Eternal (3)

The cameo was the most exquisite piece of jewelry that she had ever seen. The details of the face were intricately engraved and surrounded by a lace made of fine gold. She wore a tiny necklace of stunning baguettes. There were thirteen diamonds embedded in the finely woven lace surrounding the cameo. The heirloom was absolutely breathtaking. Mirra couldn’t take her eyes off of it, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. She was sure it was from the man, but why would he break into her house to leave her such a gift?1

Mirra didn’t want to think about it. Him. His grin. His smile? His stunning beauty. His pale skin. His perfectly white teeth. His perfectly seductive white teeth. 2

She found herself in the bathroom and looked at the washcloth in her hand. Mirra splashed cold water on her face and rubbed her neck with the cool cloth. She looked in the mirror at her disheveled reflection. That tiny little voice inside her spoke up again, telling her that she was attractive, that she was beautiful without all the makeup and fancy hair styles. Her dark hair fell in ringlets around her delicate neck and accented her olive complexion. All of her friends said they wished they had her perfect complexion and her naturally curly hair. She always returned the favor by telling them she wished she had straight hair, but she didn’t. That tiny voice inside her whispered her friends were right. She was pretty… and lucky. Her friends spent hours in front of the mirror and hundreds of dollars on perms and tanning beds to look the way she looked. Mirra was secretly glad that she didn’t have to put in all that work and time on her appearance. As a matter of fact, Mirra wouldn’t put in that much effort. Her favorite hair style was a ponytail - quick and easy. One hour out in the sun gave her the tan that her friends spent weeks on. Mirra never burned; her friends had to use sunscreen and pay for a base tan before they could spend the day on the lake.3

That man had been so pale. Mirra laid her washcloth on the side of the tub to dry and walked the few steps back into her bedroom. The cameo was still lying there… beckoning her to come. Imploring Mirra to hold her, caress her, and appreciate her. Mirra approached her bed and sat at the foot, staring at the gorgeous piece of jewelry. Her fingers trembled as she reached out and touched it for the first time. Her fingertips traced the detailed outline of the face, the lace, the tiny diamond necklace. Mirra stretched out on the bed and gazed at the sheer beauty. She rolled over on her side and slid her arm under her pillow. Instantly her hand shot back like a snake had bitten her. There was something cold and hard underneath the pillow. 4

Mirra shuddered and sat bolt upright, squeezing the cameo in her left hand. Goose bumps broke out over her entire body and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. With her right hand, slowly, deliberately, she lifted the pillow. A golden chain had been placed there. The pattern was a miniature replica of the lace surrounding the cameo. Mirra realized that together they would make a more stunning necklace than any of the ones Jamie had designed, or anyone else for that matter. Jamie! She had to call Jamie. She had to talk to her. 5

Mirra looked at her alarm clock. The digital bright red numbers announced that it was 2:41. Too early to call, but, Mirra thought, if I leave right now, I could be at her store when it opens in the morning. Mirra grabbed her suitcase from under the bed and started throwing clothes in. She had a plan. She would go see Jamie. Jamie was a jeweler; she could tell her about the necklace; she could talk to her. She needed someone to talk to. Desperately. 6

Outside her house, Mirra caught herself looking into the bushes, half expecting to see the man. She felt a wave of terror creeping up her spine as she fought to keep her feet from running to her car. She searched the backseat for the man. She had seen too many movies about the stupid girl who always forgot to look in the backseat, and then had paid the price for her negligence with her life. Mirra threw her suitcase in and clambered in after it. No sooner had the engine roared to life than she had the car in gear and was backing down the drive. 7

By some miracle, concentrating on getting on the right road kept her from thinking about the man, but when she hit the interstate, his face kept returning to her. His image was haunting. Beautiful; if a man could be beautiful. His teeth; that grin. Flashes of his face came to her. Mirra shook her head and turned up the radio. For some reason, she took the cameo out of her purse. She set the car’s cruise control at eighty and searched her purse for the chain. Slowly, she put the chain through the golden lace of the cameo and held it up as if to study it. It was truly exquisite. Mirra draped the chain around the base of the rear view mirror. Why would he leave her such a gift? She was absolutely sure it was from him. There was no question in her mind about that. She knew it, as surely as she had ever known anything in her life. She knew she would see him again. She knew him. 8

Now where did that come from? She asked herself, I know him? Then she answered herself. A feeling came from the depths of her soul out of a darkened, suppressed memory, and she knew, I know him. She repeated with conviction. I know him. The something black within her crept to the surface again, threatening to swallow her. The harrowing realization hit her like a Mack Truck. I invited him to come.9

She pushed the scan button on the stereo, not knowing what she wanted to hear. His voice. His voice must be magnificent. Hypnotizing. His image seemed to have burned itself into her eyelids because he was there. She could see him, yet, she couldn’t distinguish him. His features, he, seemed to be enveloped in a fog, a wispy, billowy, incandescent blur. The radio kept scanning. A screeching guitar solo yanked her back to the present. The interstate was deserted. No headlights greeted her and no tail lights blazed a trail for her to follow. It was as if she was isolated in a world of blackness. A chill flew up her spine. She sat up straight, gripped the wheel, turned the AC to subzero, and slammed a cassette into the radio. Prince poured out. Her foot instinctively pressed harder on the accelerator and the speedometer closed in on eighty-five miles per hour. Yet, she knew this was futile, utterly hopeless. She knew she couldn’t out run him. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A fragment of a lecture from a science class in college flew into her mind. That reflex was a leftover evolutionary mechanism used by animals to scare their enemies into thinking that they were bigger than they actually were. She shuddered. Every instinct she had told her that HE was in the backseat, grinning, staring at her, licking those gloriously sharp, white teeth. 10

She couldn’t turn around. She told herself not to look in the rearview mirror. She didn’t want her worst fears realized. Telling yourself not to do something is impossible. Her eyes betrayed her will and darted to the mirror for a fraction of a microsecond. There he was, just as she imagined. Grinning. Mirra screamed. Her foot slammed on the brakes. The car swerved and instinctively Mirra’s grip on the leather wheel tightened. Her knuckles turned white. Even as she fought for control of the car, she could feel his icy breath on her neck. Involuntarily she squeezed her eyes shut. Every muscle in her body was strainingly taut. The next thing she expected was to hear his voice, his sinister mocking laugh, as his rough hands surrounded her neck, choking the life out of her. His laugh, delightful, as he slowly squeezed her throat, cutting off the air to her lungs, turning her face blood red and forcing the veins to pop out in her neck and forehead. His satisfied smile as he squeezed harder to make her eyes explode out of their sockets like a bullet from a gun. After what seemed like an eternity, the car almost came to a stop and Mirra exploded from the Monte like all the demons from Hell were right behind her. She didn’t put the car in park. She didn’t slam the door. She just ran out into the night. 11