Endless Gaze

John fought valiantly, but it was his weight that determined the outcome of that ill-fated struggle. He was too heavy to fight and too old to outrun the punks.

It took them only minutes to subdue him.

One boy clobbered him over the head using some blunt instrument, causing John to see sparks for a few seconds. Then, through the haze of pain and confusion, as he tried to ward off the blows to his face and chest, several boys grabbed his shirt and hauled him up off the bloody floor.

He felt himself being shoved through the doorway, landing flat on his face. His arms were twisted behind his back so he was unable to break his fall, smashing his nose hard onto the floor.

As his nose began to bleed, he struggled to regain his footing and heard the click of the door behind him.

The boys had left him behind to confront whatever demons he had to face, alone.

He looked up from the floor where he was still lying.

The room was immense. It was about the size of a triple garage but held only a sofa seating arrangement to one wall and a conference table with a dozen chairs around it on the other wall.

At the end of the rectangular-shaped room, there was an altar with a brass tiger looking creature that occupied the entire expanse of the altar's surface.

But it wasn't the altar which drew John's eyes.

It was her!

The painting was life-sized and so realistic that John felt uncomfortable looking at it. There was no mistaking Jasmine's face looking out of the gilded frame hanging next to the altar.

The artist had captured perfectly that familiar tilt of her head as she listened to something someone was saying. She was portrayed reclining on a white satin comforter, naked with her legs splayed open in a wanton invitation.

The sensuous posture was so unlike the woman that John knew that he felt as if he was staring at Jasmine's head attached atop another woman's body.

It was then that John realized he had seen the same face of Jasmine posing with that exact tilt of the head before. He recalled the day in Jasmine's studio when he had picked up the photograph that had been used as the image for her new music album.

It was obvious that the artist had taken Jasmine's photo and grafted the body of another woman, merging it seamlessly to create this sexually stimulating glimpse of a Jasmine that could only have been born in the mind of this sex-craved artist.

There was no doubt that Jasmine was somehow directly linked to the person responsible for the multiple suicide/murders. It was also obvious that he would not be able to solve this crime, at least not in this lifetime.

Already, John could sense an impending doom settling over the room. These gangsters did not bring him hereto rest or to make himself at home in this spotless cream color room.

After witnessing the horrifying condition that Adam was in, he already knew what they were capable of doing.

He was not going to get out of this alive.

John braced himself for the onslaught of whatever force that would visit him.

He did not have long to wait.

Something gripped John's cranium. A burning sensation spread over his scalp, causing his hair to stand on end. He could feel the presence of another being inside his head, looking over the contents of his mind and searing him with heat.

His eyeballs began to blink on their own accord as a foreign awareness traveled down his optic nerves and peered through his corneal lenses.

There was now no doubt in John's mind that this was how the other men had been affected and this was also how they spent their last minutes on this Earth. It was not surprising that they chose self-annihilation over losing possession of their mind and body to a foreign presence.

He struggled to gain control of his body but realized the futility of his efforts when even his own memories began to betray him.

The past fifty years of his life began to take on a strange surreal quality as it merged with that of another person's past lives. Childhood memories became mixed and confusing as his softball league's first big win became confused with music lessons and drumming sessions.

Adult life. All his years on the force, wandering around the alleyways of the city on his regular beat became merged with the sounds of shouting fans and flashing stage lights. It was a juxtaposition of police sirens and the wailing of an electric guitar.

At first, the voices were muddled and indistinct, mixing in a cacophony of squawks and squeals. But eventually, everything faded into the background and John could hear only one distinct sound.

It was the musical peal of a man's maniacal laughter. He smelled the strong musky oriental spices of the cologne that the man used.

He also felt terror rising from the pits of his stomach as the male persona slowly began to take over his body.

He was losing his grip on reality.

He was losing his grip on his soul.

All memories of his life was slowly being erased from his mind. It was as if he had begun to cease to exist in this time space.

John's body shook with effort as he tried to yank back memories of the past few days, and then when he lost that, he tried to keep the memories of the past few hours in his mind.

He looked up and saw Jasmine's gentle face peering out at him from the painting. She gave him a look that spoke volumes about her understanding of his predicament.

He focused on her face as long as he could, trying to retain an ounce of his personal identity and the memories he had with her.

In the end, and to his everlasting gratitude, his body failed before his mind completely gave way.

He felt a familiar pressure across his chest, as if a band of steel was slowly tightening around his torso, cutting off his supply of oxygen. John recognized the heart attack for what it was—his body's mechanical attempt at dealing with the foreign presence.

He sank to the floor in a heap, seizing with spasms in a futile attempt to ward off impending doom.

John's last thoughts, coherent and unwavering, were with Jasmine as he continued to focus into her eyes.

His eyes were still focused on Jasmine's face long after they had glazed over and the soul of the man no longer radiated within the dead husk.