I Think About You Ronnie Anne

7

The panther stalks its prey, watching the deer ignorantly prance around and eventually turning to the pond. The deer lowers its head and begins to lap up the water, completely focused on hydrating itself. Now was the perfect time for the panther to strike, and it came out of its hiding to slowly and quietly move, getting closer and closer to the deer. It has such a powerful and light skip that its walking cannot be heard. Then when the panther is only within a few feet, it sprints forward and pounces. The panther's claws hook into the deer's neck, and that's when it tries to yelp and plead for help. Unfortunately, no other deer are near enough to here. Or at least, they know that if they were to try and help the deer in trouble, they also would be killed. The deer begs the panther to stop, shaking its body and screaming, but all it takes is one strong bite to puncture through a rib and into a lung, forcing the deer to lie still. It lives for another few minutes, but it does not try and escape. It lies there by the pond being eaten alive, and it is too weak to take any action. It simply accepts that it will die.

~

"AGH! GET OFF ME!" I sit on her chest and rip a piece of tape off the roll, placing it over her mouth. She thrashes like a fish desperate to breathe. This won't work. She needs to be asleep. How do I put her to sleep? She tries screaming but the tape muffles it into hums. Her parents didn't hear her, did they? If they're both asleep then they might have just slept through it. If they heard their daughter scream, I bet they would run in as fast as they could. Hm. They must not have heard. She screams a sentence that is suppressed and translated into another hum, but I can actually make out what she said. I think she said, "Help." I take a bundle of rope out of my pocket and tie it around her arms, tying them together like someone who was handcuffed from the front. She stops screaming and gets angrier. She kicks my back, although with very little strength. I take more rope out and turn myself around to tie her feet together. She kicked both feet as hard and fast as she could, which made it more difficult, but I still was able to hold her legs down and get the rope around. I pulled the rope through and over in a figure eight, and when I stood up, she looked perfect. Trapped like a roasted pig with an apple stuck in its mouth, hah! What a resemblance! Ronnie Anne looked at me with hatred and shock, which both hurt my feelings, but she had already hurt me worse than this. What I didn't expect is that though tied up, she was still able to hop out of bed. She jumped like a spring about one or two times but lost her balance and fell, hitting her head on the wall.

Now she was asleep. But that's not what I wanted. I didn't want to hurt her. I walk over to her limp body and flip it over so I can see her face. It's frozen in a pained expression, and she takes only very small breaths. I petted her on the head like a cat and let her know my empathy is still alive and is somewhere inside me. "You'll be okay, Ronnie Anne. It's safer where I'm taking you." I stuffed her body into a garbage bag and dragged her along the grass, going through only backyards and alleyways. On the street to my house, I see two headlights coming right my way. I make haste and toss the bag over into a darker spot behind me, rolling it a bit further as well. To my horror, that car that approached and gave me such a rise actually stopped right in front of me on the road. It was a police car. He rolled down his window. His fat mustache was typical of a policeman in Royal Woods, Michigan. His bald head was too. "Hey kid, I'm scared of you being out so late. What did you do, run away from home?" Crap, I never was good at talking to people. I wonder if I'm good at lying. "No sir, I couldn't sleep so I decided to take a walk." He lowered the volume on his radio, which made a painful silence that made the air thick and tense. "You should wear some reflective wear, you know what I'm talking about? People who ride bikes sometimes wear it." he reached over into the passenger's seat and rustled around looking for something. I know it's unreasonable, but I can only imagine him searching for a gun to pull on me. It wasn't a gun. It was a hamburger.

He took a pick bite out of it and some mustard fell on his shirt. He said "Whoops" and wiped it off with his finger, which he then licked. "How far do you live? You know how to get back home?" I nodded which he probably couldn't see since there was a lack of streetlights. "Yes sir, down a few houses from here." He took another loud, annoying bite from his burger. This time some ketchup and a pickle fell down. To this, he muttered "Damn" and again wiped it off with a finger. This guy's a total slob, what's his problem? "Alright kid, I think you're pretty responsible. It's what... (he checks his watch) about 01:00 am? So try to get home safe, you hear?" I say back "Absolutely" and he smiles. He turns up his radio, which is playing "Creep" by Radiohead. An eery theme that makes me think for a second. The lyrics get quieter as the car fades into the distance, but they affect me all the same. As I stand there in the dark, a few steps away from Ronnie Anne in that black bag, those lyrics echo in my head.

"But I'm a creep.

I'm a weirdo."