The Forlorn Lovers

Carter reached into the trashcan, searching for food. He didn't care what it tasted like or what condition it was in; he just wanted something to ease the empty throbbing in his stomach. His whole body was racked with pain and he wanted at least one part of his body not to hurt. He was standing under a graffiti-covered bridge while the rain hammered outside. While he didn't make a smile or even a grunt, he was relieved to find a half-eaten hotdog. He walked outside and sat on a bench, gorging himself on the ratty food. He leaned back, letting the rain wash away the dark bloodstains in his clothes.

Carter was in his early twenties, had medium-length matted hair, and a shady beginning of a beard from days of not shaving. He had a sickly complexion and sunken bloodshot eyes. His build was more muscle than fat, but that was due mostly to how little he ate. He was a man between life and death, with his body leaning towards the latter and his soul so hollow that it might as well be the same. His mind was even less healthy, and his actions in the past would prove that, along with the actions of the near future.

His life had been a tragedy, marked by disease and death. Little could be said about his personality, there wasn't much to describe. His emotions were gone, he had no tastes in music or art, and a path down memory lane didn't exactly bring up any happy stories. The person formerly known as Carter Locke was gone, his identity was gone, and pain and insanity had taken everything away. All that was left was agony. It was all he felt and it was his identity. Pain was all that remained of what was left of his life, and soon more people would feel his pain.

Eleanor Rose was sitting in her dorm room, watching the news on TV. Her eyes were filled with fear and her hands were over her mouth. The story of the evening was a very grim one: another campus massacre had taken place, the fifth in a brutal chain going back several months. The story was the same in each case: a stranger enters a campus house party, pulls out some sort of machete-like weapon, and begins slaughtering everyone. Over a hundred people had been murdered so far, with the killer still on the loose.

Eleanor was nineteen and in both the prime of her youth and beauty. She had pale skin that looked like marble, bright blue eyes that seemed to glow, and long straight hair that was darker than granite. She was also gifted with the figure of a ballerina, but with a fuller chest. Regardless of her physical beauty, she always hid her body with very bland or dark clothes and multiple layers whenever possible. She had always been a shy girl, always lonely but wanting to be alone, brought on by life with parents that couldn't care less. The only reason why she was in college was because she managed to get a scholarship. She considered herself lucky that alcohol didn't run through her family, or abuse would have occupied most of her life: physical, psychological, and even sexual. It had left her forever in fear of the world.

The door opened and her roommate Anna stepped in. The blonde beauty had a heart that was the same shade as her hair, but she also had a pussy stretched by over a dozen frat boys. Ever since the two had met, Anna had taken it upon herself to pull Eleanor out of her shell.

"What are you doing? There is a party down the road with your name on it!"

"I'm not going."

"What, are you listening to those media horror stories? Come on, there is no chance of that maniac heading our way. Listen, you make excuses every time. If you go out now, your curse will be lifted!"

"Listen, I just don't want to go. That killer out there should be reason enough. Besides, I have work tomorrow."

"Well what are you going to do? Sit in the dark and feel bad for yourself? You're always saying that you wish you had someone to talk to, well how are you supposed to find someone like that if you always choose to be alone?" Eleanor was silent. "Listen, just come this time, try and talk to people, and if you aren't happy after ten minutes, we'll both come back."

"Ok."

"Come on, honey. You REALLY need a drink," Anna said with a smile as she pulled Eleanor out into the hall. As Eleanor followed her unwanted life coach to the stairwell, she tugged on her sleeves, making sure that the scars on her wrists were covered.

Loud music bounced off the walls of the house and was distorted by the conversations of the drunken college kids. Eleanor stood by the staircase, desiring someone to talk too, but too shy and nervous to actually say something to someone. Across the room, Anna was flirting with a buzzed football player.

Carter was standing across the street from the house, nearly invisible with his body hidden behind a small tree.

'Kill them all,' a voice hissed in his mind.

'Slaughter them,' another voice ordered.

"I know," Carter muttered.

Make them pay, a third voice said.

"Shut up, just shut up!"

'They all deserve to die!'

While the sound was all in his head, he instinctively tried to cover his ears and block it out.

"I will end their lives. I will make them pay for the crimes they have and will commit. Just be silent and stay out of my way."

His tone was so cold and harsh that his breath was almost turning to fog in front of his face. When the voices in his mind didn't reply, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, making his way towards the house.

A knock thumped from the front door, but it was barely heard over the garbled noise of the party. The drunken hostess staggered over to the front door and wrenched it open. Her open cleavage was soaked with beer, most of which from the plastic cup that she was swinging around.

"Hey, come on in! There's beer in the kitchen and pussy in the bedroom!"

The figure standing at the door slowly raised his head, glaring at her with sunken bloodshot eyes. "You are guilty."

He reached into a sheath hidden in his overcoat and drew a strip of rusty steel, honed into an amateur sword with only a layer of fabric as the handle. The blade was jagged and serrated, but that was only a mistake in the attempted creation of an edge. Before the girl could even realize what he was holding, he lashed out and stabbed her in the gut, piercing her through. The rusty edge burst out of her back with blood oozing from the jagged points that ran up the edge. As he pulled the blade free, a woman spotted the dead hostess fall to her knees and screamed.

"You are all guilty!" Carter snarled as everyone in the vicinity turned to him.

Eleanor stared at Carter and released a trembling gasp. Even from that distance, Eleanor was able to look his eyes and see the hatred within him. Never before had she witnessed much anger and pain in someone or felt so overwhelmed and crushed by its intensity. He didn't even seem to be human. She ducked down to the floor, hoping she wouldn't be noticed.

The madman bolted forward, swinging his mock sword wildly and slashing at the people closest to the door. With each swing, the serrated blade would tear through flesh with ease. His second victim was another woman and he stabbed her through the chest, right through her open cleavage. He then turned around and struck a man who had come forward to see what was going on. Carter slashed him from shoulder to hip, severing almost every artery in his chest so that he would bleed to death in less than a minute.

Until now, the party had been so cramped that no one could run away, but that wouldn't last long. People were already shoving each other as they tried to get to another part of the house, and even with the slow stream through the backdoor, they were all packed together like cows in a slaughter house. Eleanor was one of them, trying to get away, but all of the frantic partiers just pinned her to the wall in their own desperation, as if she were thrown against the rocks by a raging river. She was forced to hide under a table and wait for the crowd to thin out.

By now, Carter was completely blood-drunk. The pain that racked his body had not lessened, but it was now being fought by a sensation of fulfillment. The voices that haunted his mind were finally silent, his disease could not stop him, and until his mission was complete, he would never end his path of destruction. With that sword in his hand, he had abandoned his physical form, leaving only the pain and vengeance in his heart to wreak havoc upon those he deemed guilty. He did not enjoy killing, but it was something he had to do; it was his purpose.

Moving into the crowd, he hacked, stabbed, and slashed wildly at everyone in his reach. Blood sprayed with each injury, soaking the walls, floor, and Carter's clothes. Bodies were falling like dominos as he worked his way through the horde. No one could even hurt him, because they were all too drunk to properly fight back. He stepped towards a couch where a couple was making out. Even with all the screams, they were completely unaware of what was going on.

"Oh shit!" the boy cursed, looking over his girlfriend's shoulder and spotting the bloody sword in Carter's hand.

With a wide slash, Carter beheaded the girl, sending up a fountain of blood. Still erect from his girlfriend straddling his lap, the man didn't have time to react as the killer slashed his throat, giving his neck bloody smile. Throwing aside his jacket, a football player ran towards Carter with a broken beer bottle in his hand. Carter lazily turned around and didn't bother to stop the jock from stabbing him just bellow the ribs. The ring of lacerations further soaked his already bloody shirt, but the tormented swordsmen didn't even react.

"Do you honestly think that you can make me feel more pain than I am enduring now?" he asked before stabbing his next victim through the gut.

By now the house was almost empty, as the partiers were rushing out the backdoor or climbing out the windows as fast as they could, but there were still over two dozen people in the first floor alone. Carter spotted a group of partiers at a window, frantically trying to open it. In desperation, one of them punched through the glass, tearing up his hand. He then tried to climb out, while getting torn and shredded on the remaining shards. The others tried to push him through so they could escape.

"You cannot escape your sins!" Carter roared in a blood drunk daze before charging towards them.

The partiers screamed and begged for mercy, but the madman did not hesitate in cutting them all down. From under her table, Eleanor had her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle her fearful sobs. When Carter had his back turned, Eleanor left her hiding place, running towards the staircase. Hearing her, Carter turned around and gave chase. With his heavy footfalls behind her, Eleanor was more terrified than ever before in her life. Just the distance from the table to the staircase felt like it was a mile long, with the serial killer behind her more resembling a pack of rabid wolves, snapping at her heels.

He reached her before she could climb up the stairs, grabbing her by the wrist. He turned her around and threw her down at the stairs, raising his sword above his head. Eleanor turned to face him, and the second their eyes met, Carter stopped. In a single moment, he seemed to become like a statue, holding his sword over her in mid-stab. Eleanor was in the same state, unable to move. She was fixated on his face and eyes, which had completely changed. Before, they showed only hatred and agony; the unstoppable desire to kill, but so much misery that came with it, as if killing was the only way to relieve his pain.

Now the hatred and misery were turned inwards. He looked like tears were about to fall from his bloodshot eyes and his face showed more misery and pain than Eleanor thought possible, as if she were looking at someone who had just had everything they loved destroyed in front of them.

Carter couldn't believe his eyes, there was no way that this could be real. He analyzed and focused on every single detail of her visage, from the complexion of her teardrop-shaped face, to her bright blue eyes, to her obsidian-shade hair. Every single centimeter of her beautiful face sent a wave of toxic pain through his icy heart.

Why? Why do I have to face this? After every hardship I've suffered, why must I be tormented even further?

Carter and Eleanor were so still, it was as if time had frozen, and they were both staring at each other without even blinking. Carter lurched forward and covered his mouth to stifle a bloody cough. Eleanor gasped as a few spots of his blood peppered her face, contrasting brightly against her pale skin. He staggered back, coughing uncontrollably with blood oozing from between his fingers. Again, his expression had changed. Now he seemed full of fear, as if he were more afraid of Eleanor than Eleanor was of him. She wished to say something, but felt like she couldn't even breathe. Carter staggered to the door, wrenching it open and running out into the cold night, still coughing up blood. Eleanor remained on the stairs, not sure of what to do or say.

Finally, the softest words she had ever spoken passed her lips, "Don't leave me."

Police swarmed through the entire university, searching every single room for Carter. The house itself was filled with officers, all analyzing the bodies and getting statements from any survivors they could find. There was so much blood that it was soaking through the floorboard and dripping into the basement, and the body count was incomprehensible. Many of the forensic investigators struggled not to throw up or even cry at the sight of the gruesome massacre.

Eleanor was sitting on the stairs, wrapped in a blanket that the police had given her, though she wasn't even aware of it. Her mind was completely fixated on that indescribable stretch of time when she and Carter stared into each other's eyes. Never in her life had she ever been so terrified and afraid for her life, but also never felt so... comforted. As scared as she was of the serial killer that had just massacred dozens of people right in front of her, looking into his eyes actually made her feel safe and feel like she wasn't alone. She hadn't even wiped away the dots of blood on her face.

Anna walked over to Eleanor, mentally and physically deflated from the night. Like her friend, she was wrapped in a police blanket and shaken to her core. "Come on, the cops say we can leave," she said, desperately looking for a place to rest her gaze that wasn't soaked with blood.

"Ok," Eleanor whispered and she stood up, letting the blanket fall away.

As they walked out of the slaughterhouse, Anna turned to her friend. "I saw you, you were the one person he didn't kill. He completely froze when you saw you. Eleanor... what happened? Why didn't he hurt you?"

Eleanor was hesitant to answer. "I don't know, but I hope I meet him again so that I can ask him."

Carter fell to his knees in a field on the outskirts of town. His bloody sword lay beside him and his body shook as he screamed in agony. The pain in his body was so terrible that it went beyond comprehension, but it was the pain in his soul that made him sob. The dark storm clouds that filled the sky answered his roar, cracking with ear-splitting volume. In one great deluge, rain began to pour down from the tempest, bombarding Carter and the surrounding landscape. The ground around him became red as all the gore had had soaked his clothes was purged, like a spirit being released of its sins.

Carter looked up at the sky, letting the raindrops wash away the blood and his own tears. The image of the girl on the staircase was burned into his mind, reigniting old feelings and old memories. The heart he thought he had lost had reappeared, but with it, his pain was greater now more than ever. He howled at the top of his lungs, trying to forget Eleanor's face and the taunting sting it left in his heart.

Classes were suspended while a ceremony for the slain students was prepared. Therapists and grief counselors flooded the university to provide psychiatric help for people who were traumatized by the massacre. The people who were in the house during the massacre were both treated as heroes and victims. Almost every student who had attended the party took advantage of this, looking for attention to act like they were right in the middle of the killing, even if they didn't actually see anything.

Eleanor was curled up in her bed, having spent the last two days drifting in and out of consciousness. Her mental state had not changed since the night of the massacre; every single thought that passed through her mind was completely focused on her encounter with the killer, and that indescribable feeling of when their eyes met. On the other side of the dorm room, Anna was packing her things. Almost half of the students at the university were leaving to spend time with their families before classes resumed. They were trying to get as far away from the scene of the massacre as possible and try to cope with it, even if it meant just temporarily forgetting it.

"I can't believe you aren't going home to see your parents," Anna said.

"Just because my parents are there doesn't mean it's home."

"Well you should really get out of here, get a change of scenery."

"The last time I did that, I was nearly killed."

"I'm sorry, but I'm just trying to help."

Eleanor said nothing in return. Anna sighed and picked up an index card on her desk, quickly scribbling something on it with the first pen she found. She set it down on Eleanor's bedside table. "This is the address and phone number of my parents house. Feel free to come over."

After a night of lying awake in the dark, Eleanor finally rolled over and looked at the card that Anna had left, using the pale light of the rising sun to read it. She began mulling over the idea of meeting up with Anna, but in truth, she had already made the decision. She could stay here in bed or go to a place where she would be welcomed.

The sun was shining brightly on the country road, with the roaring of the engine in Eleanor's car being the only sound that bounced between the two walls of trees. Beside her was a map with the route to Anna's marked. Working part time, she couldn't afford a smart phone. She cursed when her eyes flicked to the gas gauge, showing that the tank was almost empty. Her swear was replaced by a huff of relief as she saw a rest stop sign.

She pulled up to the gas station, seeing no one else. There was only one other car and it belonged to the cashier inside. The pump was analog, simple fill your tank and go in to pay. As the price dial rolled with the pouring gas, her eyes wandered to the surrounding area, finally fell on a homeless man, digging in the trash on the shady side of the building. He had a shaggy head of hair and a long black overcoat.

Eleanor was shaken from her daze by the ding of the gas pump, signaling that the tank was full. She hooked up the nozzle and walked into the station to pay. She stood by the counter, waiting for the cashier to finish organizing cigarettes. Again, Eleanor's mind drifted, this time returning to the homeless man she had seen outside. Something didn't seem quite right...

The gas station was miles away from town, so why would a homeless person walk all the way out here? Police would have picked him up if he walked along the side of the highway, plus there wasn't any food out here in the wilderness. That guy wasn't out here looking for food; he was traveling cross-country.

"Uh, excuse me..." the cashier said, drawing her attention.

"Sorry, I've been zoning out a lot today," she said, handing the cashier a debit card.

Her card was returned to her and she walked outside. Halfway to her car, she came to a dead stop. She had seen almost a hundred homeless people in town; one wearing a black overcoat and digging in the trash was pretty common. But if there was even the slightest chance that the man at the side of the building was who she thought, she had to see it to the end.