Jeff the Killer: Shades of Madness

Planet.

Country.

State.

City.

Neighborhood.

House.

Each item zooms into the next until the viewers find themselves in a bedroom. From the room’s décor, it is apparent that a child, probably a girl of teenage years, inhabits this portion of the house. All suspicions are ended as the viewer is taken around the room, treated to various glimpses of hand drawn art (some quite impressive) depicting images drawn to bright pastel paper. Ponies, princesses and pages dotted by stickers of rainbows, stars and smiles seem to dominate. A red paper zooms by as this visual is presented, and perhaps a set of sharp eyes may catch more. What could have been a stick figure of a human being with a large knife inserted into its chest is featured on the red sheet, but then it’s gone as the perspective completes its circle, finally landing on the sole inhabitant of the bedroom.

A young girl, perhaps 12 or 13 years of age is sitting at a writing desk, marker in hand, scribbling away at what could perhaps be her next work of art. As the unseen eyes that guide the point of view rise over the girl’s shoulders, those watching see that instead of artwork, she is creating some sort of sign. A dash of pink, a splash of purple and a swirl of periwinkle and the child is suddenly staring into what perhaps could be a camera or some other gateway from her room to the world. Her face is beaming with a satisfied smile.

“NINA EXPLAINS IT ALL,” is written in bold text across the construction paper. What could be described as a transition of sorts takes place, as the viewer is now seeing Nina from a different angle, and the young girl starts talking directly to whoever or whatever may be watching.

“What’s up fucks? I’m Nina Hopkins, and welcome to Nina Explains It All!”

(Canned applause is heard from seemingly nowhere.)

“Guys, I had a bad day today. My teacher asked me what I was drawing in class, and I told her to mind her own beeswax. She didn’t like that too much and made me go see the principal.”

(Canned sympathetic reaction plays.)

“It’s okay though. See, she really should have minded her beeswax; cuz I found out she’s highly allergic to honey. So, you know what I did, right?”

(The viewer’s perspective suddenly switches to a still photograph of Nina pouring honey into a coffee cup. Another image suddenly flashes on the screen showing what appears to be a woman receiving emergency medical assistance from two EMT’s. These images are accompanied by the sounds of the audience cheering in loud and enthusiastic approval.)

“That’s right folks, she was a little sour so I had to sweeten her up a bit. Tomorrow is Saturday, so I think I’ll head over to her house and make sure she doesn’t make the mistake of pissing me off again. Maybe a little more honey… I mean, she smells like a fucking bear so she should love it… am I right?”

(Canned laughter erupts from the invisible audience.)

A muffled sound, laced with despair can suddenly be heard coming from the bedroom’s closet. Nina smiles and again looks at the audience.

“Oh, I almost forgot, my annoying brother drank the last can of Coke… again.”

(Audience boos.)

“I know, but don’t worry guys, he’s in luck, I’m giving one of Nina’s famous educational seminars to him. Hopefully this one sticks.”

She walks over to the closet and opens the door. Inside is a teenage boy, clearly a bit older than Nina. He appears to be bound with a jump rope and his mouth is taped over.

“I warned you about drinking the last Coke didn’t I? I mean, you wouldn’t want people to think you’re a… coke addict, now would you?”

(Laughter.)

The young man struggles a bit but cannot break free. Nina turns again to the ‘camera’ and shrugs her shoulders.

“Brothers… what can you do with ‘em?”

(Laughter.)

“Oh, I know, he needs a special visit from Mr. Stingy!”

(Joyous applause.)

Nina reaches for what appears to be a McDonald’s cup located on a shelf near the closet door. Once in her grasp, she shakes the cup a bit and a skittering noise can be heard from within.

“Folks, Mr. Stingy was trying to enjoy a nap. I doubt he’s going to be very happy about this.”

(The ‘sad trombone’ theme plays as laughter accompanies.)

Nina removes the lid from the cup and reveals Mr. Stingy, a large black scorpion. Her brother’s eyes become wide and the terror is obvious. The audience cheers as Nina approaches the restrained boy. Once she’s standing over him she turns the cup over and the scorpion drops onto his head.

“Now, you two play nice while I figure out the rest of your punishment,” Nina announces before shutting the closet door again. Moans of fear can be heard within as the audience claps and cheers its approval.

Suddenly there is a thud outside of Nina’s bedroom window, as what appears to be the top of a wooden ladder strikes the exterior of the house. The window is opened as the visitor enters the room. The unseen audience erupts in the loudest and longest cheer thus far.

Standing in the young girl’s bedroom is a boy of maybe his late teens. He is wearing ragged clothing and has long hair that falls over his face. As he continues to walk across the bedroom floor, he brushes his hair aside, revealing a pale white face, a long scare extending up one side, met by one white, dead eye. He slowly stalks towards Nina, drawing a large knife from seemingly nowhere as he does. As he closes the distance he raises the knife, pointing it towards the child. His lips form into a sick and sadistic grin, revealing teeth stained from extended lack of care. His hands feature multiple cuts. As he trains the knife on the little girl, he finally speaks in a low, harsh voice.

“Nina…”

She stares back at him, appearing to be frozen in place, unable to move, unable to run. She raises her head slightly, making eye contact with the one functioning bulb in the intruder’s head.

“Hi Jeff!” she replies with enthusiasm.

“Nina… I need you to prepare… prepare to take this knife and place it firmly in the center of your…”

“Desk? Yeah, I know Jeff, you’re pretty damned OCD when it comes to that knife of yours. One day you and that knife are going to get married or something.”

(Audience lets out a long ‘ooooohhhhhhh’ sound, indicating a zinger had landed.)

The entire scene transitions, showing Jeff and Nina standing on a beach together somewhere; Jeff is wearing a white suit, the thin style commonly associated with outdoor ocean side weddings. Nina is standing before him, wearing what appear to be priest vestments, and floating next to Jeff, held in place by invisible supports, is the knife.

“I now pronounce you man and knife!” Nina blurts, and the audience, which apparently traveled with them, cheers and laughs.

“Oh, I promise to always hold and honor you!” Jeff whispers to the floating knife, receiving more approval from unseen viewers.

Nina and Jeff are now back in her bedroom once more. Nina looks into the ‘camera’ and says “And you thought the Kardashians were a fucked up family!” Laughter follows from the audience.

“So Nina,” Jeff asks, “what’s been going on? Kill anything worth talking about?”

“Well, I poisoned my teacher, pretty cool right?”

“Ha… poison. Life is poison Nina, didn’t I already tell you that. Your teacher cannot be poisoned, she already is, we all are, the minute we start sucking air at birth.”

(The audience cheers for this.)

“Yeah, but at least she was in pain, am I right?”

“Life is pain Nina, always. She’s been in pain since the minute…”

“Yeah, yeah… since the minute she started sucking air… Oh Jeff, can’t you find happiness in anything? Like, what about…?”

He interrupts her. “Only death Nina. All things were born to die. I learned that the hard way you know. I had to die, at least, the Jeff Woods part of me did. That happy, optimistic fool, that kid that thought one day his parents were going to suddenly change. That idiot actually trusted Randy Hayden - (the audience boos aggressively at the mention of Randy; Jeff and Nina wait as the objections from the crowd fade, then resume talking) - the old Jeff Woods believed that Randy actually wanted to be his friend. See what that got him, don’t you?” Jeff caps off this comment by pointing at his face, tracing his scar with one finger.

“But Jeff, you can’t torture someone if they’re dead, right? So, life must have some value?”

“Life is torture Nina, every living thing is being tortured, and it starts…”

(The audience finishes Jeff’s sentence by shouting in unison; ‘The minute they start sucking air!’)

“Well, be that as it may Jeff, I need some help with torture advice. See, my stupid older brother is currently locked up in my closet, Mr. Stingy is keeping him company but I really need to find a way to make him regret his life decisions. I was hoping you could give me some pointers!” As Nina says the word ‘pointers’ she gestures towards Jeff’s knife, bringing laughter from the audience.

“No, torture is moot. Pain is moot. It is always and everywhere and nothing and everything. Your brother is tortured because he lives. You are tortured because you exist. Only I can embrace this disease and convert it into action, only I can be the agent of death, cleansing the vile and corrupted of their own…”

Nina cuts him off, rolling her eyes and looking into the camera again, “Jeez, maybe all those shit comments on the Creepypasta Wiki are right, this guy is an edge lord.” This comment is met with a huge eruption of laughter, ooh’s and aah’s and cheering.

A bright pink neon message flashes across the walls of Nina’s room, announcing, “Beware the 4th Wall, it is prone to breaking easily!”

“Enough Nina, I have come to deliver your brother on to death! Only then can you focus on Dr. Sawyer’s mission, only then can you become…”

“Oh God, don’t say it Jeff… please don’t say it! Like, not even in this story should it be said… please…!”

Jeff ignores her and finishes his sentence, “…only then can you become… Nina… the… Killer!!!”

(The audience applauds uncontrollably, as though this is one of the most practiced and beloved catch phrases of whatever this series of events may be.)

Just then the door to Nina’s bedroom is cast open, and a middle-aged man, tall, somewhat lanky with a slightly receding hairline saunters in. The audience cheers its approval.

“Uncle Dalton!” Nina shouts in excitement. I thought you and Uncle Simon were going out for drinks or something!”

“He died Nina, remember? Some crazy cop shot his brains out,” Dalton replies.

“Oh yeah, that was the big comedic ending to last season. Good stuff. Anyway, I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”

Dalton looks over at Jeff and shakes his head with a slight smirk on his face. “Nina, you’re only 13 and you’ve already got boys sneaking in… I’m not cut out for this parenting shit.”

(Audience snickers.)

“Uncle Dalton, its just Jeff!”

(The sad trombone theme plays again as Jeff looks directly at the camera, with a grimace on his face.)

“Even psychotic fan-girls friend zone me folks,” Jeff states, gaining uproarious laughter.

“Jeff, cut-it-out!” Dalton replies, making the appropriate hand motions to accompany this well-known gag made famous on Full House.

Jeff’s menacing and sadistic smile returns. “Don’t mind if I do Dalton, don’t mind if I do, and I think I’ll start with Nina’s brother. What should I cut out, his liver, his heart… or maybe his eyes!”

(Someone in the audience screams for the liver, another shouts for the eyes.)

Jeff picks up the knife from Nina’s desk and begins to advance towards the closet currently housing the bound and gagged older sibling. Nina looks at Jeff and smiles, then looks over at Dalton and takes note of the disapproving look on his face.

“What Uncle… let me guess, Jeff shouldn’t do that, right?”

“Nina,” Dalton begins, “you know right from wrong, and you know it too well. Do you really want Jeff the Killer to mutilate your brother?”

“I… do, I really do! I hate him, he drank the last Coke, he made good grades that get posted on the fridge, my mom and dad actually smile when he walks in the room… they love him… they don’t love… well, you know…”

Dalton walks over and sits on Nina’s bed, inviting her to come and sit next to him. Jeff seems to pause in place, his hand almost touching the door of the closet. A sad piano and violin theme can suddenly be heard playing throughout… well, everywhere.

Nina sits next to Dalton and looks up at him, her eyes swelling with tears that haven’t quite spilled over yet. “They love him, but they don’t love me.”

(The audience lets out a long sympathetic sigh.)

“Nina, I’m sure your parents love you very much.”

“No… they sent me to that nut house, then they made me live in that group home… they hardly ever visited… when they did it was in and out… they don’t want me there at home, they only want my stupid goody-two-shoes brother. I…”

Dalton puts his arm around her. “You just want them to treat you the same way, right?”

“Uncle Dalton, they’re afraid of me, they think I’m evil, I heard my own mother call me a monster…”

“Maybe that’s why you admire Jeff the Killer so much, because his parents treated him like that. Remember when his mother called him a pariah?”

“Pariah Carrey,” Nina whispers, letting a little giggle slip.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty fucking stupid joke,” Dalton replies.

“Unfunny people thought it was funny,” Nina answers, and the audience give a light chuckle.

“Nina, I think in time your parents will forget all of this. You’re their daughter after all, I think if you were to just try to focus more on fighting those bad thoughts and less on ol’ scar face over there….”

“Yeah, I mean, I could…” she answers, when suddenly a booming male voice fills the room. Nina looks towards the camera with a mix of excitement and something that could almost be regret forming on her face. “Oh… it’s Dr. Sawyer!”

The disembodied voice shouts in a commanding tone, “YOU FOUND YOURSELF IN JEFF THE KILLER LITTLE GIRL! DO NOT LET THIS LIAR SITTING NEXT TO YOU CHANGE THE PEACE THAT I BROUGHT YOU! EMBRACE THE HATRED! YOU KNOW AS WELL AS I DO THAT YOU WILL NEVER BE WELCOMED BACK INTO YOUR FAMILY. THEY FEAR YOU, THEY HATE YOU, ONLY JEFF THE KILLER UNDERSTANDS YOUR PAIN, ONLY JEFF CAN CLEANSE THE DISEASED!”

The bedroom once again begins to transform. This time it does not change into a beach, but remains the bedroom. The interior features though, they become something of nightmares. The lighting in the room becomes a dark red; the wallpaper begins to peel away, revealing rot. The pictures Nina tacked to her wall change from bright and cheery images of smiling princesses and ponies to helter-skelter sketches of gore and pain. The illustrations now feature adults, children, animals, elderly and everything else in between being butchered by multiple Jeff the Killer clones. Nina looks down and see’s that she in now holding a large knife, identical to Jeff’s. She looks over and observes that Jeff the Killer has opened her bedroom closet and is preparing to bring his knife down on her immobilized brother.

“GO… TO… SLEEP!” Jeff snarls, readying the blade.

Dalton speaks, his voice rising above the insanity forming all around. “Nina, you can stop all of this. You control this much of it. Only you can turn this around.”

“I… I don’t know what I want… I DON’T KNOW WHAT I AM!” she screams, raising the knife. She looks at Jeff and fathoms delivering the blade into his back. Perhaps should she slay this fiend who lives only to bring death to others, could find freedom from her life of constant therapists, hospitals and group homes.

She then switches her gaze to Dalton. She could end him and allow herself to fall into the welcoming sea of rage and chaos that Jeff the Killer promises to provide. She wouldn’t have to concern herself with doctors, medications or therapy sessions. Her mind could become dead to reason, dead to the light. She could become what Sawyer told her she was born to be, an agent of the bleakest cleansing, curing the disease of life one patient at a time.

“There’s a third option,” a voice suddenly whispers in Nina’s ear. She looks around but cannot find its owner. The light in the room begins to fade, and after a moment Nina Hopkins is alone. She is standing in a single circle of light, surrounded on all sides by a black void that she fears stepping foot into. She doesn’t know what lives in that void, but she senses that it is pure evil.

“Third option?” she asks to voice.

“You’ll figure it out Nina,” the unknown speaker replies. Nina thinks that she recognizes that voice too. It sounds very familiar to her, a voice she would swear she’s known forever.

“Please help me… I… I don’t know what to do…” the girl whimpers back.

No reply this time. Then Nina begins to hear something, something out in that darkness. Deafening footsteps, like thunder, start to move towards her. It’s out there, whatever it is, drawing closer. As the steps become near enough to cause the very ground below her to shake, she feels it standing above her. Trembling, she cranes her head upwards, making eye contact with the demonic giant towering above her. She sees it’s face, and as realization hits home, she draws in a long, harsh breath and prepares to scream.

“NO!!! THAT’S NOT WHAT I AM!!!” Nina Hopkins bellows as she sits up, her face dripping in sweat. She’s no longer in that dark place. She whips her head about, taking in her surroundings.

She’s safe, in Dalton’s apartment where she’s been living for the last week. It was all a dream. As her slowly waking mind processes the events of her nightmare, she realizes that she’s had this dream many times. However, something was different this time. She wasn’t quite sure, but in all the instances where her sleeping mind has formed the narrative of her and Jeff hanging out with her brother, or sometimes her mother or father trapped in the closet, waiting to have their fate decided by the deranged and deformed killer, this one featured a new element… redemption. Never had the dream ended with no one dying. Never did she wake up feeling fear or regret. Her dreams of killing alongside Jeff Woods were always followed by waking to pure joy. This time though, this time something was different. Nina wanted to know, had to know, what changed.

Moments later Nina saw the closed door of Dalton’s bedroom illuminate and could hear the sound of furniture being knocked into accompanied by soft cursing from the room’s inhabitant. The door was thrown open and Dalton himself entered, wearing sweat pants and what appeared to be a very old and faded New Orleans Police Academy Tee-Shirt. In his right hand, held at the low ready was his .38 caliber handgun. He’d taken to sleeping with it under his pillow, never out of reach and always loaded.

“What the fuck… who’s here!” he shouted, looking past Nina into the darker corners of the living room.

“No one Dalton… I’m sorry, I had a nightmare.”

“Shit… I have a fucking nightmare just about every damned time I close my eyes, I don’t wake up screaming like it’s the end of the world,” he snapped back. Nina looked down at the blanket she slept under. Things had been tense between her and Dalton. Her face fell into a rarely seen look of melancholy. Dalton saw this and cursed again under his breath.

He’d come to despise the taunting grin of knowing that she often wore during the day, a look that said; I have the information you need, so you can’t just drop me off at the group home or the hospital. He naturally couldn’t stand any child that threw a tantrum either. The louder some brat would scream in a shopping mall the less pity Dalton could muster. Screaming, drooling, snot-faced kids repulsed him, but the look on Nina’s face at the moment cut through his defenses and attacked his heart. She wasn’t smiling in defiant glee or screaming to get attention or some new toy or whatever the snotty brats of the world’s shopping centers were motivated by.

Instead she was just a small girl, a child who was hurting somewhere deep within. She was a kid who had been told she was bad for so long that she likely had little idea of what ‘good’ looked like. The look of real, adult, human grief, grief that no child should bear told Dalton that there would be no argument, no manipulative giggles. She was just a young girl who had a nightmare and needed some degree of comforting. Instead he’d cursed at her, made her feel shame for something that she couldn’t control. Dalton felt like shit in that moment.

Instead of any heartwarming moment of violins and piano tunes though, he opened up the front door of his apartment and pulled up one of the small kitchen chairs. He produced a pack of cigarettes from his sweatpants pocket, lit one up and turned his attention to Nina.

“Christ on a cracker… I didn’t mean to curse like that. I know a thing or two about waking up from bad dreams. What’s on your mind kid?”

For a moment she considered telling him the truth, however, she’d never shared the Jeff dreams with anyone besides Dr. Sawyer. She was also embarrassed. Her psychiatric chart was already littered with mentions of Jeff the Killer and her obsession over him. To sit out here and talk to one of the only people she currently knew that had yet to cast her aside or hand her off to become someone else’s problem that she was having detailed dreams about her and Jeff killing members of her family… she was afraid that Dalton might simply get up from his chair and toss her out of the open door, shutting it and locking it behind her. Instead she went with what she considered a “half-truth,” opting to tell him about the final segment of her nightmare, the part where she stood inside of a tiny while circle of light while the deepest, blackest abyss surrounded her on all sides. She mentioned that a monster came out of the darkness; however, she did not describe it to Dalton. That part of the dream, the final scene before she woke up screaming was a piece of truth that she couldn’t even admit to herself actually happened.

Dalton listened to her story, taking a drag of his cigarette occasionally. His detective senses, something that unlike his badge and gun could not be seized, told him that she was holding back a lot of information and changing elements of the story. That was okay with him though. This wasn’t an interrogation and he was happy to see that her telling him about the dream, regardless of lies or omissions, had removed that look of melancholy from her face.

“Bad dreams are normal kid, like I said, I get ‘em all the time. I tried medications from my own shrink, but the dreams it gave me, while no longer scary, were just too damned strange. So I stopped taking the pills… which I know is wrong…” Dalton had been given two bottles by Latoya Hayes after they’d worked out the best way this whole mess to function without people asking why a ward of her establishment was suddenly living with a friend of hers in his apartment. Dalton made sure Nina took those pills just as the bottles ordered, and would lecture her should she skip a dose. However, she didn’t immediately scold him as he’d expected, instead intently gazing, invested in his story.

“Anyway, there is a reason that I had to leave the New Orleans Police Department and come work out here in the sticks. I’ve never told anyone the story, but if you help me put these sick assholes behind bars that are doing this, you can go through life as the sole owner of that information.”

“Really?” Nina asked, “I’d be the only person?”

“Well, you and one other friend of mine. He’s actually coming over today to help us with this investigation. Promise me you won’t act like a fucking freak, the guy’s been through a lot too, he doesn’t need you undoing years of therapy.” “I promise.”

Dalton nodded and looked out into the parking lot of his apartment complex. He lit another cigarette.

Nina’s face lit up with a seldom seen look of natural, childhood joy. “Look Dalton, the sun is coming up! Can we watch the sunrise?”

“Yeah… you really have a pisser nightmare schedule kid. Next time can you wake up in a panic after the sky is blue?”

Dalton intended no harm in those words though. He’d paid a visit to his friend Gina Marie and left with a fresh supply of Adderall. He could be a morning person so long as he had enough of those little pills to go around. Nina had already gotten up and was walking towards the front door. She let out a long and no doubt intentionally obnoxious cough as she passed through the cloud of his cigarette smoke. She climbed to the roof of Dalton’s car and sat down without consideration for the automobile. The roof responded by folding slightly in the center, accompanied by a loud, hallow thump. Nina turned to Dalton, trying not to giggle a bit at the sound, the act or just her carelessness. She wore a somewhat hesitant expression though, clearly unsure just how Dalton would react. “Fuck it, that car’s a piece of shit anyway,” Dalton replied with a bit of sarcasm-laced joviality.

Nina relaxed and let real, organic laughter escape. She bounced up and down on the roof of the car a few more times, recreating the hollow thump and actually getting authentic laughter from Dalton. His laugh was brief and tempered, but his smile told both him and the little girl that he was experiencing something closer to joy than he’d expected from this morning, and he was grateful for it.

“No more fast food kiddo, you’re about to break through my roof!” Dalton joked, causing a comical look of false anger to form on Nina’s face.

“Oh that’s it!” she screamed, and began to jump on the roof of his car. Dalton knew there would eventually be a time to stop these antics, but he couldn’t deny the fact that for the first time in a very long time, he felt happiness that didn’t come from a bottle or a pill.

Finally one of Dalton’s neighbors cracked opened their door and voiced a strongly worded argument in support of him taking his kid back inside and shutting the fuck up while they were trying to sleep. The former detective would have been right at home telling his annoyed neighbor to shove that silence right up his ass, but should said annoyed neighbor decide to express his aggravation by calling the police, Dalton would have a difficult time explaining why Nina Hopkins, a medically remanded resident of a local group home, a girl of 13 years of age, a girl who was not a relative of Dalton’s, was living with him, an unmarried childless man of early middle age. He already knew what the assumption would be. If he were looking at this situation from the outside, he’d think the worst as well. Dalton could handle fanatical cult members trying to kill him on dark roads in the middle of the night, but being branded the local “Chester the Molester” was exactly where he drew the line. Dalton had arrested a few ‘Chesters’ in his day, and he’d personally ensured that most of them did not arrive at Central Lockup with the same amount of teeth they’d had at the time of arrest.

Instead he instructed her to get dressed for the day. The Adderall was kicking in and he was thinking breakfast would be nice before the amphetamine relieved him of any trace of appetite. He did think over his current situation though. When Nina had first appeared in his home, he was enraged that she’d broken in. His first instinct was to arrest her, but he quickly realized that the State of Louisiana, the City of Mandeville and the good Lord above had removed that trust from him on the day he turned over his credentials. Nina had promised to help Dalton track down those behind the Jeff’s Killers group and that kept him willing to hear her out. He’d hoped to get something useful from her that very day, then, regardless of whatever promises he’d made, he would bring her back to Latoya’s group home on the double.

However, Nina was smart enough to know that the longer she dragged out the information that Dalton wanted, the longer she could insist on staying at his apartment. He understood why she didn’t want to go back to the mental ward or the group home, but in all truth he had no idea why she wanted to stay at his place. It was tiny, he owned nothing that a child would find enjoyable and his computer was so overloaded with files, viruses and years of neglect that his Internet barely functioned at the rate of a dial-up modem. He had cable television, sure, but he rarely saw Nina watching it. When she did, it was shows like Hell’s Kitchen (anything featuring Gordon Ramsay) or something similarly not geared for a 12-year-old girl.

He also found her annoying as all hell. She never shut-up, she ate with her mouth open, a habit that Dalton was almost certain she did intentionally. She learned early on what pushed Bradshaw’s buttons. He was a man that in almost all walks of life, one would call a slob. He kept the basic needs met to ensure no mold or diseases grew in his apartment, such as washing the dishes regularly, but in almost every other aspect, his housekeeping consisted of things being placed wherever they landed. Before Nina invaded his space, the small apartment smelled of cigarettes all the time and there was always at least one full ashtray somewhere. Nina had harassed him about that habit until he finally gave in and started sitting in the open doorway to smoke. She still objected, but at the very least she would give him peace as he inhaled one bad habit after another.

By her second day at his home, Dalton felt that he was on the verge of caving-in. It wasn’t just Nina’s intolerable nature that drove him to surrender, but also the very illegal paper trail that he and Latoya were creating in this arrangement. A lot of paperwork that would find its way to the Department of Health and Hospitals was being fraudulently filled out. According to the forms that Latoya was doctoring, Nina Hopkins was present each morning for head count, was present twice a day for the administration of medication and was tucked neatly into bed each night. Both she and Bradshaw knew that should any child welfare agents decide to spin by for a random inspection, they’d both be standing before a judge answering to multiple criminal acts.

However, he needed her. He knew. She knew it. She had inside information and for whatever reason in Heaven above; she’d chosen him to share it with. He was no longer a commissioned officer-of-the-law but he was still a lawman. He wanted nothing more than to crack this case and bring the bastards behind all of this nonsense to justice. So, he continued on with the ruse, hoping a bit more each day that Nina would finally make good on her promise and start assisting him in this matter.

So far she’d given him almost no real information on Jeff’s Killers or Dr. Sawyer. Dalton suspected that the girl knew that the longer she held on to the facts, the longer she dangled hope in front of his face, the longer she could run the show. Perhaps she was aware that the moment Bradshaw had enough knowledge to move on his own, that he’d dump her right back off at the group home.

Dalton, although he likely would never admit it out loud though, did enjoy having Nina around. Despite the horror stories that surrounded her past mischief, her presence brought a vibrant energy into Bradshaw’s life. She was chaotic, rude, abrasive and destructive, but those very same qualities filled the voids created by Dalton’s own lawful and cautious habits. So he continued to tolerate her, crossing his fingers that she would eventually trust him enough to start helping him solve this case that cost him so much.

Noon came and lunch was consumed. Dalton considered pressing Nina with some questions about Sawyer when suddenly a knock on his front door broke his concentration. He walked over and looked through the little peephole before smiling a little and unlocking the door. Nina sat up on the couch to get a better view of their guest.

Dalton greeted the visitor, “Hey, thanks for coming all the way out here to meet up with me…” Before he could get another word out, Nina began to scream with enthusiasm.

“Oh. My. God!!! It’s YOU! I’m like your biggest fan! I can’t believe Mr. Dalton actually got YOU to come to his house!!!”

“Calm down Nina!” Dalton snapped, but the girl was beyond hearing anything he had to say.

She ran over and greeted their guest at the door, grabbing at his hand and pulling him inside.

“You’re… you’re Derrick Reynolds! I can’t believe I’m meeting Derrick Reynolds!”

“Hey, hi! I wish all of my fans were this excited when I walked in a room. What’s you’re name?” the host of Cult Hunters and recent confidant of Jane Arkansaw asked.

“I’m Nina. I’m helping Mr. Dalton investigate the Jeff the Killer cult! I mean, I’m basically doing all the work, he’s really just the muscle!”

“Well Nina, you’re very brave to help him. I met a girl about your age a long time ago that helped my friends and me too. Her name was Soka.”

“Yeah, of course! Soka Ito! I’ve read your book about a million times Mr. Reynolds. I know all about Clair, Soka, Lance Madison, Mister Pinky; I mean, it’s my favorite book of all time!”

Derrick smiled, “Well then Nina, I think I’ve got a copy or two in my car. I bet I could autograph one for you, if you agree to just call me Derrick. Mister is a term for old guys… like…” Derrick made an exaggerated gesture towards Dalton, which brought an eruption of laughter from Nina.

“Derrick, what was Delphia like?” she asked.

“Cold,” he responded with a slight smirk. He was honestly enjoying the questions. He’d spent so much of his time since writing the book having everyone doubt, or in some case flat-out laugh at his tale contained within the pages of his best-selling novel that it felt pretty nice to have someone, even a kid, simply treat him like someone capable of telling the truth.

“And what about your girlfriend??? Your book makes it seem like you guys really like each other.”

“Well, she and I aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend. She’s my best friend in many ways. I still talk to her all the time.”

Nina’s eyes lit up larger than when she first saw Derrick. “Really? She’s so awesome! I want to be just like her when I grow up!”

“Tell you what Nina, how’d you like to talk to her right now?”

“You mean you can just call her up?”

“Of course! Clair is in New York, not on Mars. I can call her…”

Nina cut him off. “No, not Clair Nobles! She’s boring. I want to talk to Lacy Suzino!”

For a moment Derrick was a taken off guard. He wasn’t bothered that Nina was impressed by Lacy. Even in Derrick’s own book he emphasized that despite her psychopathy, she was a remarkably resourceful individual. What caused him to pause was the fact that Lacy was dead. Derrick had been present when Lena Vazquez drove a knife into Lacy’s back. Lena buried her somewhere. He really didn’t want to turn this young woman’s joy into misery by informing her that Lacy was deceased. He’d carefully omitted that moment from his book, simply stating that Lacy was unconscious when he saw her last and had never seen her since.

As he was mulling this over in his mind, another thought, far more frightening; suddenly hit him like a truck. Nina had referred to Lacy by her full name, Lacy Suzino. Derrick however had only referred to her as Lacy S. in his novel. To his knowledge no one walking the earth right now with the exception of Clair knew her last name. If this info had leaked online or something, Derrick would have heard about it, of that he was certain. So how did this kid know?

“Nina, how do you know that’s Lacy’s last name? In my book I just call her Lacy S.”

“Hail Lacy,” Nina replied with a sly smile, and Derrick felt chills run through him.

“Nina, tell me for real, please!”

Nina turned her attention to Dalton for the first time since Derrick arrived.

“I’m ready to tell you about Dr. Sawyer now Mr. Dalton!” she announced.

“Wait…” Derrick began, and Dalton stepped in and spoke closely to the man.

“Look, we can worry about whatever this Lacy shit is later. I’ve been waiting for Nina to finally start giving me the scoop here. Now, you came to see me because Jane Arkansaw asked you to seek me out, so can we please focus on that?”

Derrick sighed a bit, but Dalton did remind him of his promise to Jane. She slipped her a piece of paper on the night he interviewed her as he was leaving, and asked him to contact Dalton if the events surrounding Jeff Woods continued to escalate. Then he’d gotten home to find two of his actors sitting on his couch missing their faces and a whole lot of blood. Dalton warned Reynolds that the little girl helping him was a head-case who was as unpredictable as any other members of the rogue’s gallery behind this shit, but he was confident that she had real information. Derrick did too, and when the name Dr. Sawyer came into the conversation, Reynolds knew that Jane made the right choice in sending him Dalton’s way.

A few minutes later all three were gathered around the small dining room table the tiny alcove that constituted Dalton’s dining room. Derrick produced an envelope from his back pocket and began to sort through some documents. Nina appeared composed for a change. Dalton broke the silence.

“Okay, so after you interviewed Jane Arkansaw for your show, she told you to contact me? Why? I’ve never met her.”

Derrick shrugged his shoulders. “My guess is that she knew you were working the Jeff’s Killers investigation. She’s done quite a bit of digging herself. Your buddy Dr. Sawyer was into some weird hoodoo.”

“Like what?”

“Well, since I guess my episode of Cult Hunters featuring Jane won’t see the light of day for a while, I’ll tell you. Honestly I wish Jane was here too, I feel a little guilty telling her story without her, but she wants to see this conspiracy busted wide open too. She knows that I’m sharing this with you, so I guess I can sleep tonight.”

The beeping of Dalton’s coffee maker broke their focus.

“Perfect timing, I need some of that,” Dalton said, and returned with two cups, one for him, the other for Derrick. A moment after that his microwave chimed, and Nina fetched a cup of hot chocolate.

Derrick hesitated a bit longer before asking, “Dalton, this story gets a little disturbing, you sure you want Nina out here?”

Dalton chuckled, “Derrick, this girl knows more about disturbing shit than I want to learn in a lifetime. I think she can handle it.”

Nina’s face beamed with the sort of joy common to children who are suddenly accepted into the adults’ circle of trust. “Yeah Derrick, my chapter was literally called The Disturbingly Cruel, I think I can handle it.”

“You’re chapter?” Derrick asked.

“It’s just something she does man, I don’t think we’re the ones that are supposed to get it.”

“…Okay then… where was I?”

“Jane’s story, what led you here, what did she tell you? Come on man, you toppled an evil city, so you can topple this!” Nina answered, and Derrick chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess so. The important stuff here came at the end of my interview with Jane. Her story of growing up in Texas with her wealthy father, their move to Louisiana and Drake Arkansaw’s brush-up with Jeff’s Killers when he tried to renovate Shortcut Road is really just the fluff of the tale. What Jane discovered after her father’s death, in a secret bank vault that he informed her of with his dying breath, that’s where the important part is. That tells the tale.”

Derrick began to unfold the papers he’d removed from the envelope. “Okay, I give you the final journal entries of Drake Arkansaw. He knew a lot more than he ever shared with his daughter or that lawyer of his, Hardwick, during his life. It’s sad because if he had, or if he’d simply listened to the warnings, he’d probably still be alive.”

Derrick raised the first sheet from the table and began to read. By the time he concluded the final entry, both he and Dalton had refilled their coffee cups several times, and taken a few smoke breaks in the open front door. Nina however never even touched her hot chocolate. She was utterly enthralled by Derrick’s words from start to finish. Dalton would later ponder whether or not he could recall seeing her blink during the reading.

FROM THE SECRET JOURNAL OF DRAKE ARKANSAW

Oct. 2016 My daughter was attacked today out on Shortcut Road, some little dirt street in the outskirts of Mandeville. She was making some Internet video or something, I don’t know what kids are into these days, but Shortcut Road is somewhat of an urban legend out here I guess. That road apparently has some connection to Jeff Woods, the serial killer. I blame myself, I moved us into the very damned house where the bastard murdered his own parents in cold blood. I can’t be upset at Jane for taking an interest in it. I moved her to this snobby little town to pursue a business venture, and she’s been nothing but supportive and onboard with the process. God Bless that girl, she’s one-in-a-billion. The freaks that attacked her were dressed up like Jeff Woods after he was disfigured. Some sort of club for kids that can’t get laid or something I guess. Shit, when I was a teenager we just stole our parents’ liquor and got hammered. As I said before, I don’t get kids these days. I talked to the Chief of Police, a guy named Mitchell Hardy. Russell and me walked in on that fucker trying to strong-arm Jane like she’d committed a crime or something. I could see through the prick though. There’s more to Shortcut Road than he’s letting on. But that’s okay; I’ve got a plan.

Nov. 2016 I’m getting really sick of the way business is done in Mandeville. These rubes are too damned dumb to see that I’m practically throwing money at them. God I miss Texas. Anyway, they’re fighting me tooth and nail on my plan to fix those fuckers out on Shortcut Road and maybe make these yuppie-hicks some real tourism revenue. Something about those kids out there, Jeff’s Killers or whatever they’re called, it’s got certain people of importance in this community on edge. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear they wanted to keep those maniacs’ little hangout in tact. Doesn’t matter though, money talks and bullshit walks, no truer words ever spoken. If the City of Mandeville won’t take action, I guess I’ll have to privatize the project.

Jan. 2017 Deed is done. Not only will Shortcut Road soon be a distant memory but I’m now the majority shareholder of Falstaff Industries.

Feb. 2017 Things aren’t going as smoothly as we’d planned. I’ve been getting some harassing phone calls at the house. Honestly I don’t care, but I know Jane was receiving some as well. I can’t drag that girl through another emotional rollercoaster ride. She went above and beyond all expectations when Elaine died. She kept me from killing myself, held this family together and keeps me going. If this keeps up, I might have to pull the plug on this project. It’d be embarrassing and I might wind up under Federal investigation for fraud because I used this project to gain majority ownership of Falstaff, but I’ll go sit in jail with Bernie Madoff before I put Janey through any more hell.

March 2017 I received a call from a man who technically doesn’t exist today. Want to know who it was? Maxwell Hayden, Mister Federal Witness Protection himself. He told me that he’s been keeping tabs on things in Mandeville, and that doesn’t shock me one bit. I’ve known plenty of men like Hayden, and they’re all cut from the same crap cloth. Hayden may have been a crook and a criminal, he was without a doubt shamed right on out of the very community he’d come to thrive within, and he most certainly won’t ever be welcomed back, but for the rest of his miserable life, regardless of whatever new name the Feds assigned him and his family, he will always see Mandeville as “his town.” But whether I like the guy or not, he told me some far out shit. I’m not sure if I believe any of it or not, it sounds like something straight from the mind of a delusional moron, but I can’t figure out any reason that Hayden would risk violating the terms of his Wit-Pro and endanger his family and himself (especially himself) just to tell me some insane conspiracy theory. Guys like Hayden aren’t known for their creativity in the arts either. Sure, he’s a genius when it comes to breaking the law for money or status, but when it comes to imagination he strikes me as the kind of man who names every dog Spot or Fido because that’s about as creative as he can get. From what I’ve been told about Hayden, he was a straight shooter with no sense of humor. He lived to work. He ate so that he could live to work, and he slept so he could wake up and live to work. So, when this guy calls me and spins a ball of yarn about secret mind-control plots… I just can’t see it being a product of his imagination. Plus, what does he have to gain by telling me this? Hayden wouldn’t help an old woman cross the street unless she paid him up front for the service and agreed to send him royalty checks in the mail every time she crossed another street. He sold just about everyone out that was close to him when he made his Wit-Pro deal, so why would he risk being exposed now just to give me a heads up? He’s got nothing to gain here. He has no stock in his company anymore, because I bought them, and he can’t ever make another start in Mandeville again, so why should he care what happens out here? Why should he care about Shortcut Road, Jeff’s Killers, Falstaff or my health and wellbeing for that matter? None of this adds up.

Anyway, I’ll do my best to convey his concerns here.

To put it simply, Hayden believes, and claims he was directly involved in some massive human experiment on behavioral programming centered on the residents of Mandeville. That’s right, these are his words, not mine. Maxwell Hayden points the blame at some psychiatrist named Joseph Sawyer. He claims that Sawyer came to Louisiana from Sam Houston University in Texas after one of his early-proposed experiments on the human mind was shut down due to its unethical nature. Something called a “white-room” condition in which an infant is deprived of any human contact or stimulus. According to Hayden, Sawyer believed that this would create some sort of “blank-slate” human being that could be programmed as easily as a VCR. Once Sawyer was dismissed from Sam Houston, he moved to Mandeville and decided to hatch yet another experiment, only this time the lab would be the town itself, and instead of “white walls” it would be social influence determining the paths of his subjects.

Hayden claims that Sawyer approached him around the time Randy Hayden, Maxwell’s boy, was born. Sawyer wanted to use Randy as the “control variable” in what he described to Hayden as a harmless social experiment to better the advancement of human society. He explained that Randy would never even know he was involved, and that he would certainly enjoy a life of success and peer-admiration should his father grant the doctor permission. Hayden claimed he refused at first, and honestly I tend to have my doubts on that. Maxwell Hayden strikes me as the type of man who votes in favor of anything that directly benefits him. Sawyer was persistent though, offering not just Randy, but Maxwell and his wife unlimited comforts. Sawyer claimed that it was of the utmost importance that Randy experience affluence, and in order to facilitate that, Maxwell would also be granted the pleasures of money and influence.

Maxwell insisted that even then he refused. It was then that very bad things began to happen around him. He was terminated from his job for starters. No reason given, and since Louisiana is an “at will” employment state, no reason was needed. Regardless of Maxwell’s long history of impeccable credit and prompt monthly payments on his home, he found that the bank, claiming his new-found status of unemployment the cause, needed to raise his monthly house notes. His mortgage wasn’t on a fixed policy, and within the blink of an eye, his bank suddenly expected almost triple the normal monthly payments. Hayden told me that he was being followed around by the Mandeville Police, or at least one officer in particular, and was being pulled over almost daily. He said that he couldn’t leave his house without apparently breaking some law or another, and the cop appeared to be stepping up the harassment, claiming that a bag of cocaine was really easy to stash under a car seat.

Less than a month after refusing Sawyer’s offer, Maxwell Hayden found himself in a living hell. He had a newborn son, no job, bills piling up, constant fear of being arrested for some made-up charge and a wife that seemed to be in a constant mental struggle to decide on staying or just packing a bag, taking Randy and leaving Maxwell to rot. So when Dr. Joseph Sawyer showed up on Maxwell’s door step the following night, offering one final chance for Hayden to get on board and “do the right thing” for himself and his family, he didn’t hesitate to agree to anything the doctor demanded.

According to Hayden, those demands were more like blessings. Less than a full day after agreeing that Randy could be the “control variable” in whatever this harmless little game of Sawyer’s might be, Hayden’s bank called and apologized with true sympathy and regret for their horrible mistake. The same cop that’d been threatening Hayden for weeks was suddenly reborn a gentleman. When Hayden drove by, the cop waved and smiled. By the end of the week, a company that Maxwell had heard many good things about but never thought would seek him out for an executive level position came calling. Falstaff Industries, one of the cornerstone commercial enterprises that brought in all that lovely green that kept Mandeville the prim and proper little hamlet that it thought itself to be was just giddy as all hell to bring Maxwell Hayden on to their executive team.

Up to this point I wasn’t sure if Hayden was crazy, full of shit or maybe… just maybe, telling some degree of truth. I’ve been in business long enough to have seen far shadier deals go down all the time. After all, my own doctor back in Dallas ran his clinic like a drug den for the financially elite. I’ve seen rich old bastards in suits buy their receptionists brand new sport cars in exchange for a little suck-off under the desk when requested. I know shit like this can go down. But from that point on the story just kept getting crazier.

Hayden told me that in addition to the “control variable” which would be Randy, there would need to be an “independent variable” and a “dependent variable.” Once those pieces of the puzzle were found, the experiment could proceed to the next phase, and within 50 years of so, the final results would be apparent. Maxwell told me that he didn’t think Sawyer had another half-century in him, but the doctor didn’t seem to care about that. He said he had a contingency for everything, and that Hayden need not worry. He told Maxwell to just enjoy the benefits of science and ensure that his son did as well. He said that he’d be observing Randy as he grew and that when certain actions were required to maintain the “control” aspect of his place in the project, that he’d expect Maxwell to cooperate. He assured him of course that his son would never be put in any danger what so ever. I guess the joke was on Maxwell and his kid, since they’re the ones living life under assumed identities, long separated from those so-called benefits of the project.

Maxwell informed me that apparently Sawyer had found the other two variables for his experiment, and that it should be pretty damned obvious that Jeff Woods was one of them. He insisted that Jeff’s Killers and Shortcut Road were vital byproducts of all of this. He told me that he knows for a fact that the experiment is still being conducted, that the violence of Jeff Woods, the murders, the fanatical following on Shortcut Road, the manipulation of the media, the laziness and apathy of the city government… all of that is part of Sawyer’s ongoing plan. Nothing is random, everything is order, and everything is somehow a result of whichever way Sawyer pulls the puppet strings.

He told me that the whole damn thing goes far too deep for me to handle. His advice to me was to abandon the Shortcut Road project and move the hell out of Mandeville before it’s too late.

For Jane I’m willing to walk away from this mess. I’m going to talk to Russell and see what he thinks. I’m still hoping that all of this might blow over once the job is done. Maxwell could be fucking with me, trying to scare me out so maybe some crony of his can buy the shares back and funnel money to him. Maybe those kids out there are just fucking lonely and misled products of society looking for a place to fit in.

But if my daughter’s safety is at risk, I’ll take no chances. I saw how Hardy treated Jane the day she was attacked by Jeff’s Killers. There may be some truth to Hayden’s claims. I don’t know, but I do know that as long as I’m alive, no one is ever going to hurt my Janey.

Final Entry (Not Dated) This shit goes deeper than I ever thought. Mandeville is not safe. I can’t go to the police and Hardwick is convinced that the only right course here is to keep going and not back down.

People have been following me. Someone keeps calling me at night, leaving threats. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m scared for Jane; I’m scared for myself. The only thing I know for sure is that moving here was a horrible mistake. Getting involved with Shortcut Road was a horrible mistake.

JOURNAL ENDS

Dalton didn’t speak for several moments. Derrick folded the paperwork back into the envelope and patiently waited for the man to digest the information. He too had been struck with silence after Jane revealed the true depth of this matter.

It was Nina Hopkins who finally broke the silence. “It never worked on me… that’s why Dr. Sawyer let me out of the mental ward.”

Dalton looked up, finally rediscovering his voice. “What never worked on you? What was Sawyer really trying to do in those sessions?”

“Red, green, blue,” the girl said in a flat, eerily mechanical voice. “The red makes you hate, the green makes you fake and the blue makes you… you.”

Dalton took in a sharp breath of shock. Derrick Reynolds could see a look of grief and terror wash over the man’s face. The former detective couldn’t believe that he was hearing those words, the same words that were playing on a constant loop when he awoke to find his girlfriend murdered in her very own home.

“Nina… what does that mean… please tell me! Where did you hear that and what the fuck does it mean?”

“Dr. Sawyer told it to me. He used to make me repeat it during parts of our sessions at the hospital. He said it was a relaxation… ummm, some word that starts with an M… I can’t quite remember…”

“Mantra?” Reynolds asked.

“Yeah, that’s it. He would make me say it over and over again during the sleep-therapy sessions.”

“Sleep therapy?” Derrick asked.

“Yeah… like, he said it wasn’t the same as getting hypnotized but it was kind of close. He tried that for a while, the sleep therapy with that nursery rhyme or whatever, but after awhile he just started getting a little angry with me. He said that I wasn’t… ‘suspectable’ or ‘subjectable’ to it.”

“Susceptible,” Dalton corrected.

“Yeah, that’s the word. He said I couldn’t hang out on Shortcut Road with the other people. It was really soon after that when he moved me to the group home.”

“Did he ever try and tell you other things in the sessions?”

“He told me that my feelings and the things I did; you know, the really bad things were okay because I was being true to myself and stuff like that. He said I’d never be happy living like regular people, that I was gifted because I was able to do things without feeling terrible all the time.”

“You know he was lying, right Nina? He was just using you when he was supposed to be helping you,” Derrick said.

“I know. Dr. Sawyer was the first person that didn’t tell me that everything I did was wrong. Normally when I talked to people about the things I got in trouble for, they looked at me like I was a monster. Other doctors, teachers, therapists, my parents… all they did was tell me that everything about me was wrong. The way I felt, the way I thought, the things I liked; I was always being told that I had to change it all. I didn’t know how to though. When I would get a bad idea in my head, I tried not to do it, but it just wouldn’t go away.”

“Nina, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain any of this to me,” Derrick stated, but the little girl continued to speak.

“No, nothing for me is okay! Dr. Sawyer was the only person that ever just liked me for who I am. He didn’t make me feel like some psycho or serial killer. But when I couldn’t figure out whatever that little rhyme about the colors was supposed to do or mean, he just kicked me out!”

As her words poured out she began to work herself into an emotional frenzy. Anger, fear and sadness coated every word.

“I hate him for doing that! I hate the other girls at that group home for making fun of me all the time when I got there! I hate my parents for treating me like a freak! And I hate myself the most because I’m broken and nothing can fix me!!!”

“You’re much braver than she ever could have hoped to be,” Derrick interjected.

“Who?”

“Lacy. You told me today that you liked her. You told me that she was your favorite person in my book. Well let me tell you Nina, what you just did, admitting all of those things, that’s something that Lacy Suzino could never have dreamed of being brave enough to do.”

“In your book she sounds so fearless though.”

“Yeah, she was also heartless, and bravery comes from the heart. If Lacy had even a fraction of your heart, than she would have found the courage to admit that she was broken too. When she joined up with Tobit’s cult and suddenly was given permission to just be as bad as she wanted; she just went along with it. Try and imagine how much better her life could have been if she’d harnessed all of that fearless attitude and used it for something besides being a puppet. She could’ve been anything, and the first step would have just been to admit she needed help.”

“I think I know where Dr. Sawyer might be,” Nina said, her eyes now dry and her voice once more steady.

Dalton was suddenly reengaged with the conversation. He’d zoned out as Derrick was speaking, having little interest in a story that he himself still thought was likely an exaggerated load of shit. Jane Arkansaw, Nina Hopkins and likely countless others who watched his show no doubt became swept up in Reynolds’ good-looks and charm, but Dalton’s suspension of disbelief only went so far, and hidden cities in Antarctica were light years beyond the borders of what Dalton would allow himself to entertain. However, Dalton couldn’t deny that Reynolds had come through for him today. The information from Drake Arkansaw’s bank vault was more than he could have ever hoped to discover. And now it appeared that Derrick was the key to finally getting Nina to share her own secrets, and that made the so called ‘cult hunter’ an even more appreciated asset.

Dalton quickly jumped from his chair, grabbed a pen from his kitchen counter, tore off a sheet of paper towel and sat back down. In that moment he looked eager, more awake and almost a decade younger.

“Okay Nina, please tell me where I can find Sawyer!”

“I’ll have to show you where he is in person,” she answered.

“Nina, listen to me! This man is responsible for some serious shit! I don’t have time to play these games right now!”

“I don’t know the address! I only know how to find it by the streets, okay? I promise I’m not lying. But Mr. Dalton, I don’t think you should go there.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he told me that if I was ever being chased by the police, especially if they were not Mandeville Police, and if I could trick them into following me to this place, that he’d be there and he’d take care of everything. But I think it might be a trap so I don’t want you to go.”

“Dalton, I have to agree with Nina here. Nothing sounds right about going into hiding but leaving instructions to bring the cops to wherever it is that you decide to hide.”

“Noted Derrick. This wouldn’t be the first time a trap has been sprung by these people. The cop that murdered Agent Lymon, he was set off by some sort of… I don’t know, hidden message or something on that CD that was conveniently dropped off right in front of us by a truck after it tried to run us over.”

“The red makes you hate…” Nina whispered.

“On the CD, once it was played on the computer… FUCK, how could I not see this earlier!” Dalton grunted in frustration.

“Am I missing something here?” Derrick asked.

“Right before that bastard at the police station shot Lymon, the screen on the computer playing that CD changed to a solid red. No one else in the room reacted to it but…”

Derrick picked up the logic and assisted in stringing it, “Sawyer stopped seeing Nina because he said she wasn’t susceptible to that rhyme during therapy sessions. The real question now is; what does it do to the people who are susceptible?”

“Fuck it, I’ll get that answer right from the doctor himself!” Dalton said with authority.

“You’re not really thinking of doing this yourself, are you?” Derrick asked.

“I’m certainly not informing the Mandeville Police if that’s what you’re asking. If one of the cops on the MPD really was under some sort of hypnosis or something, I have to assume that more could be too. No telling what sort of shit Sawyer might have already set up at this place. Plus if I call the MPD, only the MPD will get to go in. I’m not a cop anymore. Even if there is no Twilight Zone subliminal message shit happening here, I think we can all agree that a conspiracy to cover-up things like this is. The second I hand this information over to anyone on the MPD payroll is also the second that they make sure I never have a chance to get close to the case again.”

“Okay, you win Dalton, I get it. During my own ordeal I couldn’t exactly dial the police either. I can relate. Still though, going in there alone?”

Dalton had no great response for that question. He wanted to crack this mystery wide open, but he had no desire to die in the process. Dalton was not an idealist by any means but he wasn’t exactly a nihilist either. Some people might believe that there is no honor higher than dying on some grand campaign of justice, but Dalton was far more in favor of living through it.

Derrick reached over and gripped Dalton’s shoulder. “Listen, I’ll go with you. I am a journalist after all; it’s my duty to follow through on finding the truth, right? Plus… if I can survive being captured and locked up in Delphia not once, but twice, I think I can survive some color-coded traps or whatever Sawyer might have waiting.”

“Listen man, are you sure you want to put yourself in danger like that?”

“Dalton, these assholes murdered two of my actors and left their corpses in my apartment as some sort of calling card. I want to be there with my camera aimed right into the face of whoever is behind that.”

“Good man,” Bradshaw affirmed, and in that moment he thought that maybe… just maybe, Derrick Reynolds really could be telling the truth in his book. The kid had guts and conviction, and Dalton was happy for that, because he would most certainly need them in the very near future.

That evening Bradshaw, Reynolds and Nina took a drive through Mandeville. Nina provided turn-by-turn directions as she attempted to guide Dalton to the location where they thought Sawyer might be hiding. Derrick planned to drive to Slidell or Covington and get a motel room for the night. He could just as easily drive across the lake to New Orleans and sleep in his own bed, but he wanted to get as much planned tonight and start the next day as early as possible, which made the ride back to the city all the less appealing.

“Are you sure you can find this place?” Dalton grumbled once more.

“Yeah, it’s really easy to find if you know where to look.”

Dalton drove on, following Nina’s directions as best he could. She didn’t really know street names, instead using landmarks to guide him. She’d tell him to turn right at the tuxedo-fish, and before Bradshaw could even produce a sarcastic grunt of annoyance, he’d spot what she was referring to. The tuxedo-fish turned out to be a mascot of sorts painted on the side of a seafood restaurant. A big, smiling catfish with a top hat and tuxedo adorned the wall. Turn left at the glow-owl, right at the stubby rock, right at the crawfish car and so on and so-forth. Regardless of the unorthodox turn-by-turn, they were making great time.

Finally, at the intersection of a dirt road that trailed off into a very densely wooded area, Nina told them to stop.

“It’s down that road,” she stated with assertion, pointing towards the darkening tunnel of thick tree canopy.

“Of course it fucking is. Of all the houses in Mandeville, this fuck-stick doctor would choose one at the end of a dark gravel road.”

“Yeah, but this might be more formulaic than cliché,” Nina answered.

“Check it out,” Derrick announced, holding his cell phone up so all could see. “I did a Google Maps search of this area. If you switch over to satellite mode and zoom way down, you can make out a roof back there.”

“I don’t see any other homes either. Wonderful, not only is the place possibly a trap but it’s nice and isolated back there.”

“Well, we know where to come tomorrow. Let’s go get something to eat and discuss how we want to do this. It’s getting dark now, and I’m willing to bet if we stick around too long we’re going to attract the wrong kind of eyes.”

As their car turned and drove towards civilization once more, no occupant of Dalton’s car realized that the wrong eyes had been on them the entire time. Parked back into the woods, out of sight sat a large Jimmy 4x4. The vehicle’s driver reached towards the ignition, planning to start the vehicle and pursue. Before they could though, the passenger gently restrained their arm.

“Not yet; they’ll return soon,” the passenger said in a low tone.

Several hours later Derrick and Dalton were shaking hands and preparing to part ways for the night. The plan had been discussed and decided, and they’d meet back up the next morning to move forward on things.

“Thank you for all of this Derrick, you’re doing a lot more than anyone could have asked.”

“You are too. Taking that girl in, investigating this on your own, that’s a kind of bravery and humanity that not a lot of people can claim.”

“Just do me a favor okay, the story I told you… you know, of why I left the NOPD… that stays between us, okay?”

“Sure. But Dalton, you really have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say, but it’s my cross to bear.”

“I get it. But hey man, once this is all sorted out, my offer still stands to come work for my show as a security consultant or something. I can find a nice gig for you; you won’t have to worry about taking some mall cop job. You’re a master of this craft, I can certainly benefit from have that talent on my payroll.”

“Tell you what Derrick, if this fucking Jeff shit doesn’t kill me in the end, you’ve got a deal. Call me when you get to your hotel room.”

The two men shook hands one last time before Derrick climbed into his car and drove off. Dalton watched him go and then went back inside of his apartment.

Nina was already dozing off on the couch. Dalton was grateful for this. He needed to finish some last minute calls before he crashed for the night himself.

“Goodnight kid, we got a busy day tomorrow,” he told her as he walked past the couch.

“When are you going to tell me the story?” she asked, causing a grimace of annoyance to form on his face.

“What story?”

“Don’t play dumb… you know, about why you quit being a cop in New Orleans.”

“You overheard us out there, huh?”

“You talk so loud, how could I not?”

“When… and if, the right time comes, I’ll tell you. Now go to sleep. I need my entire team on their best tomorrow, that’s an order.”

Nina smiled at that, as Dalton predicted she would. Perhaps Nina was just excited to be a kid included in grown-up work. Dalton hoped that it was more though, that perhaps this kid who’d been made to feel like a villain for so long was happy to be working with the good guys now.

“Good night Uncle Dal… I mean Mr. Dalton,” she mumbled in the tone of a child trying to fight sleep but drifting towards it regardless. Her face though gave a look of embarrassment at the ‘uncle’ slip. Dalton pondered if maybe that’s how she thought of him, and personally didn’t find it a terrible way to be regarded.

“Mister, Uncle… whatever you want to call me kid, even just plain old Dalton. I think you’re badass little sidekick either way.”

Nina didn’t respond but a look of relief and joy showed on her face before she pulled the blanket over her head. Dalton hoped that she’d still regard him that way before tomorrow concluded.

He retired to his bedroom, shut the door and retrieved his keys from his pocket. Dalton unlocked a small filing cabinet, something that he normally never had to secure before he involuntarily brought a guest into his home, and removed a folder.

NINA HOPKINS was printed in large, black ink across the top. It was her patient file from New Hope. He opened the folder and flipped to the information on her parents. Vaughn and Charlotte Hopkins.

“No surprise they’ve lived in Mandeville all their lives. Typical goddamned suburban yuppies,” he mumbled before returning the folder to the filing cabinet. “See you soon.”

Dalton turned off his bedroom light and climbed into bed. He was exhausted, but it would be a while before his body allowed sleep. His mind was swirling with a mix of emotions. He felt both fear and excitement at what could potentially be awaiting them in that house, but the prime sensation keeping him awake was guilt. He was no stranger to guilt of course; it followed him everywhere these days. Guilt for Simon’s murder, guilt for Sherri’s death and guilt for the final days of his time with the NOPD, those were feelings of self-hate that kept a 24-hour open sign lit in his mind. He’d learned how to cope with it though; he blamed the world around him, he blamed the overall shit-show that was society, he blamed the very universal truth that no one can save everyone, that sometimes the odds are just stacked against you so hard and so high that nothing can be done but hate the rigged slot machine or crooked card dealer.

However, what he planned to do the following day would be his doing and his alone. He was going to hurt someone that trusted him, and he’d have no one to blame should everything turn to shit because of his decision. He fell asleep questioning his choices and hating himself for not changing his mind.

Nina Hopkins walked alone down a small dirt path in the woods. She had no idea how she’d gotten there, yet the reality of her placement in this location could not be denied. It was nighttime and everything was dark around her except for the path before her and the trees that bordered it. Beyond that the world was as black as coal. She felt as though she was lost but somehow in a familiar place. It didn’t make sense to her. She felt afraid, but couldn’t quite focus her mind to what exactly was causing her apprehension. The dark woods or what could be hiding in them was menacing, but that wasn’t the core of her fears. Anything could be waiting for her further up this path, just as anything could be stalking her from behind, and even with awareness of that risk, she couldn’t pinpoint that as the source of her anxiety alone.

Everything was causing her unease, yet nothing in particular out here scared her. She’d ventured into the woods many times when she’d run away from New Hope to visit that little shack in the woods, the one where Jeff once took shelter, at least according to Dr. Sawyer. She’d always hoped he might just show up. Her hero. The young man who was chewed up and spit out by life and rose again to deliver the justice those who wronged him so deserved. He’d never appeared though, never shown up as her young and imaginative mind had dreamed might happen.

Somehow she pictured him simply taking her along as his partner. It could be Jeff the Killer and Nina Hopkins, boldly taking on the world together; a stark refusal to accept that the unfair nature of life was somehow stronger than the human spirit.

Nina saw that up ahead the little path curved. Whatever space existed beyond that bend somehow seemed darker than the pitch-black void before it. That didn’t seem right. She imagined it was what looking at a black hole in outer space might be like. The darkness of space paling in comparison to the darkness of whatever could lie within. She didn’t want to take the path into that curve. As she hesitated though, a voice began to speak to her from somewhere in those woods. It came not just from away but also from above, as though the onyx, starless sky was talking. The voice had a deep and rich tone. It was extremely loud, but did not hurt her hears. She was reminded of movies or cartoons that she’d seen when God was supposed to be addressing some lucky mortal.

“Nina? Niiiiinaaaa? Do you hear me Nina?”

She looked up towards the heavens. This place was so drenched in darkness that the tops of the trees were beyond her seeing. She quickly reversed her gaze back to earth. Even her young mind realized that whatever was above her, whatever constituted that sky was something much larger than she could process. Perhaps it was the very nature of eternity up there, or the harsh truth of nothingness. It made her feel sick and her chest tightened with immediate anxiety.

The voice spoke again, “Nina? Why did you stop? Come forward, come to where you belong.”

Fighting the anxiety that was slowly but surely growing into terror, she responded. “I… I don’t know where I belong. I thought I did, but I don’t know anymore.”

“Nina, you belong here, with us. Just a little further down the path Nina, just a little further and you’ll be where you BELONG!” The sudden intensity of the last word was accompanied with a harsh and overwhelming flash. The sky above, all of it as far as Nina could tell, flashed an ugly red. An unnatural shade, not the red of an evening sky but rather an artificially bright, far too deep crimson that seemed much closer to the emotionless and sterile aura of those bulbs that sit atop high tension radio towers and flash at night.

In that moment, as the world was illuminated, bathed in the color of fresh blood, she could see the inhabitants of the woods around her. Deformed and depraved beings, things that were clearly once human but now something different, something worse, all stood among the trees. Some were very close to the path, but she could see others further back, swaying in place. They varied in size, but not in the normal manner that all people do. No, some of them were average, but in that moment of illumination she saw some, blessedly further in the woods, that were giants. They stood taller than the trees. As her eyes took in more of the previously hidden horrors, she observed that much further away were some that even dwarfed them. Some rose so tall that she couldn’t strain her neck back far enough to see their heads. And what could lie beyond them? She didn’t want to fathom. However, as different as they may be in size, they all shared one feature. They were all missing an eye. Unlike Jeff the Killer whose eye had simply been rendered blind by a flare, these monstrosities had nothing there but a hole. The flesh that shared that side of their faces was burned into something that could never be called human flesh again. She realized that there could be hundreds, maybe thousands of them in the woods all around her, and there was no barrier around this path to keep them away.

The red flash dimmed back into the endless black void from before. However, as the world became dark once more, she realized the horrors around here were evolving. She saw that within the empty eye sockets of the ghouls all around her was a dim, orange and red flickering, like that of a small yet intense fire. This new feature did not fade out along with the sky, and once the darkness of night fully returned, she could see those countless flickering holes, giving only a small glow that allowed the partial features of their faces to be seen too. Every so often she’d see something like an ember fall from one of them. The scars that adorned the destroyed faces were also burning slightly; an injury that would never heal because it continued inflicting itself for eternity. In the far distance she could see those same burning faces towering above the treetops. The giants she’d seen, the ones so enormous that their very existence defied logic, were staring down at her.

The booming God voice returned once more. “Nina! Just a few more steps Nina, just around the turn. Do not deny yourself! Do not hide from the truth!”

Nina turned to run the other way, to flee from what horrors may be hiding, waiting, in the darkness before her. When she saw what was behind her though, she remained frozen in place. Blocking the way was a table, a dining room table that she recognized at once; it was the very piece of furniture that sat in her parent’s home, what was once her home as well before they’d sent her away. There was a white light shining down upon it, a welcomed change from the sinister abyss all around her, but not exactly inviting either. As she starred at this bizarre scene, she saw people emerge from the shadows around the table. They were not the eyeless, burning monsters that waiting in the woods, but rather people she recognized at once.

Her parents and her brother stepped into the light. They all wore smiles that radiated both happiness and gave off a sense of joyous accomplishment. Despite the largely upbeat nature of what she was seeing, Nina somehow sensed something wrong as well. She wanted to run towards them, she wanted to take refuge in that light among those so familiar to her. Yet some strange, hateful energy seemed to radiate from them, causing her to remain fixed where she stood.

Her family sat down at the table and began to talk. Nina’s mother turned to her son, still wearing that beaming yet somehow polluted expression of knowing good cheer and initiated the chatter.

“So Brandon; how was school today?”

“Wonderful mom! When the bell rang at the end of school, I was actually looking forward to coming home! I wasn’t worried about anything.”

“Fantastic dear! You don’t have to be afraid to come home anymore. There is no evil in this house now, things are just so lovely!”

“How was work dad?” Brandon asked.

Nina’s father clapped his hands and laughed with enthusiasm, replying, “Perfect son! Not once did I get a call from a teacher or a guidance counselor…”

“Or a cop!” Nina’s mother interjected, and the three of them broke into loud, uncontrollable laughter at that.

“You know, just once a call from the morgue would have been nice!” the dad added, causing more laughter.

“Oh honey, if we had that kind of luck, I would have had a miscarriage before she was even born!”

“Or at the very least a still-birth!” the brother chimed in.

Nina’s mother surveyed her family and then stood as though to make a grand announcement. “I just want to thank God for reminding us that He never closes a door without opening a window! She may have been born and it may have taken us 13 years, but she’s finally gone now! So tonight, we celebrate!”

“Heck yes Mom! Are we doing that tonight, right now?” asked Brandon.

“Done and done Brandon. Tonight we will completely purge her very essence from our lives!”

The dad rubbed his hands together vigorously, announcing, “Very well, let us begin!”

Suddenly an object rose from the surface of the table itself. Nina strained to see, but a sheet covered it. Her father stood as her mother sat, almost in a rehearsed fashion and patiently waited for the veiled object to fully rise from apparently nothing. From Nina’s vantage point, whatever it was her family was gathered around seemed to vaguely resemble a human being lying on their back.

“Does everyone have their utensils?”

Nina’s mother and brother nodded with ecstatic agreement. Accompanying that ecstasy was another energy, one that seemed to radiate a thrilled impatience, similar to the feelings one gets when they wake up on Christmas morning at 5AM but have to wait just a little bit longer before they can tear into their gifts.

The sheet was removed and to Nina’s shock and terror she saw herself laid out across the dining room table. However, the dimensions were wrong, and while the object on the table was indeed intended to be her, and from a distance once might mistake it for an actual child, she could see that it was something else.

“Everyone hold up your utensils!” the mom announced in a singsong tone of pure bliss.

Nina saw that the tools in their hands were metal. They looked like a spoons, but from the angles of the spoon were sharp blades and prongs.

“Okay family, let’s dig in!”

Nina watched as her parents and brother dug the tools in this strange representation of her. As the figure was pierced and small chunks were pulled apart, she saw that it was made of some meat-like matter. It had the appearance of ground beef, but it was a shade of white similar to fish or chicken. As they scooped portions from the body, Nina saw her family throw the chunks onto the ground around them. Each time a portion hit the earth, small, fearsomely grotesque abominations would peek out from the bushes and seize the matter in beak-like mouths. In the short time they’d rear their heads, they appeared to be some sort of hairless mammal with long, sharp beaks that seemed to straddle the line between flesh and bone. The thought of being consumed by something so horrid made Nina shiver with disgust and terror. Her family continued to scoop pieces out and throw them to those things in the trees though, and soon Nina found that she could watch no more. She turned again, this time back towards the bend in the path. Once more she found the way blocked.

Standing before her was Latoya Hayes, the woman who ran New Hope. With a smile of pure hatred, Hayes spoke.

“Why hello Little Psycho! What’s the matter? You can’t stand actually seeing your family happy for once?”

“Why are they doing that? What is this place? Make them stop Miss Hayes, please!”

Hayes laughed and replied, “Little Psycho, what’s wrong? You certainly never listened or cared when your family asked you to stop. When you spent your days terrorizing them, when you made them afraid to trust the food in their refrigerator, when you made your brother afraid to leave his bedroom door unlocked. When your parents had to make sure that one of them was standing guard when someone was in the shower because everyone was afraid of what you might do if they took their eyes off of you for even a second. You never cared, you never listened. So tell me Little Psycho, tell me why anyone should care about you now?”

Nina had no answer. She had no words and her path was blocked in both directions. In response she did what most children in highly stressful situations with no logical escape do, she simply sat down on the ground, buried her face into her hands, and began to cry.

No sooner did her hands cover her face than the God voice spoke once more. “Nina, it will always be this way. I tried to tell you this in therapy. No one, not your family, not the counselors at any of the group homes that you’ll be shipped to over and over again; no one anywhere will understand you. But I do, I told you the way. Do not deny your truth, do not try and hide in the light Nina because people will know who you are, they will know what you are, they will hate you, they will judge you, and in the end, they will condemn you. Come forward Nina; come forward to the only place where you can have a chance at being happy. Embrace or die Nina, there is no other option.”

She looked up and saw that Hayes was gone. As she pondered what to do, another voice suddenly spoke from somewhere right out of sight. She strained her eyes to see, and in the faint light being cast from the dining room table gore scene behind her, she could make out a vague figure stepping from the darkness.

“Tough spot isn’t it?” asked a warm voice. It took a moment, but Nina quickly recognized the individual before her.

“Jeff?”

Standing in the path in front of Nina was indeed Jeffery Woods, but not the one whose face plastered magazines and the Internet, not the one known as “the killer.” Despite her outlandish hero worship of the serial killer, Nina had rarely spent much time browsing online photographs of Jeff Woods before the incident with the flare gun. Sure, she’d seen the pictures, since only one reliable photo of Jeff after his accident was ever published to the world. In that photo, snapped by the son of deceased Mandeville Police Officer Williamson on the night of the cop’s murder, there was no more Jeff Woods. What was captured on camera that night was the deformed and insane Jeff the Killer; what was standing in front of Nina now was the young man described in Monica Davenport’s tapes before he snapped.

“Oh man, I remember being in this position. Lying in that hospital bed, torn in two directions. I like the fact that your analogy is at least a twist in the road, that’s pretty cool. I wish I’d have thought of that instead of going with syrup. Take my advice Nina, if you ever wind up in a situation where you have to give an incredibly long explanation of the events leading up to your madness and rebirth as a psychotic killer, do not use syrup as a metaphor. People will roast you alive on the Internet for that shit.”

“What is up there, around that curve?”

“I can’t really tell you Nina. Honestly anything I know, you know. I’m just a metaphor right now myself. But I would guess that since you’re seeing me as Jeff Woods instead of Jeff the Killer, you’re making good progress.”

“I thought that I wanted to be just like you, well, you know, the you after the flare gun. The world is so hateful to me. I know that I’m far from perfect, but what’s the point of trying now? No matter what I do I’ll always be seen as a psycho or a burden or something to avoid or send away or lock up.”

“Well, that’s not completely true, at least one person believes in you.”

“Dr. Sawyer claimed he believed in me, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I was actually his biggest failure. He tried to make me one of Jeff’s Killers or whatever, he tried to teach me his colors rhyme, but in the end, that was just something else I wasn’t good enough for.”

“I’m not talking about Sawyer, and I think you know that.”

“You mean Mr. Dalton? He hates me, isn’t it obvious?”

“I’m not sure that’s the case Nina. He could have had you back in that mental hospital the moment you showed up in his apartment.”

“That’s true I…”

Suddenly the sky flashed red once more, and in that second Jeff Woods changed. His eye whitened to a blind, emotionless bulb as a gruesome scar grew downs his face. His hair fell out above his dead eye, leaving a blistered scalp. When he spoke once more, the warmth and compassion was gone from his voice.

“Yes, go ahead and trust him Nina, be a fucking fool just as I was. I trusted too, and this is what I received for my ignorance.”

“But he didn’t turn me in to the police… he didn’t…”

“Because he still needs you! He needs you to solve his case, to satisfy his own obsession! Once you outlive your usefulness, he will send you back to that mental ward, or to the group home, or to hell for all he cares. He doesn’t care where you are so long as you’re gone!”

Nina began to cry again, the tears flowing down in her face as she wept in fear, confusion and anger. She didn’t want to believe what she was being told, she did not want to accept for even a moment that she was truly alone in the world, seen only as a monster. Yet she couldn’t deny the merit in those words. She’d done horrible things for no other reason than to see the shock form on the faces of those who witnessed her actions.

Jeff the Killer approached her, dropping to one knee, meeting her eye level. “Nina, you know what you have to do, you can’t hide from what you are. Kill him Nina; kill the lying piece of shit! Dalton Bradshaw can be your first kill! Then you can go alone to Sawyer, tell him that you got rid of the detective who was working so hard to destroy all of his hard work. You’ll be accepted then Nina. Then I’ll come out to meet you, just like you always wanted. We can make all of them pay together! Wouldn’t you love that? You and me can kill Latoya Hayes, your parents, your brother, and those girls at New Hope that ridiculed you from the moment you walked in the door! Imagine that Nina! No one will ever laugh at you again! No one will ever spread lies about you, tell people you’re evil or call you Little Psycho! They won’t be able to say anything because their throats will be wide open! All you have to do is start with Dalton tonight! Kill him, kill him and embrace what you are!”

Nina cupped her hands over her ears and began to scream.

She was still screaming when she sat up, the blanket falling to the floor of Dalton’s apartment, her face dripping sweat and her eyes pouring tears. She quickly realized that it was over, just a dream. She was no longer in those black woods surrounded by monsters and apparitions from her own mind.

As she began to regain her composure, she could hear Dalton’s loud snores from his bedroom. Her screaming that accompanied her return to reality had apparently not awoken him. She sat up on the couch and began to think things through. These thoughts were nothing new to her, however the dream had neatly organized and presented them to her. She understood it all in a far clearer way than she’d ever felt she would.

Nina Hopkins knew exactly what she was. For the first time though, she was fully prepared to accept and embrace her true self. In that moment she knew without a doubt that she would never be normal, that this illness of hers was not something that could be cured. Even if she was able to fake it on the outside, she was aware with crystal clarity that she’d spend all of her waking hours fighting her impulses on the inside. She’d never be able to relax, never really enjoy life, never grow into a functioning adult; how could she?

Nina walked into Dalton’s kitchen and retrieved a large knife from his cutting board. Before she’d been sent from her parents’ home they’d had to keep any sharp objects locked up. She smiled a bit as she turned the knife over in her hands, holding it up to the dim light of the kitchen, admiring its cold, steel indifference. While in the dull circle of light cast down on the kitchen counter, Nina searched a moment and found the rest of the required tools to complete what she considered the acceptance of what she truly was destined to be; a killer.

Nina silently crept through the apartment, making her way towards Dalton’s bedroom. As gently as possible she turned the doorknob, hoping that the door wasn’t locked. She was satisfied when it easily swung open. Nina took her time moving towards Dalton. He was in a deep sleep from the sound of his snoring. That was perfect.

“You’ve been kind to me Uncle Dalton, so I really hope I can make this as painless as possible,” she whispered.

After what felt like an eternity of sneaking through the dark, she arrived at his bedside. Nina slowly raised her arm, her chosen tool gripped in her hand, fully prepared to deliver Dalton Bradshaw from the pain and madness that had taken over his life. As she prepared to finish the task at hand, she suddenly felt her face twist in an uncontrollable, strictly involuntary reflex.

“Oh no… not now!” she thought, but it was too late. She wasn’t sure if it was the smell of Dalton’s cologne or maybe the smell of stagnate cigarette smoke, but she knew the reaction had been triggered. Nina felt the familiar itch deep within her nose, followed by the standard exaggerating expression on her face, and sneezed twice, loudly.

Dalton sat up without hesitation. He’d been on edge for longer than he could remember, and woke up in an immediate defensive mindset. He quickly reached over and turned on his bedside lamp, looked around in a state of aggressive confusion and finally locked eyes on Nina Hopkins.

“What… what the hell are you doing in here?” he asked in the tone common to one who is trying to come fully awake but still struggling to dismiss the fog of sleep.

Nina’s expression of stunned fear quickly returned to the focused gaze of grim determination she’d worn in the moments before she sneezed. Dalton’s eyes moved to the object in her raised him.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up, I didn’t want this to hurt you anymore than it had to,” she answered, and without further hesitation, delivered the object to its intended recipient.

Nina turned and began to exit the room. She did not wish to look back at Dalton. She did not want to see the expression that might be locked on his face. She felt that the hardest part was over now. She was confident that she could let go of everything and finally stop fighting against the disease that consumed her constant waking life.

Nina once again held the knife up the light. It would be her legacy in many ways. Nina Hopkins would be remembered for this night, and this simple kitchen knife would be her means of delivering the first and most important kill.

“Bullshit!” a loud and furious voice bellowed from behind her.

As Nina turned in reaction to the shout, a large object struck her wrist, knocking the knife to the floor. Dalton stood in his living room with a pillow in his hand; he’d used it to disarm her without anyone getting sliced.

“Fucking bullshit kid! You think I need this? Huh? You think this is going to do me any fucking favors! You know much this fucks someone up? You think I don’t already live with enough screwed up shit and nightmares in my head every damned night? Do you?”

Dalton’s rage was through the roof, but he appeared to be in control. He was still holding the letter she’d written, a letter intended to be read hours later, after he had woken up and she was long gone.

Nina risked a reply.

“It’s the only way! I don’t want to live like this anymore! I don’t want to fight this all the time and still have people treat me like a psycho! I can’t be normal, I can’t be helped and now you’re telling me that I can’t even….”

Dalton’s eyes narrowed, as his rage finally seemed to level. “Then say it! Say it Nina, say it out loud!”

“You already know, why do I have to?”

“Fine, I’ll say it! You’re pissed off at me because I won’t let you kill yourself! You’re damn fucking right kid! You are not fucking allowed to do that shit, not now, not ever!”

“Why do you even care? You have the information you’ve been wanting! You know where Sawyer is! You don’t need me anymore!”

“Sit down!” Dalton barked in the stern tone he’d mastered over many years as a police officer. He clearly still had a mastery of that tone, because Nina sat without a whisper of defiance.

“This little note you wrote out here is full of shit Nina! You know that? Total shit. Like this line right here; Mister Dalton, please don’t blame your self. Or this little gem; I just want you to be able to be happy. Or let’s not forget; everyone will be better when I’m gone. All of that is total shit; none of that ever fucking happens Nina, not one bit. You really think I’m not going to blame myself? Kid, you kill yourself on my watch, while I was supposed to be looking out for you, and you think I’m not going to blame myself? And then you say you just want me to be happy? When is that supposed to happen Nina, when I get too drunk to remember to blame myself? Or maybe when I get one of those dreams where everything is okay, the shit never happened. Yeah, that feels great until you wake the fuck up! What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“What am I supposed to do then? I hate being alive!”

“You hate being alive right now! You feel fucking buried alive; you feel like there is nothing left down the road! You think I ain’t never felt that way? Kid, I’ve fucking written out plenty of letters. But I could never bring myself to go through with it, and thank God for that because there have been good times since then!”

“You can’t stop me! You can’t watch me…”

Dalton cut her off. “Shut the fuck up; you ain’t going to try that again because if you do I’ll be there to kick the shit out of you! I’ll keep doing it to until you get the idea in your head that I’ve got a stubborn brain and strong legs.”

“What happens after you arrest Sawyer then? Is that when I go back to New Hope, or the mental ward? Or some other place where I can feel like shit all day and hate every thought in my head?”

“I can’t predict the future Nina, but let me tell you something; as fucked up as you might think you are, trust me, you ain’t. You’ve never killed anyone; you never burned down a school or switched some old lady’s medications with aspirin. Half of the crap I read in your case file looks tame compared to some of the shit I pulled when I was 13. Hell, my dipshit friends and me used to stand on the overpass and drop open paint cans into the beds of trucks. I know we caused at least one accident. Scared the hell out of us, but nobody was seriously injured and we didn’t get caught, so, we just kept doing dumb shit like that. Probably would’ve kept doing it but finally we did get caught. This guy beat the ever-living dog shit out of me for spraying oven cleaner all over the hood of his new car. That stuff ate the paint right off of there. I was in the hospital for a week. When I got out I still had to live down the street from this dude, and every time he saw me he’d knock me on my ass again. Nothing as bad as the first time though. Eventually he stopped but I never messed with anyone’s stuff after that.”

“At least it was just a car; I’ve done worse. I think my brother is permanently scarred. I really focused on him a lot, and I still don’t know why.”

“Eh, that’s what siblings do. I ain’t saying that when you get back home to your family that you should keep doing it, but I can tell you I had some brutal fucking siblings. My sisters used to hold me down and put make-up on me. One time they did that and then pushed me out the front door and locked it right as a bunch of kids from the neighborhood were going by. Don’t get me started on my older brother. One time we were hanging out a few blocks away from our house. So, we’re just walking along and all of a sudden he just pulls my fucking pants down. No biggie, but then I stumble over my pants, fall face first on the ground and this dickhead just pulls them all the way off and runs the fuck away. I had to walk home in a pair of Fruit of the Looms while all the kids in the neighborhood had the greatest fucking laugh of their lives. It took me years before people stopped bringing that shit up.”

“I don’t know Mr. Dalton, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say that the things I’ve done were just pranks.”

“Who said you ever got to tell anyone anything? Once you get into college and then start dealing with the real world and its never-ending parade of bullshit, no one is going to give two shits about these things. Ask any old bastard like me, they’ll tell you. When you’re a teenager you think you’re going to be a teenager forever, then one day you can’t even remember what it was like because it went by so fast. Plus, I think you’re overlooking a very important reason to keep on breathing, something that I’m surprised you haven’t thought about already.”

“What’s that?”

“Me and you, we’re going to be the ones to stop Sawyer and all of this shit. No one is going to be looking at Nina Hopkins on the news as a psycho. No way, when you’re on television you’re going to be seen as a hero! The brave little girl who proved too intelligent for Sawyer’s mind control mumbo-jumbo and turned the tables on him when no one else could! You’re going to be signing so many autographs and going on so many trips to New York and Los Angeles and who knows where else that you won’t even remember these rough times. Your parents, brother, Miss Hayes and everyone else isn’t going to be thinking about anything but how they should’ve seen what you were really made of from the start.”

“You really think so?”

“Think so? I know so. Look, as I cop I dealt with the press all the time. The press loves a good hero story, but when that hero is a 13 year old girl who was able to overcome the evil doctor and then bring his ass to justice; well that Nina, that’s the kind of story they stop all the presses for.”

“I’m sorry for getting you so upset. I had this really bad dream and everything in it just kept telling me to wake up and… well, kill you. I thought the only way I could avoid doing that would be to kill myself first.”

“I’ll tell you something Nina. In all my years of police work, I had a lot of great partners, guys that I would’ve called heroes for sure. But I can’t say for sure if any of them would have been willing to die so that I could live. I don’t even know for sure if I could knowingly step in front of a bullet for someone. I like to think I would, I guess we all do, but do I know for a fact that I would in that situation? No, I don’t. But I do know that tonight, you were willing to die for me. From where I’m sitting, that looks a lot like honor. Sure, it’s fucked up honor, but Nina, you put my life over yours tonight, and that counts for a whole fucking lot. So stop beating yourself up over all this shit. You’re a screwy kid, but you’ve got heart, and heart goes a long fucking way out there.”

“Can I tell you about the dream?” Nina asked.

“Only if I can sit in the doorway and smoke without you scolding me every second.”

Nina and Dalton sat up for the remainder of the night. She told him about her dream and Dalton shared a few of his own nightmares. By the time the horizon began to slowly brighten, she’d fallen back to sleep. Dalton walked back into his bedroom and removed the same file from the evening before. He still intended to follow through with his plan, but now felt a heavy weight of guilt attach itself. He had no idea if she would have actually killed herself or not. She was certainly willing to go to shameless lengths for attention, and the whole thing could have been some stunt. Perhaps, like Dalton himself, she would have chickened out at the last second, but such he didn’t wish to bet on such odds. He knew he wasn’t equipped to help her. He also knew that Latoya Hayes, as good a woman as she was, had already thrown in the towel with Nina. She had too many other girls to take care of. Dalton dozed off, hoping to reenergize with a short nap, feeling at the very least marginally certain that his first choice regarding Nina Hopkins was still the best option.

Bradshaw was pulled back to the waking world a few hours later by the ringing of his cell phone. Derrick Reynolds was calling as promised. They talked for a while and finalized their plans involving Sawyer. A time and place were settled on and reiterated one last time. Dalton would meet him there. Nina would not be present. While she still slept, he gathered her belongings and packed them up in her small backpack. He tossed that into the backseat of his car and covered it with a jacket from his closet.

Shortly after Nina had woken up and began her daily ritual of brushing her teeth and eating breakfast. She was excited to get out to the old house and help them bust Sawyer. Dalton simply nodded and smiled when she brought up specific questions or theories. He was grateful that she was in such a rush to get going. He didn’t want to drag this out. She might hate him when this was said and done, but at least she’d be safe.

An hour later they were on the road.

“Where are we going?” she asked, once she realized they were not heading in the direction of Sawyer’s place.

“Nina, I need you to trust me today, okay,” he replied.

“Of course I trust you… is something… going on?”

“Yeah, sort of. We have to stop at your house, your parents’ house. I don’t want you to freak out when we get there, okay?”

“Why are we going there?” she asked with a hint of apprehension in her voice.

“I just gotta talk to them, tell ‘em some stuff. You can come in or wait in the car for me, but promise me you won’t run off or something while I’m in there.”

“I see… Yeah, I’ll wait in the car if that’s okay. The last time I saw my family was really bad. I don’t think they want to see me anyway.”

Dalton’s guilt intensified more. They arrived a few minutes later. Nina did not appear excited at seeing her family’s residence. He exited the car and made his way to the front door. It opened before he could knock.

Vaughn Hopkins stepped out to the porch and shut the door behind him.

“Are you Detective Bradshaw?” he asked.

Dalton smiled, trying to appear humble and answered, “Yeah, but hey, just call me Dalton. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. You mind if I come in?”

“What is it that you wanted to talk to us about? You mentioned Nina coming home? How is that possible?”

Dalton looked over his shoulder briefly and could see Nina watching from the car.

“Mr. Hopkins, I’d really appreciate it if we could discuss this inside. I mean, we’re talking about your daughter here, we don’t want to air all this on the front yard right?”

“Listen Bradshaw, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here, but we are not ready to bring Nina back into this house yet. It took a lot to get the state to take custody of her in the first place. She needs a lot more help than we can give, and frankly… well, it’s just nice to not have to worry about checking on her every other second to make sure she isn’t up to something.”

Dalton felt his annoyance begin to grow, but tried to focus on the task at hand. After all, Nina had done some pretty morbid things, and Dalton didn’t want to lose sight of that.

Patiently, he responded, “I understand all of that. She’s doing fine over there at New Hope. From what I hear, it’s like she’s not even there at all. But… some issues have recently come up and I just think maybe if you talk to Nina, really give her a chance to open up, you’ll see how much progress she’s made.”

Vaughn Hopkins narrowed his eyes and smirked in the way that only the suburban middle class can manage. “I think I’m seeing the big picture here Bradshaw. New Hope can’t handle Nina, right? So they send you over here to try and talk us into bringing her home so they don’t have to do their jobs. We tried Bradshaw. When we decide that Nina can come home, we’ll let you know.”

“Mr. Hopkins, how about just for today? Can I drop Nina off here for just a visit? I can come and pick her up tonight, no problem. But she really wants to come home and spend some time with you and the rest of her family. I think it would be really good for her, for all of you, to just…”

“Last time I’m going to say this to you Bradshaw, and then I call the cops. My wife and I will decide when we are ready to bring our daughter back home. We do not feel she is ready for even a visit, not at the house anyway.”

Dalton could take no more of this man. He gave up on the friendly approach.

“Well pardon me all to hell Vaughn, but how the fuck do you know if she’s good to come home or not when you and your wife haven’t been down to visit her even once?”

“Hey, you just wait one second…”

“No,” Dalton interrupted, “you wait one second asshole! I’ve known you for less than 10 minutes and I can see how living with you would drive anyone crazy! You say you can’t spend an afternoon with your kid! You had to wait for the state to take her into custody? I see an Audi and an Infiniti parked in your fucking driveway you dick! You telling me you couldn’t have gotten that little girl into any one of the dozen or so private hospitals right here in Mandeville? I show up here to talk to you about your daughter and all you worry about is whether or not you might have to spend time in the same room with her? You don’t ask me; is something wrong? You don’t ask; is she all right? No! From the second I stepped foot on your porch the biggest concern is whether or not you might have to look at her! You got no idea what’s going on with your kid right now! You’re just glad she ain’t your fucking problem anymore!”

Vaughn Hopkins appeared shocked beyond words. He was likely accustomed to being told that he’d done everything he could, that he was the victim of his screwed up daughter. Maybe Dalton was the first person to not pat him on the hand and tell him what a great parent he was and that he tried his best.

“Okay Bradshaw, I’ve listened to you long enough now. Get off of my property or I’m calling the police! Don’t you ever come back around here either! You tell New Hope that the next time they want to pull this kind of shit, they can call my lawyer! You want to stand there and judge me! You want to stand there and treat me like a terrible parent, but you haven’t had to deal with Nina for 13 years! You’re just another bleeding heart asshole who thinks we can all just sit down and hug it out!”

Dalton began to back away from the porch. He wasn’t in the least intimidated by this man, but having the police called on him at this very second would royally shit on the plans he’d made for the rest of the day.

“She’s your daughter though Mr. Hopkins, she still needs you and her mother. Doesn’t that mean anything at all to you?”

Vaughn did not answer. He walked back into his home and slammed the front door.

As Dalton approached his car, Nina climbed out of the passenger side with her backpack in her hands. She had a look of both sadness and dire acceptance on her face.

“I found this Mr. Dalton, while you were talking to my dad,” she said, holding up the backpack. “I guess I understand why you wanted to stop here now. If you think me going back to my parents’ is the best thing, I won’t fight you on it. Maybe I can finally get it right here.”

Dalton thought quickly, knowing that he couldn’t inflict the truth of her father’s conversation on her. Typically a straight shooter, he decided that this time around, a happy lie was far better than the reality that unfolded on her family’s front porch.

“Oh yeah, sure, abandon me right when I need you the most! I guess it’s for the best,” Dalton replied.

“Wait, you don’t want me to go? I thought that’s why we were here with the bag packed and…”

“No, I get it! I’m sure that an old man like me can close this Sawyer thing all by myself. I just thought you wanted to work together on this case a little longer, but I get it, you got a nice house here and all. Probably a lot nicer than my shitty little apartment.”

Nina smiled widely and climbed back into the car. Dalton sat down behind the steering wheel and started the vehicle.

“I’m glad you decided to stick around,” he said as they began to drive away from the house.

“Yeah, you’d be pretty lost with me. Oh, and thank you for standing up for me back there at my house. I know my parents aren’t going to take me back home anytime soon, but you still tried to defend me, so thanks…”

“Well what can we do? This is the kind of story where every crazy kid has to have upper-middle class, suburban, stick-up-the-ass parents whose emotional distance and obsession with social standing cause inadvertent mental breakdowns in their children.”

An hour later Dalton Bradshaw, Derrick Reynolds and Nina Hopkins were parked within sight of the remote house where Dr. Joseph Sawyer allegedly was hiding. Joining them were two off-duty NOPD friends of Dalton’s. He’d called in all the favors he could, but in the end only a couple of his old buddies were willing to potentially lose their jobs to help out. Dalton was grateful just the same.

“Dalton, how’ve you been brother?” asked one of the cops as he approached his old colleague.

“I’ve been better! How about you?”

Dalton’s friend, a detective named Calvin Drexler, who was no stranger to tragedy himself, shook Dalton’s hand and said, “You know, things are things. Simone has been doing everything in her power to make sure my head stays above water. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Marissa, but it helps to stay busy.”

The other officer, a gentleman named Henry Keene came over and joined them. Dalton signaled for Derrick and Nina to join the group, and he began a quick yet efficient briefing.

“Okay gents, listen up. This is Derrick Reynolds from the Cult Hunters show, and this little girl is Nina Hopkins, who has been kind enough to lead us here. I know I’ve already spoken to both of you about this, and I know both of you talked to Derrick briefly as well. Since we’re all aware of the Jeff the Killer shit that’s been all over the news lately, I’ll spare you the recap. Just know that we are entering this place without a warrant and out of jurisdiction. We could wind up in jail ourselves if this shit goes sideways.

Now, we all know what happened in Derrick’s apartment, the two actors that had their faces cut off. That crime took place in New Orleans. If this comes down to it, Drexler and Keene, you were both over here taking in some of the beautiful North Shore when Nina flagged you down here. Nina tells you that she thought she saw someone dressed up as Jeff the Killer hanging around back here, and with the recent murders and all, you two decided to investigate. You tried to call the Mandeville Police, but your phones were had no service. You heard something from inside the house that sounded like a call for help, so you acted immediately and in good faith. Got it?”

“Yeah great Dalt, but how does that explain you and your pal with the TV camera being here too?” Drexler asked.

Derrick answered, “That’s easy. I just did a story over here involving Jeffery Woods and the crimes that have followed in his wake. Dalton was one of the detectives on that case before he left the MPD. So, I hired him as personal security and as a consultant due to his personal knowledge of this matter. We all just happened to be in the right place at the right time I guess.”

Dalton chuckled, “Yeah, no one in their right mind is going to believe it, but that doesn’t matter if they can’t prove we’re full of shit. Plus, if we do nab this dickhead today, no one is going to give two shits about warrants and jurisdictions when we put away some maniac cult leader. The press is going to love it and the people will get to sleep easier tonight. But, if anyone here wants to back out, I won’t judge you. We all need our incomes.”

No one back out.

Dalton continued, “Alright then! Keene, you’ll stay out here with Nina. The rest of us will make sure the place is safe. If it isn’t, we’ll make it safe. If we should need Nina in there for anything we’ll let you know to bring her up. Make sure you keep her out of harm’s way Keene. Anyone comes driving down this street; especially if it’s a Jimmy 4x4, get the fuck out of its way. These people are dangerous and they have connections with the Mandeville Police and other government officials. So unless someone has a few FBI Agents in their back pocket, it’s just us.”

“What’s the plan if we actually take Sawyer into custody? From what you’ve said, turning him over to the MPD might be a waste of time.” Keene asked Dalton.

“That’s why I’m here,” Derrick said. “We get as much proof as the camera can record. If they want to whitewash this, they’ll have to be willing to contradict video footage broadcasted on a national network.”

“Ok, let’s do this,” Dalton stated firmly.

Officer Keene walked Nina over to his car where they would be waiting. Dalton and Drexler drew their pistols as they began to slowly and tactically move towards the front door of the two-story home before them. Derrick mounted his camera on his shoulder and began recording. As the men crossed the front lawn of the old and neglected looking structure, they all could feel the anxiety bearing down upon them. Dalton felt eyes glaring at him from every dark window. He felt like a man preparing to defuse a bomb where all the wires were the same color. Sure, there was a right way to do it, but he’d have to do a whole lot of lucky guessing to avoid being blown to shit in the process.

As they stood in front of the door, Dalton gave Drexler and Derrick one final nod of affirmation. The two men nodded back, their nerves on edge but prepared for anything. Dalton brought up his knee, targeted the door, and kicked it in with one powerful kick.

FROM THE TIMES-PICAYUNE EARLY ADDITION

A conspiracy in Mandeville continues to develop as two off-duty police officers from the New Orleans Police Department responded to the pleas of a young girl who flagged them down as they were taking a day away from the city to enjoy the peace and quiet of the small town. According to the witness, whose identity is being withheld due to her age, she was hiking through the heavily wooded area of Mandeville when she believed she spotted a member of a dangerous group of juveniles who call themselves ‘Jeff’s Killers’ in homage to serial killer Jeffery Woods, a youth from Mandeville whose grizzly murder spree earned him the nick-name Jeff the Killer. The witness stated that the subject entered a rural home and that shouts for help could be heard. She encountered the two off-duty officers, Calvin Drexler and Henry Keene, who agreed to help her. Unable to contact local authorities, the two officers acted in good faith and responded to the cries for assistance, which they also confirmed hearing. Two civilians, one a retired police officer and the other a journalist were also in the area and assisted the police in this matter. Their names are being withheld as this matter is still under investigation.

Perhaps the most shocking turn of events in this matter though is the identity of the victim who was calling for help within the house. The authorities have confirmed that former Mandeville resident, Randy Hayden, who was once a central figure in the Jeff the Killer debacle of 2015 was being held against his will in that house for an unknown amount of time. Hayden made headlines when he voluntarily exited Federal Witness Protection to tell his story.

Hayden was transported by ambulance to the St. Tammany Parish General Hospital where doctors have reported he is in stable condition. He has yet to give a statement. More information will follow as this story develops.