The silver of his blade shone yellow and orange flashes from the flickering light in the ally way. The knife pressed up against her neck, he was breathing heavy behind her back. “This is how I want to remember you, ALWAYS!” he whispered in her ear. Joni’s life spun quickly in her mind as her heart raced. This was it! she was gonna die tonight. Then she remembered in what seemed to be her last moments breathing, what her sensei taught her many moons ago. As his words and filled her head she calmed down, her heart beat slowed to a crawl and she was serene, stoic.
As Joni felt the scratch of the blade her muscle memory kicked in and her hands melded with the memory of the dojo. Her left arm twisted as her right hand snatched his wrist pushing the blade away, as she began to kneel, His grip on Joni’s left arm and her fast forward motion sent him over like a fireman’s carry. The knife penetrates his jugular Slips past his wind pipe and and rips out his carotid artery. He falls on his back, Joni’s Would be attacker’s blood spews forth in three gushes and ebbs and flows out like a spring. Her calmness turns to horror when she sees the shiny medallion upon his chest. “How could this be happening to me.” She screams as she sees that shining star glaring back at her trembling face. The man behind her was wearing a badge. This man was a cop. The man that wanted to pill her blood was a damn cop.
There was no way she was gonna be standing there waiting, answering questions from his brethren. This was no ordinary Cop. He was Paul McHale. A hero cop. “A damn hero cop. Why did it have to be a hero?” she muttered to her self in disgust. Joni’s whole love for the men in blue died that moment,. How could this hero who saved lives, also be one of the most deranged serial killers in the county? She knew, in her heart of hearts, that no matter how much this was self defense and the citizen standing up to fear, that his cronies would make it all seem like her. No way could he do this, but there it was bleeding out all over her shoes.
Joni had not a nick on her aside from the scratch of the knife that never broke skin, or the slight Indian burn on her wrist when he had her in the hammer lock. She was covered head to toe In Paul’s blood. The first thing she did was remover her blouse. Standing there in the cold she kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot in the smelly back alley . She had to find a puddle of water, or a spit bucket or even a pool of stinky wino piss. anything would be better than looking like she was in a horror movie. Joni’s face had traces of relief the moment she spied the water faucet with the key still attached on the wall next to the thrift store. She was feeling like she could pull this off. Could she really get away with it? “HELL YEAH!” she thinks to herself with a smirk.
Joni washes off the blood with the icy cold water. Her pale skin becomes ghostly white with a blue glow. Covered in goose pimples, Joni then proceeds to open every bag and box out side the thrift store’s back door. The only thing she could find that fit her barely was a school girl uniform that was too small and a varsity high school jacket that was a scant too big. “You gotsta be kiddin’ me, I look like a dumb highs school slut” She scowls under her breath as she crawls out of the alley, through the hole in the side of the fence. As she walks in down the path between the apartments building towards the street she begins to hear the wail of sirens and sees the red and blue lights flash towards the alley. She hangs her head down and walks slowly through the passage to the street.
That morning she woke up in a cold sweat. “What a nightmare!” she yawned as she got up out of the sheets of her bed as the sun smashes through her floor to ceiling windows. Joni stumbles through her apartment, to wards her bathroom. She tosses off her night gown as she walks past the mirror in her bedroom by the door. She has a panic attack as she notices it out of the corner of her eye. A bright pink rash with a white scratch on her neck where the blade was. Joni gasps in horror. It really happend. She turns to around her room. She notices the clothes she stole from the donation boxes on the floor by her cut up and blackened feet. and sees the black and reddish brown foot prints up and down her halls fluffy, white shag carpeting. It was real alright. She begins panicky breath for air, only the the soft muffled squeal of a gentle scream manages to escape her throat. She stumbles her kitchen and collapses to the floor, vomiting at the events replaying in her chaotic mind. She killed Paul, the hero cop, in self defense. Why did he choose her? She needed answers. She needed a cigarette
Later that morning. She finally found the strength to to shower and change. She had work and then school, but no way was she going in. As she turned on the TV she was Inundated with images of the night before, Talking heads were begging for justice for the slain hero, her would be assassin. Was he a deranged serial killer as she thought ? One things for sure, they had better not put two and two together about her shoes and blouse or else there would be hell to pay.. All she could think about was some old gumshoe Private Dick who would be more than happy to find out why she was targeted. A detective who could discredit the name of a rotten, dirty cop who played the part of hero during the day, murderer by night. It was Joni’s only chance to clear her name before it was too late.