Jonah's Story

The scrape of the blade against the cold, metal table sent a shiver up his spine. A pleasant shiver. He’d waited too long since last satiating this primal urge, an itch that never quite left the back of his mind. While once he’d desperately stamped out the life of any small woodland creature, or occasional errant pet, that he could find, Jonah now had his extracurricular activities down to a science. Long had it been since a simple squirrel’s broken neck soothed his itch. Everything had changed when an unlucky serial killer came to town years before and decided to target Jonah’s sister. Hunter quickly became prey, and Jonah discovered a new way to satisfy his distinctive needs.

Muffled cries drew Jonah from his musings as the body on the table struggled against the tight restraints holding him there. Slender and tan, with long, greasy hair, the pitiable man was very different from Jonah’s first human victim, though his fate would be the same. The man, Freddy Longmore, stared at Jonah with pleading, tear-filled eyes, unable to beg for his life verbally since his mouth was taped shut. Jonah wondered if the pedophile’s young quarries looked at Freddy the same way before he abused them.

That was how Jonah set himself apart from the other monsters in the world. He knew it was a thin line between making the best of the situation dealt him and falling fully into the darkness. If his mother’s beliefs turned out to be true, then he was probably still going to Hell. But Jonah knew two things: taking life was something he couldn’t escape (the last time he’d tried, he almost murdered his little brother), and if he had to kill, then choosing those even worse than him was the lesser of two evils. Only that kept him remotely sane.

So when Jonah looked down at Freddy, he felt no pity or remorse for what he was about to do. He didn’t like that he had to kill people, but he took a certain amount of pleasure in ridding the earth of scum like a birthday party magician who later stalked and raped his prepubescent hosts. Freddy’s blubbering annoyed him and he stopped playing with his food, so to speak. Without further delay, his razor sharp blade flashed in the incandescent light overhead. He plunged the knife into Freddy’s chest several times in rapid succession. Blood spurted and seeped, caught by the raised lip around the edge of the table the pedophile was strapped to. He didn’t struggle anymore. His eyes begged for nothing now and Jonah gave him nothing more.

* * *

           “You’re being careful, right?” Cassidy nagged, not for the first time. Jonah rolled his eyes, glad his sister couldn’t see him over the phone.

           “Cass, I’m fine.” It was ironic that Cassidy had once been a reckless party girl, as opposed to the responsible, small-town defense attorney she’d grown into. Now she worried over him every time she saw a crime report from the city. Of course, she didn’t know that Jonah could take care of himself, that he’d even protected her when they were younger. He’d removed all evidence that Cassidy had been that long ago killer’s target when he disposed of the man.

           “I saw they found another body today,” Cassidy continued.

           “People die in Meadow Brook too,” Jonah fired back, naming the quiet suburb where she lived.

           “Not from seven stab wounds to the chest,” she responded. Jonah stopped himself from saying six, if he remembered correctly. Not that he’d counted specifically.

“You’ve got to stop checking those crime-watch apps. They are making you paranoid.”

His sister ignored him, like she usually did. They continued talking for a few more minutes, about lighter, less consequential topics. By the end, Jonah was more or less dutifully filling in only when Cassidy infrequently paused. He loved his sister, fiercely, as he did his brother. He often wondered if that set him apart from other psychopaths, for by this point, Jonah could admit to himself that he fulfilled at least some of the requirements of the designation, even if he preferred not to dwell on it. But, despite his love, other people, even his own family, quickly bored him. And boredom was something he avoided at all costs. It led to other, itchy tendencies.

A short chirp from his phone captured his attention from the book he’d begun reading, one of his favorite past times and one he entertained easily working in a bookstore. Glancing down at the screen, he saw a text from yet another person he had a short attention span for. His girlfriend.

Megan Bloom was a good friend of his from college: a smart, witty, determined woman. When they first met, he genuinely enjoyed her company, and even now, she had her moments.  But affection was no longer the main reason Jonah dated her. That faded long ago, along with most of his patience for her. Megan filled a specific purpose. For one, she was a box he could check off for what society deemed “normal.” Guys his age had romantic partners. A woman drew less attention and Megan was intelligent and attractive. They got along, most of the time.

More than a pretty prop, however, Megan helped him satisfy his darker desires. Unwittingly, of course. She was an investigative reporter for an online newspaper, specifically covering the major news and crime columns. A few easily guessed passwords and finessed files later, and Jonah had his pick of future targets. If that required him to take her out to dinner occasionally, remain available to talk at all hours, and sleep with her no less than once a week, it was a price he was willing to pay.

Don’t forget the movie tonight, the text read. Jonah smirked. More than once he’d used the excuse that he’d forgotten a date to avoid it if he was feeling particularly anti-social. Or else, taking out those feelings on a despicable criminal. So she now reminded him every time, an annoying habit.

I won’t.

For such an articulate woman in her writing, Megan certainly enjoyed emojis.

* * *

           Jonah picked Megan up for the movie about twenty minutes before it started, knowing she’d want popcorn, even if they were planning to get take out afterward. Ironically, they were seeing a slasher-thriller. He’d thought that spending her days writing about the darker side of their city might leave her with little appetite for such things in her personal life, but no. She loved mysteries, heart-pounding chases, and last minute rescues. He supposed it was better than if she were really into romantic comedies, projecting all the tropes she saw onto their relationship. The crime movies gave her more realistic expectations of him, at least.

           The killer in the movie was a run of the mill Hollywood psycho. He stalked pretty, young blondes one by one until the final girl, in a sensational finale, pushed him into an active volcano. Despite the cheesy, b-movie plot, Jonah found himself comparing the antagonist to his own actions. He didn’t hunt a specific gender or hair color, didn’t target sexy teenage co-eds exclusively, though he supposed he had a type of his own. Glancing over at his own fair haired, beautiful girl, he asked himself, not for the first time, if he’d ever become so desperate that he murdered Megan. But, much like with his family, he felt protective of Megan. No matter how annoying she might be at times, he’d vowed to himself when he started dating her that if he ever felt the slightest urge to cut her throat, he’d get away from her immediately. He’d fill the need elsewhere.

           “You’re quiet, babe,” Megan mused while they ate the pizza he’d ordered, half meat-lovers for her, half cheese for himself.

           Jonah shrugged. “I’m always quiet.”

           She grinned and bumped her shoulder against his. “What, did the movie scare you?”

           He snorted. “Oh, yes, because it was so realistic.” They both laughed at that. Then Megan grew serious, the way she only ever did when she was working.

           “Hey, I want to talk to you about something,” she began. Jonah nodded for her to continue, curious about this change in attitude. “So, I got a new assignment today. I’ve already accepted, but I just wanted to give you a heads up, because it might be a little dangerous.”

           “Okay.” Jonah wasn’t too worried about Megan’s safety. She was an eager reporter, but not stupid.

           “I’m covering the Crusade Killer,” she said all in one breath, like she was failing to contain her excitement, tinged with a little apprehension, but not enough to dissuade her. Jonah’s eyes flashed to hers immediately.

           “Who?” he asked, his voice too hollow to pull of the sarcastic jest at the name he was aiming for.

           If Megan noticed his discomfort, she didn’t mention it. “Apparently he’s been knocking off a bunch of other scumbags around the city, all prolific enough to make the news on their own, but not enough to really catch anyone’s attention when they were killed. Until now, that is.”

           Jonah nodded slowly. He cleared his throat. “Wow. I’ve never heard of him.”

           “Yeah, the name is something my department came up with a few months ago, when he first landed on their radar. But apparently he’s killed a small time drug dealer, a sadistic pimp, a few violent offenders, mostly against women and kids. Those are the ones we know of, anyway. Oh, and a dead pedophile dropped the other day. They think that is his handy work too.”

           A pit of worry hardened in Jonah’s stomach. Of course, he knew there was always a risk of being noticed, being caught even. It was another thing he’d accepted about his reality long ago, after that first kill. But there was a significant difference between the chance of being found out and having your girlfriend actively investigate your down low activities.

           “Babe? I’ll be okay, you know,” Megan continue, watching Jonah with worry. “It isn’t like I’m hunting him down in some dark alley. I’m just gathering information.” She misread his silence, perhaps the slightly sick look on his face, for concern over her well-being. He almost laughed. The possibility of the “Crusade Killer” taking revenge on this one, nosy little journalist was the least of his worries. He liked to think he had at least that much control.

           Finally, he pulled himself from his inner turmoil. “I’m sure you’ll do great,” he told her, forcing himself to sound enthusiastic. “This sounds like a big step up.”

           Megan smiled. “It is. That’s why I’m so pumped. It is a really interesting story, one people will care about reading.”

           “Yeah, it does sound intriguing. You’ll let me know if you find out anything, I don’t, big or fascinating, right?”

           She pulled him closer and kissed his cheek, probably relieved he was interested in and supportive of her work, and not insisting on being over-protective. “Of course. You’ll get all the sneak peeks.”

           Jonah returned her smile and let himself relax on the couch beside her. This would be fine. She’d tell him if she had any promising leads, and if she didn’t, he’d take a quick look through her files now and again, just to make sure she wasn’t getting too close. And if she ever did suspect…well, he’d burn that bridge when he came to it. He knew he’d have to be even more careful moving forward. For her flaws, Megan was a proficient reporter. Jonah would have to be a better actor, and killer, to evade her pursuits.