Carefree

Pink, glossy lips

Long, beautiful eyelashes

Carefully lined eyes, in black onyx

Flawless finish, forehead, cheeks, and chin

Honey blonde hair

Long, beautiful strands

Carefully created, perfect waves

Flawlessly coiffed, not a hair out of place

Round, full breasts

Tight, lacy top

Carefully adjusted bra straps, tightened

Maximizing cleavage for boys with hungry eyes

Shorts, cut-offs

Long, toned legs

Carefully placed rips and tears

Tantalizing glimpses of youthful tan skin

Toes, pedicure perfect

Pink, pastel bliss

Carefully drawn on flowers

Feet slipped into outfit matching sandals

Skipping, down the hall stairs

Cell phone in hand

Texting with the masses

Not quite as perfect BFFs

Rummaging, looking for the car keys

Half listening to her dad

Reminding her of curfew

Midnight, now that she was 18

Joslyn, her given name

JoJo, her nickname and identity

At Washington Valley High

Senior, destined to be Prom Queen

Privileged, upper class

Not a care in the world, yes, carefree

As she starts the Mustang

She is oblivious to him watching her

Jet black hair

Greasy, combed back

Strands fall away and lay against his face

Hiding his acne scars

Dark brown eyes

Dark circles underneath

So dark, he appears to have two black eyes

Causing most people to look away

Yellow teeth, thin lips

Stale breath, cigarettes & whiskey

Sometimes, at the bar, he belches at the barmaid

Repulsed, she pulls away

Hands calloused, fingers long

Nails much too long

Shoulders slouched, frame rail thin

Legs slightly bowed

Work, at the theater

Anything but carefree, hardened

His name tag reads “Wyatt”

This is where he first saw her, perfection

Long legs, she came to him

Handed him her ticket, her attention,

On her friends, she didn’t even look at him

As he inhaled her coconut scent

He followed her home

That very night, feeling flushed

Large brick homes and manicured lawns

He watched as she went inside

And so it began for Wyatt,

The transition from run of the mill creep

To stalker, predator

Consumed by her every move, it was inevitable

Mustang, he hangs back, careful

He turns up the radio

Singing along, heavy metal

Soon, he will have her, tonight is the night

She adjusts the rear view mirror

Checking lip gloss

Oblivious, a rusty Honda a few houses back

She honks, impatient, and her friend trots out

He observes carefully

The friend is pretty, but not special

His Jojo is special

He longed to inhale her, become intoxicated

House party, she takes one final look

Adjusts the mirror, still oblivious

Satisfied, the girls hop out of the Mustang

Shouting, waving, a group of young men

Anger, his face becomes red

Tiny beads of sweat, along his hairline

He stares intently at the tall one

He has his arm draped around his Jojo

On the couch, she sits in his lap

Wyatt brazenly watching through the window

She is happy, carefree

His mind is racing, the knife in his boot

She slow danced, contemplating

Maybe going to second base

He shook with rage, contemplating

Maybe he should just walk inside, take what is his

11PM, one hour until curfew

She invites the young man into her car

Wyatt hides, bushes cut into his skin

Coconut breezes by, he is unhinged

Tender kisses, pink lip gloss

Windows steam, he cannot see inside

She places his hand upon her breast

Wyatt stutters to himself, just do it

So he does, knife in hand

Staggering, he moves towards the Mustang

The one he has been following

4 months and 3 days

Passenger door, unlocked

Startled, the young man looks up

Wyatt snarls, a wild animal, and pulls him out

She lets out a soft yelp, confusion

There were witnesses

Later, sobbing their story

Fast, brutal, terrifying, horrific, blood

Police wrote it all down

She was hysterical, in his trunk

Banging, screaming, begging

Oh, God please, help me

Wyatt drove