"We all have a little darkness hidden within, I just choose to let mine out every once in a while on paper." - J. Marie Ravenshaw

I wrapped my fingers around the straps of my backpack as I looked out over the pristine waters of Lake Pokegama from the porch of our rented cabin. The sun was starting to set, the purple hues of dusk settling in. I wanted to get one more hike in for the day and felt the need to get out to the point to watch the sun set completely.

We rocked back as the car came to a complete stop. I glanced up at Jason's profile. He looked horrified; his eyes were widened, showing too much white, and his breathing was way too fast. My heart was pounding so hard; it was as if it would beat right out of my chest. I slowly turned my head toward what he was looking at. It was like in the movies, when the victim knows the killer or monster is right behind them. Well, in our case, the horror was directly in front of us.

A sweet, spicy scent wafted to her nostrils. Oh she knew that smell...lust. She inhaled deeply, opening her mind and shuddering at the thoughts this man was projecting toward her. She drank his lust like a well-aged wine. 'Mmm, he'll do,' she thought as she returned his smile. She turned her attention to the glass of gin that sat in front of her.

I sat staring at the white wall. There was no way I was going to look back over my shoulder at what called to me. I had purposely positioned my chair for this moment; I knew that this time would come.

"Colin," it said quietly from the other side of the room. "Colin look at me, I have it here."

A lot had happened here, he thought, letting the car door close under its own weight. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd find that spark he'd somehow lost over the years. Understandable as it was with Linda's death and his son's suicide shortly after, he just wasn't the man he had once been.

I can't help but regard Jacob with disgust. He's everything vile about this world, an abomination. Even now, watching him scuttle to the center of the well, one hand lifted to shield his eyes against the sudden intrusion of light, I feel nothing but determination. Jacob must die.

I pushed the pause button on the recorder, moving the portable stand with the microphone closer to the old man lying in the hospital bed.

"Okay, Mr. Partridge just tell us your story in your own words. I will try to save any questions until the end. All right?"

The old man nodded and took a drink of water from the plastic cup on his bedside stand and watched me start the recorder again.

"Whenever you're ready," I said, sitting back in a chair with a notepad and pen in hand.

I was never a man of the people. I grew up the son of a Senator, and my only job as a son was to receive the education befitting my father's stature in Rome. In truth I was a mess. I was raised going to prestigious academies for gifted youth, and it was in one of those academies that it became apparent to me that I was different. I made the other children afraid.