Chapter 5
Two days later Lance stood in front of the bathroom mirror in his hotel room getting ready for his date. He looked himself over in the mirror, and smiled, but then frowned. He spoke to himself in a concerned tone.
“Something’s missing, but what?” He stood still looking into the mirror for a few minutes until it hit him. He slapped himself upside the head with a smile on his face, and reached under the counter.
“Of course, how could I forget?” He asked himself as he pulled out a rag and a small bottle of chloroform.
“How else would I get her into my room?” He felt a slight surge of pain shoot through his head as the voices spoke up again.
“You’re gonna screw this up! How did you almost forget that?! I suppose you’ll forget how to stab her, too!” He rubbed his temples in an attempt to silence the voices.
“No! I can do this! I can do this!”
“No you can’t. You have to be strong to kill, and you’re a weakling!”
“I’ve done it before, and I can do it again!” He popped two Tylenol into his mouth, and shook his head violently until the voices left and his mind was silent again. He looked up into the mirror and then ran a hand through his hair to straighten it before leaving the room. He could do this, and he was going to prove it. Lance made his way out of the motel room, and hopped into the front seat of the car he had rented.
Miss Kent sat at the table in the restaurant that he had told her to meet him in anxiously awaiting James’s arrival. He was so cute, and he so reminded her of someone that she had seen before. He was intensely familiar, like family almost, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She sat at the table trying to remember, when a hand touched her shoulder and she turned around to see him.
“Oh! Hello, James.”
“Good evening, Rachel.” He sat down across from her, and picked up his menu.
“I’m sorry I was late. I had a problem while I was getting ready.” Well, at least he hadn’t said that he was stuck in traffic.
“That’s fine. Was it another migraine?” She asked, concerned for his health.
“Yeah, you could say that.” He smiled and then, was about to speak again when a waiter came up beside him. They both ordered and Lance acted like a perfect gentleman throughout the dinner. They talked about their lives, mostly Rachel’s. Lance was very vague about all of the details of his life, but Rachel opened up to him, and told him everything that he could have possibly wanted to know and more. She mostly told him things that he had already known from watching her, and reading through her files, but he sat there looking very interested the entire time. Occasionally he would draw his attention away from her to finger the bottle in his pocket. Finally when the check had come he took it before she could reach it, and took out the money, giving her a smile.
“I might be old-fashioned, but I think that the man should pay for an evening of eating with such a dainty beauty as yourself.” She blushed and pulled in closer to him as they made their way back out to his car. She got in and they began to drive down the street, before asking him a question.
“So, are we going to your place?”
“If you want to. I mean, I’d love to talk to you somewhere more private.” Lance heard a whisper in his head, before he had even completed his statement.
“You’re being too forward. She’ll never come with you now.” It was soon drowned out by Rachel’s response though.
“Okay. I’d like to talk to you, too.” Lance let out a sigh of relief and scoffed at the voice in his head. This was, so gonna work out. He kept driving, and then pulled into the motel parking lot, before turning off the motor, and putting the child lock on the doors.
“I thought we were going to your house. Do you live in a motel?” He turned to her, and looked straight into her eyes.
“James, what’s going on?” He didn’t answer her, and she asked again with a very worried tone to her voice.
“James?”
“I need to tell you something, Rachel.” She shook and whispered to him.
“What, James?” He reached his hand into his pocket, and she looked into his eyes.
“Please, call me Lance.” Then it hit her like a ton of bricks, and she realized why he had been so familiar, but before she could do anything about it, a hand holding a damp rag was pushed over her mouth and nose. She unwillingly breathed in the sweet chloroform, and slipped into oblivion.
Lance hugged the girl to his chest, and dragged her toward the open motel door. He then went to the bed, and slumped her onto it, before running back to close the door, and making sure that nobody had seen him. He then walked back to the bed and turned on the light. He looked at her, and was about to reach for the drawer containing his knives when a sharp pain hit him.
“You got this far, but now you’re gonna give up, aren’t ya?”
“No!”
“Yeah right, we both know that you can’t do this. You’re a weak little girl.”
“No!”
“Then why aren’t you stabbing yet? It’s because you can’t do it, isn’t it? Isn’t it?!”
“No! I can do it!”
“Then why don’t you?!”
“I’m going to!”
“Yeah right, you’re just chicken! You’re a little chicken-shit, pansy!”
“NO!”
“Yes, you are. Pansy. Little Lancey-Poofu can’t even do this right.”
“NO!” He fell to the floor clutching his head as the voices continued to taunt him. He tore at his hair, and screamed at the top of his lungs, as the worst episode he had yet hit him full force. He curled up into the fetal position, choking out sobs, when a hand touched his back, and he jerked up with a start.
Chapter 6