I Can Barely Breathe by August Verona Page A

jacket was laid neatly over
the back of the passenger seat. Carver tapped out a cigarette from
a soft pack of Morleys and placed it between his lips, unlit.
    As he entered Sorrow’s Sky, his tires kicked
up dust from the dirt road. The town council never had a reason to
pave them; with only five thousand residents populating the burg,
it was never really high on the to-do list. The buildings were
aged; storefront windows were covered in the same dust, and the
town had an overall gothic feel, with a rich history of life, love
and death to go with it.
    Carver cracked his window via the hand
crank, just as he heard three loud bangs coming from inside the
trunk. He could feel the cool October breeze, and he breathed it
in, then lit his smoke. The moon was high over the Victorian houses
and modernized castles, directly above the old clock tower—the
tallest man-made structure from here to Cosmos.
    Sorrow’s Sky had a few wheat fields; a few
parks with green grass, tall trees and benches; lots of houses—big
and small—to accommodate the population; and, in most places, its
alleyways between the homes were paved with bricks. Police
headquarters was a building shared with their neighbors, the
firefighters, whose building shared a wall with the town’s bank.
Carver sped past just in time to see the bank manager locking up
for the night and a few officers outside having a smoke break.
    Three more bangs on the trunk.
    Carver checked his rearview mirror. “Bit of
a fighter.” He smiled.
    As he turned onto his road and saw his house
up ahead, he felt a small sensation of adrenaline. After all, the
fun always began once he was safely inside. The single-story
redbrick home had been in his family for generations. It had large
windows, red shingles, two brick chimneys on opposite sides and sat
on a large property of green grass with a red barn hiding at the
edge of his land. Giant oak trees sprinkled their acorns throughout
the property, a healthy food source for all the squirrels.
    He pulled a ways past his driveway and then
put the car in Reverse, backed in and put it in Park. He pulled the
keys from the ignition and climbed out, walked to the trunk and
popped it open. She was beautiful. Her hair was long and blonde,
her eyes a pale green. A strip of duct tape covered her lips, and
her hands were bound behind her with a black zip tie. She couldn’t
have been any older than nineteen.
    Carver never took from Sorrow’s Sky; he went
to Cosmos to hunt. He had more of a selection there anyway, and he
didn’t need the police snooping around his town. He liked the
pretty girls, young, no older than twenty-five… usually. And, of
course, the most important detail: his victims had to be in a dress
or skirt. He found it funny really. Everyone was so scared of the
serial killer who plagued the area, and all they had to do to
protect themselves was put on a pair of jeans.
    Carver had snatched the girl just outside of
Cosmos Community College. He had parked near a shaded area, then
opened his trunk, smooth talked the pretty girl into approaching
his car—this was where his good looks come into play—then threw her
in and taped her mouth and tied her hands. It was always easy. He
was good at it.
    Feeling the cold chill in the air and
staring down at his prize, he watched a tear roll along her cheek.
Her dress was a bright yellow and was short enough to show off her
smooth thighs and her perfect backside. He took a few steps toward
his shaded mahogany front door and unlocked it, keeping an eye on
the trunk most of the time. He pushed open the door and got a fresh
scent of his living room. That familiar rush of air always felt
like home.
    As quick as he could, he grabbed the girl,
lifted her up and discretely carried her through the threshold,
just like a newly married couple… or at least close enough.
    Carver set her down and pushed her forward,
and she stood on shaky legs. He closed the front door while still
maintaining a firm grip on one