Page 1 of Fright Night
ONE
KNOX
Fear.
The dictionary defines the term as an intense emotion in response to believing someone or something is a threat.
Fight, flight, or freeze are usually one of three bodily reactions to it, but what the definition fails to consider is the other unlisted response.
Desire.
Fear can generate a heart-pounding awareness that sets blood aflame with the thrill of trying to choose between fight, flight, or freeze—only to fall submissive to the more potent reaction of desire.Lust.A yearning to delve into the darkness and discover what a bit of that adrenaline can feel like if actually explored.
Few truly appreciate how stimulating such an effect can be, and they’re the ones who run from the perceived threat. Fight, flight, or freeze; they choose to bolt. Others, like myself, allow that fourth reaction to take control.
It’s ecstasy. The exhilaration. The taboo of the emotion. What people believe they should hide from, some secretly long for.
Of course, as wind blows the chilly late Fall breeze across my face, I consider how we’re days away from Halloween; the time of year where scaring one another is a theme. Which makes it my favourite holiday because fear doesn’talwaysequate to pleasure. It’s all in one’s perception and the trigger.
For example, there was a time when I felt scared about a perceived threat. It was a fear of the unknown, fear of what it’d mean being away fromher.
It was the time when cops hauled me away from a stupid party for carrying drugs on me, whenI wasn’t the dealer. All becauseshewanted to save her little boyfriend, whowasthe one selling. She ratted my name instead of his, all for their happily-ever-after to end a few short months later.
Oh, sweet revenge, yet not nearly enough to be satisfying.
Seated on a park bench in late October, a cigarette in one hand and the sky filling with my occasional released puff, I’ve recently returned to my hometown, much to the chagrin of my father. After being arrested two years ago, Dad, conveniently being the town’s mayor, managed to swing a deal, thanks to the pricey lawyer he hired—and constantly complained about requiring. Community service in exchange for keeping me out of prison. Wasn’t easy, considering my small rap sheet the judge laid out in front of us, and honestly, the fact Dad even bothered surprised me.
Not like he didn’t hide the fact he couldn’t fucking wait for me to disappear and leave his new family in peace. I was the “fuck-up.” The black sheep. The disowned one after he found someone to take my place as his heir. Someone he could drag to all his fancy social functions and be proud to call his kid, rather than me, who would have preferred to take a bullet between myeyes than talk about how Dad was such a “wonderful” man to people who were only around to kiss his ass.
Community service meant Dad wouldn’t have to admit to his son being in prison. Having a convict for a kid was an embarrassment he wouldn’t handle, so he sent me elsewhere to complete my sentence. Since the court didn’t demand it be in this town, only the province, he wasted no time in kicking me out.
In truth, Dad was searching for the simplest excuse to get me out ofherlife, while maintaining as much of his “perfect mayor” image as possible. Ironic she was the one who set it all in motion.
“I’ve seen the way you look at her. At least now, she can start her life away from you.”
That was his parting message when he shoved me out of his fancy overpriced car, destination halfway across the province.
I hated him then and I hate him now. More so, I hate how she had no clue she’d become his newest project. That he’d corrupt her with his money and design her into the heir he aspired for.
The bruises I’ve sustained from him over the years, both emotional and physical, used to take weeks to heal, but none were more painful than knowing I could no longer be there for her—for my little obsession.
I left, gutted he’d ruin the girl I was falling for. The girl who was perfectbecauseof how she was. Warm and caring, a beam of sunlight in my life of cool shadows.
Not that I ever revealed my hand to her, because it’d mean ending the game we both had entirely too much fun playing. I couldn’t allow that to happen for anything. So, cruelty was it for us and she gave as good as she got. A real challenge and that, like no one else in existence, makes hereverythingto me.
After two very shitty years, I’m home to pay my respects to the girl—the woman now—who chose another over me, hence my place in this park. Old connections told me precisely whatshe’s been up to and where she goes every Tuesday night, and the route she walks back home.
In the cool five-degree Celsius weather, she’s bundled in a thick cardigan over skinny jeans and low-heeled boots. Her hair is loose, strands flying in the wind, the scent of her expensive perfume tainting nature with its chemical enhancements.
Her head’s down, attention directed at the cell phone in her hand like it’s her lifeline. Like it’ll save her from the monsters in the night.
It won’t. Especially not the one she’s about to walk into.
My legs stretch on purpose, testing her spatial awareness. She doesn’t look up when she’s three paces away.
Two…
And one.
