Death Answers to Jamie

When I finally met my online boyfriend in person, he asked what I wanted in a future husband. I didn't even have to think. "He can't be named Jamie Bloom." He looked completely lost, but I didn't explain. Because a fortune-teller once told me I'd die at the hands of a man named Jamie Bloom. That evening, he went to take a shower, and a message popped up on his phone. One glance, and my blood ran cold. "Jamie, sweetie, you got there and didn't even text Mom to say you made it safe?" Chapter 1 I stared at the message, and my mind went blank. The fortune-teller's deeply lined face surfaced in my memory again. "Young lady, death is written in your stars. One day, you'll die at the hands of a man named Jamie Bloom. Be very, very careful." Ever since then, that name had haunted me like a curse, and I'd done everything I could to stay clear of it. Jameson Cole and I had been dating online for six months, and things between us had always been steady. Today was our first time meeting in person. He'd booked this mountaintop resort especially for the occasion, saying he wanted to give me the most romantic night of my life. Back when we'd first started talking, I'd even made him send me a photo of his ID. Right—his ID! I dug his wallet out of his bag and went through it piece by piece: his ID, his driver's license. The photo was him. And in the name field, in plain bold letters: Jameson Cole. I swallowed hard. What was going on? Then a thought stabbed through me. The fortune-teller had said the man would be named Jamie Bloom, but he'd never said whether that was his real name or a nickname! The shower was still running. I froze where I stood, my back pressed against the wall, my palms slick with sweat. The last shuttle had stopped running hours ago. There wasn't another soul for miles around this mountaintop resort. Only me and the man in the shower. The water kept running. I steeled myself and tiptoed toward the bathroom. Behind the frosted glass, a tall silhouette stood facing me, the steam blurring its outline. I reached out and rested my hand on the cold door handle. I shoved it down—and at that exact moment, the water stopped. The bathroom door flew open. A wave of hot, damp steam hit me in the face, carrying the scent of body wash. Jameson stood under the showerhead clutching a towel, rooted to the spot. He gaped at me for a second, then quickly covered himself. "Wh-what are you doing?!" My eyes swept over his face. I snatched his robe off the rack and darted back to the doorway. He was completely stunned, staring at me like I'd lost my mind. I clutched the robe, nails digging into my palms, and forced the words out. "Is your name Jamie Bloom?" He blinked, then burst out laughing. "Sure. And I'm also your favorite midnight snack." I nearly choked. My life was hanging by a thread, and he thought I was flirting?! Anger flared up inside me. "Your real name's Jameson, but your nickname is Jamie Bloom, isn't it?! I know everything, so don't even think about lying to me!" His smile faltered for a second, then gave way to even deeper confusion. "Avery, did you eat something weird at dinner? What guy has a nickname like Jamie Bloom? Just give me my robe already!" I took a tactical step back, my eyes locked on him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bathroom light stretch his shadow long across the floor, all the way to my feet. "Then why did your mom text you and call you Jamie?" "My mom?" He stared at me for several seconds, and then his voice softened. "My nickname is Jamie, but my last name isn't Bloom. What's wrong with you? You were fine a minute ago..." As he spoke, he started to step out of the shower. I hugged the robe tighter and backed up another step. What he said did make sense. A name as sweet as Jamie Bloom didn't exactly fit a guy built like him. But I still couldn't bring myself to let my guard down. "See for yourself." Jameson sighed, picked up his phone, opened a few chats, and held it up in front of my face. He scrolled through them one by one. It turned out his buddies all called him Jamie too. He looked at me, half exasperated, half amused. "Okay, my turn to ask. Who's Jamie Bloom? Am I some kind of stand-in for an old flame?" The weight on my chest finally lifted. Then embarrassment came rushing in. I let go of the robe, not knowing what to do with my hands. While he got dressed, I happened to glance at the bag I'd just rummaged through. From the inner pocket of the backpack, something peeked out, gleaming with a cold light. My heart leaped straight back into my throat. Why would he bring a knife to meet me for the first time? Chapter 2 The blade was half-wrapped in a black leather sheath, showing only a narrow strip of gleaming metal. If I hadn't been rummaging so frantically, I'd never have noticed it. I crouched there, forgetting to breathe. The fortune-teller's prophecy slithered up my spine like a venomous snake and coiled around me once more. "Babe, come here." Jameson lifted a corner of the blanket and patted the bed beside him. The lamplight bathed half his face in a warm glow. But the sweeter he acted, the colder I felt. There were only two of us in this room. The shuttle had stopped running hours ago. No one could get in, and I couldn't get out. If he really was the man from the prophecy, tonight was the night I'd die. I forced myself to stay calm and pretended to call my best friend. Then, keeping my eyes on Jameson, I tried to sound as casual as I could. "Nell, did you just call me?" I paused, deliberately drawing out my words. "Oh, you're coming to see me later? But isn't the shuttle out of service? How are you getting here?" A few more seconds passed. I let my voice trail off, my eyes locked on Jameson without blinking. "I see. Okay, I'll wait for you." When I hung up, the back of my shirt was soaked through. I figured if Jameson knew someone was coming, at least he wouldn't dare make a move for now. That would buy me time to find a way out. "Pfft—" A soft laugh came from behind me. Jameson tilted his head, looking at me with a half smile. "Babe, ten minutes ago I got a text saying the storm knocked out cell service. So how exactly did you make that call?" His voice was soft and light, like a feather brushing past my ear. But to me, it landed like a thunderclap. Every hair on my body stood on end. My brain didn't even have the strength to think. Only one thought remained: run! I spun around, yanked the door open, and bolted out barefoot. A thud sounded behind me—Jameson was coming after me! At some point, half the lights in the hallway had gone dark. I stumbled across the carpet, unsteady with every step. The suite was a standalone building, completely private. When Jameson booked it, I'd gushed about how romantic it was—a whole world to ourselves, where no one would bother us. Now I finally understood what it meant to dig your own grave. I rushed downstairs. The lobby was empty. The pool glowed an eerie blue, the gym equipment loomed in the shadows, and the lights over the bar were still on, but no one was there. The staff had gone home long ago. I threw myself at the front door and yanked it with all my strength. Damp, misty air rushed at me, and only then did I remember that just outside the door was a stretch of pitch-black water. This luxury suite had been built on an island in the middle of a lake. The only way back to the main building was by shuttle boat. Jameson had spent a fortune booking a place cut off like a deserted island—all so he could kill me. He really wanted me to die here! All the strength drained out of me. I staggered back two steps, and a piercing pain shot through me. I looked down. At some point, I'd sliced a gash in my calf, and blood was trickling down to my ankle. Ignoring the pain, I slipped deeper into the lobby, pulled open the door of a storage cabinet, and squeezed myself inside. It was cramped. I curled up as small as I could and held my breath. In the darkness, all I could hear was my own heartbeat and the thunder rumbling outside. Footsteps echoed through the lobby. One step. Another. Another. Getting closer and closer. I clamped my hand over my mouth, not even daring to breathe. Sure enough, Jameson's footsteps stopped right in front of the cabinet where I was hiding. In the deathly silence, I heard a soft sigh. That familiar voice, pressed right up against the cabinet door, slid coldly into my ears. "Such an obvious trail of blood... So this is where you've been hiding." Chapter 3 Before I could even cry out, a brutal force yanked me out. "Ah—!" A hand clamped down hard over my mouth, smothering my scream, and I slammed into a solid chest. My vision went black, and I tasted the heavy tang of blood. He gripped the back of my neck and dragged me to the edge of the pool like a rag doll, then hurled me down. I crashed onto the cold marble floor. It felt like every bone in my body had come apart. Jameson bent over me and slowly drew the knife. The tip of the blade glinted coldly under the harsh white light. The gentle mask he'd been wearing was torn away completely, revealing a vicious, thrilled grin underneath. "Keep running. Why'd you stop?" He slid the back of the blade lightly across my cheek, speaking like a man showing off his most prized collection. "Wh-why..." My voice came out in broken pieces. He grinned. "Don't blame me. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being named Avery." I remembered that when we'd first connected online, before I even had the chance to say anything, he'd been the one to ask my name. So he'd been confirming his prey's name all along. "My ex—that bitch named Avery! If she hadn't betrayed me, I wouldn't be like this! After that, I swore I'd kill every woman named Avery in the world!" His eyes turned savage. A wave of deep despair crashed over me. Of all the men online, I'd fallen for a psychopath?! I went cold all over, so full of regret I couldn't say a word. The next second, he grabbed my head and shoved it into the pool. "Mmph—" The icy water swallowed me instantly. I struggled desperately under the surface. Everything blurred, and the air was squeezed from my lungs bit by bit until nothing was left but endless suffocation. Just as I was about to black out, he yanked me back up and flung me onto the edge of the pool. I coughed violently, gulping down air. "How's that?" He crouched beside me, taking his time to enjoy the sight of me in such a sorry state. "This is only the beginning." He grabbed my head again and forced it back under. Again and again. Every time, he pulled me up right at the edge of death. The splashing water, the thunder, and his twisted laughter all blended together. The fortune-teller's prophecy echoed in my ears over and over. Was I really going to die here tonight? No! I lay sprawled at the edge of the pool, panting hard, but out of the corner of my eye, I kept him locked in my sights. He'd turned his back to me and was ranting away, spit flying, as he bragged about his past "trophies." Now! I swung my foot up and hooked it hard around his ankle. Splash—! He lost his balance and toppled headfirst into the pool, sending up a huge spray of water. Caught off guard, Jameson choked on several mouthfuls of water and clawed clumsily at the edge, trying to climb out. I pushed myself up on trembling legs and grabbed the porcelain vase from the corner. Just as Jameson hauled himself up to the edge and started to raise his head, I swung. Crash!! The sound of shattering porcelain exploded through the empty lobby. He went limp and slumped forward, his body sinking back into the water. I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, shaking all over. The lobby was deathly silent, except for the rain pounding outside. Right then, a clap of thunder exploded almost directly over the roof. A blinding flash of lightning lit up the entire lobby. I jolted and snapped my head up, so startled I nearly leaped to my feet. Outside the front door, a face was pressed against the glass, peering in. Lit stark white by the lightning, its features were squashed nearly flat against the glass, its eyes fixed on me without moving. Chapter 4 I shot to my feet and stumbled back several steps. "Ms. Larkin!" The person outside shouted through the glass, her voice carrying through the sheets of rain. I stared at her for several seconds before it suddenly came to me: I'd seen her at the front desk when we checked in. She was the resort's owner. Round face, a little plump, very friendly. Relief flooded through me, and I practically threw myself at the door to open it. The owner stood under the awning, wet strands of hair plastered to her face, looking apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Larkin. This storm came out of nowhere, and lightning knocked out the cell tower on the mountain. I've already called for repairs, and the repairman's on his way. Please don't panic. Just wait here and try to relax." I let out a huge breath, close to tears. Finally, finally, someone was here. "It's okay, it's okay. Thank you so much..." I forced a smile, but before I could finish, I saw the owner's gaze drift past my shoulder and land squarely on the pool. The color drained from her face. A dry, strangled sound came from her throat, and her finger trembled as she pointed. "Wh-what is that?" I followed her gaze, and my racing heart slowly settled back into place. I took a deep breath and told her everything that had happened tonight, from start to finish. As she listened, the owner's expression shifted again and again. At last, she let out a long sigh and shook her head. "The world is such a dangerous place. He seemed like such a decent young man, and he turned out to be a psycho." She pulled herself together and patted the back of my hand. "Don't be afraid, Ms. Larkin. I'll stay right here with you until the repairman comes, and then we'll call the police." Warmth spread through my chest, and the nerves I'd kept wound tight all night finally loosened a little. "Thank you." My voice came out a little hoarse. "If it weren't for you, I really don't know what I'd do tonight." "No need to thank me." The owner waved it off. "By the way—how did you figure out he was a bad guy?" I hesitated for a moment, then decided to come clean about everything, the prophecy included. When I finished, her brow twitched almost imperceptibly. "And I saw a knife in his bag. Something felt off, so I wanted to keep my distance, but then he came after me with it." "Oh, so that's what happened. You're pretty sharp." She nodded vaguely and lowered her eyes. "Then again, what normal person carries something like that around?" Outside, the rain pelted the windows, rattling against the glass. "That fortune-teller is a strange one, though," the owner said, her voice oddly distant. "How would he come up with a name like Jamie Bloom?" I shrugged. "Who knows? Whoever he tells me to avoid, I avoid." "You really trust him that much?" She gave me a faint, unreadable smile. "What if he was just making it all up?" "Better safe than sorry," I said with a weak smile. "After all, I only get one life." The owner nodded. "Still, Jamie Bloom... Doesn't that sound more like a woman's name?" I paused, then gave a bitter laugh. After that, the two of us just sat there in silence. Neither of us said another word. A bolt of lightning split the sky, its harsh white light illuminating the entire lobby. I glanced up without thinking, and my eyes landed right on the name badge pinned to her chest. She'd been caught in the rain, and her jacket hung slightly open, revealing the badge pinned to the uniform underneath. White letters on a blue background, perfectly clear. I could make out every letter. In that instant, the blood in my veins nearly froze. I jerked my head up and met her eyes. At some point, she'd dropped that friendly smile and was staring at me without moving. Maybe it was just the atmosphere getting to me, but the look in her eyes made my skin crawl. Slowly, the corners of her mouth curved up, her voice as gentle as ever. "Ms. Larkin, why are you staring at me like that?"