The Mind Perpetrator

Wind carried stray leaves along Beacon street in north end Boston. Much like the leaves, life-livers are carried along, an artist with her morning coffee, a businessman with his shined shoes, and a college professor who despises his parent-given name; Cordell. 

Cordell squinted, the afternoon sun was unforgiving this time of year. It fell around the buildings and flooded into the street. It transformed life- livers into little silhouettes slithering ahead before him. Leaves brushed against his legs as he shuffled around his crossbody bag in search of his sunglasses. 

When his hand had trailed across the bottom of his bag twice he remembered they were still on the mantle above his fireplace.  Helpless, he continued to contort his face into an unfavorable squint. One of the slithering silhouettes appeared to be coming his way. 

        A little boy scurried by Cordell and in passing slid a red envelope into his hand. Cordell looked down the alley the boy ran into but it was empty besides one dumpster and the dumpster-dwelling rat. He flipped it over. CORDELL. He tore the envelope open; the writing inside was a tiny sentence in the middle of the plain white paper. 

I know what you did- I'm coming for you. 

Any normal person's head would spin trying to figure out what they knew. Cordell went straight to that one thing- that thing that he had in the back of his mind his mind at all hours. Time doesn't heal everything, some things keep growing like weeds. 

Cordell searched the street; it was lined with Bostonian townhouses and trees planted equal distance apart. No life-liver stood out to be the mind-perpetrator - just a bunch more artists, businessmen and college students. Spooked by a passing car- Cordell jumped and collided straight into a mahogany haired girl in a red sweater with a pumpkin scarf around her neck. Artist; most definitely. Her round brown eyes bore into his and trapped him in their trance.

“Yah better be cahreful who yah bump into ‘round these pahts” she said. Cordell had to pause to hear through her Boston accent . She pasted a playful smile across her face. “Heard they're looking for someone who looks just like yah” 

Cordell tucked the envelope in his pocket and started to rub the outside of it. He couldn't help but tense up and make it awkward. 

“What are yah? dumb? Yah spostah laugh”  

Cordell forced a chuckle. 

 “Yeah, good one” he forced his lips upwards. “Sorry for bumping into you, you have a good day alright” 

Her brown holes for eyes had found their way to his fidgeting hand and she placed hers on Cordell's shoulder. He stared at it. 

“Yah alright.” she shuffled through her crumpled scarf, pulled out a box of cigarettes and popped the box open; two cigarettes and a cheap lighter. “I got two cigs left and I'm trying to quit so I don't need the last one anyways. So yah welcome to have a smoke if it helps.” she winked “the lucky one is all yahs -seems like yah might need it” she sat on the townhouse stairs and held out the box. Cordell leaned forward and pulled out the normal cigarette, she pushed her eyebrows together.

“I'm not one to take someone's luck” he shrugged and sat beside her, the threat in his pocket felt like it was burning straight through his jeans. 

“I took yah as one- guess people change” everything she said made him think she must be the one to know. Instead of panicking he reminded himself that paranoia can play funny games in your head. Although when he made any sort of eye contact - she had this look in her eyes, as if she could see straight through his skull all the way back to where the weeds grew. 

“What do you mean?”  as if a snake her eyes flipped back to those brown doe-eyes. 

“Oh yah know- people change from when you judge them and when ya meet them- when yah first see someone yah make all these judgments about them they feel so real so when yah find out that's not actually them it almost feels like they changed.” 

Cordell studied her as she spoke about this odd topic; she was looking down and trying to get the lighter to start. He figured it better to just keep his opinion to himself than to start a debate that would keep him out here in the open for longer. Typically he’d never turn down a good chance to tell someone they are wrong but right now all he could think about was all the wrong he’d ever done. 

“Yeah I guess I could see that '' he spun the cigarette around with his pointer and middle fingers. Could she be any slower with that cheap lighter, she failed to hold her hand against the breeze that managed to kill the flame each time; which made him wonder if she was even a smoker; but this too he chose not to say anything about. 

“Do you really agree with that? A lot of fellas like you don't.” she was visibly agitated with the lighter now- shaking it left and right. 

“Just hold your hand up”

“What?” 

“Next to the lighter to stop the wind from putting it out” Cordell made an example with his own hand. “You know- one of these numbers”  

“Oh yaaah that makes fahken sense.'' She started to perform this trick. “You would know a bit about getting a flame to burn would yah?” she was eyeing him with those knowing eyes- it was like the entire shape of her pupil would shapeshift. It couldn't just be paranoia and that statement was just too direct. The weeds spread to the foreground of his brain. He could see the skin burning off a pretty face, crumbling up into little balls leaving the flesh which twisted and shriveled next. He shook the image out of his head.  He stood and held out the cigarette.

“I actually really have got to ge-” 

“The cigs” she snickers and points to Cordell's left jacket pocket- an empty pack peeked through the top. Of course, his insides cringe at his paranoia. “Somethings really gotcha all antsy huh?” Cordell opened to speak but she put her hand up. “Don't worry about sharing- none of my business. Yah don't even know my name, it's Grace by the way. And yours?” 

“Jackson” Cordell retracted the cigarette and returned to his seat. His mind kept swimming in circles in attempts to calm him. It's just a friend from school messing with you. It's been five years no one would come looking now. she had the cig lit and in her mouth.

“Well Jahckson- yah really don't have anywhere to go do yah?” She tilted her head, she puffed a cloud and held out the lighter. Cordell grabbed the lighter as he shrugged. 

“Well, Everything is a choice. really” Cordell's head snaps over to grace when she bursts out a snort. “What?”

“Ah just that, That's a bold claim” when she talked Cordell could see her bottom teeth more than the top, it was unusual and as he took in her features he noted that she had an alluring look. Cordell's passion to leave the scene had faded now- there was something about this girl, he was going to figure it out- just who Grace was. English class and that letter burning out of his pocket could wait a minute- the letter was likely a joke from Melvin, a college buddy. Paranoia whispered to him or someone really knows what you did-maybe your new little friend here. “Whatcha gonna stare at me all day, like those deer in maine? Go on then. Explain yourself.” 

“What is there to explain- you can always choose not to do something. For example that guy over there” Cordell nudged his head across the street towards a noir fellow in an old suit. “That one in the suit. You see him?” 

“Yeah” she smiled slightly when she said this; Her eyes snaked to him, sending a jab at his chest with their intensity. 

“Well, He’s most likely on his way to work-by choice. He can choose not to go but it will have consequences like getting fired and not being able to support his family. Once a person chooses they just have to deal with the aftermath. But a person always has a choice. This is pretty self explanatory I would say” he slid the cigarette between his lips and felt its burn down in his lungs. 

“Yah know- townies never talk about the simple stuff. I don't think everyone has a choice” she points at the shrinking blob “He thinks he has a choice- but he's just stuck in a pattern that he repeats every miserable day-  and he has all this guilt from a mother he lost in childhood he thinks it's his fault. Ah and yesterday he filled up his tank at mobile gas with someone else's card that was left laying on the pump. He's regretting that too” she had this completely serious look on her face. “I know this because I just received all of the fellas' thoughts. Just by looking at him and taking his eyes for a moment. It's a Boston thing” 

Cordell blinked. 

“Im fahking joking” she shoved him and he forced another sound that was meant to replicate laughter. She became still again, took a hit and spoke. “ I wouldn't waste time reading his thoughts. He's not very intriguing at all.” 

“Your acting like you can read his thoughts in the first place” 

“I can”  she was doing it again. Her eyes had this twisted look to them, it felt like they were trying to pull his eyes out of their sockets. His stomach tied itself tight and paranoia screamed. Grace knows, she knows. She knows. She knows.  She sent that letter. It wasn't some mistake she happened to bump into you- she's been watching you and plotting this. Maybe she's her sister. Yeah she's here for revenge. Or her friend and She's fucking with you first. Cordell shook the voice out of his head; SHUT UP! 

“Shut up? No really, I can.” She responded.

“Prove it then”

“Your names actually not Jahckson.” 

“What is it then?” 

She started to make dramatic thinking sounds and peered at him. 

“It's Cordell” she smirked. “And, and you just despise it- no choice there huh fella?” 

Cordell jabbed out his cigarette and stood up. He Towered over her little balled up form as he patted himself down for anything that could have given her that information.

“Alright- how do you know that? Huh?” he shuffled around in his pocket frantically and pulled out the envelope. “You read this as you walked by and now you're trying to be slick or something?” She was stoic with this little grin and her brows low over her dark eyes. “Well, Hello? This-” he pushed the envelope farther forward into her face. “Did you read my name- those big fat letters as you were walking by- you nosey bitch” 

“Yah really got somethin going on huh?-” she put her hands up “look I was just making a fahking jok-” 

The same little boy rushed behind Cordell and down that same alley. 

“Forget it” he ran after the boy and into the alley, which engulfed him into its gloomy atmosphere. His eyes narrowed to see through what seemed to be a dark mist, there was no boy here. There never was a boy maybe the weeds grew through your whole brain now- your just crazy- completely lost it paranoia told him. He turned around and he was met with brown holes for eyes. Her body was completely still, her chest did not rise and fall and her stance was in no way how a human would feel comfortable standing. Beyond her the exit to the alley also appeared to have morphed into what he had just turned away from.

“Alright- you freak- what do you-” he broke off when her arm jabbed out and for his pocket with a puppet-like movement. She held out the paper and the words jumped at him. 

I'm coming for you, I know what you did. 

Her face behind the paper appeared nothing like what it was on the townhouse stairs. Her knowing eyes were black now- not anywhere like those doe-eyes he’d liked so much. Her smile had widened from ear to ear making the skin bunch up in the corners.

“Did you have a choice?” her voice had contorted and it sounded identical to the pretty face girl he had killed five years ago. “Mr. Cordell,” she giggled. “We always have a choice, it's self explanatory.” more satanic laughter. Cordell tried to form a word but not a thing came out his lips felt as if they'd vanished from his face completely. He resorted to the next best thing- running and then his feet seemed to sink into the concrete. She dropped the letter and the breeze took it into the mist. 

“It's a really bad thing what you did”. She pulled the scarf off and it too was carried away into the abyss. Beneath it lodged in her neck were her doe-eyes he liked so much, they were looking up at him, the skin grouped up above and below them. “Don't mind those-she needs to see you for this- so look up here” his eyes involuntarily rose into her knowing eyes she had up on her face and that pulling he had been feeling started again- but stronger. The wind picked up and pushed her hair back as she tore at his weeds of guilt. He would be screaming but he couldn't make a sound. It felt as though she had stuck her hands into his eye sockets and began to tear his eyeballs out of his skull. His sight left him and blackness engulfed him. She spoke to him.

“Don't be afraid. I know this hurts and I know I'm not pretty to look at. I’ve taken away your ability to move, speak and see only temporarily. It is for your own benefit. Do not panic. You're going to have to look at me for this next part” The pain seized and his body felt perfectly healthy. Her voice soothed him along with the black he existed in. “ I know what you did to that girl- I know that you think about it everyday- you feel guilty everyday- and temptations to do it again- I can read you. I can read everyone. I'm going to take it all away now. It's going to hurt a lot less if you comply, you have to want to be free, you have to choose, Mr. Cordell. You do always have a choice. your choice here is you either choose to let go of those memories and forget your temptations or you fight it and it hurts a whole lot more.” 

His sight came back and in her horrid face were his own eyes. He tried to look away but no matter where his eyes went, he was met with his own looking back at him. The pain picked up tearing at his skull this time as if the skin from the back of his head was being peeled off slowly. 

“Stop holding on, Mr. Cordell” The peeling had moved on to the first layer of skull and it was unbearable. “Your only hurting yourself- let her go” Cordell could feel his own defiance; he wanted those weeds  of guilt- he refused to stop resisting, he lived everyday with those memories it's what kept him from doing something so vile again so he fought with all his English student might against the mind perpetrator. Another level of skull peeled back- she would have them soon.  “This pain is your own choice and your own doing. Just choose to let go and it will all be quick and speedy” his own eyes looking back at him from her foul face, they were darting in all the most uncanny directions and began to spaz.

 He felt the last layer of skull peel. 

A jab in his chest pulled him straight out of his body and back a few feet so he had a view of the back of his head.  It was torn open, the brain matter visible with black vine-like growth all over it and it appeared something was trying to escape from the inside. Little handprints surfaced, pushed, sunk and reappeared nearby. He watched this from his spectator form. The brain burst and two thin arms reached out on either side of the rupture, and out came that pretty face. Her skin was peeling off real slow and then shriveling up. The smoke from the fire she’d once burned in, stung his widened eyes. She crawled in an animalistic manner up and around his skull toward his forehead- her body was naked and skinning itself leaving bits in his hair. The little version of her jumped across into the eyes that resembled his own and then he was put back into his own body. He could feel the layers of brain, skull and skin fall back into place. Her knowing eyes had gone down into the eye sockets in her neck. He was looking back into those doe-eyes. 

• “You don't have to have any of that temptation or guilt now- I've taken it all” 

He tried to think of what guilt the girl was talking about- he’d never done anything so dreadful and unforgivable to be riddled with guilt. Had he?