Page 2 of You Can Make Me

You goad the innocent

You cater to the immoral

And it will bring about your demise

Your curiosity will lead you to death’s doorstep

Your pleas will go unheard

Your bargaining will fall on deaf ears

And your life will be forfeit

So dwell on the consequences

Weigh your options

Settle your debts

And the Reaper may pass you by

But continue on this path

Remain on this road

And upon the area of rest

The swipe of the blade will be the ultimate test

The words spoken to me by the old women in Laurel Canyon years ago echoed in my mind.

While still a hotshot college student trying to gain favor with my advisor, I became insatiable when it came to the unsavory tales of the canyon’s history. I knew there had to be more stories than the parties and rock ’n’ roll, and I practically went door to door trying to get the older residents to talk to me. I was obsessed, drawn to the area with an inexplicable pull, and I’d stuck my nose where it didn’t belong more than once.

I should have stayed away, but I hadn’t learned my lesson. Granddad had praised my curious mind, predicted that my constant search for the truth would lead me to greatness. For a time, maybe it had. Most of my years working as a journalist, I’d championed the folks who needed someone to speak on their behalf, rarely going for the sensational. But on that sunny summer day, while driving from my apartment in West Hollywood to my internship in Studio City, I’d stopped to geta Peace Tea at the Canyon Store and spotted their table in the shade.

The old women had issued me a harsh warning, and rather than heed their words, I’d played chicken with fate.

“You’re so pretty. Just likehim. I’m gonna have fun taking your pretty away.”

I’d handled my fear just fine until then. I somehow found the ability to fight back, but that only made him more excited.

“Yes,” he hissed when I rolled and attempted a wristlock. When he bent down, I tried to punch him in the throat but only ended up scratching his face. “Fight me. It’ll be even more satisfying this way.”

The first slice of his giant knife to my face went in above my eyebrow, and I shouted as blood ran into my eye. I threw up my arms to protect my face, and he laughed, cutting deeply into my forearms and my shoulder. I managed to roll away, but then he added gashes to my glutes.

With my last burst of energy, I attempted a double-leg takedown, hoping to push him back and maybe get the knife away from him, but I didn’t have the force to knock him off his feet. I kicked at him from my position on the ground, but he was faster. I flagged when he slashed at my thighs.

I kept them pressed together, hoping he’d miss hitting the interior femoral artery.

“You are a feisty one. He would have been pleased—but you’re all mine.” He knelt at my side and ran the tip of his blade below my cheekbone, slicing through muscle and gums. “There. That should do it. Don’t want it over too quickly.”

He stepped back, and I tried to push up, but I had no strength left anywhere. Breathing became labored. Vision blurred. My heartbeat thudded hard in my ears and began to slow.

Footsteps thudded on the grass from more than one person, but I couldn’t see…

“You came!” he said with sickening joy. “I hoped we’d have this time together. He wanted me to bring you to him, to take your life in front of him, but I want you for myself. This ismytriumph, not his, and I won’t have him in my head trying to control me anymore. I wanted to make you bleed, but he wasn’t going to let me have you. I ain’t gonna do his dirty work no more. I found you, that’s what he wanted. I had my taste of blood. I won—do you hear me, old man?”

Who the hell was he talking to?