He sounded angry now.
"They thought I was a bore. A pedant. I was a geek, the guy they teased in high school. I knew how to do my job, but I had no charisma or charm. I didn't have any good stories."
May took another step toward him.
"That must have been difficult for you," she said.
"Still, I knew the right things to say to them. 'You have a future ahead of you,' I told them. 'Here are the opportunities I see for you,' I said."
"I see," May agreed.
"I'm smart! I'm smarter than any of the other teachers. But I couldn't bear the thought that these young women didn't see me for who I was. They just didn't see me! And so, they needed to die. Just as you will die, my sweetest queen."
He removed a hand, and stroked Berenice's hair.
It was the most vile act May had ever seen, as he caressed the woman's hair while she sobbed, her face a rictus of fear.
But it gave May the chance she needed.
He'd been distracted from his brutal hold on her and she'd gotten a little closer. This was her chance.
She leaped forward, sprinting across the remaining distance, and made a grab for his arm.
But he was fast. Terrifyingly fast. This monster had reactions far speedier than he should have possessed. Within a moment, he'd shoved the girl aside and grabbed May's gun hand.
She yelled aloud as he wrenched her gun viciously away. He tossed it into the undergrowth, invisible and hidden.
And then, in a moment, May was fighting for her life.
He had her by the wrist, trying to bend it back. She fought him with all her strength, but she was no match for him. His fingers were like steel, and they were digging into her flesh.
She gasped and tried to fight him off.
But he was too strong. He tightened his grip and forced her to the ground.
"This is your fault. You shouldn't have come here. You should have let me be," he accused, as he put all his weight onto her arm while he held her down, twigs digging into her skin. She felt a surge of terror as she imagined what the victims must have felt.
She tried to twist away, but he yanked her back. Desperately, May kicked out at him, hoping to make contact, to hurt him.
She heard him hiss as her foot connected with his leg, but there was no pause in his attack on her.
"You're strong. I'll give you that much. But you'll have to try harder than that," he taunted callously, as if he were talking about a math problem.
His hands were finding her neck now. Wrapping around her throat. She clawed at his fingers but it was as if he didn't even feel her.
"This won't take long. And then, I'll have my prom queen all to myself," he muttered. She could feel his breath on her cheek, his mouth inches from her face.
She felt incredibly frustrated, and filled with fear, that she was lighter, and less strong, than this thickset, brutal man. Berenice had not managed to go far. She'd writhed a yard or so away, but she was clearly paralyzed by shock and fear. She couldn’t escape, not when she was tied so tight.
She wasn't going to be able to get away and was still at risk. If this man killed May, he would then murder Berenice. And he wanted to kill her. She could see the expectation in his face, the eagerness in his eyes.
But she had other skills, May reminded herself, refusing to give in to panic. With only a moment to go before he finished her, at the last possible second, she could only try trickery.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, in a sobbing tone.
"You're sorry? You're sorry for what?" he demanded, sounding surprised.