Accept this confession

“James just leave me alone!” Maggie begged. James inched closer to her chest. He had her backed up against a wall and waited such a long time for this, he wasn’t going to leave.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Maggie gasped between sobs.

“Shhh,” James whispered close to her face, “don’t lie to me, I know you are not sorry. You never will be. That’s why you need to be punished. Understand?” Maggie stared into his gray, soulless eyes. He was right, she wasn’t sorry. She had hooked up with Ben when James left her. Recalling that day enraged her.

“You left me! When Ben showed up I was wreck. I needed comfort and you know it,” Maggie could feel her tears drying on her red stained cheeks.

“I left you?! I LEFT YOU?” James screamed. He picked Maggie up and flung her to the other side of the room.

“You left me,” he whispered.

“I was getting back at you,” she said, “I guess.”

“Revenge? You had it and now it’s my turn.” James grabbed Maggie’s arm and pulled her up.

“What are you going to do?” Maggie asked hysterically.

“Crush your damn skull,” James replied.

“I’m sorry!” she shrieked.

“Haven’t we been over that? Admit it, you don’t give a damn about me,” James said. Maggie stared at him for awhile. His brown hair was drenched in sweat and wasn’t in his normal gelled up style. A knife had been peeking out of his pocket, she was anxious about if it were to ever come out. His fist was clenched while his other hand pressed her right shoulder against the wall. He bounced up and down when he breathed. James’ eyes remained stationary, fixed on hers.

“Did you ever care about me?” Maggie asked slowly.

“You really have the audacity to ask that?” James asked outraged.

“What do you want from me?” Maggie yelled.

“Your life,” James grasped the knife handle and pulled it out sharply. He rested the blade on her collar bone. Maggie closed her eyes. This is the end.
Suddenly, the sound of police sirens could be heard outside the house Maggie and James were in. James paused.

“You son of bitch you called the cops,” he whispered.

“I didn’t,” Maggie whimpered.

“Then who di-,”

“This is the police. Come out with your hands up,” a man said from a megaphone.

“What, do they think I’m a robber?” James asked himself.

“Maggie are you ok?” a different voice had the megaphone now.

“Hm, it’s your beloved Ben,” James whispered.

“He cares about me,” Maggie said silently. James became red with rage. The blade slid over and stabbed her right arm.

“AHHH!” she shrieked. Outside Ben gasped,

“Maggie.” He ran inside with the cops following close behind. James pulled the knife out of her arm and threw it on the floor. The blood rushed from her arm.

“You’re so dead,” James pulled his arm off her and grabbed the knife. She rolled over to the side. A bang was then heard. James stood there. Maggie saw his eyes looking at her before they went blank. He fell forward and his head whacked the wall. Ben rushed to Maggie’s side. He held her hands.

“It’s ok,” Ben whispered and hugged her.

“”Is..is he dead?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Ben said, “don’t worry about it now.”

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“And that’s all that happened. All I can remember,” Maggie said to Dr. Peterson.
After James’ attack on her she had been traumatized. It had been 6 months since that night and unfortunately her memory had departed. Everything on that night and before had disappeared. Now she sat staring out the window in Longview Mental Institute.

“What do they look like?” Dr. Peterson asked. Maggie stared up at him. She hated this time of day. Everyday at 1:30 PM she had to go through a series of the same questions and explain the night in as much detail as possible. This was done in order to revive her memory and catch the killer. Maggie was unaware but James had escaped from prison two weeks before.

“I’ve already told you. I can’t see them. They’re just blurs of gray plastered on where their faces should be,” Maggie replied.

“We are just trying to help you and this is the only way,” Dr. Peterson stated.

“Well I can see something,” Maggie sighed, “I started seeing more each night.”

“Each night? Dreams?” Dr. Peterson asked.

“Nightmares. And yes, every night,” she stared at her white shoes, “it’s hell.” Attempting to change the subject he started,

“What do you see now?” he asked.

“I can see their mouths. James’ evil smile and Ben’s sweet frown,” she whispered.

“Nothing about them. You wouldn’t by chance remember James’ favorite hang out spot?” he asked. Maggie looked up,

“Why?”

“Well it could be vital to your recovery.”

“How so?”

“That’s not important.”

“I want to know. I’m not a guinea pig!” Maggie shouted.

“It could help you remember why the fight was fabricated,” Dr. Peterson lied. Maggie slumped in her seat,

“I don’t know. No way I can remember. Even my nightmares aren’t cluing me in.”

“Time to leave anyway,” Dr. Peterson looked at the clock, “try to at least think hard today.”

“I don’t want anymore headaches,” Maggie whispered.

“Then get some rest. Drift off to sleep if you will,” the doctor said. Without a word Maggie stood up and glanced over at the window as she began her exodus. Maggie suddenly jumped back in terror.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Him! James he’s out there!” Maggie shrieked as she covered her mouth.