And All That Jazz

I have a knack for thinking out loud.

Normally, this wasn't a problem for me. I said a few questions out loud, pondered them quietly for a few minutes, and answered them out loud.

It helped me focus and get whatever I needed done.

Sure, every once in awhile I'd get caught doing it in public by complete and total strangers.

They'd give me that crazed look, and shake their head. I'd respond by turning a bit red and then shooting them a sheepish smile.

But hey! Doesn't everyone get caught doing something a little embarrassing every once in awhile?

Anyways, as I said, it normally wasn't a problem for me.

Then one day, poof! Someone answered my question before I did.

I know, I know, you're probably wondering, "How is that a problem? This person was just being a friendly samaritan."

But you see, when I asked my question aloud on this particular day, I was sitting in my room.

Alone.

When my parents went into town--located about two hours away.

So when this little incident occurred, one thought immediately popped in my mind.

"I've finally gone off the deep end."

You see, I'm a home schooled student, I have been my whole life, and I unfortunately fall into that stereotype of being socially awkward. To avoid being put in these awkward situations I'd avoid the social scene, making myself more socially challenged, thus creating a vicious circle.

When I heard that voice, I just figured my lack of socializing had come back to haunt me.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds praying that I really hadn't just lost my mind.

After my little prayer was done, I left my eyes shut straining my ears to hear every little sound in the room.

Moments went by, and nothing but silence passed through the room.

I had let out a deep content sigh, and opened my eyes, pleased to know that I wasn't being plagued by nonexistent voices.

The second I opened them however, I changed my mind... I wished that I was just hearing things, and going crazy.

Across the room leaning against my excruciatingly plain white wall was a man.

My heart sped into overdrive, and my mouth felt like cotton balls had been suddenly shoved into it. When I went to scream, my vocal cords had decided to stop working, so I just stared at him with my mouth agape... Looking like what I imagine to be a fish out of water.

The man seemed to be amused by my startled expression. Just a hint of a smile formed at the corner of his lips as he stared back.

How in the world did this guy get in?

I know I locked all the doors.

No ones opened one the windows in weeks....

And who the heck would drive out this far to rob the hotel anyways?

"It's really unattractive when you let your mouth hang open like that, you know that?" The guy spoke, crossing his arms, not moving from his place by the wall.

My mouth immediately snapped close.

What an odd thing for a psychopath burglar to say at a time like this...

Well.... I guess not... He is a psychopath... You never know about them.

From there we seemed to have a little staring contest.

He seemed to be waiting to see what I dared to do next.

And I was making mental notes about his appearance so that if I managed to make it out of here--- I could tell the police who they were looking for.

He stood at about 6'4 with rather long black hair that fell just above his eyebrows, while in the back it curled upwards just slightly at the nape of his neck. His eyes were soft green, and looked like they were able to see right through me. Just above his right eyebrow, peaking out from his hair was a faded scar.

As for his clothes, he looked like he had stepped right out of the 1920s. His white button down shirt was tucked neatly into his slacks, with suspenders hanging over each shoulder. His black slacks were perfectly hemmed, with the pants legs hanging just slightly over his gleaming black dress shoes. His fedora hat was tipped slightly backwards so a slight shadow formed over his face.

It was then when my little habit decided to pop back up.

"Who knew a psychopath could be so stylish?"

I immediately bit my lip, and blushed furiously.

This guy probably thinks I'm most ridiculous victim he's ever come across.

What kind of person would ask a psychopath about fashion?

Well, aside from me, I mean.

His smile grew bigger, and he pushed himself from my wall. "Thanks."

My eyebrows shot up, trying to look interested in his statement.

"You're... Welcome..."

He was walking closer towards the bed, making me go into panic mood. I hurriedly glanced around me for something I could defend myself with.

Aha!

I grabbed the coffee mug sitting on my night stand, and clutched it--- waiting for the perfect time to throw it.

The man seemed to be aware of my current thoughts and smirked. "You sure you want to do that?"

My mouth moved before I could think. "Yes."

Damn it!

I tried to block the blush from forming.

He smirk formed into a full grown grin.

He paused about two feet from the bed, took off his hat, and held his arms out. "Well then, go for it, doll face."

I paused rather confused.

The psychopath wants me to throw my mug at him?

I shrugged the thought away.

Well, if he wants it... Who am I to deny him?

I closed my eyes tightly, as I threw the mug as hard as I could.

When I heard it shattering, I quickly opened my eyes.

The cup had flown all the way across the room, smashing against the wall.

I smiled slightly, impressed by how far it went, then quickly frowned.

The psychopath had disappeared.

I hopped off the bed and glanced around the room.

Oh thank god! I was crazy!