Chapter Thirty-Four: The Reaping:

The first death involving Miranda came as a shock to the town. Dr. Sherman was found dead in his office early the morning of June sixteenth, 2001. One of the secretaries came in to start the day. It wasn’t unusual for Dr. Sherman to stay overnight. However, she noticed that his lights were still on. The secretary knocked on the door.

“Dr. Sherman?” she asked. “Dr. Sherman?” She was only one of two people to have a key to his office. When she opened the door, her screams could be heard throughout the building. Dr. Sherman lay face down on his desk. The back of his head was a caved in hole. His blood covered the walls, ceiling, and papers. The police were called straight away.

The murder hit the papers right away. Henry was the first one in the house to see it. I walked down to the living room half-asleep. I saw him standing near the front door, staring at the paper. That was the first time I saw him looking so panicked. His hands trembled as he held the newspaper. I tilted my head.

“Henry?” I asked. “Henry, what’s wrong?” I started walking towards him. He held up the front page to me. I sank to my knees when I ran the headline. My therapist was dead and I knew who did it.

I turned and ran outside to the backyard. Miranda stood on the porch, smirking at me.

“What did you do?!” I cried. She gave me an innocent little shrug.

“I killed him,” Miranda said. I gave her a strange look.

“Why?!” I wailed.

“He knew too much,” she said. “He had to die.” Her large grin made me shiver. “Want to see how I did it?” I backed away, shaking my head.

“No, no!” I cried.

“Too late!” Miranda shouted. She grabbed me by the wrist. Her nails dug into my skin. Her laughter circled around my head. I screamed as visions flashed through my mind.

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I could see red with a warped view from a fish. I was standing in the hallway. Wait. This was the therapist’s office. Heavy breathing filled my ears. The vision looked to the left and then the right. My heart pounded against my chest.

No…

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

I started walking down the hall. What was that in my hand? Her hand clutched the knife as tightly as she could. The knuckles were so pale. I took another look around. I couldn’t see anyone in sight. The therapist’s office was closed. Probably around midnight. I think they closed around nine or ten.

Please stop showing me this. I don’t want to see any more. I don’t want to see any more.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

I stood in front of Dr. Sherman’s door.

No. Don’t do this. Turn back. Turn back. Turn back now!

She knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Dr. Sherman said. The door slowly creaked open. He sat at his desk filing out paperwork. The breathing grew heavier. My therapist looked up.

“Hello?” he asked. “I’m sorry we are closed. Can I help you with something? Miss? Miss?” She never said a word.

“Miss? Miss?” Dr. Sherman asked.

Stab!

There had to be about fifty blows. Maybe more. I didn’t want to look. I tried to force my head away.

Stop this! I don’t want to see any more! Please!

It all went black.

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I fell to my knees. I looked up at Miranda, shaking with tears in my eyes. She laughed at me like a little child.

“What is wrong with you?!” I shouted. Miranda patted me on the head. She knelt down to me, smirking.

“Nothing is wrong with me, Kinsey,” she said. “And I am just getting started.” That was all for me. I had to try and stop this before more people close to me died.