What happens after he kills for her?

After tonight, will she truly see him for the first time?

This and many other questions blitz Zach Winter’s mind.

She said she was sad. He heard her say that with his own ears. Heard her say something about sadness at the coffee place this morning. Hannah was there with her sister, and her sister said she wanted Hannah to be happy.

Their conversation vibrated the core of him.

Her exact words escape him. They’ve become mangled noise, a twisting hum fading into the back of his head. Zach had been too dialed in on Hannah’s face to soak in the specifics. Too wrapped up in the life and light in her eyes to hold on to the details of what she said. But what her words meant—what she was saying underneath it all—that was clear as crystal.

The very thought of her sadness hurts him.

Thinking of her this morning makes his heart skip a row of beats. She touched his arm at the coffee place. A first. As if she knew things were escalating between them. Zach read online that’s how you can tell if a woman is truly interested in you. Into you. Cares about you. However you want to say it. Yes, sure, the look they give you and the words they use are important, but those can be drenched in mixed signals and cloud the true intent of what is behind those amazing eyes. But if a woman touches your arm, that’s an unmistakable sign.

Was Hannah giving me a signal?

 She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Of course not. Not a chance a woman like Hannah Rush would come out and tell the guy who works at the coffee shop how she feels. Zach gets it. She’d never be so obvious. So clumsy or so common about it. She’d leave clues. Breadcrumbs leading down a path to her. The sister saw it too. Her eyes watched Zach closely. She’s a good sister. He hears Hannah talking about her sister’s daughter all the time. Hannah’s precious little niece. She’s probably great with kids. Be an amazing mom, no question in Zach’s mind.

 Connect the dots, man.

 It’s what’s between the words. It’s the in-betweens that can save us. Or slaughter us.

 Zach stands in a yard outside a sprawling home. His clothes are covered in random splotches of a deep, rich red. Almost black under the light of the moon. A spray of crimson is streaked across his face. The remains of what he’s done.

  Red and blue lights swirl around him.

  So lost in his own head, he almost forgot he’s holding a gun. Part of him thinks it’s funny he never even used it inside the house. So worried about the sound. Now, he’s holding his gun to the head of an internet-perfect woman he dragged outside. Angling her, using her as a human shield. No doubt the social media darling had a much different evening in mind when she showed up at this house to party.

Police are screaming at him. Guns raised, ready to remove him from the planet.

Zach doesn’t hear a word they say.

The night air is crisp. Not cold, but it has enough bite to get one’s attention when the wind picks it up a notch. There’s a freshness to the air as it blows through the flowers and trees. Zach turns his head slightly, looking down the street at a neighborhood that’s been gentrified all to hell. Young money coupled with aging hipsters mixed in with people pouring in from California and New York have turned this once bad part of town into what many consider a cool place to drop a million or two on a home.

Zach feels that tickle he’s become so familiar with over the last year or so. The one that starts at the back of his skull. The place where the spine and mind collide. Then the hum will begin, one he can feel in his gums. It creates a buzzing he can’t quiet or dull no matter what he does. He’s tried. Talking. Pills. More talking and more pills. Got himself a meditation app. Said it was free; it wasn’t.

An overweight cop screams for Zach to let her go.

Zach’s family tried to help him best they could. Which is to say they were no help at all. He considered reaching out to them before tonight. Played it out in his head, visualized the conversation that would more than likely take place. A conversation that would end lacking in every way.

It’s easier this way.

Zach can’t hold back the creeping, clawing fingers pulling at his mind. This man’s house. So many women. So many soft voices coming from bodies made of soft skin that wanted that man.

He gets it. Tall, with a flawless jawline and a slight English accent he turns off and on. Zach overheard one of the women say something complimentary about the man’s eyes. This man—this Gareth—had a few bucks in the bank, plus spending a lot of his time at the gym.

 What’s not to want.

Zach’s been following this perfect Gareth for days. Well, days and nights is more accurate. Ever since he saw Gareth with his Hannah.

How could Gareth do this to her?

She thinks they’re in love. Completely unaware he’s the one fueling that sadness she told her sister about. She doesn’t know the kind of life this man leads, what he does when Hannah is not around. Rolls over women as if they were speed bumps. She doesn’t know about the parties he throws at this East Austin bachelor paradise. Tonight there was a gorgeous mix of perfect humans. People who have everything all of the time. But not one of them can come close to Hannah.

Another cop holds his open, plump palm out flat, his other hand placed strategically on the gun at his side. He’s asking for Zach to be calm. Odd way to go about it, Zach thinks. More police vehicles scream into the neighborhood. An SUV skids to a stop across the street.

There were moments in the house where Zach’s sight went white. As if he went out of body. His brain shut down while his body did unspeakable things. He had worked through what he’d do tonight so many times in his mind.

He was coached by the best.

Connect the dots.

They told me she would never listen to me. Some girls need to be shown.

Still, he feels he needs to talk to Hannah.

Sure, they talk almost every day about all kinds of things, this and that, but never about anything real. The time has come for real. Stop this pathetic shit. Stop this standing out in the night air armed to the teeth like a crazy person. He’ll watch Hannah as she connects the dots for herself. A light will glow and grow in her amazing eyes as he explains. She’ll smile that smile that breaks Zach in half almost every day.

There’s a muted giggle from inside the house.

Or was it the wind?

A dog barks in the distance.

He’s sweating, didn’t even realize it. Zach rubs his eyes quick. Can’t lose focus. Feels like his mind is floating more than usual. He squeezes his eyes closed, then opens them wild and wide.

From the SUV, a man and a woman step out. They hold badges out for him to see, as if he didn’t know they were cops. Zach hears the man say they are detectives but can’t make out much more. The man is older. Big. Towering. Dressed like a slob. Zach imagines he played football in high school. The woman, only slightly shorter, wears a sharp business suit and has eyes that cut through Zach.

It’s what’s between the words. It’s the in-betweens that can save us. Or slaughter us.

Most of the beautiful people ran away from the party once Zach flashed the blade. Not so cool when things get scary. Zach had the idea to grab one of them. Keep one. This one. This woman he now holds at gunpoint in the front yard.  

He adjusts his grip on the gun.

The woman’s entire body shakes as he forces her to step back with him, arm around her throat, pressing the barrel to the side of her head. There’s an alley tucked away about a block over. This woman has an Audi parked there. He saw her park and then walk over to the house. Watched through the windows as she placed her purse in the kitchen near the door he used to enter the house. He has to move quick. Not sure if the police have covered the entire area yet, but they will soon.

The detectives move away from the SUV begging for his attention. Other cops still hold their aim on him. Time is running out. Blinks. Mind skips. How did he even get here? To this place in his life. He works at a coffee shop. A single name punches a hole into his thoughts.

 “Hannah,” Zach calls out.

 The detectives pause, look to one another.

 “Hannah Rush.” Louder. Harder.

  The night air pulls tight. Zach’s heart pounds.

  “Hannah!” Screaming now. Hot tears roll down his blood-sprayed face. Then, as if a string was pulled, he slams into a chilling calm.

Spine stiffens. Eyes blank and cold.

“I did this for you.”