Demon

by Laura DeLuca

  “If you are feeling up to it, Miss Hope,” the detective said, “we would like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Can’t you do this later?” Mr. Hope demanded. “It’s obvious our daughter is in no condition to handle this right now.”

  “No, Dad, it’s okay,” Rebecca interjected. “They need this. I want them to catch this bastard before he hurts anyone else.”

  She blushed after she said it, because she had never actually cursed in front of her father before, but he didn’t seem to notice. Her parents asked if she wanted them to stay, but she didn’t want to subject them to the awful details. They were distraught enough. There were some things they didn’t need to know.

  “You’re so brave, baby,” Mrs. Hope whispered, her eyes misty.

  Rebecca gave her a weak smile, but bravery was just about the last thing she felt at that moment. They each kissed her cheek and told her they would be back after they got some coffee. Rebecca nodded and put on a strong face, but she trembled as she leaned back into her pillows and prepared to relive her worst nightmare. The two policemen entered, one holding a bag that was marked evidence. They asked her to make an official statement, which they recorded. She had no idea how she managed to tell them the story so calmly, but her voice barely wavered. It was as if she were listening to someone else altogether, or playing a part like she did on the stage. As she spoke, the female officer took photos of her injuries, from her scabbed knees to the large gash on her arm that she was told needed more than a dozen stitches. Rebecca didn’t even remember anyone cleaning the wounds. She’d been so hysterical they had to sedate her to treat her injuries.

  Once they were done with the humiliation of publicly documenting her story, they sat down to ask her some more specific questions. Rebecca pulled the blanket up as high as it would go as she spoke, but she still felt naked in front of them. They didn’t seem to notice her discomfort as they casually jotted things down in their notebooks.

  “Did you notice any details about the assailant that might help us identify him?” the detective asked. He never even told her his name, but she really didn’t care to know. She hoped she’d never have to see him again once the interview was complete. “Eye color? Hair color? Height? Any discerning features like tattoos or scars?”

  Rebecca shook her head, frustrated that she couldn’t be more helpful. “No, it was too dark to see his eyes, and the mask was covering his face. He had me on the ground the whole time, so I couldn’t even say for sure how tall he was. He was strong though, with broad shoulders and big hands. His voice was really gruff, though I got the feeling he was trying to disguise it.”

  The detective nodded and wrote down a few notes. “Now, this may seem like an odd question, but were you ever blonde? Blond highlights? Blond wigs? Anything of that sort?”

  Rebecca did a double take. “What? N-no,” she stuttered. “Never.”

  “The reason we ask,” the female officer explained, “is because, until now, the assailant has only chosen victims with blond hair. It’s odd for an unsub to change their victimology this late in the game.”

  The older detective gave his partner a dirty look, as though he thought she was revealing too much, but he continued, “It’s also unusual for someone so practiced to allow their victim to escape, especially after going through the trouble to set up such an elaborate trap. All the other cases seemed random. Yet, with you, he disabled your bike to ensure you were on foot. He knew your class schedule. Somehow he even seemed to know you would be alone today. This case wasn’t random at all. He must have been following you and planning this for some time. Yet, after all that work, he let you escape. You must be a very strong young lady to have not only overpowered but outwitted your assailant.”

  Rebecca didn’t feel much like accepting the compliment. In fact, as she listened, she felt more and more like a fool. She had never even considered her ruined bike had been part of an attack plan. How stupid she had been to fall into his trap, and how terrifying to know she had been more than just a chance victim. How could she be certain he wouldn’t try again? The panic started to overpower her, but she swallowed it back when she realized the police officers were looking at her expectantly.

  “I think it had more to do with luck than with wits,” Rebecca admitted, though she hated to agree with the detective’s earlier statement. “I just got in a good kick and then ran for my life.”

  “Still, there have been seven other victims, and you’re the first to get away before he….” the man cleared his throat, “finished what he intended. All of the other girls were sexually assaulted and left with what we’ve come to know as the assailant’s signature—a jagged cut across both of their cheeks.”

  “He … he did try to cut my face,” Rebecca whispered. “I blocked him with my arm and escaped right after that.”

  The detective nodded and scribbled in his notebook one last time. He was just putting it away when his phone rang. Rebecca had to presume the rule about cell phones being turned off in the hospital rule didn’t pertain to detectives. The officer excused himself, but on his way to the hallway, Rebecca heard him mutter into his phone.

  “Yes, sir. It’s possible we have a copycat on our hands….”

  That was all she heard, but again, it was more than enough to send her mind reeling. Could there be not one, but two monsters loose on the campus? Did some crazy person signal her out as his target with the hopes of pinning it on the other guy? It was enough to make her want to pack her bags and head back home to New Jersey.

  “I have your things here.” The female officer startled Rebecca from her dark reverie. She gestured to the evidence bag. “We were able to retrieve your bags from the crime scene. It appears your phone, credit cards, and cash are all still there. But when you feel up to it, you should check and let us know if anything is missing. Even if it’s something insubstantial, it might have meaning to the assailant, and could help the investigation. ”

  Rebecca nodded, though she hadn’t even thought about her discarded school supplies. “Thank you. I will.”

  The policewoman cleared her throat and looked like she was going to leave, but at the last minute, she turned back around. She gave Rebecca a kind, sympathetic smile. “You know, this may not mean much to you right now, after all you’ve been through, but I think you should know you have a wonderful boyfriend out there. He spent half the night driving around the campus searching for you. He called your cell phone literally every five minutes for hours.”

  Rebecca almost smiled. “That sounds like something Justyn would do.”

  “I was the one who found the phone. I was going through the calls when it rang again … and again. Finally, I answered it and told him where you were. Between us, I really shouldn’t have, since he wasn’t immediate family. I just figured you might want someone around until your parents got here. Once he knew where you were, he got here so fast I should have issued him a speeding ticket.” She chuckled to herself, but then turned more serious. “He sat there by your bed every second until you woke up. Schmoozed the nurses and doctors and even the detective into letting him hang around.”

  Rebecca actually did smile just a little at that visual. She already knew Justyn could schmooze just about anyone. Still, it was nice to be reminded of how wonderful he was, even though it only made her feel worse after the way she had freaked out on him.

  “Anyway,” the officer continued, “there is a reason I’m telling you all this. I know the detective was a little crass when he made that comment about you being lucky. I’m sure lucky is about the last thing you feel right now. But try to remember that not everyone has someone who cares so much about them. In some ways, you really are a pretty lucky girl.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” Rebecca whispered. “I appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing. Now try to get some rest. From what I hear, they’re going to let you leave in the morning.”

  Rebecca nodded as she watched the policewoman disappear out the hospital door, eve
n though she had no idea how she would be able to fall asleep again. Thankfully, a nurse came in a few minutes later to change her bandages. She offered her a sedative, which Rebecca was happy to accept. She didn’t want to think anymore or have to face her parents or Justyn again, at least not yet. Thankfully, the drugs worked quickly. They dulled her mind and her heart and allowed her to drift once again into unconsciousness, without the troubling visions of masks.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Rebecca woke again, it was morning. At first, the bright light streaming in through the window made things seem a little blurry. When she was finally able to focus, the first thing she saw was Justyn. He still wore the same black sweatpants and T-shirt he’d been wearing the day before, so she knew he hadn’t left her side. He was sleeping on the chair in what looked like a really uncomfortable position, with his head tilted back and his mouth hanging half open. Normally, when she would look at him, he still had that almost supernatural aspect about him. He was so mysteriously beautiful onstage when he sang in his angelic voice, so beguiling when they were alone and he spoke soft words of love that made her swoon every time. Now he looked almost as wretchedly human as Rebecca felt.

  She watched him sleeping for a few minutes without speaking. She didn’t want to wake him, mostly because she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say. She felt terrible about the way her father had treated him, and even worse about not coming to his defense. She had no idea why he stuck around at all after so much abuse. Yet, there he was, like her personal, exhausted bodyguard. Well, at least she didn’t start screaming when she saw him. Somehow she was managing to keep the awful memories at bay, probably because the strong sedative the nurse had given her hadn’t entirely worn off yet.

  Rebecca sighed and gingerly pulled her legs out from under the white sheets. She realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had used the bathroom, and her bladder was screaming for relief. Her body was still achy and sore, but it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the night before. She didn’t have any trouble getting out of bed since there were no I.V.s or wires attached to her, presumably because her physical injuries weren’t that serious. They had probably only kept her overnight because she had been so hysterical. Kind of like a suicide watch.

  Rebecca tiptoed past Justyn without disturbing him. He was so drained he didn’t even move, which just made her feel guilty again. She hoped he was just tired from the sleepless night and not still suffering the effects of the tainted pizza. Once her bladder was empty, she attempted to use the hospital toiletries to clean herself up a little. Not because she really cared about how she looked, but because if she didn’t find some meaningless task to occupy herself, she was afraid that uncontrollable panic might consume her again. So she brushed her teeth with toothpaste that tasted like glue and struggled to get a cheap plastic comb through the tangles in her thick hair. Finally, she splashed her face with some cold water.

  It wasn’t until she was drying off with a rough towel that she really looked at her haggard reflection. Her eyes had deep creases around them. Her right cheek had a dark bruise, and her skin was riddled with scratch marks from her sprint through the trees. Even her palms were peppered with scabs from when she had first fallen against the graveled walkway. The cuts didn’t look very serious and probably wouldn’t leave scars, but just looking at them reminded her of how they had gotten there. She shut her eyes tight and refused to allow the memories to surface. They were never going to let her leave the hospital if she kept screaming like a lunatic. Instead, she turned her back to the offensive mirror and walked into the bedroom. She found Justyn nervously pacing back and forth between the bed and the bathroom door.

  “Becca!” He looked as though he wanted to run over and hug her, but he seemed unsure, remembering her previous reaction to his touch. Rebecca wasn’t exactly sure how she would react either, so she was relieved when he stayed in his corner. The thought of anyone putting their hands on her made her nervous. Still, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she gave him a small smile she knew didn’t touch her eyes. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop herself from inadvertently pulling her nightgown tightly closed as she crossed the room and sat back down on the bed. Justyn watched her with a wary eye, but for the first time since they met, he seemed to be at a complete loss for words. The strained silence between them was making Rebecca feel even more jumpy, so she decided to initiate the conversation.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he echoed.

  “I’m okay.” She wasn’t entirely sure it was true, but it was what he needed to hear, so she said it.

  Justyn narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

  She nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t convinced. He knew her well enough to know when she was fighting back hysterics. But he also didn’t want to argue and break the tenuous grip she had on reality, so he just changed the subject.

  “They brought in some breakfast for you.” He pulled the rolling tray closer to the bed. “Why don’t you try to eat something?”

  He lifted the cover, revealing some dried-out eggs, overcooked bacon, and burnt toast. Beside the plate was a mug of sludge she assumed was meant to pass as coffee. Rebecca crinkled her nose in distaste.

  “I’m really not hungry.”

  Justyn’s forehead creased in concern. “When was the last time you ate something?”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. Two could play at that game. “When was the last time you ate something?”

  He shrugged, and his response was almost cocky. “I’m not the one in the hospital bed.”

  She wasn’t going to let it go that easily. “Are you still sick?”

  “Becca, please, don’t worry about me. After all you’ve been through … I feel awful enough without—”

  “No,” Rebecca interrupted and shook her head. “Justyn, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I … I left you alone.”

  His voice cracked. He looked so stricken it broke her heart. She wished she could touch him, hold him, anything to make things better for him. But as much as she longed to give him that security, she couldn’t do it. Still, no matter what other conflicting emotions plagued her, the one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that she couldn’t let him blame himself for what happened. She knew what it was like to be eaten up with guilt. She wouldn’t let Justyn suffer like that.

  “You thought—we both thought I’d have someone else to walk with me to class. You had no way of knowing Frankie wouldn’t be around.”

  “I should have realized when you told me about the pizza. Your dad … what he said—”

  Rebecca had to interrupt him again. “Don’t even think for a minute about what my father said. He was upset, but that doesn’t excuse him. He was still completely out of line. And so was I. I should have spoken up way before now.”

  “Becca, please don’t,” Justyn begged. It seemed the more she tried to placate him, the more desperate and crestfallen he became. “You were in no condition to defend me.” He shook his head. “We shouldn’t even be talking about this right now. Back to your breakfast. You need to eat something if you want to go home today.”

  Rebecca nodded, however reluctantly. She couldn’t wait to get away from the sterile hospital grounds where everything smelled like disinfectant. She felt violated enough without being subjected to indifferent medical personnel who would surely be coming around soon to poke and prod her. So she obligingly stuck her fork into the eggs that she was almost certain had come from a carton and drained the stale tasting coffee, hoping it would help restore some of her normal vigor. When she was done, her belly was full, but she still felt empty.

  “Good morning!”

  Rebecca didn’t really see anything good about it. Yet Darlene’s cheerful voice chirped from the doorway and was echoed by the bells on her ankle bracelet as she glided into the room. She gave them a bright grin, despite the pair of morose faces that greeted her. Rebecca tried to give her a small
smile, if only to make Justyn feel better, but it was halfhearted at best.

  “Hi, Darlene.”

  “You look like you’re feeling better today.” Her long crimson skirt swished as she walked over and patted Rebecca’s leg. “I picked up some clean clothes for you from the apartment. The doctors are signing your release papers as we speak, so you might want to change.”

  Rebecca nodded and accepted the carry bag Darlene handed her. She slipped back into the bathroom to change, glad to have something to do besides think. She was grateful Darlene had thought to bring her fresh clothes. The outfit she’d had on the day before was ripped to shreds and was probably locked up in an evidence locker anyway. She certainly didn’t want to ride home with the back of the blue hospital gown flapping in the wind. She considered taking a shower, but she wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Besides, it would be more relaxing to shower in her own bathroom where her favorite pajamas would be waiting. So she yanked out her sweat suit and gingerly pulled it over her scraped knees and throbbing arm. As she dressed, she couldn’t help but overhear whispered voices coming from the other side of the bathroom door.

  “Mom, I think she’s afraid of me.”

  Justyn’s voice was pathetic, yet still so melodic. Even in his misery, he had a way of sounding beautifully forlorn. He could make the most casual sentence sound like poetry. That was one of the things that had attracted her to him from the beginning. He was the eternally tortured artist. It made him the obvious choice for roles like Erik from Phantom and Sweeney Todd. Yet, she hated to hear his voice so choked with emotion knowing that she was cause of it. She wished she could tell him he was wrong, that she wasn’t afraid of him. The problem was she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she wasn’t.

  “You need to give her time, darling,” Darlene soothed. “Have patience. Like that song in the play you’re doing.