Broken Foretelling

I stared at the letter on the kitchen table, dread filling my entire being. The words all blurred together through angry tears.  There was nothing I could do now, so I went through the silverware drawer until I found what I wanted. Slipping it into my pocket, I turned around and walked out of your apartment for the last time. Never again, I promised myself. Never again.

Outside the wind was brisk and refreshing, drying my tears and blowing my sorrow away. All that was left was a smoldering anger, and an unbridled rage. Every person was my enemy. Every person was to blame. THEY had taken you away, and no amount of pleading or begging would bring you back. You were gone. Forever.

“Hey! Give us your money and your life!” jeered the two bulky thugs, crowding me against a building. No one stopped. No one looked. It was just me against two jerks, asking for everything. Intent on taking if I wouldn't give.
They were the enemy. It was their fault. They were to blame. If I didn't stop them now, they would take me too. Hate. Hate them ALL. Take. Take back what they stole.
“Hey! Anybody in there?” The thug on my left waved a hand in front of my face, seemingly oblivious to my glare. His friend grabbed my left shoulder, and that was it.
All thoughts fled as my emotions snapped. My right hand slipped into my pocket, pulling out a super sharp meat knife.
“Give them back!” I howled, a creature of blood and fury. There were screams, and sticky liquid covered my arms and face.
It wasn't enough. My wounded soul screamed for vengeance, but all that surrounded me was the mocking silence. Without bothering to look, I started walking again, slipping the knife back in my pocket. No one approached me. No one looked at me. It was like I was a ghost in this busy city.

Somehow I ended up back at my place, clean and wearing my pajamas. Blankly I stared at my bedroom ceiling. How had I ended up here? Was it all just a horrible dream? Like probing a sore tooth, my hand went to my right pocket, and pulled out the knife. Not a dream then. You were really gone, and I... I was just like THEM. There would be no salvation for either of us. Nothing would bring you back, or my tarnished innocence. Nothing mattered anymore, so... I took a deep breath. Could I let go of the hate? The rage? The sorrow?

“They have killed me, and all I want is for you to remind them of that.” whispers your voice. The voice of someone I'd never see or speak to again. Very well. I would remind them. Everyone was the enemy. Everyone would pay. I would deliver judgment on the world.

On the news, the anchor woman talked about a mysterious serial killer. Someone who killed with a knife, and yet there were never any witnesses. They were called the “Shadow Slasher”. Pure hype. Everyone seemed to be talking about them, but it was mostly the novelty factor. After all, it had been almost a month before anyone figured out there were any connections between the victims. I knew better than to trust the news. Something else was going on, and this story was just a diversion. Taking one last look in the bathroom mirror, I turned off the news and walked out of my apartment. My boyfriend and I were meeting at the sandwich shop for lunch.

I couldn't feel anything anymore. Every person who joined you was never enough. The emptiness was still there, gnawing at my tattered soul. A thought has been haunting me, ever since I walked out your door. What if this was all my fault? What if I could have saved you? If this was true, then the THEY who had killed you... was me.

My boyfriend was smiling brightly as he chattered on about his latest convention. I was so happy to see that smile. He meant the world to me. I'd do anything to make him happy. As we walked down the sidewalk, I noticed something odd about the girl approaching us. I couldn't put my finger on what about her bothered me, but my intuition was almost never wrong. I tugged on my boyfriend's arm, trying to get him to move away from her. He looked down at me, and I saw the flash of a blade. Without thinking, I pushed him back.
“Why are you doing this? Don't kill him!” I screamed.
“Why? They killed my friend. They are the enemy.” she said vacantly.
“My boyfriend doesn't kill people!” I yelled, and kicked her.
“You are the enemy too. Everyone is the enemy.” Her eyes were void of emotion, cold and bottomless. She tried to kill me with her knife, but I couldn't let her.
“You're wrong! I don't know who your friend was, but I don't kill people. The whole world can't be held responsible for the loss of your friend!”
She stepped back, tears falling from her cold eyes.
“No!” she denied. “It wasn't my fault! THEY killed them. I can't be the one they meant...”
I shivered at the anguish in her voice, so at odds with their vacant, tear filled eyes. It was almost as if she wasn't human. I took a step backwards, into the arms of my boyfriend. He held me. I could feel his fear, but he was warm. He didn't say anything. Or maybe it was just that I was so intent on hearing the words of our attacker that I COULDN'T hear his words.
“It wasn't me!” she muttered, backing away.
I reached for her, but my boyfriend wouldn't let me move. I tried to cry out, but she didn't hear me-or the car that was coming. Then again... maybe she did. It was almost as if she THREW herself in front of the passing car, clawing at her face with the forgotten knife. Right before the gruesome crunch of flesh and car, a wailing shriek issued from her inhuman throat.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. I was alone. Something worried the edges of my thoughts, and I fought back an overwhelming anger. It WASN'T my fault!
Wait. What wasn't? I shivered at the sudden chill and emptiness in my soul. Wandering my apartment, everything was as it always was. I checked my emails, and then I knew. I HAD to stop them or...
I gasped as the full impact of my dark memories surfaced. They died. Were killed. Wait. That wasn't right. The email said they weren't going to die. Yet.
I HAD to stop them, or... or... I'd lose them. I'd lose my friend, and no matter what anyone else said... It would be MY FAULT!