He often wondered if it was like this for everyone like him. Was there a tipping point where the element of choice was lost? Or did they actually get to choose? Was the trigger the same as it was for him, or were there innumerable permutations?
The only thing that held him back in the moment was the surrounding people. Witnesses pressed up against him, all of whom would know in an instant what evil rode with them if he were to act now. Surely he could handle a few of them. But an entire car full, never. Even if they didn’t overwhelm him, there was no time. They’d be at the next station in moments – how many would flee in how many directions? Not to mention the entirely new set of witnesses on the platform. No, he could not act now.
When he had ventured out into the early-evening rain he had not intended to go out on the prowl. She had caused this. He hated her for it.
Damn her. Why did she have to invite him? Perhaps if she had ignored him he could have let her go, but in opening up that tiny crack – that simple friendly gesture – she connected with him. It said ‘I can feel your desire and I accept it. I am pleased by it.’ The invitation eliminated his final inhibition, and his desire carried him out the door with her into the night.
“Next Station: Broadway.”
Even this late in the rush-hour, the chaos at one of the city’s busiest platforms was too much for the average commuter to absorb the mad detailed rush of faces. When she disembarked, no witness would be able to recall if she was being followed. Her body would never be found.
Chapter Four
Chapter Four
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