Aren't You Glad To See Me?

It had been weeks since we had seen each other, Mike and I. He had proposed to me earlier in our day together, it had been very romantic - not expensive, but romantic all the same. He'd been having a hard time recently, since his adoptive parents broke up then his step-dad died. Poor Mike's been living with Billie-Joe recently, but he's staying at my dorm tonight - with one of my guy mates on the floor below me, well that's if he sticks to the rules.

It was nearly half eleven and I knew that Mandy - my room mate would hate me for life if we woke her up. She'd probably just got to sleep after revising for the math finals tomorrow. So we split at the elevators and I headed up to the third floor where Mandy would be fast asleep, spread eagled, on her bed as per usual.

I stepped though the door and sprinted as silently as possible to the bathroom in the pitch black. My night-cloths were hanging over the towels, where I'd left them this morning; Mandy must have been in the library all day. I dressed in the silent darkness of the tiny en-suite bathroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom I could just make out Mandy, curled up among her duvet, an odd thing for her - but there would be a good reason for it, she'd probably been reading up on something for the exam.

***

The Next Morning

As I sat up in bed the sun was just tinting the clouds on the horizon a faint peach. I tore my self from the warm, soft comfort of my little bed and tip-toed over to Mandy's bed to wake her, in the hope that she would be more receptive if I woke her in the darkness.

Standing beside her bed, I gripped her shoulders and shook her gently. Then, when she didn't wake up I shook her harder, more violently, than I should have needed to - she was a naturally light sleeper.

She must have been pretending to sleep so that she could have lie-in until the alarm at half seven. So, I slipped my hand under her chin to tickle her - she would get up one way or another. It was damp and sticky on her throat, but, it had been a relatively cold night. As I drew my hand away a metallic smell drifted up from the bed.

I drew away and turned on the light, blinking in the brightness I saw her - stained in her own blood. Automatically, I stepped forwards to try and help her - then I saw the shapes drawn on her duvet. Letters.

Words. There was a message, and a floorboard creaking behind me. The message just said 'Aren't you glad to see me?'. Then behind me there was a laugh, a laugh that I recognized.

"Jason White?" I asked hesitantly, I couldn't have been sure - I was too far into shock to care who it was.

"Yes, of course, my Jean." He whispered softly in my ear.

I composed myself, "I'm back with Mike. We got engaged today, I'm his fiance."

He laughed hysterically to himself and held something just in front of my face; I couldn't tell what it was. Jason through the thing away from us - onto the floor about a meter away. It was a hand, still bleeding a little, still wearing Mike's St. Christopher medallion ring. He never took it off, because he couldn't - his fingers were too big for it.

"Not anymore, Jean. He won't hurt us anymore, we belong together, Jean."

"He never hurt me. Why did you kill him, Jason?" He was worrying me; this wasn't how he'd been before he left the states in when we were going out in High School. He may have been obsessive and overprotective, but in some ways that was good. But he was never murderous.

His arms were suddenly wrapped around my waist, pressing my back onto his stomach. I was scared and tried to fight back, if only I could get away from him. But I would do this on my own - I would not scream.

My arms were pinned to my side and his grip was the tightest that I had ever felt. So quickly, giving me no time to move, he was in front of me.

"Do you really want to fight me, Jean? I can be all that you want." With that, I promptly fell in love with him, again.

"Yes, I want to fight you. And I love you." A tear rolled down my cheek, all I'd said was true and perhaps that was why I felt so cruel.

"Well, I can soon stop that problem." He giggled and grabbed me around the waist, hurling us onto the floor between the two beds. The metallic smell - the smell of blood - hit me again and I tried to fight back.

I forced my body to go rigid; there was something that I wanted to know, "Why did you kill her?"

"She woke up when I tried to wake you up. No one sleeps deeper than you." He chuckled, and then tenderly kissed my lips.

Without getting the go-ahead from my brain my hand slapped him full across the face, leaving a bright red hand print on his soft cheek. His other cheek soon found a glow to rival the hand mark.

"If that is how you feel about me, then I have no choice." His eyes wore a hurt expression that quickly turned to rage. Out of the inside pocket of his jacket Jason drew the hunting knife that he had used to slit Mandy's throat.

***

"Sorry. Goodbye, my love." He murmured softly, he kissed her again and plunged the knife through her aorta, killing her.

With her blood he wrote a message on the wall of the bedroom. 'Sorry for the pain' slowly congealed on the tasteful floral wallpaper.