I don't know what I expected to happen after my hand came into contact with Jack's leather gloves, but when I imagined a spirit taking over my body, I figured something would have felt different the next morning. Maybe I would be in the back of my mind, watching my life before my eyes like a movie, unable to affect anything. Maybe I'd just cease to exist, replaced by Jack entirely. But that's not what happens. Instead, I wake up and look around my familiar bedroom. Everything is in place - the desk with pencils unorganized, the trash can filled with discarded murder canvases, and I move my hand to block the sun from hitting my eyes. I'm still here, alright.
"Jack?" I ask aloud. It takes a second, but he responds,
"Yes?"
"What happened? Why am I still in control?"
"That was the original deal. Last night was different. I'm not here to get another chance at life. I blew my chance. I'm here to help you. Really and truthfully I want to help you. I'm only going to take over when it is deemed necessary, but for the most part, your body is still yours."
I sigh. I honestly can't tell if I'm upset I couldn't just bail on my life, or happy I get to live another day. I give up trying to decide and leave my bed, get dressed, and go downstairs. When I enter the living room, I see my mother talking to someone at the front door.
"Mom, who is it?" I ask. She looks over to me, saying.
"Jeff, do you know a girl named Nia? Nia Kaehler?" I think for a minute. I remember her face, one that I would pass in the hallways, but I didn't know anything about her.
"No, I don't." I then go over to her and see the man she's talking to. He's a tall, skinny man with brown hair and eyes.
"Well, Miss Yaws, I'm sorry to disturb you." With that, he nods his head and leaves. My mother still looks worried.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Didn't you hear? A girl from your school went missing." I imagine glaring at Jack, but in my mind, he only shrugs back, implying he didn't have anything to do with it. I choose to believe him for now.
I still go to school that day. The bus drops me off just outside the school doors, where I spy Billy, Marcus, and some other boy they're with all staring at me. I almost feel like if I look at them too long, their glares will actually cut through me. But I continue moving forward and enter the school building.
The school day seems normal. Classes come and go. I let Jack draw in the notebook while I pay attention to the teacher with my peripheral vision. Everything seems normal until the bell rings. Normally Billy and Marcus only ambush me after I get off the bus stop or, if I'm lucky, not at all. But today they're right outside the school doors, waiting for me to pass; and they have reinforcements. As I try to walk past, Billy and Marcus take a few steps to stand in front of me. Three other boys crowd me from behind. I know they can't hurt me on school grounds, so I ask,
"Something wrong?" Billy snarls, Marcus answers for him.
"You think you're so smart, chump? What did you do with Nia?" I take a second to think, but then remember,
"The missing girl? I don't know-" Billy grabs me by my throat, slams me into the school wall and shouts,
"Don't lie to me, you little shit! Where is my girlfriend!" I look around. No teachers are in my sight, and a crowd has gathered around us. Students swarm around me like flies to dead meat.
"Tell me!" Billy shouts once more, slamming me against the wall again with slightly more force. I try to say something, but find I can't. I can't control my mouth. I feel everything in my body numb, and I act without control. Jack takes over. I watch Billy use his off-hand to pull a switch knife out of his jeans pocket.
"I will cut the truth from you." Those words sealed Billy's fate. Jack speaks, through my mouth,
"Heh, Big knife. You compensating for something?" I see Billy's face scrunch up in anger, and in a rage, he plunges the knife into my gut. Jack grabs his arm just a second too late, as I feel pain flow through my body from the stab wound. I don't know why, but after the knife sinks into my side, I barely feel any pain. It felt more like an annoying bee sting than metal piercing my gut. Jack pulls Billy's arm away, along with the blade, and I can sense Billy's surprise at my sudden surge in strength. As Jack keeps my eyes on Billy, I look down to see the knife exit my body. A thick stream of blood spurts from injury, leaving a stain in my hoodie for all the world to see. I feel terrified, so powerless, but with Jack backing me up, I know Billy just made a big mistake. The knife leaves my body, and Jack uses my other hand and punches Billy in the face, an uppercut right under his jaw. I feel his teeth smash together as my fist collides with his face. He stumbles back, allowing Jack to wrench the knife from his hands. I see Billy's mouth is bleeding, then movement in my peripheral vision.
"To your right!" I mentally shout, and Jack looks over to see Marcus rush him with his fist raised. Jack grabs his wrist out of the air and jabs the knife into his side. Definitely not fatal, but I hear from his screams that it stung like hell. He falls to the ground, bleeding. Jack swings around the see Billy, who is still bleeding from his mouth and looking into my eyes. My memory flashes back to years ago when another child looked at me with that same type of fear. Billy raises his fists, ready to defend himself, but he is blindsided by Jack's speed, as Jack lunges at him and gives him a good punching jab to the face, breaking his nose and sending more blood splattering on the sidewalk. Billy raises his forearms to protect his face, which allows Jack an opening to punch him in the gut, knocking out his wind and sending him crumpling to the ground as well.
Jack looks around, and we can see everyone around us. Their faces are showing shock. Some have their mouths agape, some are simply wide-eyed, but they all stand around us with a familiar look that I recognize from the third grade. Fear. I was now something to fear. We were now something to fear.
Jack drops the knife as he sees a teacher and police officer erupt from the crowd of students. By the time the cop pulls out his taser, shouting,
"Freeze! Drop the weapon!" Jack is already kneeling on the ground, hands behind my head. My control slowly returns as I feel the metallic handcuffs wrap around my wrists.
I spent the next several hours in a police station. I'm sitting in a flimsy plastic chair at a small table in an otherwise empty room. I see a long mirror on the wall, but I know it's actually a one-way glass window. I imagine people walking past this room, seeing a young boy in the chair with handcuffs on and asking, "what could a boy like him have done?" If only they knew.
After an apparent eternity, I hear the door open and I look up. There is a man in his mid-40s with short, black hair, slightly overweight and some stubble on his chin. Judging by his uniform, he is the sheriff. He sits down at the other end of the table with an orange folder as a second officer enters the room. This new officer I assume is supposed to be guarding the door, but instead, he walks over to me with a key. The sheriff explains.
"So, Jeff. We talked to some of the classmates who saw your scuffle and reviewed footage of the school security cameras. Seems you're off the hook with a case for self-defense." The officer unlocks my handcuffs with the keys, and I hear him return the cuffs to his belt. The sheriff continues, while he opens the folder and reads the file.
"Granted, it wasn't very clean self-defense…." He reads the file under his breath, "A broken nose and a stab wound… with the boy's own knife?" He closes the file quickly and looks back up to me, "But self-defense nonetheless. You're free to go." Saying I was confused would be an understatement. It felt like getting a slap on the wrist for attempted murder. The sheriff and I sat there in silence for a couple of seconds, before he stood up, saying,
"Your mother's in the lobby. We'll call you if the other boys want to try pushing charges, but I doubt that'll do anything for 'em. So stay out of trouble, and… yeah." The sheriff and the officer leave the room, and I'm free to follow them.
I expected my mother to be sad, angry or even disappointed when I saw her in the police station lobby. I remember how she always said,
"When a parent says "I'm not mad, just disappointed", that's how you know you're in deep trouble, Jeffery. Let me tell you, the minute I'm disappointed in you, that's the moment you will know true anger."
She was never disappointed in me. Not once did I ever make her utter that quote that I'm sure many other kids heard before, whether it was to their face or in a television: not mad, just disappointed. In one way, I was proud of it. In another, I worried about being called a "momma's boy". Surprisingly, I never heard that insult flung at me, either. I never disappointed my mother, and she was never disappointed in me, and no one else seemed to care.
But this day, I felt like I had broken that trust. I felt like I really messed up. I was sad, alone and scared. But after she hugged me, tears flowing from her eyes, her soft words asking,
"Oh, my boy! Are you hurt? Did those mean boys hurt you?" I felt confused for a moment, but the moment after was as if I finally knew my place in the world. I was loved. I belonged.
After we drive home, my mother cooks dinner - one of the only times she was willing to cook a full meal instead of ordering something simple. The smell of pot roast never tasted more delectable; and when I ate, it was even better. Usually, I barely ate much - didn't find much joy in it. I only eat what I need to live off of, but tonight, the food made me feel like a king. I thanked mom for dinner and strolled off to my bedroom. I laid in my bed feeling immortal. This was a good day. I didn't even notice Jack remaining silent until I lied in bed, almost making me jump with his sudden voice.
"You seem in a good mood… for once. Didn't even use the razor today." I turned over to turn off my bedside lamp while saying,
"Never thought I'd say "thanks" to a serial killer, but…" the light left the room, leaving me in darkness for me to sleep. But I didn't slumber until I uttered,
"Thank you." To the maniac in my head.