Malicious Intent Part 1 | Teen Ink

Malicious Intent Part 1

December 18, 2020
By maisy367, Springfield, Ohio
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maisy367, Springfield, Ohio
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Author's note:

I'm a sophomore and I've always loved writing. This is my first publication. 

The author's comments:

Enjoy :)


The aroma of the stir fry drifts through the hallway into my nose before I even enter my friend Jake’s apartment. We’d had dinner plans for weeks, and over and over they had been rescheduled due to my crazy work schedule and his classes. Finally it had worked out, and he’d agreed to meet with me prior to his trip to Macedonia. Jake - an adept cook - was known throughout the apartment complex for his magnificent-smelling dishes, and despite us being friends, this would be the first time that I’d be tasting any of them.

I knock on his door. Fidgeting with the bracelets on my wrists, I glance around as I patiently wait for him to answer. The hallway is eerily dim. My stare catches on the dome mirror at the end of the hallway, which is typically used to see oncoming hallway traffic when you’re walking in the direction of it. I narrow my eyes, squinting to make out what I think I see. Is my mind playing tricks on me again?

It looks real enough to me. At the end of the opposing hallway, a black silhouette stands completely still. My heartbeat quickens, but before I can dwell on it for too long, Jake opens the door, greeting me with a pleased smile. 

“Spencer!” He laughs, pulling me in for a big hug. He’s easily a foot taller than I am. “How are you!? It’s been a while.”

I giggle. “Pretty good. And you?”

I’ve known Jake for a while - he and my older brothers were best friends in high school, and over time we grew closer as well. Now that we’re both going to the same college, we’ve spent a lot of time together out of convenience. He showed me around campus when I first arrived. 

“I’m alright.” He grins again, before pulling me into his apartment. The fragrance of the food is much stronger now, my mouth watering with impatience. 

“God, how can food smell this good?” I ask, closing my eyes to inhale a deep sniff. 

“It’s almost like I’m studying culinary arts or something.” He winks, then busies himself with making the plates, dumping the meat mixed with veggies onto the glassware. That’s another thing I can appreciate about him: unlike most college guys, his apartment is kept clean and he has actual dishes, rather than hoards of paper plates littering the cabinets and counters. He’s the type of guy I’d want to have around forever. 

I roll my eyes. “Is there anything you need me to do? I feel bad. I didn’t bring anything.”

“Don’t feel bad...you know me well enough. That kind of stuff isn’t important anymore.” He pulls a knife out of the kitchen sink, rinses it, and wipes it off with a linen towel. Handing it to me, he adds, “You can help me slice apples. I’m making a pie for dessert.” 

“Awesome.” 

He places a bowl of freshly washed apples on the counter near me. I hop up to sit on the counter, before taking each apple individually to peel them and slice them. He sits across from me with his own knife in hand, so I throw him a couple of the apples.

“Are you still taking that anatomy course?” He trains his eyes on the red skin of the apple as he edges along to surface to peel it off. “I have a buddy who said he saw you in the class. He’s been telling me about how interesting it is.”

“Yeah, it’s alright. We learn some pretty interesting things. I’m the only girl in the class.”

“What’s that like?” 

“It could be worse. None of the guys in there are mean or anything.” 

Jake looks up at me and furrows his brow. “Not like high school?”

A wave of fear washes over me. “No. Not like high school.” I take a deep breath to steady myself. “They’re nice. Don’t worry.”

“Have you been taking your medicine and everything?”

“Jake.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m just making sure. We haven’t talked in a while and your brother would want me to make sure you’re doing alright.”

I frown. “Yes, I’ve been taking my medicine. I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me. That was a year ago. I’m much better now.”

He’s quiet for a moment, pondering this. “Alright…” he pauses, looking anywhere but at my eyes. “Anyways, I’m ready for dinner. How about you?” 

“Me too.”

We gather up the plates and utensils and carry them to the table in the dining room. By now, the stir fry has more than likely cooled off enough for us to enjoy it without burning off our taste buds. Jake has a solemn expression on his face. I’m hoping that that conversation didn’t ruin the rest of our evening. 

His apartment is well furnished, though it’s not very big. Right next to the table is a fireplace with a mantle and a mirror above it, decorated with ferns and other plants. The kitchen is small, and an arched entryway leads you from the linoleum floors to the hardwood of the eating area. Beyond that is the living room, with a giant L shaped couch and a tv set up, complete with an xbox and a surround-sound system. The windows provide a view of the city streets, and he has more plants seated on the ledges. A side hallway leads to his bedroom and the bathroom. The walls are complemented by photos of Jake and his friends, his family, and band posters. 

We take our seats across from each other. I pick up the fork, stabbing it into the beef, before stuffing it into my mouth. The juicy, savory meat pleases my mouth as I swallow it down and go in for more. The veggies are peppered and delicious as well. I don’t know how it’s possible, but it tastes so much better than it smells.

“This is amazing.”

He eyes my plate and laughs. “You know, if you want more… there’s more on the stove. Help yourself.”

I happily help myself to another serving. 

“So.. what’s in Macedonia?” I ask as I sit back down.

“Poverty.” He sighs, before continuing, “I’ve volunteered to help out at a food kitchen there and teach some of the unemployed on how to cook. Unfortunately, the country is seriously impoverished. I think like… 30% of the country is below the poverty line.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Are you going alone or with some of your culinary buddies?” 

“I’m going alone. They know I’m going, though. I promised them I’d be safe and everything. My mom is really worried but I told her I’d be fine.”

“Is the crime rate high?” I frown. 

“I mean… it’s higher than the national average for communities in America, but it’s still not very high. I should be okay. I’m a pretty big guy.”

I nod. 

He smirks. “Don’t worry about me, Spence. I’ll be alright.”

I giggle. “I’m sure you will be.”

Jake stares at me for a second, hesitating. 

“..what?”

He shakes his head, as if clearing a thought. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Well… it sounds like fun. I’m glad you get to go somewhere and do some good. I wish I wasn’t stuck in this craphole.”

“Me too. I’m really hoping I can make a difference.” 

My eyes dart around as an unsettling feeling washes over me. “Hey Jake?”

“Yes?”

“You locked the door, right?”

“Um…” he squeezes his eyebrows together in concern. “Yes....why?”

“Nothing…sorry…” For some reason, I’m brimming with the fear that someone is watching me. I think back to the big black figure that I saw in the hallway. Who was that? Why were they just standing there? It’s almost like they could see me in the reflection of the mirror, too. Waiting. Watching. “It just makes me feel safer.”

“Is something making you feel unsafe?”

“No.” I shoot him a confident smile. 

He returns it. “Good.”

I’m still nervous, but I decide that it’s probably because I’m in his presence. I’ve always been anxious around him, probably because of the a little crush. There was just something about him… from the moment I met him…. I knew. In order to regain my composure, I opt for a quick trip to the bathroom to refresh myself. 

“I’ll be right back,” I say.”

He looks at me quizzically. 

“Bathroom.”

“Oooh. Okay.”

I make my way to the hallway, my socked feet scuffling on the carpeted floor. Turning into the first door on the right, I shut the door and flip on the light, inhaling a deep, soothing breath. Relax. My heartbeat slows down. I place my hands on either side of the sink, leaning into it. Why am I so nervous?

With a heavy sigh, I turn on the faucet. The cold sink-water builds in my hands before I splash it against my cheeks, cooling them. Lifting my head, I stare at myself in the mirror. My icy blue eyes stare back at me, surrounded by dark circles and pale skin. My face looks hollow. The nights have been taking their toll on me, sleeplessness sapping the life out of me. I don’t even know if sleeplessness is the right word for it. I’ve been sleeping, blacking out to later wake up in the morning. Yet when I wake up, I’m exhausted. My muscles ache and my eyes resemble bruises, my head dizzy with lightheadedness. 

A loud clang in another part of the apartment stops me short of my racing thoughts. 

What was that?

Cautiously, I open the door, peering my head around the wall. My pulse has quickened again. It’s so overwhelming that I feel like I’m about to throw up. 

My heart stops.

From where I am, I can see it clearly through the mantle mirror of the dining area. A black figure, holding one of the apple cutting knives. Blood...blood….everywhere. Jake is slumped against the table, blood spilling from his throat. Oh my god, he’s….

The man in black has a mask covering his face and a hood covering his head. He hasn’t noticed me...yet. No matter, I’m still losing my mind. I’m going to throw up. I’m going to throw up. All of the fear that was just a mumble before was now a roar, raging through my chest and head and coursing through my veins. Panic, panic, consuming me, blurring my vision, choking me. I’m going to die. He is...he’s…. 

When I was a little kid, I chased a soccer ball into the middle of the road. At the age I was, I had no idea that it would be dangerous. My thoughts were centered on that one object, and I was oblivious to the dangers of the world. Before I knew it, I was standing like a deer caught in headlights, but rather than a deer, I was a little girl chasing a soccer ball. The headlights were literal, two blazing white balls of light staring me straight in the face as the car they belonged to nearly ran into me. 

My brother saved me, but in that moment I knew true fear. I thought I was going to die. The same panic ripped through my body, and it wasn’t my life that flashed before my eyes, but my death. The image of my broken body mangled by the road. I was always one with an active imagination. 

Now, the blood is pooling around my feet, and the same fear strangles me. Except this is much, much worse, the elements of all of my nightmares standing right before me. The beast of my paranoia, alive and real, a man who’s come to kill me and has just killed my friend. I’ve always been afraid of this, for no rational reason. Maybe it’s the true crime podcasts that I listen to all the time. 

Through the mirror, the looming figure stands over Jake’s body like it’s some sort of prize for the wicked game of murder. The light over the table has been broken, so the assailant looks like he’s a shadow, a figment of my imagination. Is he a figment of my imagination? No… I can’t be that crazy. 

This is real. The blood dripping from the table is real. In an instant, the picture perfect scene of Jake sitting at the table calmly eating his stir fry in his pleasantly lit apartment has changed completely. Darkness has swept over the room, oozing dark red blood has been spilled across the floor. Granted, the rest of the room lies undisturbed. My new plate of food remains untouched by the tragedy that graces the room. The only sounds are the deep, unsteady breaths of the killer, and the ticking of the clock. I almost hold onto the belief that I can stand here quietly, and I’ll be just as untouched as my plate of food. Almost.

The killer finally moves, breaking the surface of tension. Two gloved hands slide under Jake’s arms, pulling him from the chair and onto the ground with a thump. His body is dragged across the room to the window, leaving a trail of blood. Quite carelessly, the murderer opens the window and throws him out of it. The way he moves is familiar to me, but I can’t place it. My brain is too panicked to recall the memory of who it might be. It feels like I’m dreaming, and this is all just a nightmare. The experience is out of body, and though I know I’m standing in the hallway by the bathroom, I’m witnessing this scene unfold from many different places, making it all the more and equally less real. Did I already die? 

I feel so sick. I want to go back into the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. But I can’t. I’m glued to the one spot, witnessing my best friend’s body being disposed of by this deranged killer. 

The assailant gives one last look into the apartment, staring at the mirror, as if he can see me. Maybe he can, but he makes no effort to attack me. Am I really safe? Did he not notice me?

Through the mirror, all I can make out are his eyes. Icy blue, the same as mine. That’s when I black out.


When I finally come back around, I’m sitting in the hallway outside of Jake’s apartment, leaning up against the wall. My shoes are no longer bloodstained, but my hair has fallen out of my ponytail and is now framing my face and hanging in my eyes. At first I am mentally fuzzy, until I remember what happened. Panic spreads through my body again.

Did I die? No… I can’t be dead. I’m clearly alive. Did the murderer leave?

I need to call the cops. 

With shaky hands, I reach into the pocket of my leggings and pull out my phone, fumbling to dial 911 on the emergency option. 

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“My…..my friend….he was just attacked.” I’m barely able to get it out. Strangled sobs escape my throat. 

“Ma’am, please calm down.” The female operator’s voice is soothing and calm. “Can you tell me your address?”

“1800 Clark Street, apartment 408.”

“Thank you. I’m sending police your way right away.” She pauses, before asking, “What about your friend? Is he breathing? Can you check for a pulse?”

“N...no….he’s not here.”

“What do you mean, ma’am?”
“He was killed and….he took his body….it’s gone.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m in the hallway outside of the apartment.”

“Are you safe?”

I look around hurriedly, making sure that there’s no one around me. The hall corner mirror that once held a black figure now reflects an empty hallway. “Yes...I think so.”

“Okay. Hold tight. They’re on their way. I’m going to stay on the phone with you until they arrive. ETA is five minutes.”

“Okay...thank you.”

Silence suspends over the phone line as the operator quietly waits with me. I’m terrified, but I’ve regained enough of my composure to think more clearly. 

Those eyes. They were so familiar.

After about seven minutes, the police have arrived. I’m still sitting on the floor, shaking, gripping my phone so tightly that my knuckles are as white as ghosts. 

“Ma’am…?”

I realize that the leading officer is trying to talk to me. “Yes?”

“Is this the apartment?” 

“Yes.”

“Okay. We’re going to head in. We’ll leave one officer with you in case the assailant tries to come back and harm you.” 

There’s only four of them, so the remaining three silently enter the apartment, slipping past the doorway and out of my view. The fourth officer hangs outside, leaning against the wall, his hand placed firmly on the butt of his gun. He trains his eyes on the carpeted floor, waiting for his comrades to come out of the apartment or follow them if necessary. 

“Parker!”

His head jerks up. “Yes?!” he calls back to his fellow cop. 

“Come in here. Bring the girl.”

His eyes meet mine. I stand up, and he ushers me into the room, his hand now fully wrapped around the handle of his pistol. 

When we walk in, I’m amazed by what I find.

The first thing I notice missing is the blood. The blood that stained the carpet and covered the dinner table and created a dark pool across the wood floor, now gone. The dinner plates are gone. No food on the table, no food in a pan on the stove. No apples in a bowl on the counter. Even the knife, which was used by the attacker, was now missing, or cleaned and put back in its proper place. The apartment is untouched and empty. 

The officers are all staring at me skeptically. 

“I swear… I… I saw it happen… he must have cleaned up or something… I don’t know… I blacked out after I witnessed it…” I am now terrified again. There’s no way I imagined all of that...right?

“Miss….we’re going to need you to come down to the station. You can give your full report to some of the detectives there, okay?”

“Okay…”


“So you’re saying you witnessed this all happen?” 

The woman across for me has her arms folded across her chest, her dark hair pristinely pulled back into a simple bun. She has a serious, menacing look in her eye that says “don’t mess with me”, and her lips are pressed into a frown. 

“Yes, ma’am,” I gulp. “When will my brother be here?”

I’m sitting in a cold room surrounded by brick walls, in a metal chair that’s so cold I can feel it through my pants. I’m in a questioning room, and it makes me feel like a criminal, though I’ve done nothing wrong. Prior to this, I had made a phone call to my brother to tell him where I was so he could pick me up. He agreed. 

“I’m not sure, but I need you to tell me what you witnessed.” She lifts an eyebrow. 

I explained it to her in as much detail as I could. How I went over to Jake’s for dinner before his trip to Macedonia, then went to the bathroom to freshen up, and came back out to see Jake being killed by someone wearing all black. “He dragged the body to the window, threw it out, and left. I guess he didn’t notice me.”

She’s writing all of this down on a pad of paper. “And nobody in surrounding apartments heard the commotion?”

“No… I guess not.”

“Hm...and nobody on the street witnessed a body being dumped out the window? None of the traffic? It’s a busy street. Wouldn’t someone have noticed that?”

“I.. I don’t know.”

She sighs, leaning forward on the table, staring straight into my eyes. “Ma’am, you have a psychotic disorder, am I correct?”

I hesitate. “Yes, but….”

“Which means sometimes you have episodes where reality shifts and you may witness things that aren’t real? You had a rather major breakdown in high school last year, didn’t you? Some boys were making fun of you for it and you snapped. Your brother intervened to protect you.”

I don’t respond.

“As far as we know, Jake King was on his flight to Macedonia last night. Not having dinner with you. No further witnesses have come forward about his body or hearing any disturbances in the apartment last night. I’m sure this was very traumatizing for you, but I’m almost positive that what you recall didn’t happen. There’s not a speck of evidence in the apartment, either.”

I don’t know what to say. I swear I didn’t imagine it.

“Please, ma’am. Just make sure that he’s okay and where he’s supposed to be. It felt so real…”

She doesn’t answer at first, clearly contemplating. Finally, she says, “okay. I’ll do that. I may call you in for further questioning if it doesn’t check out.” The detective gathers up her papers, promptly stacking them, before leading me out of the questioning room. We walk down a long, dimly lit hallway, into an office area where officers are busying themselves with their work. I recognize a few of them from the scene of the crime. As we enter the waiting area, I find my brother at the counter, talking to the secretary. He turns as we enter.

“Spencer!” He’s clearly concerned, worry written all over his expression. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?”

I sniffle, choking back tears, all of the fear and worry pouring out of me. I fall into his arms. “Jake… I saw him…. He…”

The detective who questioned me clears her throat. “As far as we know, Jake is fine. Your sister witnessed what appeared to be him being murdered, but currently, it’s my belief that she was having another psychotic episode.”

My brother grimaces, pulling back to look at me. “Spence? Have you been taking your medicine?”

“Yes…” I whisper. “I swear this was real…”

He stares at me for a moment. That’s when I remember.

He has cold, icy blue eyes. Just like mine. 

No… Adam wouldn’t do that…. especially not to his best friend. 

“I suggest you take her home and stay with her for a little bit. She was blacked out for about seven hours, based on what she stated. She’s also in shock. Whatever happened, it’s traumatized her, because it was real enough to her. I’m going to ensure that your friend is alright, to give her peace of mind.”

Adam nods. “Will do. Thank you.” He wraps his arms around my shoulders. “Come on sis. Let’s get you out of here.”



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