in blood. No
matter how many times he told himself it was a dream, he didn't believe it. He
gave up and pressed his hands together as tightly as he could

It felt as if he were still there. He could feel the scissors
in his hands, and how it felt as he stabbed the woman and Brent. HHHHe remembered the sounds of piercing
flesh, the acrid smell of blood, and the excitement he felt as he killed.

“David," Carol said again, the urgency strong in her tone.
“What's wrong?"

“It was just a bad dream," he said breathlessly. “I'm fine."

“You jumped out of bed to throw up. That's the very opposite
of being 'fine.' "

He pressed the heels of hands against his eyes until he
started seeing spots. “Really, Carol. I'm fine." He splashed more water on his
face. He could still feel her standing in the doorway, staring at him. She
wasn't going to drop it until he talked about it.

He sighed and said. “I've been having…nightmares for the
past few months. They've been getting more frequent in the past few weeks and
now they're…changing. They're becoming more and more violent."

He expected Carol to tell him was crazy, tell him to leave
her apartment, and cease all contact. Instead, she took a washcloth out of the
closet, soaked it in water, and began wiping David's face and neck. Her touch and
expression were gentle as if she were caring for a child that made a mess
during lunch. It made David want to snatch the washcloth out of her hands and
tell her to leave him alone. He didn't deserve—or want her charity. It was
likely his fault her life was where it was now.

“Tell me about the dreams," she said softly.

David swallowed thickly. The last thing he wanted was to
talk about the dreams. Before his realized, his mouth was moving and he was
telling her about the earlier nightmares where he first encountered the
face-less woman. Though it took a fair bit of urging on Carol's part, he also
told her about the other dream when he stared shooting people as they dangled
from tree branches like life-sized marionettes.

Carol continued to clean him up as he spoke. Not once did
she interrupt, or ask questions. The only time she spoke was when she asked
about the dream that made David run into the bathroom. That one he wouldn't
tell. There was no way he was going to relive the fight that got Lori killed
nor did he want to describe brutally murdering a woman he'd never seen before. Carol's
ears, tail, and fur remained slack the entire time. Her calmness bothered him
more than anything else. She should be judging him. No, he wanted her to judge him. Anything was better than being
understanding. He had dreamt of using her body for target practice while she
hung helplessly from a tree. She shouldn't be okay with that.

When David finished, she left the washcloth on the side of
the sink and led him back into the living room. She sat him down, took his hand
in hers, and looked him square in the eye. “David, did you ever think that
maybe these dreams are your way of dealing with everything that's happened?"

David's brow rose. “Huh? What are you talking about?"

“I mean, your dreams could be a sign. A lot of people think
our dreams are our way of processing things in our subconscious. I think these
nightmares are your way of dealing with all this stress. I mean, you've never
talked about his with anyone have you?"

“Now you sound like Stephanie," David said. “She thought I
needed to get this off my chest, too."

“Maybe you do. David, your dreams sound like a
representation of your life. Think about it. First, everything is fine and
perfect, then suddenly you no longer recognize the woman you love. Next thing
you know, everything is turning to shit and falling apart around you. I think
the other dream is your grief turning into anger. You want to get back at
everyone who turned their back on you, right?"

David didn't respond. Admitting that would mean he wanted to
get back at Carol as well.

“David, it's okay. I know I earned my place on that list.
But you need to address this. I think your dreams are getting more violent
because your anger is building. It's only going to get worse the longer you go
without some kind of outlet." She moved her hand to his shoulder and leaned
closer. “Please, let me help you."

David pulled away from her. He was angry before, but he had
no reason to be now. Angry was not how he would describe that last dream. “So,
are you psychiatrist now? Or are you trying to get back in my good graces?" It
was harsh, and he knew it. He hated talking to her that way, but he couldn't
shake the feeling she was only being this nice because she didn't want to get
on his bad side.

Carol didn't flinch at his outburst. “I deserve that. I know
it looks that way, and I won't lie. I do feel that if you forgive me then my
stalker will back off." She moved closer, her gaze becoming more firm like a
parent about to lecture their child. “But I also got a taste of what you're
going through. All alone, no one to trust or confide in as your life falls
apart around you. It sends you to a dark place, and you can't process your feelings
properly. I really want us to be friends again.

“There's different types of anger, y'know. Just because you
don't blow up every two seconds and break things doesn't mean you don't have a
problem. Until I started seeing a shrink, I didn't know I was bottling up anger
toward myself. She told me I was punishing myself for what I did to you, and I
needed to face it or else I was just gonna sit in my apartment as my paranoia ate
me alive."

David jumped to his feet. “So what do you want me to do? I'm
supposed to, what, just forgive everyone for making my life a living hell for
the past year? Not everyone is like you, Carol. Some of them don't regret what
they did. They were waiting for this
day to come, so they could finally get back at me. Lori would never admit, but
they hated seeing us together. I know
they did."

“Even if you don't, you can't spend the rest of your life
thinking up ways to make them pay. What about Lori? I don't think she'd want to
see you like—"

David lunged forward grabbing her by the throat. He didn't
squeeze hard enough to cut off her air supply, but enough to silence her. He
leaned in until he could see himself in Carol's green irises. His fur was still
wet, but the bristling from his rage made him look like a madman. “You don't get
to tell me what Lori would've wanted. If it weren't for assholes like you, I
would've had time to process her death and move on. None of you understand how
I feel, and you don't care. I wanted to fix our relationship, but it's never
that simple. How was I supposed to forgive her when I was constantly reminded
of the mistake she made? She died hating me. I have to live with that for the
rest of my life. I have to remember the tears in her eyes when I last saw her
were because I put them there." It
suddenly dawned on him what Carol meant. He released her and backed away,
tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor.

“C-Carol, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean—" he began.

Carol rubbed her neck. She looked hurt, but not by David
grabbing her. “It's fine, David. I'm just glad you're finally getting it off
your chest." She slid off the sofa onto the floor, so she could look him in the
eye again. “You can't keep blaming yourself for her death. I get it hurts—and
everyone blaming you for it hasn't been helping. So anytime you need to talk or
vent or even use for a verbal punching bag, I'll always listen."

“But—"

“No, 'buts.' Forget what the assholes are saying. Just focus
on your feelings and doing what you need to do to get through this."

He wanted to argue further, but knew it would be pointless.
Carol wasn't going to listen, and he knew she was right. Rob, Stephanie, even
Michael had all said the same thing. He needed to focus on getting his feelings
back in order. But that was easier said than done. He had so few people left to
confide in, he feared telling them too much would push them away.

It wouldn't be easy, but it was better than the
self-destructive cycle he had been spiraling down for the last few months. It
may even help him find a way to get Eric off his back. He nodded to show his
understanding.

“Okay. I need you to wait here while I see if you got any
vomit on my sheets. When I come back, we'll talk as much about Lori as you
want, okay?"

David nodded again and Carol left the room. Soon as she was
out of sight, his phone chimed. Thinking Michael was messaging him, he
took the cell off the table and looked at the screen. His eyes widened when he
saw someone else had sent him a text. It came from an unknown number and
contained two short sentences:

Its
Eric. Get out of there.

David jumped to his feet. He was very careful to make sure
he wasn't being followed. It never occurred to him that Eric would've hacked
his phone to use the GPS. He made a mental not to kick himself for it later. There
was something more serious to deal with; Eric was breaking the pattern. They
always talked through Chatline. He
knew he shouldn't be surprised since Eric was a stalker, but he also knew when
psychos broke their pattern, it was never a good sign.

What was more worrying was not the text, but the contents. “It's a warning, but a warning of what?"
he wondered. “Was Eric planning to do
something to Carol?" Before David could type a response, another message
appeared:

U
r in danger.

“NOOO!"

Carol screamed was followed by hurried footsteps and objects
cluttering to the floor. David dropped his phone and rushed into the hallway.
He glimpsed a piece of Carol's tail disappear into the bedroom before the door
slammed shut. He could hear her hurriedly locking the door behind her.

David rushed over and knocked on the door. “Carol? Carol,
it's David. What's wrong?"

“Nooo! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

David swore under his breath. There was no getting through
to her like this. He didn't want to leave her alone because she might hurt
herself, but the only way to get to her was to break the door down which would
upset her more. “Carol, please, I need you to unlock the door."

Carol's frightened sobs were the only response he received.

He swore again loudly. “What
the hell happened to scare her this badly?" He started scanning the hallway
for what could've upset her. The front door was locked and showed no signs of
being opened. The bedroom was the only other point of entry where David
wouldn't have noticed. The window in the bathroom wasn't wide enough for a body
to fit through, and there were no other rooms between him and the bedroom.

His eyes eventually settled on something on the floor. It
was a
picture of Carol sleeping in her bed. David's tail flew between his legs. When
Carol showed him the pictures that day in the park, none of them showed her
sleeping. The stalker hadn't left her alone. With trembling fingers, he picked
up the photo. Judging from the peaceful look on Carol's face and the way she
was laying, she had no idea her picture was being taken. The sheets in the
photo were the same ones she had on her bed now. Afraid of what it may be, he
flipped the picture over to see if a message was left on this one as well.

There was a
message written on it in the same black ink as the others:

You're
next

David's mouth felt dry. The picture in his hand proved two
things: One, Carol's stalker had no plans to leave her alone. Two, Eric wasn't
the one leaving her the messages. If Eric was responsible, there would be no
reason to warn David at all. The picture could've waited until after he left.

At that moment the front door burst open. Fearing it was
Carol's stalker, David threw the picture down and rushed forward, hoping to
catch the person by surprise. A female tabby came in. He didn't what the
stalker's gender was, he tackled the tabby onto the floor.

Before he could do anything else, something roughly grabbed
him from behind and he was hauled into the air and slammed into the wall. He
fought against his attacker until his arm was pinned against his back and a
pair of cuffs were being put on.

“Wait, you guys are cops?" he asked.

“You're damn right we're cops," a male voice hissed into his
ear. David tried to see who it was, but the guy had his head mashed against the
wall. The scent told him it was human. 
“You okay?" the cop asked his partner.

“Yeah, I'm fine," the tabby said. “Take him down to the car,
I'll check on the victim."

“Hold on. Victim? You have the wrong guy. It wasn't me!"
David cried.

“Yeah, yeah. 'It wasn't me, I've never seen that before,
it's not mine, I didn't know.' Buddy, we've heard every excuse there is," the
other cop said. “But don't worry, you'll have plenty of chances to come up with
a good excuse for why you hit a cop and why you were terrorizing people."

David was quiet. He knew screaming and resisting would only bury
himself deeper. The cop read David his rights as he was led out of the
apartment. He wasn't really listening; he knew his rights already. His mind was
processing what just happened.

The last time Carol came to him she said, the cops ignored
her. Now they suddenly show just moments after another mysterious message was
slipped under her door. Eric's warning proved he nothing to do with it. David
just wished the warning had come sooner.