She was attracted to him, Luke didn’t doubt that. If he did, he wouldn’t be wasting his time attempting to get her to open up to him, trust him, and give him a chance.
“What about your family?” he asked.
“My family is none of your business.” Although her words were aggressive, her tone was more flat than anything else.
“We all have things in our past that we’d rather weren’t there.” He reached for Summer’s hand but stopped short of touching it. “They don’t have to define us. When my second foster parents sent me and Nick away after their son was killed, I was angry. So angry. I felt abandoned. I felt worthless. I felt unlovable. I stopped caring, gave up, stopped trying in school, stopped thinking about my future, and wanted to just throw everything away and let my anger rule me. If it hadn’t been for that third family taking me in, showing me that I was worth something, I don’t know where I'd be today. They got me into karate as an outlet for my anger, they made me work hard in school and expected good grades, and they gave me privileges only when I earned them. The losses I suffered stopped defining me. They became my past and I wanted them to stay there. I wanted a future. I welcomed a future. I finally felt like I deserved a future.”
Summer shook her head, silently refuting his words.
“Whatever there is in your past that you think means you can’t move forward you're wrong, Summer. Take a chance, have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
“No,” she said firmly. “And not just no today, but no forever. Don’t ask me out again. My answer is never going to change. You’re Nick’s brother and I'm Aggie’s friend. It’s inevitable that we’re going to have to spend time together, but that’s it. I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I'm sorry, Luke. I don’t mean to sound rude, but please,” her eyes bored into his, begging him, “please don’t ask me out again.” She stood, gathered her things, then said without looking at him, “Goodnight, Luke.”
As he watched her walk away her goodnight felt more like goodbye.
February 16th
2:23 A.M.
Was he sane or insane?
To be honest, he wasn't even sure anymore.
Sometimes he did things that scared him.
The Nursery Rhyme Killer often felt like he was living a double life. Sometimes he was the respectable regular man going about life like everyone else, and sometimes he was a killer, ripping people’s lives away from them for reasons he wasn't even altogether sure of.
What was happening to him?
Had he always been this way?
He didn’t know.
It was like everything was blurry. There and yet not there. His whole life was fuzzy. Not just his past but his present too. Some days he wasn't even sure how he functioned.
Didn’t people notice?
Didn’t people see what lurked inside him?
Why didn’t someone stop him before he killed someone else?
For he knew he would. It was like a compulsion, he couldn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t even want to stop. Maybe he liked killing. He thought he might. He thought it gave him a rush unlike anything else.
The murders he’d committed were about the only thing that remained clear in his mind.
It was like when he took a life he temporarily emerged from the fog.
He remembered Jack and Jill, but didn’t remember their real names, if he’d ever known them to begin with. But he remembered luring them, and he remembered tying them up, and he remembered tossing them over the side of the cliff. Most of all, he remembered watching the bodies bounce and crash their way down to the bottom.
It had been very satisfying.
He particularly liked the way each bounce against the rocky side of the cliff resulted in a broken limb. And the way they kind of splattered when they hit the ground.
For some reason, it had seemed important that their heads be cracked open, just like in the rhyme. Thankfully they had been. He’d had a hammer with him, just in case he needed it.
The little teapot murder in particular was interesting to him. He loved tea. He wasn't sure why he would take something he loved and turn it into a way to take a life.
It had been an interesting way to kill someone.