43
ALEXA KING
-Present-

Ruby motel
October 21, 2018
1:41 p.m.

I'M ALWAYS WATCHING, REMEMBER? Always remember this: when you think you're doing something without my noticing it, I'll always be one step ahead. The things you know, I'm allowing you to know. You don't have control over anything. You've never had, really. And now you're bothering me. Now I really want to play. I want you, Alexa. Come and find me. I dare you.

The note is taped to the windshield of Christopher's car, beige and typed on a computer like the ones before it. For a moment, we don't say anything or move away from the motel room's door. We just stand here, looking at the note as its message looks back at us, bearing within it both a challenge and a threat.

But it's not the threat that's making my body grow cold with fear, it's the notion that he's here. He's been here the whole time, watching from a distance, planning his next move. My heart pounds in my ears as I look around the almost empty parking lot, my eyes travelling as far as the empty main road.

Where is he hiding?

I'm the first one to move, taking a tentative step forward before walking all the way to the car. With trembling hands, I grab the note. A piece of paper with some black ink holds the power to possess my whole existence. My body starts to tremble, Melody's painting falling to the floor from under my arm.

I want you, Alexa.

Dread begins to grow in my stomach, a vicious feeling that renders me nauseous, and rises to my chest in the form of a sharp pain that's inherent to fear itself. What does it mean? Does he want to do to me what he did to Melody? What does he want with me? Why does he want me? Didn't he say in his last note that I'm not what he's looking for? Didn't he warn me about trying to find him, that I will be as good as dead? Why the sudden change?

"Fuck," Christopher mutters behind me, pacing from one place to the other. "Fuck it! I'm going over there, to that fat fuck, and demand some answers. That fat piece of shit is probably the one who put that shit on my car."

Christopher begins to walk to the clerk's office, his hands balled into tight fists. If this were different circumstances, I would be swooning at the determination in his blue eyes and the veins that pop up under his skin the more he tightens his fists. But these are not different circumstances and we can never go back to the way life was before Melody's death, so I pick up the painting and run to stand in front of him.

"Alexa," he whispers, thrusting his body forward so that we're both moving toward the clerk's office.

"No," I mumble, looking up at him and swooning all the same at the proximity of his body to my own. "We need to go. Now. He's here somewhere. I can feel it."

He stops and arches an eyebrow. "You can feel it?"

"Please," I whisper, noticing how his expression softens and body relaxes as he looks down at me. That is enough of an answer.

We look toward the clerk's office, where, to our surprise, the clerk is already looking back at us with a sinister smile on his face. His eyes harden the more he stares at us, smile showing his yellowing, shark-like teeth. He's counting money --- more than the amount we gave him --- and remains unmoved in front of the office's large window, his eyes and smile visible through the division of the venetian blinds.

If he weren't physically repulsing, I would've assumed that he's U. But he's nowhere near Mel's type.

Christopher tenses behind me, his arm snaking around my waist protectively. "Let's get out of here," he whispers in my ear and that's enough to bring me out of my stupor.

We run to the car, my heart beating painfully in my throat, my limbs, my stomach. I maneuver with the door handle, but it won't budge. The car is locked. Christopher's hands tremble as he searches for the right key, the pieces of metal falling to the floor with a jingle that echoes all around the parking lot. I look over my shoulder, sure that the motel clerk is struggling to run toward us, but he's still in his office looking at us.

Somehow, that's even creepier. What is he thinking?

Christopher finally unlocks the car. Once we get in, he wastes no time in reversing back to the main road. Since there are no other cars visible and no one appears to be following us, he speeds a little and waits to be a few miles away from the motel to slow down. We stay quiet for a while, both too scared to form into words what just happened.

The painting rests on my lap, another blue mass with some brown on it. But the painting is not what really matters, neither are the colors she used or the simplistic shapes she drew on it. It's simply a hiding place for the letter of a girl --- a girl I thought I knew once upon a time, but who now is lost in that same time --- who preferred to reveal some damaging truths once she was dead. I guess it was easier that way, not having to confront anyone or be subjected to their pity.

Inhaling a shaky breath, I go through the process of removing the thin sheet that covers the letter and come face to face with the envelope.

From: me

To: you

I look at Christopher, who is already side eyeing both me and the letter, a palpable tension settling in the car. I shouldn't be reading this with him, I know that, but if I'm ever going to trust him again, I need to make sure that he's on my side. I need to be open with him, and if that doesn't work in my favor in the end, I have myself and my stupid love to blame.

"Read it out loud," he says, his eyes now back on the road ahead. "If you want to. It's up to you."

I take a deep breath and nod, my hands trembling as I take the letter out of its envelope. I clear my throat, too loudly and uncomfortably, and begin to read:

Dear you,

U is a place, my killer its instrument.

U is a state of mind, my killer its victim.

U is an entity, my killer its faithful follower.

U has many faces and you know all of them without knowing it.

Somewhere in there, if you read very carefully and without taking every single word literally, you'll find the answer you're looking for; U's identity. I know it doesn't help much and you're probably confused right now, but I can't just give you U's identity. It's not a matter of whether it's safe for you to know or not. It's not that simple. It never is.

My descriptions of U are on top of this page. That's the best I can do and that's all I know. You have to believe me. It's not as easy as pinpointing specific characteristics that form a whole person; a whole identity. Even now, having lived the horrors that I lived and scared shitless as I wait for my inevitable death, I don't understand U fully myself. I don't understand a lot of things, but alas, here I am paying for being too innocent (that's certainly a first for me!) and for wanting to be loved.

Enough with the self-pity. I'm boring myself.

I'm going to tell you a little bit about my time with U... with him. Just a little because it's hard to put into words. It's hard to think about, and I don't like to think about uncomfortable things.

I don't remember how I got there, to his secret place in the woods. All I remember is that I was blindfolded on my way there and then... nothing. I woke up so close to home, and yet, so far away. The place seemed oddly familiar, like Sebby's summer house but bigger, even though I'd never been to that part of the woods before. Since I didn't know where I was, I spent afternoons just looking at the house, the mansion of a house, and memorized every part of it. I know that place by heart.

As I already wrote in another letter, Christopher told me how to escape. But that's a matter for another letter and happened weeks after my "disappearance". In this small narration, I wasn't a prisoner. At least, not yet. I was a guest, a most valuable one at that. Or so I thought.

Those first few days, it was mostly me in that monster of a house. He had to leave for work from time to time but always came at six (after work) to spend some time with me, like he promised. During that first weekend, he stayed with me and left his family behind. Just for me, like he promised. He was waiting for the vacation he requested a few months back for this occasion (the one he makes every year).

Before his vacation, everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect. His world really did change everything in mine, for a little while. We had (lots) of sex, walked around the woods HOLDING HANDS (!!!!), showered in the riverbank when no one was around (even though there were many bathrooms with showers in the monster house), whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears, laughed at everything and nothing, and slept while holding each other.

We were a real couple. We were finally real. You can't possibly know how much that meant to me. How much it still means, even though he no longer needs me anymore. I've become a burden and that's why he wants to kill me.

Fuck, I need to stop with the self-pity.

Then I met U, his other half and the reason why he really chose me that day near the riverbank, and my life was never the same again. U felt like family at first, like I was part of something bigger than life. U felt like home... U still feels like home, even now, after everything. U is home, but he wanted me to do things, horrible things, terrible things, and I just couldn't... wouldn't.

One day, by mistake, I stumbled upon some confidential information that was going to be shown to me "once I was ready" or whatever he meant to say. This information threatened the lives of some of my close friends, including Alexa. You, whoever you are, have to warn Alexa that U wants her... that her life has always been in danger, even before my "disappearance". That's why I texted her to come over. I want, need, to warn her. It's only been a couple of minutes, but I'm waiting for her reply.

I just want her to know that I would never, ever, EVER be part of something that put her life in danger. I love her too much to do that to her. U wanted me to get to her and that just simply wasn't going to happen.

He thought I would instantly agree to his conditions, to the things that were expected of me during my "disappearance", just because I've been a horrible person for most of my life. But I'm not the kind of person who would betray friends. I mean, yes, I can betray them in small things like sleeping with a boyfriend and revealing some of their secrets to others, but not betray them when their lives are in possible danger. I would never do that; you have to believe me.

I proved to be a liability for him. I knew too much and, at the same time, didn't want to be part of U's plan. When this happens, the person (me) needs to get eliminated. That's the only way to shut anyone's mouth. They were wrong about me. I guess that's the only thing that makes me feel happy, truly happy.

Now you know why I can't reveal his identity, why I can't risk even mentioning his plans. If you're Alexa and that kind of information was written in this letter, your life would be in even more danger. You'll walk straight to him, like he wants you to, and fall to his carefully constructed plan. Even if you're not Alexa, you would be throwing her to U by simply sharing this information.

I won't let that happen. I have to be careful. I've been careful this whole time and you haven't noticed.

U wants to cause chaos in Levittown. U has the purpose to clean it out of anything that's impure and polluted. Keep that in mind.

I'll leave you with the location of the last letter: it's in my most sacred place. If you know me well enough, as I hope you do, that's enough.

September 5, 2018

Melody Tryniski

•Word count: 2,205•

This is PART ONE of chapter 43!!!! Proceed to PART TWO now to have the whole chapter, final word count, and end-of-the chapter questions from yours truly.

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