It has been said that three different kinds of "you" exist. The person that you think you are, the person that others perceive you as, and the person who you really are. Maybe you can only know yourself when you give up trying to understand who you are. 

A beautiful fit of rage, an artist's image of a violent body glistening oh so softly in the moonlight. The bloodbath replayed vividly in Ray's mind repeatedly, a painter splashing a flash of fiery emotion onto a blank canvas, soaking the park grass in vibrant red. It was nothing like he had ever seen before. It terrified him. All it took was one stroke, one hand swipe, and the bodies fell limp. It seemed so simple, so elegant. There was barely any screaming or running, just blood and death in its purest form. Her long hair cascaded, and her eyes cut through the night with a green glow. He couldn't make out her features besides her gleaming, inhuman eyes. If only he didn't meet those gleaming eyes.

-Earlier in the night-

"Here's your bag," the cashier handed Ray his groceries. He sounded like he wanted to end his shift and never work another day in his life. Ray patiently waited. "Oh right, here's your change." Five dollars fell into Ray's hands, "Thanks, have a good night."

"You too." Ray yawned as he left the store. He felt especially lethargic tonight, more than he usually did. Ray's phone buzzed in his pocket, "Hey mom, yeah, I know it's late, don't worry, I will be fine. Yes, I am coming home. Yes, I promise to never be out this late without telling you again. I got some groceries at the supermarket. Yeah, sure, see you soon." 

Ray shivered as he left the grocery store, "It's cold." His discomfort waned as he walked over to the bike rack with a newfound appreciation for bicycling. It really was a thing of beauty, an appearance that was just as sleek as it was impressive, with an unbelievably comfortable cushioned seat and a top speed of thirty mph. This was the electric bike to be desired. He would have preferred a car over a bike, but when he went to his father, he sat him down and said in the most sincere way possible, "Son, we can't afford it." Ray swore he saw a single tear fall down his father's normally rigid face. 

When Ray mentally settled for a motorcycle or moped, he consulted his mother, and she sat him down and said to him in the most loving tone possible, "Honey, you would kill yourself on one of those deathtraps; why don't you get a new bicycle?" Thirty miles per hour wasn't too bad; his legs didn't ache after he had traveled to school.

Ray hopped on his new bicycle and began to ride home. He was in a rush; it was eerily quiet at this hour, and it made him uncomfortable. He rode deeper into his neighborhood, homes of familiar faces passing by. Despite the discomfort of the eerie silence, it felt almost liberating, as if nothing else in the world mattered. He experienced the world through a window of dullness. He had been straddled with the same sights so many times that they had lost all color.

Everything was like it normally was. Everything was to be expected. Ray got barked at around Wilmore Ave by an unruly chihuahua. He passed the creepy decrypt two-story house on Sirmoune Street that he was sure was haunted and ate a protein bar after he reached the highest point of his ride as a treat for getting up an annoyingly steep hill. It seemed like a normal night. Up until now, it had been a normal night. Ray knew something was wrong when he heard a collection of drunken voices. He didn't normally come across that.

He was riding by Greymore Park, a large, well-known park near his home. At this point, it was dark, and no one was around except for what Ray assumed was a group of young men, maybe college students from the community college nearby. They liked to come into town to drink at local bars. 

Ray suddenly stopped and listened, the headlights of his bicycle illuminating the road ahead of him. A girl let out a soft, muffled scream, something you could only hear if you were right next to it. Ray's chest tightened. He instantly knew what was happening in the darkness somewhere to his left in the park he passed daily. In the park where, a girl was getting sexually assaulted. His heart began to race. What was he supposed to do? 

Should he call the police? Will they even begin to get there in time? He heard a slurred voice call out, "Bring her here." He was right there. Ray was so close to them. 

Ray threw his bike aside, desperate to do something. "Shit." Ray swore, "Shit," he swore louder. He started to sprint towards the drunken voices. If he hesitated, if he waited, something horrible would happen. 

"Wait, did someone just say something?" One of the college students looked around dumbly, his two colleagues holding down a young woman. He let out a little burp as he scanned the area. 

"Uhh yeah, I sink somome is coming." A collection of words that barely formed a coherent sentence came out of another's mouth. 

Ray could barely make out their silhouettes, but it was exactly what he imagined. He looked upon them with anger, surprise, disgust, fear, and a sobering realization that if his presence alone did not scare them away and stop them from assaulting this woman, they would come after him as well. 

They had to be at least twenty feet away now. Ray was breathing heavily, the cold air personifying his breath. 

One of the college students glanced over at Ray's silhouette and said, "Want to join us." 

"What," Ray said. 

The college student blinked as if astounded by the stupidity of the person in front of him. "I said do you wan…" 

It happened in slow motion. Before he could finish his sentence, a hand went through his chest. In a moment of clarity, he regained all lost sobriety, coughed up a handful of blood, and looked down dumbfounded, adrenaline-keeping pain from reaching him. Then he died. The killer was the girl he was about to vandalize. Her green gemstone eyes were alight. The two fools holding her were frozen for a moment; they, too, had regained normal thinking, and they were horrified. 

They let go and began to back away and then began to run. The girl just sat there, covered in blood. She stood up slowly. "Help, someone help us, please!" Running for their dear lives, in an ironic twist of fate, the two men began to beg for help. They screamed at the top of their lungs. 

Ray watched as their dark silhouettes began to fade into the distance. He was frozen in time, too frightened and confused even to move. Ray blinked, and the woman ran after them faster than Ray thought was even physically possible. She quickly caught up to them. It wasn't even close. It was like watching a cheetah catch two fleeing rabbits. It seemed natural, a predator catching fleeing prey. She disposed of them just as easily as the first one. 

Ray managed to speak, "Oh god," he stepped back, "what the hell." Her lone figure stood gruesome over the two bodies. She turned, her green eyes piercing through the night right into his soul. She was staring at him. Blood was barely visible, pooling across the ground. He began to sprint away, back to his bike, back to his home. He ran, nearly tripping, heaving as he ran from the person he initially intended to save, but that thing was no human. 

"Oh my god, oh my god, that was a monster, a living monster. Monsters aren't real, they're not." He frantically got on his bike, nearly falling over, and began to ride at the highest speed possible. It turns out he was lied to because the bicycle only has a top speed of 28 mph. 

He was tempted to close his eyes as he rode, to not witness the reality he found himself in, but he continued forward with his eyes open and the illuminating lights of his bike on. Ray made it home without a scratch on him.

—-

"Please tell me it isn't true. Tell me that you love me, Alfonso," A woman with a pitiful expression reached out to a broad-shouldered man who responded dramatically, "No, no, I cannot love you, never. You killed my brother. You are a monster. No human can ever love something as vile as you." 

Alfonso stared at the full moon out the window, the tremendously vast garden displayed below him. The woman reached out to grab a pair of scissors on the counter, brandishing it behind her back when Alfonso wasn't looking, too lost in his monologue. 

"Monsters take many forms. You may have tricked my brother and me, but you will not fool anyone again." Alfonso turned back to the seemingly pitiful woman, disdain in his gaze. 

She inched closer, her free arm outstretched, "What do you mean, my love?" Ray's mom verbally gasped as she thought about what would happen next. 

"I mean, monsters need to be…" 

Ray busted through the front door, tripping over the entrance mat. Surprised, his mother, Nina Cross, quickly paused her soap opera. He collapsed on the floor, "Ray! What happened? I told you it was dangerous to ride at night. Are you okay, my baby? Did a wild raccoon attack you like your father?" 

Ray couldn't feel anything. His entire body was submerged in a deep desire to escape death. After having the horrific realization that the monster could have followed him home, he went into the closet for a large flashlight and then scrambled outside, his mother trailing behind him.

"Ray? What's wrong?" 

"Honey, is Ray home?" Steve yelled from across the house. 

Ray used the light on his electric bike to illuminate his street, "Please, please, please." He used please as a calming mantra, but it didn't work. Ray only allowed himself to breathe when he saw no gleaming green eyes or bloody figure, just an empty street and maybe some annoyed neighbors.

"Oh, thank god." Ray was just hallucinating. That had to be it. He never saw a triple homicide at the park by something inhuman. That just makes no sense. That's just not possible. 

Concerned, Nina called out to him, "What happened, Ray?" With a click, the street returned to darkness, and Ray heaved a heavy sigh, "Nothing, Mom, I just thought I saw something." 

"What did you see?" 

"Nothing, I saw nothing." 

Nina scrunched her face as she eyed the shaken image of her son. She could practically hear his racing heart; she spoke tenderly to ease his nerves, "Okay, why don't you get something to eat? I made lasagna." 

"No thanks, Mom, I'm not hungry."

The Cross' home, by local standards, was an average one. Given to Scott Cross by his father before his passing, it had everything a middle-class family needed to live a quiet, comfortable life. The walls were coated in pleasant white paint that was easy to look at. The decorations consisted of random ornaments of life and family and of several achievements. You were welcomed by the living room as soon as you entered. Right next to the living room were the stairs that Ray and his sister traveled up and down every day. Ray spent most of his time upstairs in his blandly decorated bedroom. It was quiet, boring, but quiet.

Ray had immediately gone to his room, slamming the door shut. He stood by his bedroom door, thinking about what he saw. "It had to be real, right? Should I dial 911?" He murmured to himself. He heard the screams. He saw the piercing green eyes. 

He turned on his computer, and the device's light coated his face. He browsed the web, searching for proof of the unthinkable, the supernatural. All he found were articles on psychology. Any videos of alleged "proof" were distorted or manipulated footage. He did see random anecdotes claiming they had contact with the supernatural, but anecdotes are not typically known as the best sources. These anecdotes also talked about ghosts and curses, nothing like what he saw himself. 

The longer he searched, the more anxious he became. He had to find something, or how could he justify what just happened to him? How could he say that it even happened? 

"I'll go tomorrow, back to the park." It was a Saturday, so it's not like he had school. His curiosity clawed at him. He needed to see the aftermath for himself. This wasn't a normal strain of murders. It was something that should have been impossible, something supernatural. The idea of that captivated Ray. He had always read comics of superheroes saving the day in times of need, but he had never seen a display of power like that in reality.

"I probably should call the police." Ray picked out his phone and dialed 911, an action that he would not have expected to take in the morning.

"911, what's your emergency," a sweet-sounding operator picked up the phone. 

"Hi, yeah, I witnessed a triple homicide at Greymore Park beside 4th Street." 

"Okay, everything is going to work out. Are you alright?" 

Ray scratched his head, "Yeah, I'm fine." 

"Can you tell me any information, like what the perpetrator looks like, or the people that were murdered, how they were killed?" 

"Uhm yeah, it was dark, so I didn't see anyone's features, but I think the murderer was a woman. Three men were sexually assaulting her, the ones she killed. She somehow killed all of them with her bare hands, shoved one hand through one of the guy's chests, and she chased the other ones down." Ray spoke quickly, still registering the scenario. 

"Shoved a hand right through his chest. Are you sure there were no weapons?" The operator was incredulous. 

"Yeah," Ray brought his voice lower, "I think it was something supernatural. She was a monster or something." 

"Right." Ray frowned at the operator's response, "I would like to remind you, kid, that every minute you waste with me here, people could be in danger." The operator began to berate a befuddled Ray. 

"Oh! Of course, it sounds crazy. I should have known it would, but you have to believe me I saw what I saw." Ray spoke nervously. The operator didn't seem thrilled with his apparent prank call.

"I'll let you off with a warning." 

"Just send one person to the park, please." 

"Goodnight, kid." The operator hung up.

"Well, that was pointless." The operator didn't even believe his understandably unbelievable story. Well, the police will find the bodies tomorrow or at least some evidence pointing to murder.

As he was thinking, a horrifying thought struck Ray, 'What if the murderer is still there?' Maybe he shouldn't go. They got a good look at him after all. "But if they really wanted to kill me, they would have when I was sprinting to my bike." They were much faster than him, after all. What's another murder on top of three? Sure, he was a bystander, but he still witnessed someone or something kill three people. They were disgusting people, but they were still people.

"Maybe I hallucinated everything." The more he thought about what happened, the more he wanted to know what happened and how it was even possible. Ray inhaled heavily as he shut off his computer. He met his reflection on his blank monitor. "I could have died." A deep fear was situated inside of Ray. He shook as he stared deeper into his own gaze. "I could have died." 

The next day, Ray was awash in anxiety. He had been spending his time in his bedroom mentally preparing himself. The police were going to be situated at the park for a crime this big. He wanted to get a quick look at the crime scene for some closure or clues.

He dressed himself in a baggy hoodie, perfectly masking his features. He is going to a park early in the morning on a weekend in a baggy black hoodie covering his features. He looked extremely suspicious. He chuckled at the irony. 'Better suspicious than spotted.' 

He swung his bedroom door open, "What are you wearing?" His sister, Riley, eyed his conspicuous outfit. She had just woken up and wasn't expecting to be met with her brother, looking like he was about to commit petty theft. She was only staying for a day or two. She had come back home from college for their grandpa's funeral. He used to live up the street. He would always tell the most outlandish stories. 

Ray didn't really want to explain what had happened to his family yet, especially his sister. She would just laugh in his face and compliment his imagination. "I'm going to the park." 

Riley felt particularly nosey today, "The park, why?" 

"I wanted some fresh air." 

"Before breakfast?" 

"You're very interrogative this morning, of course not." Ray moved past his sister, who watched him practically leap down the stairs. 

"He's certainly a ball of energy today." Normally, Ray would carelessly pass his sister and silently go downstairs to eat. He sometimes said good morning when he felt like it was one. He was more jittery than normal, more excited. "Maybe he's going to see someone." She grinned at the thought of her loner brother attempting to navigate a date.

"Ray," Scott greeted his son, "I made eggs and bacon," 

Ray was hungry, but he didn't want any food. He didn't think he'd be able to send a single morsel into his mouth when he could be heading to the park instead. A piece of toast was lying on the kitchen counter. "Can I have that?" Ray pointed to the piece of bread.

"Of course, do you want some eggs?" Scott shook the pan, presenting an attractive sight of scrambled eggs that gleefully bounced like restless children at his command. 

"Save some bacon for me later."

"Later?" 

Ray grabbed the toast and was out the door. He finished his breakfast in the front yard in five large bites, forcing himself to swallow laboriously each time. "Maybe I should've gotten water as well." He lightly coughed to clear his throat. 

Ray steeled himself as he grabbed his bike, "Okay, let's go."