Chapter 13: The Nightmare Begins
Dylan stood staring dumbfounded at the corpse bleeding on his kitchen floor. He instantly recognized it as his neighbor Rhonda from across the hall. How the hell had she even gotten into his apartment? Dylan was dumbfounded. Searching his foggy memory conjured up a flurry of disjointed, violent images. Feeling overwhelmed, he tried to block out the flashbacks and the disturbing feelings they evoked. It didn’t really matter how Rhonda had gotten into his apartment and he didn’t want to recall the gruesome details of her death.
Dylan tried and failed to focus. He couldn’t stop thinking about the sensation of his teeth sinking into her yielding flesh and tearing, until the metallic tang of blood flooded his mouth. Dylan’s stomach lurched. The scent of coagulating blood staining his kitchen tiles was nauseating. Desperate not to throw up, Dylan abruptly turned away from the ruined body at his feet. The strength suddenly drained out of him. It was too much. It was all too much. His legs felt rubbery. He managed to stagger over to his living room couch, before his knees gave out.
Shock turned into dismay, as the full extent of his predicament sank in by degrees. He was linked to two dead bodies. Whether or not he called the police and tried to plead his case, it was only a matter of time before he would be arrested and convicted of first-degree murder. One look at Rhonda’s mutilated body and no one would ever believe that he didn’t intend to kill her. He’d be charged with first-degree murder for Rosa’s accidental death as well.
His mind began to reel at the thought of the impending upheaval to his life all of the relationships and creature comforts he stood to lose. Just when things had begun to go his way…and for what? Because Rosa thought she owned him, and Rhonda wanted revenge? It wasn’t fair! Dylan was suddenly filled with impotent rage.
He didn’t deserve to lose his freedom and possibly his life, because they refused to leave him alone. Dylan felt himself on the verge of hyperventilating at the thought of going to prison and facing death by lethal injection. Panic sent him into survival mode. There was no way around it, he would just have to get rid of the bodies. They couldn’t convict him with no evidence. Right?
Suddenly full of nervous energy, Dylan rose and paced around the living room, contemplating the best way to get rid of two bodies. He needed something big enough to conceal them. Surely, he could just go out and buy something. Just then, every true crime show he’d ever watched came to mind. Even if he paid with cash, stores had cameras. He didn’t want to have to try and explain away any suspicious purchases. No, he would have to make do with what he had. Dylan went to his hall closet and dragged out his suitcases. He stood back eyeing the biggest ones speculatively.