Kelly Hashway: The Monster Within

I tried to keep my composure at the mention of Mom. I missed her so much. Not that I’d ever consider trying to contact her. She needed to move on, get over my death. And me showing up now—an undead killer—would destroy her.

“You do have a mother, don’t you? Or did I just put my big, overworked foot in my mouth?”

“Not anymore,” I said. “But it’s okay. She never minded me going by Sam.”

“Well all the same, I think I’ll call you Samantha.”

I figured there was no use arguing with her. She’d given me a job and was willing to pay me in cash. How could I complain?

I followed Gloria around all morning, learning the ins and outs of the ancient coffee pot, carrying plates of food to all the tables, and refilling the sugar dispensers. By eleven, I was exhausted. But it was a good exhausted. Keeping busy meant I didn’t have time to think.

The door to the diner opened, and the girl from the bathroom walked in. What was she doing back again? She took a seat at the counter right in front of me as I put out a new tray of mammoth muffins.

“Twice in one day?” I asked.

“Excuse me?” She looked at me like she didn’t recognize me.

“You were here earlier. In the bathroom.” Did she really not remember me? I would’ve thought my display in the ladies’ room would be burned into her memory.

“Oh, right.” She sounded completely disinterested.

“What can I get for you?”

“Coffee. Black.”

I grabbed a mug and poured the freshly brewed coffee. I breathed in the heavenly scent. Gloria had shown me the secret ingredient. A tablespoon of cinnamon. It smelled divine, yet the taste was so subtle you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“Here you go.” I placed the coffee in front of her. “Would you like a muffin? They’re fresh.”

“No. Just the coffee.”

No big tip here. I wiped the counter even though it was already clean. I needed something to do while I waited for the lunch crowd.

“You live here?” the girl asked.

“Um, yeah. You?”

“Unfortunately.” Her tone was as bitter as her black coffee.

“I take it you don’t want to be here?”

“Look around. This is a resort town. Though I can’t understand why. Ooh, mountains. Ooh, a river. Big deal.” She took another sip.

“It’s pretty, especially with all the leaves changing colors.”

“Leaves. Yeah, very exciting.”

I wasn’t sure why she was even talking to me. She was obviously a miserable person. I moved away, pretending to check on the sugar dispensers I’d already filled.

“You going to school?” she asked.

“I will. I moved here yesterday, so I haven’t gotten around to enrolling yet.” I still wasn’t sure how Ethan and I were even going to pull off getting into school. We couldn’t exactly ask our old school for our records. We’d be using fake names.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” She got up and walked out of the diner. I reached for her cup, noticing she didn’t even leave me a tip. No big loss. I would manage without the quarter.

Ethan walked up to the counter. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good.” I kissed him hello. “Gloria’s got me working the counter until the lunch crowd hits. She said it’s good practice at a slower pace.”

“I’m glad she’s not pushing you too much on your first day.”

I took his arm and pulled him toward the coffee pot. “Did you figure out how we’re going to enroll in school? We won’t have any transfer records.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He reached in his back pocket and took out an ID. It had my license photo but the name was different.

“Samantha Smith?” I met his eyes. “You couldn’t come up with anything more original than Smith?”

“The good thing about a common name is there are plenty of records to choose from.” He wagged his eyebrows at me.

“You stole some girl’s records?” I said in a loud whisper.

“I didn’t steal them. I simply duplicated them. Totally different.”

I sighed. It wasn’t a bad plan, but Ethan had never done anything this sneaky before. He was changing—because of me.

“Oh, you moved here from Phoenix.”

“Phoenix? I’ve never even been to Arizona.”

“You’ve got to take what you can get.”

I rolled my eyes and pocketed my fake ID. Sam Smith it was. “What name did you get?”

“Ethan Jones. Floridian.”

“Well, look at that, we both came from the south.”

“Yup. Oh and I had to get you a P.O. box. If we have the same mailing address, people will get suspicious. I don’t want to pretend to be brother and sister because I’m not about to stop acting like your boyfriend.”

I laughed, thinking of how grossed out people would get if they thought we were related and stole kisses by our lockers. Ethan had thought of pretty much everything. I was thankful for these moments of normalcy, but it didn’t take long before Herman’s face popped into my head.

Gloria came out of the kitchen. “You’re early.”

I jumped, hoping she hadn’t heard any of our conversation.

Ethan smiled. “What can I say? I’m happy to have found a job so quickly.”

“I like that.” Gloria handed him an apron and a dishcloth. “There are empty tubs on the cart over there. Fill one up and leave it in the kitchen for the dishwasher. Oh, and wipe down the tables in between customers. That’s about all the instruction you need.”

The lunch crowd was pretty intense. Ethan and I were running back and forth for a good two and a half hours. Other than spilling one cup of coffee down the front of my shirt, I did pretty well. No messed up orders, no unpaid checks, and the tips were good. I was starting to feel like a normal, working teenager until the black spots started to appear. At first, I thought I’d spilled coffee on the counter, but when I wiped at them, they didn’t go away.

“How are you holding up, Samantha?” Gloria asked.

“Um, actually, I could use a bathroom break. Would you mind covering the counter for me?” I didn’t wait for a response. I left the dishcloth on the counter and headed for the bathroom before I lost my sight completely. Or worse, had another vision in front of a diner full of people.

I didn’t want to see Herman again. The last glimpse of his future—I guessed that was what I was seeing, the life the person would have lived if I hadn’t killed them—was unbearable to watch. I remembered what Gloria had said about the universe coming back to get you. Maybe this was my punishment. Having to see what I’d taken from the people I killed.

I splashed cold water on my face as everything faded from my view. I braced myself for whatever horrors Herman was about to commit. But it wasn’t his face I saw. It was an older man, probably in his seventies. He was holding his wife’s hand and smiling at the young children playing a game on the floor.

The children were adorable, but I kept my focus on the old man. Something about him was familiar. His eyes. They had a warmth to them. A warmth I knew.

“They’re not being too loud, are they, Dad?” asked a younger woman coming into view.

“No, no. Let them be. They’re children. They’re supposed to be loud. Besides, there’s no better sound than the laughter of your great-grandchildren. You’ll understand that someday.”

The woman walked over and kissed the old man’s cheek. “They adore you, Dad.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

My vision blurred and went black. I was sad to see it go. They all seemed so happy. But then I remembered I was seeing things that would never happen. Things that couldn’t happen because I’d ended the person’s life. But who was that old man? He didn’t look like the guy with the cowboy hat. They had different-colored eyes. Was I seeing my next victim? Was that possible?