I just don’t have the drive anymore for things to end any other way.
Even knowing that, though, doesn’t make that downward tilt any easier to accept.
“Damian?” Danna calls as she opens the front door.
“What?” I call back.
“You need to see this and I need to call the police,” she says.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, and make my way into the other room to meet her.
She’s standing in the doorway, holding a letter, her eyes moving back and forth as she reads over it.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s not good,” she says.
“Let me see it,” I tell her, and she hands it over to me.
She’s pulling her phone out of her pocket and walking into the other room as I read over the first words of the letter.
“Dami,” the letter starts, “I know that you’ve never seen me, but I’ve been watching you for so long now. I know you in ways that I don’t even know myself. So much of my life, I’ve wanted to write this letter, to tell you how much I love you now and how much I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you on Kids’ Quests. You’ve turned into quite a handsome man and a remarkable actor. I think it’s time that you know who I am, because one day, I know that you’re going to be asking me to be your wife.
Yours always and forever,
Rita”
“What?” I ask. “It’s a love letter. I get those all the time.”
“You used to get them all the time,” Danna says, “but this isn’t a love letter. This is the first stage of a manifesto.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “She came on pretty strong, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, this is a little more than coming on a bit strong,” Danna says. “You didn’t see the package outside.”
“There’s a package?” I ask.
“That’s the only thing I know to call it,” Danna says, and then presses the phone harder against her ear. “Yeah, I’m at 28153 South Willow Banks with Damian Jones and he just received a threat.”
“Oh, it’s not a threat,” I tell her.
She mouthes the words, “Look outside,” and then turns and walks deeper into the house.
The letter was a bit creepy, but not everyone knows how to best put their thoughts and feelings down on paper. Rita, whoever she is, probably just got so nervous writing me that she forgot to leave out the crazy in the letter.
It happens all the time.
I’d rather have it be an adoring fan who just isn’t that great with words than a psycho for obvious reasons, but I’m not going to deny the ego boost I’m really hoping to hold onto here.
I’ve got a lot of justifications running through my head until I walk out the front door and see what Danna was talking about.
Sitting just outside my front door is a black garbage bag full of something I can’t see, though the top is open. Around the bottom of the bag is a dark red liquid that I’m really hoping isn’t what it so very clearly is.
I take a few steps toward the bag and almost choke from the stench.
Whatever’s in the bag, it’s dead.
That’s not the most comforting thought as I move forward and nudge one side of the bag over to expose the contents inside.