dark passenger

[Santino Morrison-Novak]

*SANTINO MORRISON-NOVAK,

[/b][/color][/color][/font]

--------------------------------------

"The strangers look down and then shy away, my cup remains empty with every pass. My life, once bright, now only shades of grey, has forced me here to this unwanted class. My ideas and heart still feel much intact, but my pride is gone from years of abuse, their stares no longer force me to react. It would only strengthen their bitter views. If only they knew how it felt down here, to live this way and have nobody care. They would reach out to me and volunteer, and help a fellow man shed his despair. So until that hand comes and helps me stand, my life will mean less than a grain of sand."

"Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away." - Philip K. Dick

[/center]

[Santino Morrison-Novak]

CRAWLING IN MY SKIN
[SONNY'S INNER DIALOG -
UNDATED]

[/font]
--------------------------------------------------------[/center]

A perfect murder.

Beautiful.

If there is such thing

Pathetic

The things you do for your own pleasure can assure you a perfect crime. Just to put it as officials say. In a certain contest for you to understand what is it that I do.

Play

A sort of fun in which I indulge every once in a while, as my Dark Passenger lurks in my shadows.

Hungry...Always hungry.

Searching for its next victim to bask in its new found freedom. The one that I feel only when I'm in the backseat and enjoying the ride which he provides. Always in the back of my mind, taunting me, whispering the necessities for my own survival.

What is it that you are talking about?

You see it is not something a normal human could indulge himself in.

A hobby of sorts.

Clinically clean?

I prefer neat and comfortable.

A set of rules that are needed to be followed to provide a necessary disguise in front of other humans.

Blend in and they will believe

And there it is that word.

Serial killer?

Such awful words for such a pleasurable hobby of mine.

Disgusted

My emotions are what you would say a little on the lower side or more like none existed.

A facade for the ignorant

People are most gullible creatures that I know.

With a smile you can put anything past them.

Sneak a body in a trunk of a car, body parts in a trash bag...mmm... many things.

For us they are there to fill a certain need in our own skeleton closet

--------------------------------------------------------

[Santino Morrison-Novak]

CRAWLING IN MY SKIN
[SONNY'S INNER DIALOG -
UNDATED]

[/font]
--------------------------------------------------------[/center]

Hallow nothingness…

Nowhere to escape to but my own mind; where the nightmare first was created.

Scars permanent. Unreleavable.

Cut so deep that the aching changes the way my eyes look at everything, evaluate things. The grayish tissue that occupies my skull acts as cold iron gates; forever-keeping emotions alien to me.

A monster, most would call you.

The few others that have been through what I have, plagued with what I have seen, only they would call me a survivor.

You know no other way to cope with moving slowly through an emotionless void, as you do.

It's my routine

The continuous circle of: need, stalk, slaughter

It’s better this way, I assure you.

Less darkness to influence unnecessary pain on our ‘beautiful’ world, or should I say your world?

I want out.

But there’s no way out besides death.

Not that I haven’t considered this possibility, but I have created a fake circle of trust around me.

Esme, Eric, family, friends?

I can’t just leave them. At least, not so suddenly. You may call me a fake or even a coward. Reaching for the surface now would be the end of me. I have drowned myself deep enough, anyway. Detox would result in accidents, cold blood strewn for no reason but to restore my false sanity.

Like a junkie, you're addicted.

I readily admit that. The urges are inexplicably powerful. They own me.

You just happen to like it

Well if I can’t get out. I might as well dive in head first with a big ol’ grin on my face..

--------------------------------------------------------

[Santino Morrison-Novak]

LITTLE GIRL NAMED MARIA
[LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
DECEMBER 2005]

[/font]
--------------------------------------------------------[/center]

It's an eight block walk to the nearest subway station, and Santino stands waiting for the train that will take him back to Downtown Los Angeles. He likes the way the people stand shoulder to shoulder, pretending they're alone, because that way he can let his arm press unnoticed against someone's side, or let his hand softly graze against a stranger's fingers. During the train ride, he'll watch the doors slide open and the people peeling away to their stops, feeling completely at home amidst the sweating bodies and the vacant eyes staring sightlessly in front of them. It's the only time he can feel not quite like an outsider.

It's starting to rain now, and Santino lingers a moment. The sky is black and orange lights bounce off low-lying clouds, and something in his memory stirs, a fragment from his choirboy youth: O vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite et videte. O ye who pass by my way, look and see if there is sorrow like my sorrow. He exhales slowly, watching the white plume of his breath swirl and disappear into the cold air. It'll be New Year's soon, he realizes. The year is dying. He wonders briefly where the time went.

As he turns the corner two blocks from the house he shared with his siblings, someone cries out. Santino whirls around and sees a little girl crying and clutching her ankle. She had slipped on a pavement, and the contents of her backpack had spilled everywhere.

Santino rushes toward her. "You okay?" he asks. He kneels down beside her. "Let me see your ankle." He pulls up the girl's pantleg and pushes down her sock. Her ankle is angry and swollen. "Where's your mom?" Santino asks, but the girl starts to cry again.

"Okay, it's okay, we'll take you to my house. We'll fix this up, I promise." He stoops over and picks her up. She feels feather-light in his arms.

She shakes her head and buries her face against his chest, her little arms wrapping around his neck. Santino smiles and nuzzles into her hair.

Santino smiles "That's okay," he says. "it's going to be ok"

"Maria!" He turns and sees a woman frantically chasing him down. "Maria!"

The woman lurches toward him, violently grabbing the girl by the legs.

"You're trying to steal my baby!" the woman shrieks.

"Wait, I can explain," Santino says.

"Put her down!" she says, and she yanks the little girl from him. The little girl starts screaming, holding tightly onto Santino's neck.

"Help!" she says. "Someone help me!"

"Her ankle is broken, you're hurting her!" Santino says.

The little girl screams louder, kicking her legs and violently whipping her body against him.

Cops from across the street rush over toward them. "Hey, what's going on?" they ask. Hands and arms reach in-between them and pull them apart. Santino stumbles backward and one cop yanks the woman back by her shoulder. The woman wrenches the little girl away.

"He was trying to take my baby," the woman says. She starts to cry. "She wanted to play in the rain, so I let her. And then when I looked out again she was gone!"

"I saw her fall," Santino says. "I swear, I wasn't going to kidnap her, I asked her where her mother was, and when she didn't answer I was going to take her to my house."

"Where's your house?" the policeman asks.

"a couple blocks down," Santino says. "She fell down and I think she broke her ankle. She only started screaming after her mom grabbed her leg."

"Okay, okay, clearly this is some kind of misunderstanding," the first policeman says. "Ma'am, you want us to take you to the ER and check out your daughter's ankle? Because we can do that while we're here."

"You're just gonna let him go?" the woman asks, incredulous. "He was going to rape my baby! And you're just going to let him leave?"

"I wasn't going to rape your daughter!" Santino says.

"I saw you!" she screams. "I saw you sniffing her hair! You were going to kidnap her!"

The policeman sighs and rolls his eyes at his partner. "Ma'am, are you going to be okay?" he asks.

The woman is sobbing and doesn't answer.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, would you like an escort to the hospital?" The police officer takes her arm. "Ma'am?"

The woman mumbles incoherently and presses against him. They start to walk away.

It's growing dark and Santino is alone, breathing hard and staring angrily at the ground. Behind him he can hear the policemen talking to the woman, their voices hushed in the crisp air. More than anything he wants to run up to the woman and bash her head in, wants to punch her and kick her and watch her blood run into the gutter... the voices... make them silence

He looks up and sees the little girl staring straight at him, slung over the policeman's shoulder. Her wide eyes meet his gaze, and suddenly he feels ashamed. He might as well be a pervert, going to the subway, touching people when they didn't know. And it was as if the mother had seen inside him, knew how he felt the moment he picked up her daughter and held her to his chest. He liked the way she felt, the comforting weight in his arms. He wasn't a pedophile, but he was disturbingly close: New Year's with no one to kiss

His mind whispers the antiphon, the choral plea echoing in his head, O vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite et videte...

--------------------------------------------------------

[Santino Morrison-Novak]

THE SUM OF OUR FEARS
[VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA
AUGUST 2007]

[/font]
--------------------------------------------------------[/center]

It's another night, and Sonny is starting to feel restless again. Tonight is not like any other night. Tonight is the night he broke up with his girlfriend, or better yet, found her fucking some guy in their very own bed. dirty ass whore!

He is driving around one of the shittiest parts of Valkyrie, looking for something that will take the edge off. Scanning the side of the road and stopping at the red light.

It was there when he sees her face pressed on his window. Her fingers tapping on the glass.

"Hey big boy, do you need a date?" She asks, her Hispanic accent very palpable

Sonny doesn't say anything, but just unlocks the passenger door and watches through the windshield as she makes her way around the car, opens the door and jumps in the seat next to him.

As soon as the light turns green, Sonny takes off, wheels screeching and leaving a cloud of smoke as he turns around the corner.

He drives with no apparent direction, and without saying a word. She looks out the window probably wondering where they hell this man is taking her. Her eyes open wide when he finally enters a used car garage and makes a stop.

When the car comes to a halt, she smiles and starts giving him the 411

”so I don’t kiss, and I don’t like being spanked either so don’t even think about it. Blow jobs are 30 bucks and if you want me to swallow, then that is extra” She talks with confidence, but still there is a slight desperation in her voice

Sonny doesn’t even look at her while she talks, he reaches over and opens the glove compartment. There is a roll of duct tape inside and Sonny grabs it and holds it in his hand as she continues

”Fucking is debatable, it depends on…the…position. What are you doing?” She opens her eyes wide as she notices the tape in his hand.

Sonny launches at her, slapping a piece over her mouth. She struggles and tries to fight him off, scratching the hell out of his face. Sonny uses some of the tape to tie her wrists together.

He then looks at his reflection on the rearview mirror, the scrape was pretty visible but not deep enough to leave a scar.

”Fucking great”, He says as he opens the car door and steps out. He walks up to her side and opens her door. Then he grabs her by the arms and yanks her to her feet.

As he drags her behind him her ankle snaps and she stumbles. "Move!" Sonny yanks her back up again, pops the trunk and brutally shoves her inside.

They drive for what seems like hours before she hears the brakes squeal and feels the van stop. She hears the front door open and close and hears his footsteps walk around to the back. From the way his footsteps sound he is walking on dirt.

The trunks opens and it floods with moonlight. They are on a dirt road parked next to a large, yellow field.

Nowhere to run.

Sonny grabs her by the arm and yanks her outside. She puts her weight on her sprained ankle and she stumbles, falling to the ground.

Birds are chirping.

This is the last thing you’ll ever hear.

Birds chirping.

Sonny walks up beside her and kneels down on the ground. His boots are covered in dust. He takes her head in his hands as if to snap her neck, roughly grabbing her by the jaw.

“crying is only going to worsen your situation,” Sonny says. “You look scared. When you got in my car you didn’t seem so...domineering."

He moves her face from side to side, studying her intently. “I wonder which is the act? The mousy victim or the Tinkerbell cunt?”

She jerks her shoulders against his grip but he holds her down.

“I don’t think I’m going to kill you after all,” Sonny says. He brushes his thumb over her bare shoulder. “I’d like to see how you work, first.”

------------

Hours later he is sitting across from her, staring at her with empty eyes.

You look at me like I am less than nothing. I see it in your eyes. The thought of me touching you like this makes your skin crawl.

Her eyes fly open and she sits up. She has been crying and her face feels taut and her shoulders exhausted. She doesn’t know where she is, and that is a good thing.

"How are we feeling?," Sonny asks, and she closes her eyes.

What a night this has been, he had hauled her out of the streets, dragged her to this abandoned place, her face bleeding all over his white shirt. He had cleaned her up and stripped her down, gagging her tight so she couldn't speak.

And this is when I fuck you

"What’s the matter Adriana?"he asks.

"You should be excited, I can figure out how you work,” he adds, dragging his hand across her skin. “It won’t be rape,” he says. “You’ll be begging me not to stop.”

Cause I'm a monster, nothing more

--------------------------------------------------------

[Santino Morrison-Novak]

THE SUM OF OUR FEARS
[VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA
AUGUST 2007]

[/font]
--------------------------------------------------------[/center]

“Wake up. Waaaaake uuuuuup.” Adriana hears a deep voice sing-songing the command, feels fingers brush over her face, push her curls back.

She groans at the buzz in her head, eyes opening slightly. She is lying stomach-down on a mattress of some kind, and there is someone beside her, someone dulled at the edges, but slowly becoming clearer in her vision.

“Morning sleepyhead.”

Adriana gasps and attempts to jerk away from the stranger, but finds she can’t, her body immobilized by the heavy chains on her wrists which clang against the sides of the bed to echo throughout the room.

Her heart thunders as her mind flits back to the moments before she was unconscious. Getting into the truck, trying to fight off his attacker...

Sonny crouched beside her, smiling at her...

His breath is raspy, constricted, frightened...

“What...what do you want?” Adriana asks, becoming aware that she isn’t wearing a shirt as the cool air of the room wraps her in a chilled invisible blanket.

“I want the last week of your life,” Sonny says, tracing a finger gently over Adriana’s bare shoulder. In attempting to jerk away from the touch, Adriana only succeeds in causing the chain to bite harder into her left wrist.

“You’re going to kill me...” she whispers.

“Yes.”

And it’s all a bad dream...a frightening fog over reality. There’s no possible way she could really be at this man’s mercy.

“Please...please-” Adriana begs.

Sonny, shaking his head and tsking, “shh, shh, there’s plenty of time for that later. We haven’t even been properly introduced. Adriana, my name is Sonny. I took the liberty of looking through your wallet...nothing too impressive.”


“I don’t...there are people who...”

“No one knows where to find you, and you won’t be able to convince me otherwise. Now, what do you want for breakfast? French toast or cereal?”

Adriana flinches when Sonny stands. She swallows, struggling to hold back the panic that threatens to overwhelm her. Breakfast. If Sonny is giving her breakfast...

Perhaps she’ll be able to free himself. It’ll only take a moment. Just one moment...

“Which one?” Sonny asks.

“Fre-french toast,” Adriana says.

Sonny nods, and Adriana watches him for as long as she can, until Sonny disappears around the doorway of the next room.

Adriana looks at the chain on her left wrist, moving it carefully so that it doesn’t clank loudly against the bed. There doesn’t appear to be any way to slip out of it or break it. It’s designed in such a way that even if Adriana were to dislocate her thumb, she probably couldn’t slide free. She decides not to chance it...yet...

Shouldn’t have helped. Shouldn’t have stepped on that car.

No daughter. Never was.

So stupid.

Going to die.

The nausea rolls through Adriana, and she closes her eyes, pressing her face into the pillow to fend off the urge to vomit. She’s going to die. Going to die, and it’s her own stupid fault.

She can’t help the frustrated tears that leak onto the pillow.

As the sounds and smells of french toast sizzling in the other room reach Adriana, she pulls her head off the pillow.

She has a week. A whole week to figure this out. Escape isn’t impossible.

Just a single moment. That’s all it takes.

------

Adriana tenses when Sonny enters the room again, carrying a plate, which he sets down on a small table beside the bed. He pulls a set of keys from his pocket, and Adriana’s heart leaps.

“I imagine you want to sit up for this,” Sonny says.

Adriana nods, and a small smile quirks Sonny’s lips. He walks around the bed and leans down, easily undoing the chain on Adriana’s right wrist. Then, he does the same to Adriana’s left wrist.

Adriana is in motion almost before Sonny is done unchaining her, jumping up, raising a fist to hit Sonny, until she feels the cold press of sharp steel against her chin, and is forced to freeze, looking up at Sonny’s smiling face.

“Have a seat,” Sonny nods down at the bed, then uses the knife to slowly guide Adriana to a sitting position, “right arm please.”

Adriana has no choice but to hold her right arm out, and have Sonny attach the chain firmly to her wrist. The blade leaves her chin, causing Adriana to wince as Sonny intentionally nicks her while pulling away.

“I would have expected nothing less on your first try,” Sonny says.

“I-I have to use the bathroom,” Adriana says quietly, and it’s true.

“Maybe after you’ve eaten breakfast. If you’re good.”

“I’m not hungry,” Adriana insists, trailing her hand over her chin, and looking at the blood that comes away on her fingers.

“You don’t eat, then you don’t get to go to the bathroom. And forget about drinking anything when you’re thirsty.”

Adriana looks up at Sonny, and finally nods, “I’ll eat.”

Sonny takes the plate and sets it on Adriana’s lap, placing the fork in her left hand.

“I know you’re probably right-handed, but you’re going to have to make do,” Sonny says.

Adriana says nothing as she awkwardly attempts to cut the french toast with her left hand, and shovel a piece into her mouth. It tastes alright. She doesn’t know if Sonny would drug her food, and right now she doesn’t really care. Worry, fear, and regret are consuming her thoughts. All she wants is freedom from these restraints. The chance to catch Sonny off-guard.

Now she knows about the knife. Next time she can anticipate that little action.

“How is it?” Sonny asks, pointing at the plate.

“It’s fine,” Adriana mutters, dropping a piece of french toast by accident, eating with her left hand being far more awkward than she’d imagined.

“I’ll take you to the bathroom now. If you try anything, if you try to fight me, I promise that you will be in a lot of pain, do you understand?”

Adriana nods, quickly setting her plate aside. She can wait, learn. She can be patient.

Sonny crosses the room, and undoes the cuff, knife held at the ready, “stand up.”

Slowly, Adriana does, allowing Sonny to guide her toward the back of the room, to a white door, the paint chipped in places. Sonny opens the door, and allows Adriana to step inside, before closing it.

“Call me when you’re done. And don’t try anything. There’s nothing in there that can be used as a weapon.”

Adriana places her hands on the edge of the sink, chest heaving from a panic attack.

Sonny’s done this so many times before. No one else has gotten away. Sonny has murdered at least a dozen.

At least twelve.

Never really stopped to talk to anyone. This was knew to her, but she was handling it quite nicely

Adriana runs some water in the sink, splashing it over her face, shivering when it hits her bare chest. Use the bathroom, and go back. Her only choice.

Otherwise...

A few minutes later, she turns off the sink and wipes her hands on her jeans. She still has her jeans at least.

Adriana turns to the door.

“I’m done.”

Shuffling.

“Okay, open the door slowly, then walk back to sit on the bed. You can choose which wrist gets cuffed this time.”

[/color]

She can choose. She’ll get to choose how she’s restrained. Adriana isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as she slowly opens the bathroom door and slides out into the room, eyes on the bed to keep herself from looking at that knife.

She sits on the bed, scooting back, holding out a shaking left wrist, which Sonny casually snaps into the inch-wide cuff on the left of the bed.

“Do you want more breakfast?”[/color] Sonny asks.

Adriana’s gaze is on Sonny’s face as she slowly shakes her head no.

“Alright,”[/color] Sonny says, grabbing the plate, and heading toward the kitchen.

“Could-” Sonny pauses when Adriana speaks, “could I get a shirt...please?”

Sonny turns to look at her, his face expressionless, “we’ll see.”

Then he turns back to the kitchen, and Adriana stares at the empty space where the killer had just been standing.

There’s time. There’s time.

There’s still time.

--------------------------------------------------------

[/font][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]