When I look in the mirror, I sometimes wonder what my reflection sees when she looks at me. This woman, who is me and yet not me, who stops existing the moment I step away from the mirror. Does she see everything I see when I look at her? Does she notice my pimples, my stretch marks, and my fat rolls? Does she marvel at how old I’ve gotten or how much weight I’ve gained? Does she critique every outfit I try on as much as I do?

Sometimes I think that she must. After all, she is me.

And yet, she never abandons me. No matter where I go or what I look like, I know my twin will always appear when I step in front of a mirror.

Maybe my reflection sees more in me than I see in her. Maybe she sees the good in me – my kindness, my optimism, my hope, my love. Maybe she sees all the things that I have been – a daughter, a wife, a sister, a friend, a student, a teacher. Maybe she sees all the things I could be – a canvas before me with splashes of color but still waiting to be completed.

Perhaps it's time to see the woman in the mirror the same way she sees me.

"Thanks for the recommendation," The text read.

Strange, I thought, I did what I always did when a random number texted me and thought nothing of it.

That was my first mistake.

My second was so blatantly a mistake, I don't even know what came over me, why I did this.

A few hours after receiving the text there was a knock at my door.

usually, my instinct would be to stay inside and wait for the person to go away, but a weird compulsion came over me. So I stood from my couch and walked to the door and opened it. I expected to see some door-to-door salesmen or a Girl Scout offering cookies, but instead, there stood a handsome-looking man wearing a white shirt, jeans, and a sports coat. He smiled and asked how I was doing and if I was okay.

"I'm good," I said, "What's your name again?"

"David," He said, "Don't you recognize me?"

"I'm your friend!" He exclaimed, "I texted you this morning thanking you for the recommendation on what to do about my ex not leaving me alone!"

"Oh uh," I raked my brain for this event, and the name David but couldn't think of anything, "I think I did get a text earlier, but it was a wrong number, I never texted the number in my life."

"Oh," The man looked distraught, "Well if we don't know each other I guess I'll be on my way. Goodbye!" He walked down the patio,

"Bye," I said and I closed the door.

I went back and sat on my couch, took out my phone, and started scrolling on Instagram.

Five minutes later I received a text from the random number again.

"Hi, I'm here, where should I park?" It read.

This time I decided to respond. So I pressed the notification but what I saw shocked me.

The number was no longer just a number, it had contact info with a picture of the man who knocked at my door, and there weren't only two texts, there were an uncountable amount of conversations going back years.

"What in the world?" I muttered as I read through the texts. As I did I started to remember texting this number all the time.

"You good?" Another text from him came.

"Yeah I'm good," I responded, still skeptical of everything happening, "Where are you exactly?" I asked.

"The park," Came the response, "The parking lot is full and I don't see your car, so where did you park?"

I began to panic, I didn't think I had plans! But I guess I did, I texted back.

"So sorry I forgot about our plans do you just want to meet tomorrow? Or the next day?"

"Sure lol," came the response, "Did you oversleep or something?"

"Yeah," I lied.

"Well, at least you didn't just get no sleep like you usually do."

I sighed and laughed, David was always worried about my sleep schedule.

This can't be happening to me. I take a moment to scan the upscale dining room I find myself in. The hard wood floors, the intimate tables for two, the soft, candle-like lighting at each table. I know I don't belong here. If all the Prada, Gucci, Chanel, Armani, Burberry, and Fendi I see filling the room doesn't make that perfectly clear, the people wearing and carrying them do. I know I saw the guy at the nearest table on the cover of Forbes last week. And his dinnermate is undoubtedly a Victoria's Secret model.

My heart catches in my throat as my eyes settle on my date. Her chestnut hair shimmers as she tosses it over her shoulder. The red, form-fitting dress she wears is modest, yet it accentuates her feminine curves. She enters through the doorway at the far end of the room. When her eyes meet mine, I am instantly transported to the beaches of the Florida Keys. Perhaps it's just my imagination, but I am certain that all eyes in the room follow her as she walks, hips swaying. I feel the envious stab of those eyes hit my back as she places her hand on my shoulder and sits opposite me.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long." Her voice is as soft as I imagine her curves to be.

"No, not at all," I lie.

Glancing at my watch, I realize she had only stepped away from the table three minutes ago, but once the image of her filled my mind, every moment she was out of sight felt like a lifetime.

A slight smile curls her lips as if she read my mind and caught me in my lie, and my heart flutters.

"Should we share a dessert?" she purrs.

A brief moment of panic shatters the image of her that has replaced all other thoughts in my mind as I imagine what the bill for this meal is going to look like. The menu didn't list any prices, never a good sign for my limited bank account.

Her finger finds my hand on the table and gently caresses.

My anxiety melts away, "Sure, let's do it!"

A bead of sweat trickles down my spine as I hear my choice of words. I pray she hasn't picked up on the unintended double entendre. The twitch of her lips and slight tilt of her head tell me she has.

"I mean, dessert. Let's do dessert. "

"Great!"

I didn't know it was possible for her to be any more beautiful, but the way her face lights up at the notion of dessert proves me wrong. I have to willingly force my mouth from falling open at the glory that is her smile.

"I think I saw chocolate cake on the menu," I offer.

"I had something else in mind."

I realize she must dine here fairly often as she signals for the waiter. My anxiety over the bill returns because I assume she is going to ask for something off menu for dessert and I can't fathom what that will cost.

My anxiety is replaced by perplexity when she tells the waiter that we will have nothing else this evening.

"You don't want dessert?" My confusion clear in my voice.

"Oh, I most certainly do. I just don't want something to eat. I want to do something for dessert. Something... bad."

Her words smile on my heart and I realize I will do anything this woman wants, and it frightens me.

"Sure, sure," I stammer as if this makes perfect sense. Eat dessert? Who eats dessert? Dessert is an action, Everyone knows that.

I pull my wallet from my back pocket and open it. I partially slide out my debit card, but, after a second thought of the menu and the nonexistent prices, I opt for a credit card instead.

"Is Discover okay?" I hold my card toward the waiter, but he doesn't take it.

"Okay, Visa then." I return the card to my wallet and search for my Visa.

"That won't be necessary, sir." The disdain in his voice is as clear as it is in the look on the waiter's face.

"Oh?" Incredulity colors my words.

"Of course not!" He nods to my date, "Miss Bradley, and her guest," he practically vomits the word guest, "do not pay."

"Oh!"

"Thank you, Phillipe." She lays a hand on the waiter's arm, turning his gaze to her.

I feel a stab of jealousy as her hand lingers for what seems a moment too long.

"Certainly, Miss." Phillipe gives me one last stare before walking away, making a wide berth around me as if there is a stench coming off me, and it is catching.

"Well, he is interesting," I say as I stand and help my date into her jacket.

She places her arm through mine and we glide towards to the exit. I say glide because I don't feel my legs moving. All I feel is the fleeting contact between us. The warmth of her arm in mine penetrates my soul. I never want to let go.

"What did you want to do for dessert?" I ask as I hold the door open for her.

"Something we shouldn't. Something forbidden."

I pull the collar of my coat up around my neck and give a shiver, indicating the cool in the air, but I'm not cold. Far from it. I just wanted to hide the blush creeping up my face from her words.

"Sounds like ff..fun," I say, tripping over my tongue. "My car is just over here. Unless... unless you want to take separate vehicles?" Anxiety strikes me again as I hope I haven't presumed to much by offering to ride together.

"No, we can ride together in that car." She points to the back end of a vehicle that is sticking out of the alley beside the restaurant.

"Okay."

I walk towards the car and am surprised to see that it isn't even as nice as mine, which is saying a lot. My car is ten years old, but it's clean and I keep up with the maintenance. I expected her to drive an expensive new car, but this is dirty, dented, and older than mine.

I head towards the passenger side of the vehicle, and so does she. I smile awkwardly as we both stand at the door. When I open it, she seats herself inside. I guess I'm driving her car.

I work my way around the front of the car and realize it is already running. This car doesn't look new enough to have an automatic starter, but you can have those installed. I hadn't even noticed her start it. When I climb in, I realize I was right. This vehicle doesn't have an automatic starter. The keys are in the ignition.

"Has this been running all night?"

She only smiles in response. I assume she didn't expect to stay long. There must have been something in my dating profile on the app that made her feel she most likely would need to make a quick escape. I take some pride in the fact that she didn't.

I back out of the alley. Emboldened by my new found pride, I let my hand graze her shoulder as I put my arm on the back of her seat to look out the back window.

"Where to?" I ask.

"Give me your phone." Holding her gloved hand out to me.

I unlock my phone and give it to her. It is still open to her dating profile, her eyes linger there for a moment before looking at me.

"I just wanted to make sure I would recognize you at the restaurant." It was a lie. From the first time I saw her profile, I hadn't been able to get her face out of my mind. The photo was still on my screen because I kept looking at it, unable to believe a woman like that had asked me on a date.

She pursed her lips coyly and closed the dating app. She began searching through my phone. She settles on my navigation app, clickes a few buttons, and sets our destination.

"There, all set," handing the phone back to me.

"Thanks."

I begin driving, following the vocal prompts. When the route starts to become familiar, I glance at the phone to check our destination.

"This is where you want to go? I work there you know, and it's closed right now."

"I know you work there. You mentioned it on your profile." She holds up her phone and my dating profile stars back at me.

"I did? I don't remember that."

She just smiles and nods as she lowers her phone.

Trying to make small talk, I say, "I like your car."

"This isn't my car. I don't even drive. "

"So we just stole a car?" I ask with a laugh.

"No. You did. I'm just along for the ride."

I look at her, hoping to see a hint of the joke on her face.

"I told you I wanted to do something bad." She smiles.

Her smile relaxes me. It's an odd joke, but I go with. "That's true, you did. I'm glad I could oblige."

We both laugh at the joke as we drive on.

We arrive at the museum I work for. I planned to park in the employee lot of the museum, but as I begin to pull in, she puts a hand on the wheel and tells me to park down the street.

"I enjoy the walk... with you." She lowers her eyes as she says the last part.

"No problem. I would love to walk with you."

I avoid the lot and park a good distance down the street. The longer the walk, the better in my opinion.

"The museum is closed though. We won't be able to see any exhibits," I say as I park the car. "Maybe just a walk. There is some beautiful architecture we can look at, and the garden beside the museum isn't locked at night."

I get out and open her door for her. The look on her face tells me I have let her down.

"I'm really sorry. I would lose my job if I brought you inside."

"How would they know?"

"There are cameras."

We have started walking towards the museum, but she is keeping a space between us.

"Couldn't you turn them off?"

"Well, I don't know."

She steps closer to me and puts her arm through mine. I feel a rush of heat run through my body at her touch.

"I suppose I could. I am the head of security."

Her face lights up and my heart soars, "That would be amazing!"

I stop walking as a thought occurs to me, "There are cameras at the entrances. They will see us enter. I can turn them off when we get inside, but I can't erase them."

Her face falls again. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

I think for a moment. I want to find an answer and make this woman smile again.

"If you wait here, I will go in alone. The camera will see me enter alone. Once I get inside, I'll turn off the cameras and call you. Then you can come in without being seen. What is your phone number?"

I was very proud of this idea. Not only would it make her happy and get her into the museum without losing my job, but it would also result in me having her phone number. To this point, all of our communication has been through the dating app.

"Great idea!" She takes out her phone and pauses, "Except my phone is dead."

"I will just come back out and get you," I quickly offer. I don't want her smile to fade.

"Okay, I'll wait here." She nods at me expectantly.

"I'll be right back," I say as I head off to the museum.

I enter the museum through the employee door using my keys. Once inside, I make my way to the security office only to find the door standing open. How could I have been so stupid? Joe, my night watchman, is on duty. He is sitting in the office eating a sandwich, looking up at me in surprise.

"What's up, Boss?" He asks around a mouthful of ham and cheese.

"Ah, I ah, have some paperwork and things I need to finish before Monday and I wasn't able to get them done before quitting time yesterday." I lie for the third time tonight, dropping my keys on the desk.

"Oh, nothing I couldn't do for you?"

No, it's employee reviews. Yours in fact." Joe straightens and coughs at that.

He wipes chewed ham and cheese from his lap, "Sure, yeah. I guess I can't do that. I'll just watch the monitors and stay out of your way. Or I can go do my rounds."

I need Joe out of here so I can bring Emma in. "That won't be necessary. I have a few other things to do as well. Why don't you cut out for the night? I can finish up here. Don't worry about punching out. You are my best guy Joe, you deserve a little extra paid time off."

"You sure, Boss?"

He is already standing and packing up his things.

"Absolutely."

"Great, thanks. I'll see you Monday, then."

Joe leaves the office. I follow his path on the security monitors. Once I watch his car leave the lot, I shut down the cameras and head out to get Emma. When I reach the door, I realize I forgot my keys in my haste to see her again. I prop the door open with a wedge we keep nearby.

"I'm sorry that took so long. There was something I had to take care of first." I don't tell her about Joe, because it was a dumb oversight on my part, and I want her to be impressed.

"Were good now, though? We can go in?"

"Yes, as good as gold." Why did I say that? I don't speak like that. This woman has me very flustered.

I extend my elbow to her, and to my delight, she takes it with a flourish. She even rests her head on my shoulder. I have never felt this way about someone I just met. We walk like that the rest of the way to the museum.

We enter through the same employee entrance I had propped open. Apparently, I was in too much of a rush and didn't force the wedge in tight enough, because the door has slid closed. Luckily for me, the door dragged the wedge with it as it closed, so it prevented the door from closing fully when it hit the threshold.

I pull the door open as if nothing has happened and follow her in. I give her the same tour I have seen the guides give countless visitors. I don't know as much about the exhibits as the tour guides, but having worked here a long time, I know enough.

"Well," I say, "that is everything."

I enjoyed the tour as much or more than she did because she held my arm through the entire thing.

"There's nothing else?" Letting go of my arm and stepping away from me.

"Those are all of the exhibits we have on display right now."

"What about not on display?" A small crease appears on her brow. It is the first imperfection I have noticed.

"Not on display? I don't understand."

She slides in close to me. I can feel her pressing against my chest. "There must be something you don't have on display yet?" A coquettish smile playing on her lips.

"Well, I suppose we could go to the archives, but it is just a dusty basement and everything is boxed up. Unless..." I trail off as an idea forms. "Come with me." I boldly take her by the hand and hurry off to the warehouse.

"These just came in yesterday. We plan to display them in a few weeks. They are very rarely displayed in the United States."

I don't know why the idea hasn't occurred to me sooner. This was the most exciting thing in the museum. I find the crate I am looking for and tell her to step back as I pop the lid off. It come off easily because we just inventoried the contents the day before.

"These are incredible," I say as I pull out the first item.

"What are they?"

"These are the royal jewels from the Kingdom of Brunei."

I hand her a diamond encrusted necklace that must weigh five pounds. Her eyes go wide with amazement as they take in the sparkling spectacle before her. Mine do the same, but I am watching her eyes, not the gaudy necklace.

"It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!" She gushes, and I can't help but agree.

"What else is in there?" Handing the necklace back to me.

"So many things."

I show her tiaras, bracelets, rings, and earrings. She holds and studies them all. I marvel at her. The final piece I show her is another necklace. It is thin and feels fragile. There are diamonds, emeralds, and rubies inlaid along is fine silver arch. Her hands give a slight tremble as I place it in them.

"It's incredible." Her words are breathless and barely audible. There are tears in her eyes as they meet with mine. "Will you put it on me?"

I was helpless to those eyes. "Yes."

She hands it to me and turns her back to me, lifting her hair to reveal her slim, flawless neck. My hands give a tremble of their own as I place the necklace on her and close the clasp. I run a finger along the length of her neck as I remove my hands.

"Beautiful." I hadn't meant to say it aloud, but I couldn't help myself.

She turns back to face me. One hand gently touching the jewels at her throat, as she gazes at the necklace.

Her eyes raise to mine. There is a sincerity in her voice that I hadn't noticed was missing before as she says, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I laugh nervously.

"For this." A sternness I wouldn't have expected her capable of enters her voice, "Now!"

I hear footsteps behind me and feel an aching crack at the base of my skull. And then, only darkness.

I awaken to the museum's alarm blaring in my ears. I don't know how long I was out. Frantic, I look around the room, but there is no one there. I am alone. I try to remember what happened and where I am. I remember my date with the beautiful Emma Bradley, but I can't figure out how I ended up here.

I become aware of where I am. This is the warehouse of the museum where I work. I fall to the floor as the events crash back to my memory. The museum! I brought her here! I showed her everything, including the Burnei jewels. I stand and spin, taking in the room. The crate with the jewels is standing open behind me.

I rush to the crate and find it empty.

"Emma!" I bellow. "Emma!" I run through the museum calling her name, but she doesn't respond. I stop so suddenly I nearly trip when I recall Emma's last word to me. "Now!" I feel the back of my head. My hand comes away bloody. She wasn't speaking to me then, but to someone else. Someone must have entered the museum when I propped the door open and went to get Emma. That's why the wedge was moved and the door was partially closed. They must have bumped it when they entered. In order to remove all of the items from the crate, they must have carried in boxes and a two-wheeler.

Emma had said "now" right before I was hit. She was in on it! That is why she made me come back and get her! So her accomplice could enter the museum while I was gone. An image of Phillipe enters my mind. I need to check the video and call the police, so I sprint to my office. I open the computer to pull up the video as I pick up my phone. I drop the phone when I see a blank screen before me.

I turned off the surveillance. There is no video record of the crime. The only video available is of me driving past the hotel in a stolen vehicle, entering the museum alone, sending Joe home, and then a video from this very office, of me. Turning off the surveillance.

I am still bending over the surveillance system when I hear a man yell, "Freeze!"

I look up from the computer and stare down the barrel of a police officer's gun and directly at the end of my freedom.

This can't be happening to me.

The masks run deep

He wears many standing there

Everyone else around him wears one

They don’t pretend they're what they aren’t

Theyre heathens, they’re killers

they’re wicked, they’re evil.

They're murderers, no they’re animals

they're not even people.

Days of sacrifice that he’d spent

just to get to this altar

not once did he tremble

and never did he falter

Stuck in a den of monsters who chant

They sing “blood“ for their God

Soon his mask will come off

He watches the altar from beyond

He thought back on what he’d done

how the masks added up

was it worth it to save her

had he lost who he was?

The dagger is raised high

Our hero draws his gun

His heart pumping as he aims

“It would only take one”

He’d lied, and he’d stole.

Hurt and he’d sacrificed,

his missing finger a testament

carved in his shoulder, the mark of an acolyte.

His life for hers

A trade worthy in his eyes

he squeezes back the trigger

the man holding the dagger dies

Everyone watches him now,

into a corner he’s backed,

waving the gun as if he’s crazed

warning them not to attack

then whispers from the crowd

but there lips move not

and whispers in his head

whispers that come only from the dead

“shut up!“ he shouts

as his head starts to spin

he raises his gun

and fires again

“Agent Marcus Grant

FBI”

he makes his way to the altar

to the girl, and the man he made die.

Marcus took her hand in his left

and held the gun in his right

the crowd of masks watched them Back out of the church

and into the night

still whispers in his head

but one less mask on his face

to the girl a hero

to the others a disgrace

why did he hear them still now miles away

would the voices every leave

or in his head would they stay

perhaps he had gone to far

this time he wore too many masks

the carving in his shoulder to remind him of all his wicked tasks.

He did things he promised to never do

though innocent blood he himself never shed

he could still feel responsible for those The cult painted red.

just jabbering gibberish (A - J)

Again, another awkward ambitious

arduous attempt at alphabetically

arranging atrociously ambiguously

absolutely asinine avoidable alliteration.

Because...? Basically bonafide belching,

bobbing, bumbling, bohemian beastie boy,

bereft bummer, bleeds blasé blues, begetting

bloviated boilerplate bildungsroman,

boasting bougainvillea background.

Civil, clever clover chomping, cheap

chipper cool cutthroat clueless clodhopper,

chafed centenary, codifies communication

cryptically, challenging capable, certifiably

cheerful college coed.

Divine dapper daredevil, deft, destitute,

doddering, dorky dude, dummkopf Dagwood

descendent, dagnabbit, demands daring

dedicated doodling, dubious, dynamite,

deaf dwarf, diehard doppelganger, Doctor

Demento double, declaring depraved

daffy dis(pense)able dufus Donald Duck

derailed democracy devastatingly defunct.

Eccentric, edified English exile,

effervescent, elementary, echinoderm

eating egghead, Earthling, excretes,

etches, ejaculates, effortless exceptional

emphatic effluvium enraging eminent,

eschatologically entranced, elongated

elasmobranchii, emerald eyed Ebenezer,

effectively experiments, emulates epochal

eczema epidemic, elevating, escalating,

exaggerating enmity, enduring exhausting

emphysema.

Freed fentanyl fueled, fickle figurative

flippant fiddler, fiendishly filmy, fishy,

fluke, flamboyantly frivolous, fictitious,

felonious, fallacious, fabulously fatalistic,

flabbergasted, fettered, flustered, facile,

faceless, feckless, financially forked,

foregone, forlorn futile fulsome, freckled

feverish, foo fighting, faulty, freezing,

fleeting famously failing forecaster, flubs

"FAKE" fundamental fibber fiat, fabricating

fiery fissile fractured fios faculties.

Gamesomeness goads gawky, gingerly,

goofily graceful, grandiloquent gent, gallant,

genteel, geico, guppy gecko, gabbling gaffes,

gagging, gamboling, gestating, gesticulating,

garlic, gnashing, gobbling, gyrating,

gruesomely grinning, grappling, gnomadic

giggly, grubby, gastrointestinally grumpy

gewgaw gazing gesticulating guy,

geographically generically germane,

gungho, grave gremlin, grumbling, guiding,

guaranteeing, guerilla gripped gatling guns

ginning gumpshun.

Hello! Herewith halfway harmless hazmat,

haphazard haggard, hectored, hastily,

hurriedly, harriedly hammered, handsomely

hackneyed, heathen, hellbent hillbilly, hirsute,

hidden hippie, huffy humanoid, hexed, heady,

Hellenistic, holistic, hermetic, hedonistic

heterosexual Homo sapiens historical heirloom,

homeless, hopeful, holy, hee haw heretical hobo.

Indefatigable, iconographic, iconic, idealistic,

idyllic, inimitable, idiosyncratic, ineffable,

irreverently issuing idiotic, indifferent, inert,

ineffectual, ingeniously iniquitous, immaterial,

insignificant, indubitable, inexplicable, ignoble

itches, ineffectually illustriously illuminating

immovable infused ichthyosaurus implanted

inside igneous intrusions immensely

imperturbable improbable.

Jovial jabbering jinxed January jokester

just jimmying jabberwocky

justifying jangling jarring juvenile jibberish

jubilantly jousting jittering

jazzy jawbreaking jumble

justifying, jostling, Jesus;

junior jowly janissary joyful Jekyll

joined jumbo Jewess jolly Jane;

jammed jello junket jiggled

jeopardized jingled jugs.

Have you met the trolley man?

His daughter's been selected.

Her hair is black and eyes are cyan,

Such beauty is expected.

The trolley man's been here before.

It's nothing more than work.

But this cult he cannot ignore,

It's worth going beserk.

Many bodies line the track,

But trolley man will drive.

It mattered not who he attacked,

As long as May's alive.

The missing members won't be found,

But at least May is safe and sound.

I thought it was a support group.

They seemed SUPER cool

about the whole virgin thing.

Not like my friends at school.

Everyone wearing monochromatic

loungewear reminded me of

Kim, Khloe and Kourtney.

I felt immediately at ease.

I'd trust those three with my life!

When I told Katie I was still a virgin

she laughed and told the whole school.

When I told Cloud I was still a virgin,

I was given a throne and cake!

It wasn't until the throne reclined

to become an altar

that I became a bit suspicious

My attempt to rise from the altar

was stopped by Cloud and her sister wife,

Asthma.

I grabbed a piece of cake from my pocket

(which I had been saving for later)

and whirled it at the cultists heads.

Fleeing the campsite, I found my phone

and furiously downloaded Tinder.

I would not let this happen again.

(To me at least)

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing a dark red dress, a pair of strapped black shoes which I wore only for special occasions and I wore my usually tied up hair loose, in waves created by a styling wand. On my neck, there was a gold locket and on my ears, two sparkly drop earrings.

I grabbed my new shiny black handbag and set out for my evening out at a new posh restaurant in which I was to meet the date whom I had met via a dating app. His name was Benjamin Green and his profile picture showed a smiling, friendly face, with light brown hair, side-parted and worn away from his face. He had blue eyes and described himself as a warehouse stocker. For our date, he would be wearing a pale blue shirt, a dark blue tie with a white stripe and a light brown jacket. The date was fixed for 8p.m. He would be sitting at a table near the entrance of the restaurant, so that I would not fail to see him.

I felt slightly uneasy at the idea of meeting someone from a dating app. I had heard of a few people coming to a nasty end because of some unsavoury characters whom they had met on a dating app. You never knew who hid behind a keyboard! But I was not one for socialising: I would come home from my job as a hairdresser tired enough to crash on the sofa. It was only my friend, Denise, who worked with me who suggested that I needed to get more out of life and where better than from a dating app, so I decided to try it, just for fun.

I arrived at the restaurant. True to his word, Benjamin was waitng for me. He jumped up from his seat as soon as he saw me and pumped my hand with a vigorous handshake.

"Miss Louise Mitchell?"

"Yes. Benjamin Green?"

"Yes."

A waiter came to our table with menus. Benjamin ordered chicken soup, steak-and-kidney pie with rice and peas and I settled for pea soup, fish and chips. He chose apple pie and I chocolate cake as dessert.

"What do you do for a living, Louise, if may call you that?"

"You may. I am a hairdresser."

"I am a warehouse stocker, as you probably know from my online description. Nothing to write home about."

I giggled nervously. It is not the sort of confession you make to someone that you have just met, but then there was nothing stopping me from seeing him just this once and then never again.

"I am thinking of spreading my wings. I have been working there for five years and I feel that I am going nowhere. I just cannot afford to leave."

"Why not take out a loan?"

"I do not see how I could pay it back."

My heart sank. What if he was bankrupt and expected me to help him out? What if he did not even have a job and had lied to me? I had heard about some gullible women lending men endless amounts of money only to be bankrupted themselves eventually. Alarm bells rang in my head and I was tempted to run away from this date, but something held me back.

Benjamin continued:

"We close at six o'clock. How about I take you there?"

"To the warehouse?"

"Yes. We could fill a van with items that we see there and sell them for a profit online. There is no CCTV there and, at nights, we are not likely to get caught. Wear black clothes, a black anorak and gloves, so as not to leave fingerprints anywhere. The whole thing will not take more than an hour."

I felt sick. He was asking me to help him commit a burglary. Whatever my family's financial situation, it had always been drummed into me never to steal or burgle. Even if was not going to get caught, the idea of committing a burglary still repelled me.

"Benjamin-"

"What are you afraid of? Most of it is old stock that they would like to get rid of anyway. I doubt that they would miss it very much."

"Yes, but it is still theirs. You are asking me to become a thief."

"Trust me, Louise, that they are making a big loss keeping those old items and it would be a blessing if those old items were disposed of and new items placed instead. What do you think?"

I fell silent. I could see the appeal of wanting to make extra money by disposing of old items - it was just the method used that I did not like. I had been raised in an honest household where one did not commit crimes.

"I don't know," I blurted out.

Benjamin was persistent.

"Nobody will see us, Louise, I promise you and I am doing them a big favour by getting rid of their old, unwanted stock and making way for new stock. Where there is muck, there is brass, as they say."

I hesitated again.

"OK," I finally heard myself say.

I could have kicked myself.

We arranged to meet again at 8p.m. on a Saturday night. Benjamin scribbled down an address opposite a local park where I was to meet him. He would be driving a grey van. Parking a van outside a block of flats on a Saturday night could arouse suspicion.

Benjamin was wearing black as arranged and so was I. We drove to his warehouse in silence, as I was too nervous to speak. When we arrived, Benjamin managed to force open the door with a thrust of his shoulders.

The warehouse contained rolls of fabric for both clothes and curtains, ready-made clothes and shoes and gold, silver, gilt jewellery and expensive watches. Benjamin grabbed one bin liner and handed me another. Together, we depleted the warehouse of most of its stock and then jumped into his van. When I arrived at my flat, I could not sleep. The enormity of what I had done hit me like a brick.

A bin liner containing all the items that I had stolen lay across the room from me. My first instinct was to throw it away, but it contained expensive items, which I secretly admired and expensive items, if unwanted, were usually sold, rather than dispensed of. I did not k ow what to do with those items.

My mobile phone rang. It was Benjamin.

"Louise? How are you?"

My heart began to throb. It was now or never. I decided to bite the bullet.

"About last night, Benjamin. I don't think that we should see each other again. I feel bad about it. The stuff that I had taken is lovely, but it is stolen and I feel bad about it."

"We won't get caught-"

"That is not the point, Benjamin. The point is that it was stolen. We had no right to take it. Come to my place or give me your address and I will give it to you. You can dispense of it as you wish."

I gave him my address and he came to collect the stolen items. I never saw him again.

Here they dance with sin and death

Here they drown in flesh and blood

Here they sing no songs of love

Here they echo their Masters words

Their lives they gave too young to regret it

And lives they take too evil to feel it

The power they weild too enticing to refuse it

A bond, an oath too entrenched to break it

Her little body making me question my choices

Her slight shivers and now I'm hearing voices

The echoes, the cries returning in a flash

"Save her" the only thought I could find

How be it I'm conflicted 20 years later

Of a thing I could do without a sigh or a shiver

Innocence of all forms taken on this altar

Woman who are you to make me want this danger?

I dropped this hero cape for a reason or two

One to save my life and the other to live it true

Now here I am stalking a notorious cult

For a lady I've known a day and nothing but

Fire! A distraction I create

To buy me time to infiltrate

In and out like a stealthy warrior

She's safe quite far from the dread and horror

One thing I know is that darkness will return

And now forever we'd be on the run

I left this life for the beach sand and sun

Alas! In a flash, it's all gone

I watched as she was tied at the hands

Around her chanting they stand

There was a fire they lit

And with sticks she was hit

I didn't know what to do

So I sat and I watched

It made me so sad

What the history channel had

Not my problem