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The leader of the group was a white male with scraggly brown hair. He looked like he needed sleep and food, not necessarily in that order. The woman encouraging him was black. That seemed strange to Jenna that they could be so hostile to another race, as if they forgot there was a time when blacks and whites hated each other. She guessed it was genuine hatred that brought people together.
“Did you see the purple circle in her eyes?” The man shouted to be heard over all the other voices. “That’s how you know one is pregnant with a monster’s seed.” The voices around Jenna rose several octaves. “Look at her the next time the news takes a picture of her. Look at her face, you’ll see the circles. That’s how we will know they are spawning.”
Jenna waited until they were all bolstering. He stirred their courage before she said anything. “Who made you the monster whisperer?” She said loud enough for everyone to hear her.
“Who are you?” The man looked her over, dismissing her as a sloppy fat chick. Just what she wanted. Her breath was in her throat as she answered him.
“A concerned citizen. Which woman told you that a purple ring was a sign of spawning?” Sorry, Bella, she apologized to her sister. “Are you a friend of Bella’s? Did she tell you?” The man shuddered violently.
“I’d never talk to her unless it was to tell her to go on a diet.” It took everything in Jenna not to laugh or spit in fury.
Some people were too busy judging others to realize they needed to look into the mirror.
“So, this is just supposition.” The man sputtered. He was angry, she could see it in his eyes.
“Mark my words. It is a sign of them being pregnant. We need to put them out of their misery before they start birthing hell beasts.” Jenna laughed at him, but she didn’t find any of it funny.
“Hell beasts? Do you write horror, or fantasy for a living.”
“As if I would ever associate with those losers,” he said. Jenna looked him over from his unkempt clothes that needed washing and stitching to his messy hair and beard. The man appeared to be in need of... The man looked like he needed the money for a makeover. Some fantasy writers paid their bills writing and some made mad money. But he didn’t want to be one of them. One prejudice led to another.
“No matter, you don’t have any conclusive proof of what you’re saying. If you did, you would show it.”
“Mark my words, you’ll be back asking for my forgiveness.” She rolled her eyes before standing.
“You guys can stay here and listen to this drivel or take care of what brought you to the mall.” She walked away like she didn’t have a care in the world, although her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t think. Close to three-fourths of the people listening walked away. The others were the hardcore haters. There was nothing she could do about them. She picked up speed when she was further away from them. Her heart was in her throat, and she was sweating. The makeup was running down her cheeks and one eyelash was stuck to the god-awful hat she was wearing. She was looking ahead, eyes slightly cast down, when a hand of steel grabbed her wrist.
“Sweet Jenna, Is that you?” Fudge!
She didn’t have to look up to know that her ex-neighbor, Jeffrey Johnson, had her wrist in an iron-clad grip.
“Jeffrey.” His name came out low and weak. He scared the hell out of her although she tried not to show it.
“I told the Mrs. It was you.” The Mrs. was his wife, Marilyn. She was just as awful as he was. “I’m surprised to see you out and away from that ball and chain that was your sister.”
“Let me go.” Her heart was beating so loud she wondered if he could hear it. Bile was crawling up her throat, burning her along the way. Soon she knew that she’d throw up. Right now, she was trying to take deep breaths and ignore the hand holding her still.
“Let me go.” She was trying to instill Bella’s forcefulness into her voice.
“Why would I do that?” Jenna turned her head. Some people were ignoring her. They had that classic I don’t want to get involved in someone else’s drama look. Others watched with furious eyes. It was the ones who slowed down like they knew what was happening and were just waiting for the word.
Those were the ones she was counting on to help her. She yanked at her arm and got nowhere. Jeffrey was a good-looking man on the outside. She thought that the first time she met him. It didn’t take long to realize that the outside and inside didn’t match. Over time, Jeffrey looked like a sick, demented slug to match what he looked like on the inside. He loved to terrorize women. Jenna thought he might live for it.
“Let me go?”
“Why would I do that? I finally have you where I want you.”
Authorities had charged Jeffrey with rape and beating some women to death. It didn’t stick, but Jenna didn’t need the court system to tell her he was guilty of more rapes and deaths than the cops knew. He wanted her to be his next victim. That was the main reason she had never gone back to that house. It was up on the market for sale, but they wouldn’t sell to single women or young married couples. They wanted a single man, hopefully ex-special military.
“I will yell fire if you don’t let me go.” She’d learned long ago to scream fire if you were in danger. It would attract more attention.
“You wouldn’t dare?” He was right, in a sense. There was a time when she would have let him put his hands on her, but watching her sister stand up for justice had changed something inside of her. Despite being scared, that didn’t stop her from taking a stand against being used or abused one more time.
“Five, four, three—.”
“Let her go. We found her once, we’ll find her again,” Marilyn said laying a hand on her husband’s chest.
How could she condone this? She was a woman. Was it a case of Stockholm syndrome or did she find joy in her husband and his evilness? He glared for a minute before he released Jenna’s wrist.
