The Act

I can’t go on. I can feel my breath slipping away as my legs hit the ground. I can’t contain it. My head is pounding and every bone in my body is telling me to stop. I don’t. I can’t. My arm shines red under the sun as my sunburn and peeling skin remains out for everyone to see. Except that doesn’t matter. Because I am completely alone. The heat is beginning to sting as sweat finds its way into my eyes. I’m almost there. 

I collapse onto a rock unable to move a single muscle. I carry a small backpack containing only the bare necessities. A water filter, a water bottle, one pair of clothes, a couple of granola bars, and a knife. I check my bag to make sure everything is still intact. My watch reads 4:00 pm and I know I’m behind schedule. I was supposed to be in Wisconsin by 4:30 and I’m still a good 6 miles away. But I’ll make it. I always do. 

Sure enough, only 35 minutes later, I arrived in the good old state of Wisconsin. The whole state makes me feel like I’m in one of those dairy commercials from the early 2000s. It sickens me. There are cow statues and cheese and milk billboards everywhere you look. Lucky for me, there are also plenty of pedestrians. I make my move. I place my stuff down next to a traffic light at an intersection. The bright red light gives off a flicker until it switches to a bright green. The cars begin to move and I watch carefully as the wheels roll against the black tar. After the main group of cars goes past, I see a white jeep; more importantly, I see my chance. 

I quickly grab my blue sweatshirt and throw it onto my back. The car is almost here. 100 feet… 50… 30… 10… I make my run. I dart across the cracked yellow lines and I place myself in the middle of the road. I brace myself. As I hear the screams of a 30-year-old woman and the screeching of some old tires, I let out a grin. I look up and see the woman approaching me. 

“What are you doing?” She asks. “Are you alright?” I slowly turn towards her. I quiver my lip and force a tear down my face. 

“I-I I’m alright I guess.” I stutter. My voice is a bit high but that's the point when faking tears. 

She lowers her glasses and crouches down next to me. “Why are you out here all by yourself?” This is my favorite question. Me being an 18-year-old girl in the body of a 12-year-old. 

“I was at the beach. My mom and dad left and I’ve just been trying to find them.”

“Well here come with me.” She reaches out a hand and I let out a grin. I step up into the Jeep and give myself a silent appreciation. I knew it would work. It never fails. 

“I’m sorry ma’am I don’t mean to disturb your day.” I make my voice as innocent as possible. I hug my blue Justin Bieber sweatshirt and wipe my non-existent tears. Illusion. That’s all I need. If you're foolish enough to fall for the trick you deserve what happens next. 

“Oh, not at all sweet girl. Now, where did you say you're from?” Shoot. I hadn't thought about that. The expression drains from my face. The real, and the fake. I begin to panic as the wind whips my face. 

“I don’t remember” I improvise. I had never run into this problem before. Usually traveling back and forth between states I get good at knowing the towns but this was my first time in Wisconsin. 

“That’s all right.” She looks over to me as we pull into the driveway. She lets us inside and there before me lays a grandiose staircase made of red carpet and gold bars. I look to my left and a man in a tux runs down the hall. 

“Madam Leah.” He begins. Butler. 

“Why hello, Sam,” I say. This catches him off guard and his reaction offers much amusement. 

“And how do you know my name?” 

“Nametag.” I try not to laugh.

“What is your name darling?” The woman asks. She shakes her head as if it was stupid of her not to ask before. 

“Mailey.” I lie. 

“Well Maiey, Sam will take you up to the guest bedroom.”

“Oh thank you, ma’am!” I say with as much excitement as possible. I run up to her and embrace her for about two seconds. This is when I have to stop. It’s getting bad again. I try to control it. I distance myself from both the well-dressed hosts and focus on breathing. I stare up at the gold chandelier and breath in the strong scent of Victoria's Secret perfume. 

“Are you alright?” Sam asks.

I fix it. I can’t blow this so I tuck every inch of feeling I have down into the depths of my soul. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“All right then. I’ll show you to your room.” I follow Sam up the staircase and down the halls. The walls, painted bright red, contain a series of pictures and portraits of almost anything imaginable. Dinner parties, princesses, friends, toasts, and so much more. I admire the pictures. That is until we stop. Sam opens the door and follows me inside. I gaze up at the cathedral ceiling and fabric-framed bed. Sam goes over to the window and opens the curtains. I set my backpack on the bed and carefully dig around; I’m careful not to make any noise. I walk over to Sam and grab a pillow from the nearby chair on my way. 

“Hey Sam, you think you could help me with this?” Sam turns around in the blink of an eye. I show him the small pillow. That's when the knife goes in. As I slowly and carefully pull it out, I get a wave of relief. It is as though a huge weight had just been taken off my shoulders. Sam falls to the floor and I cover his mouth with the pillow. If any sound were to escape, the pillow would mask it. 

I go over to the previously opened window and chucked the knife out of it. I would be gone in a day anyway and am always sure to plant my evidence. Without the murder weapon present, the cops with most definitely come for me. I then proceed to reclose the window and the curtains. After all, I do prefer to sit in the dark. It helps me think. I can close my eyes and be able to envision everything perfectly. Rule number two, never use the same weapon. Having more than one gives them more trails they need to follow. 

Just then, there is a knock on the door. “Mailey, would you like to eat with me?” 

I freeze. If she opens that door my life could be over. If I open that door, hers will be over. “Of course! I’ll be down in a second!” I respond. Of course, I’ll dine with her. Because now, I have an idea. 

I walk down the hall past the picture once more. A toast. A drink; I’ll poison the drink. After I once again proceed down the grand staircase, to my left I see the kitchen, to the right, the dining room. I can see the shadow of Leah in the dining room but decide to tiptoe to the left instead. I look around for basic ingredients. I’ve done this before. I know exactly what chemicals mixed can prove deadly. About five minutes has gone by and I can hear the clicking heels approaching the kitchen. I quickly put the syrup into a vile and duck behind a cabinet. She grabs two water glasses and a vile. The glasses, one pink and one blue are filled with water. I slowly see her drop two drops of whatever is in the vile into the blue cup. She leaves the room. Only about 5 more minutes until I can get out of here. I only came here to do one thing: satisfy a need. To please me. To get this big wretched pain out of my body and relinquish my anger on the satisfaction of knowing how much power I truly have. I leave the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say with a frown. 

“Oh don’t even worry. I understand it’s been a rough day for you.” She smiles. This isn’t the same smile I saw in the car. This is different. This is fake. How do I know? Because it takes one to know one. I’ve been faking smiles for the last 13 years and know when I’m getting one in return. That's when I see it. Sitting in front of me is the blue glass. 

“Your sick.” This caught her off guard. She looks up from her salad. 

“Excuse me?”

“At least that's what they tell you. They tell you your sick in an attempt to keep you contained. But sometimes the need just needs to be satisfied.” She looks at me in a state of confusion. I pull out the vile from my pocket. 

“Get out.” She said calmly looking at her food. 

“We can help each other.”

“I said get out!” I get up slowly. I know that this failed attempt leaves a pounding pain in her head. I know because I have felt the exact same thing. For the past 6 years, my life has been traveling the U.S. scamming different people into letting me into their homes only to end them moments later. I open the door and walk out. I may not have been entirely successful tonight and I could easily go back in to finish the job. Something in my brain is holding me against it. One thing is for sure: it is time for both of us to get new victims.