My room, when I woke, smelled like him.
I sighed. I looked at my phone. It was early-early Sunday and someone was at the front door of my house, banging on the door.
I knew this because in the lower right of my phone was a video feed of a camera, looking down at the door. Someone in a grey hooded sweater, average average average.
My phone vibrated and a second feed came up --someone was trying to shunt the lock on the sliding door. another grey hooded sweater. This camera, being inside the house, captured the face of the person trying to break in.
I sighed. In the darkness, swear to god, I said to myself, "Shit. It's them." I watched in satisfaction as the lock gave way, Patricia Liu quietly started to slide the door open and then cursed as it hit the metal bar on the bottom of the door. I chuckled.
I pressed her number on my phone and waited. I didn't hear anything, and Patricia didn't react. No phones, or not their regular phones, at least.
I waited until just before she figured out that the bar was locked in place on the far wall before I put on my jacket, pocketed my phone and raced through the basement, up the stairs and through the kitchen. I was at sliding door and had it flung open so quickly Patricia fell back on her butt, into the snow on the wooden deck. I laughed --probably weird given I'd grabbed a kitchen knife on my way through the kitchen. "Hello Patricia," I said, "Can I help you with something?"
Patricia thew something at me, and I swatted it away; immediately regretted my decision. With a POP I was covered in powder that burned my eyes and stung my skin. Through gritted eyes, I saw her scrambling off the deck and so help me I did it.
I froze time and everything turned red and, eyes half open, half closed I walked over to her frozen body and touched her foot. Hah. Grabbed her foot with both hands. Immediately she was wriggling and scrambling.
The red started to fade almost immediately, but all the snow on my house melted with a wet woosh of steam. Patricia screamed until I closed the sliding glass door and shut the blinds.
"It's sound proof," I said.
"Figured. Monster." Patricia spat at me.
"What are you talking about?"
"You. You're something to be cleaned up, like the Jons were."
"No! I didn't kill innocent peop --"
Her laughter cut me off and she didn't stop. While she laughed and laughed I walked into the kitchen and washed my hands, arms, and face. "So who's the guy was banging on my front door?" I shouted, head in the sink. I howled sank to the floor, She'd smashed something heavy over the back of my head and neck and the stars were closing in all around my vision.
I flattened myself with the next blow, let is smash me to the floor and waited. I heard the kitchen drawers open and when she was above me I smashed her knee as hard as I could. "Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry," I kept saying while I punched her in the jaw, behind the ear. Four punches and she was out cold: breathing, unconscious.
I called 9-1-1 from my mobile and told them I had a subdued assailant in my house.
The emergency respondent was brusque, and when I told her my address she laughed at me. "Sure thing Mr. Metzger. We'll send someone over. Right. Away. Uh huh," she said and hung up.
"Well that's rude," I said. I sighed and slumped my shoulders. I shrugged. I went to my room and brought out some emergency rope. I apologized the entire time I was tying up Paticia Liu, reverse hog tied: restrained but not dangerously uncomfortable.
When she regained consciousness a few minutes later, she groaned. She looked at me and, no joke, growled. She said, "This place would be better off without you."
I stopped and sat. I said, "I haven't killed anyone since winter break, and I didn't want to do that and I didn't know what I was doing the other times."
"That makes it worse."
I laughed. "What part of that makes it worse?"
"That you didn't know what you were doing," she said.