“Tag, I’m It”

Think of it as a game of reversal tag, and for the last forty-two years, I’ve been ‘it’.
Since that cold, dark winters night, in December 1974 I have remained in my youthful prime, aging only 52 days in a year, I was 18 years old when I tagged the last one, technically I’m only 24 years old now- despite what my I.D says.
I am immortal from Monday to Saturday- Sundays are the worst. Once word got around that I was the new ‘it’ it became obvious that I should take care to be wary of those I would meet on a Sunday.

The rest of the week they loved me, they couldn’t get enough of celebrating my stolen gift and the riches that came with my name alone. I was a God among men.

I spend every Saturday night to Monday morning hidden away in my panic room. A fifty inch thick steel door was the only thing protecting me from the greed of the world. Not that there hadn’t been those who have been foolish enough to attempt to penetrate my protection.

They’d meet a timely, painful death with cleverly set traps before they even had a chance to touch the door; which wouldn’t be a good idea anyway, considering it carried electrifying currents to fry any potential murdering thief.

These guys had it all planned out though, targeting me on a day I had expected only admiration.

Saturday morning I left my home, feeling refreshed and alive; dark forces buzzing through my veins, lighting the fire beneath my feet as I walked with a cocky sway and a smug grin.

They took me by surprise, with the only possible way they could.

With this stolen gift came strength and impenetrable skin, so they wouldn’t be able to drug me or force me into submission.

They targeted my only weakness. My pride.

They showered me with gushing compliments, bowing at and kissing my feet, begging me to come and meet their friends and family. They befriended me, making me believe that they truly worshiped my God-like status in this world. I mean, who wouldn’t- I am immortal after all.

It’s just a shame I had to kill them before they killed me.

I’m on the run now, it wouldn’t be safe for me to stay behind bars, not with what I possess, not with what can so easily be taken from me.

The media states that I’m insane, with a God-like-complex and superiority issues sprinkled with paranoia.

Sundays are the worst days. They are his days. The only day that he comes down to communicate with the soul.

I can’t let him see me, so I hide away. I won’t let him take this gift away from me. Even if I have to kill to keep it.

It’s like a game of tag, but reversed.

I tagged my first, 42 years ago; I took the life force and put it inside myself. Now they want to take it back from me.

NEWS REPORTER: CRIMINAL AT LARGE.

This is Sharon Teller, reporting live outside Court Manor.

Citizens are advised to keep themselves distant from Matthew Court who is still at large. Court is believed to be considerably dangerous to himself and others.
Police had reported finding two or of the five missing students Mary Jones and Joseph Ryan hidden inside a secret room, behind a steel door in the library room of Court Manor. Jones is suffering minor burns from a makeshift electrical torture device, but is in stable condition. Ryan is currently in intensive care, his status is currently unknown.

Ryan and Jones had just begun their first year at the local University when they went missing in the second week, two months prior, they were both students of Matthew Court.

Police have so far discovered articles of clothing and possessions hidden away in the secret room, unearthing stripped bones from this torture chamber that Court had created.

There’s rumours that cannibalism may have taken place inside this home of horrors, as more bodies are unearthed and reports of body parts packed away in an industrial freezer inside the basement have been discovered.