Final Deleted Scene


This was the way the epilogue originally began:

I lay in bed, either unable or unwilling to go to sleep.  The canopy above me was shrouded in darkness that allowed for no light and lots of imagination.  Mine was currently running wild, a projector in my head was using the dark backdrop to run a film.  In the film, a hooded figure, dressed as a Satanist from some cheesy-cult film, was stringing a woman up by the ankles.  The figure had a feeling of familiarity to it.  His movements, catlike and quick, reminded me of someone.  His unfathomable height disturbed my psyche.  I knew, without seeing the face, that my Satanist, was Malachi.  It fit, he was my greatest demon.  ‘

There were times I believed that he was the anonymous fan that sent me macabre postcards and letters.  I could almost see him doing it.  But the handwriting was not a match.  While Malachi was not particularly meticulous, his script was distinctive.  Bold strokes that ended abruptly and then randomly picked up again with the start of a new letter.  No, my fan’s handwriting was more like that of the “From Hell” letter, the loops invading the letters in the lines below.  

Still, I watched as Malachi hung his victim from the tree and teased her with the flames of a torch.  I shut my eyes, bringing the imaginary film to an end.  Malachi was many things, but he wasn’t a serial killer.  Yet.  There was always a “yet” with Malachi.  

Of course, the same could be said of me.  I had killed two serial killers before joining the SCTU.  Two more since I joined.  Not every serial I encountered died, but the percentage was higher than it should have been.  And some part of me enjoyed it.  Enjoyed watching the life drain from their eyes.  I found satisfaction in the knowledge that they would never kill again.  I found satisfaction in the knowledge that I would.

My clock told me dawn was coming quickly.  Nyleena was supposed to be here today.  If I could turn off my brain, I’d manage two hours of sleep before she arrived.  But my brain didn’t turn off and cocooned in my bed, I waited for dawn.

Now, I haven’t posted a reminder in months, so I will today:  If you love a book, write a review!  We authors need them!

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