{"id":146,"date":"2008-10-16T17:30:00","date_gmt":"2008-10-16T17:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stallioncornell.wordpress.com\/2008\/10\/16\/chapter-three-part-one"},"modified":"2026-07-01T12:33:28","modified_gmt":"2026-07-01T18:33:28","slug":"chapter-three-part-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/chapter-three-part-one\/","title":{"rendered":"Chapter Three: Part One"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’m enjoying this probably more than the rest of you, but here’s Chapter Three of my magnum opus. If you want to catch up, the Prologue is here<\/a>, here’s Chapter One<\/a>, and here’s Chapter Two.<\/a><\/p>\n

Right now, Chapter Three is over 12,000 words long. I need to break it into pieces, but I’m not quite sure how. This part at the beginning is only 2355 words, and it fits together as a piece, but I’m not sure if it’s long enough to sustain itself as an entire chapter.<\/p>\n

I’ll post more pieces of the chapter in coming days.<\/p>\n

In the meantime, read and enjoy. Even if you don’t enjoy, read and comment<\/span>.<\/p>\n

_________________<\/p>\n

At least I can still bleed.<\/p>\n

David Chakiris found unlikely comfort in this thought as twilight fell on the ornate rock garden by the swimming pool. He looked over the Bel Air estate that had been torn down and rebuilt to replace the home in which he\u2019d grown up. He\u2019d been reluctant to throw a party in his father\u2019s absence, but his girlfriend seemed to think it was the thing to do, and it may very well have been. All these cheerleaders scurrying around the halls made him feel awkward, and then angry. This is my house, he thought. Why should I feel awkward? Despite his father\u2019s social standing, he had never been able to master the obligatory social graces, and he took some pleasure in the thought that it wasn\u2019t going to matter anymore.<\/p>\n

As he listened to the man-made stream trickling over the stones, he relished the warm, red gush pouring down the length of his forearm, even though it all began to seem strangely innocuous.<\/p>\n

He was starting to get woozy.<\/p>\n

Although he was entirely stationary, the sounds of the party raging in the house behind him grew more distant, and David found himself of two minds as to what he should do next. Do I stop the bleeding, wash up, and go back to playing the good host? Or do I let nature take its course?<\/p>\n

He had to do something. He almost wanted to do the right thing. He just wasn\u2019t quite sure what it was.<\/p>\n

Twelve people who were alive yesterday were dead today. I did that.<\/p>\n

I killed them.<\/p>\n

He had seen death before, and it had unsettled him. Unnerved him. But this was the first time the blood was on his hands.<\/p>\n

I<\/span> killed them.<\/p>\n

He wasn\u2019t sure if his conscience would ever let him think about anything else. He hadn\u2019t meant to do that, he told himself over and over again. Surely that counts for something. He kept repeating that, mantra-like, for his conscience\u2019s sake, but his conscience was still at war with the fevered rush of pleasure that had enveloped him the moment those cars came plunging off the overpass. Guilt washed over him in waves, cresting and falling, but each wave was stronger than the last, and the perverse delight of killing was still burning too brightly to ever be fully extinguished.<\/p>\n

No. This isn\u2019t me, he thought. I never wanted to be a killer.<\/p>\n

Anyway, it was all moot, wasn\u2019t it? He had no idea how he\u2019d done it before. So why did he want to do it again? These questions were the impetus behind his decision, made over the course of the evening, to proceed with a simple, elegant solution. Since he had already killed twelve people, all he had to do to end it was kill one more.<\/p>\n

That way, everyone\u2019s happy.<\/p>\n

This was the perfect place for it, too. He staggered toward the diving board at the far end of the pool, trying not to imagine what someone would think if they found him, bloodless, lying at the bottom, but he knew it would be better that way. He tried not to think of the dreams that would haunt the one to discover him. And anyway, there\u2019d be less mess to clean up.<\/p>\n

His mantra was lost. He was definitely on the edge of consciousness now, and it was getting harder and harder to remain standing. He barely noticed the sliding glass door opening behind him, or the slender, heavily decorated brunette who stepped out on to the patio. He caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, and he thought, vaguely, that she looked very much like his new girlfriend. What would she think if she knew he\u2019d taken the bus today? Pretty girls don\u2019t date bus riders, and, if nothing else, she was such a pretty girl. Pretty stupid, too, but you can\u2019t have everything, which was really the whole problem in a nutshell, now wasn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n

That might have been his final thought if she hadn\u2019t opened her mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cDavid?\u201d<\/p>\n

From where she was standing, the shadow prevented her from seeing the stained knife dangling precariously from the end of his non-sliced arm, or the pastiche of blood that smeared the front of his shirt. You\u2019d think, David thought, that she\u2019d at least be able to smell something, some kind of blood musk\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cThere<\/span> you are!\u201d she squealed, oblivious. \u201cYou are, like, so<\/span> in trouble. Everyone\u2019s looking for you, and I\u2019m all\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Her voice trailed off when he collapsed into a heap and dropped the knife, which rang out against the cold stone patio.<\/p>\n

\u201cDAVID!\u201d She ran to him and stopped short. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong? You\u2019re, like, all bloody!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCareful,\u201d David mumbled, \u201cyou might soil your miniskirt.\u201d It was a clever line, but David knew the moment was ruined. Why did she have to spoil this? No, it\u2019s not her fault. It\u2019s mine. Can\u2019t I get anything right?<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing<\/span>?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t matter,\u201d David answered. \u201cI\u2019m not doing it anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

His dreams of a fashionable death dashed, he hobbled over to the fountain and plunged his arm into the stream, applying pressure to the wound with his good hand. Blood and water ran together until everything was clear, and within moments, David found himself newly focused and alert. His girlfriend just stood planted, blinking, her mouth hanging wide open.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d be prettier, David thought, if she learned to breathe through her nose.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only a flesh wound,\u201d he quipped with his best Monty Python accent, trying to keep things light but knowing full well she\u2019d miss the reference. He watched her kneel down to examine the discarded weapon. She was shivering with revulsion.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is, like, a knife!\u201d she winced, holding the offending instrument by the blade with her thumb and forefinger as if it were the tail of a dead mouse.<\/p>\n

\u201cNope. Not \u2018like a knife.\u2019 It\u2019s the real thing, lady,\u201d said David, all the while toweling off his arm with the dry part of his shirt. Then he examined the place where the wound was supposed to be. The bleeding had stopped, and there was only a trace outline of where he\u2019d broken the skin, like a long-healed scar.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

He had recovered completely in just a few seconds.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
Maybe I can\u2019t bleed after all, he thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cI really can\u2019t do anything right,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously, what are you doing?\u201d she asked again.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously?\u201d David answered back. \u201cYou mean it? You\u2019re serious this time?\u201d<\/p>\n

No, that\u2019s not right. Why am I taunting her? What is this? What\u2019s happening to me?<\/p>\n

At the same time his head was clearing, the pretty girlfriend was descending into the throes of panic. \u201cHelp!\u201d she screamed back to the house. \u201cWe need help out here!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, we really don\u2019t,\u201d David said, and instantly, he was down on his knees and right upon her, slapping his hand over her mouth before she could shout again. He was sure he had been too forceful and had hurt her, and was disgusted with himself for not caring. \u201cThat\u2019s enough of that,\u201d he hissed with more than a hint of a threat. Ignoring her resistance, he, a little too roughly, raised them both up to their feet.<\/p>\n

She wasn\u2019t trying to resist. She was merely whimpering now, weak and afraid. David had no use for her.<\/p>\n

Oh, how I hate this, David thought, and then realized that it wasn\u2019t true. No, he didn\u2019t hate this. He hated himself for how much he was enjoying this.<\/p>\n

Yet she was absolutely terrified. And so was David. It took everything he had to keep from breaking her neck. He felt his hand start to swell, a fresh but familiar bloodlust engorging him, consuming him. She\u2019s too pretty, David told himself. Much too pretty. I\u2019ll bet her blood is pretty, too.<\/p>\n

Enough. Enough! He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and he told her to do the same. And then they breathed together, and he felt his conscience awake, and it incrementally overcame his murderous impulses. He spoke to her in a very slow, deliberate voice, as if he were calming a young child after a tantrum.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow you listen to me. Are you listening? Blink twice for yes.\u201d<\/p>\n

She blinked twice. Then she sort of nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Nobody else has to know about this. Right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Another two blinks. This was too silly for David, so he loosened his grip just enough to allow her to nod properly.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn fact, nobody else is ever<\/span> going to know about this. Because you\u2019re not going to say one word about what you saw out here. Do you understand me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes welled with tears as she nodded, slowly. He nodded along with her.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d he said in his most patronizing tone. \u201cBecause we both know how bad it would be if you couldn\u2019t keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut. So as soon as my hand comes off of your mouth, this will never have happened, and we\u2019re both going to go back in there and have a few laughs at our fun little party.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes seemed to brighten a bit. Was she trying to smile? David thought. I can salvage this. Maybe this won\u2019t be such a disaster after all.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow I\u2019m going to take my hand off of your mouth, and you\u2019re not going to make a sound. Are we clear on this?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded once more time.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on out here?\u201d asked a sharp, female voice from behind them.<\/p>\n

David wheeled around to find himself facing a petite blonde who he recognized as one of those other high school cheerleaders. Startled, he dropped his hand from his girlfriend\u2019s mouth, and she took advantage of the moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s hurting me, Lisa!\u201d she shrieked. \u201cHe\u2019s hurting me!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you,\u201d David seethed, \u201c to keep your stupid mouth shut<\/span>!\u201d He yanked her by the arm and then hurled her to the ground with enough force to make a sickening crunch as she hit the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cVikki!\u201d Lisa scrambled to her side and stumbled over the bloody knife. She looked down and gasped in horror. \u201cHe stabbed you?!\u201d she said to Vikki, picking up the knife with a firm grasp on the handle.<\/p>\n

Not so dainty, this one, David thought. Might take a bit more to bring her to tears.<\/p>\n

Vikki tried to answer, but she was incoherent. She was cradling what looked like a broken arm, wailing hysterically.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor your information,\u201d David intoned with an eerie calmness, \u201cNobody has been stabbed, least of all, her. I know you\u2019re both just high school girls, but I\u2019d appreciate a little perspective.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lisa shot him a withering glance before she gently eased Vikki to her feet, cradling her elbows in the palms of her hands. \u201cYou need a doctor, honey,\u201d she said soothingly. Vikki nodded, still shaking, trying to get her tears under control.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d David said, taking a series of small but deliberate steps in their direction. No sudden moves, he told himself. This can still be salvaged. \u201cThat\u2019s not going to happen. And I\u2019m afraid, Vikki, this means I won\u2019t be able to accompany you to your homecoming dance Saturday night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep him away from me!\u201d Vikki howled. Arm and arm with Lisa, she started limping back toward the door.<\/p>\n

David wasn\u2019t pleased. \u201cNo!\u201d he shouted. \u201cYou\u2019re not going anywhere!\u201d They ignored him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey!\u201d No response.<\/p>\n

David was in no mood to be ignored.<\/p>\n

Without thinking, he reached over and grabbed one of the huge, molded boulders that made up one of the foundations of the fountain. It seemed perfectly natural to him that his hand and his arm were now about five times their normal size, and with the strength to match. He lobbed the boulder over the girl\u2019s heads and it hit the glass door, shattering the nearby windows and destroying most of the back wall of the house.<\/p>\n

Vikki forgot about her dramatic limp and, while still trying to cradle her arm, tore off toward the gate to the front yard. Lisa trailed close behind. David, finished with the warning shots, grabbed another boulder and heaved it directly at them, only to have it blocked by the fully-grown maple tree near the neighbor\u2019s fence. The tree cracked on impact and fell directly on the roof of the house, collapsing the whole northern wing, which was, thankfully, far from the center of the party\u2019s action. Had he thrown in the other direction, who knows how many guests would have been crushed?<\/p>\n

Who knows how many more I just killed? I didn\u2019t want to do this. So why do I keep doing it?<\/p>\n

David looked at his arm after the throw. The pangs of conscience had begun to deflate it, the same way it had the day before. But this was not over. His heart was still racing. He had tried to kill again, this time in his own father\u2019s house. Soon all the other cheerleaders would be out here. They\u2019d know what he did.<\/p>\n

So he\u2019d have to kill them, too. Most of him didn\u2019t want to do that. But there was too much of him that did.<\/p>\n

No. There was another option. Not entirely bloodless, but less bloody, surely.<\/p>\n

He dashed around the side of the house just in time to see Vikki\u2019s car racing out of sight. He opened the side door to the garage and saw that Dad\u2019s good car was gone, but the big old Buick was still there, and David knew where the extra keys were hidden.<\/p>\n

Dad will kill me if I hurt his car, David thought instantly and then almost laughed at the absurdity of it.<\/p>\n

Within seconds, David was out on the street, winding his way down Stradella Road toward the south Bel Air entrance. He could see Vikki\u2019s car just up ahead. He imagined what it might look like after it was grabbed, tossed like a shot put, and splattered all over the nearest hillside.<\/p>\n

He cursed himself as his hand throbbed with pleasure at the thought of it.<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"I'menjoying this probably more than the rest of you, but here's Chapter Three of my magnum opus. If you want to catch up, the Prologue is here<\/a>, here's Chapter One<\/a>, and here's Chapter Two.<\/a> Right now, Chapter Three is over 12,000 words long. I need to break it into pieces, but I'm not ... Read more<\/a>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-146","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/146","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=146"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/146\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4828,"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/146\/revisions\/4828"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=146"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=146"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stallioncornell.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=146"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}