I am being my typical antisocial self, which is ironic considering how popular I am.

They only tolerate you because without you this party would suck.

I am sitting on the back porch of Richard's insanely expensive condo that overlooks the pacific sea. I can hear the roar of the ocean in the distance but its too dark out to see the shoreline. It's just white noise without a view.

I am wondering when this party will be over. I am so sick of the party scene, I just want peace and quiet.

Normal, that's what I want.

Normal would be nice.

Someone has just sat down next to me. I glance up at Norman Bates holding a can of beer and looking at me intently.

"This sure beats the library." I half-heartedly joke, although in all honesty that's where I'd rather be.

"Yeah…it's definitely not what I expected to be doing tonight." Norman replies, setting down his beverage.

I look out into the dark abyss, listening once more to the white noise as I let a yawn escape my lips.

"Looks like you didn't expect to be here either." Norman observes as I look back over at him.

I offer a forced smile, "I wish I could get away from this, but this is life for me."

Norman's eyes seem to see into my soul and I can't to look away, it's hypnotizing.

"You don't have to pretend like everything's okay." He replies and I chuckle bitterly.

"I'm not pretending, I'm surviving." I correct him looking down at my boots.

Suddenly I feel an overwhelming sense of depression and I am desperate for an escape.

"Aren't we all?" Norman answers, breaking me from my thoughts.

"huh?"

"Surviving…aren't we all?" He explains.

I stand up, pulling Norman up with me.

"Come on, let's get out of here."


I follow Norman as he scales a tree outside his window, climbing over the threshold and into his bedroom. He turns back to help me inside as I carefully climb in behind him. Once inside I scan the space, noticing a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner he has yet to unpack. I sit down on his bed. He turns to face me, unsure of where we go from here.

"Mind if I crash here tonight and you get me that motel room tomorrow?" I ask, muffling another yawn into my sleeve.

"Sure." Norman smiles nervously.

Suddenly we're interrupted by a piercing, shrill scream coming from somewhere down below us.

"NORMAN!" A female voice is yelling hysterically. Norman bolts out the door and I follow him down two flights of stairs and into the kitchen.

I stop in the doorframe, my body frozen like ice as I look upon a hairy, slob of a man thrusting into the woman handcuffed and bent over the kitchen table. Norman hits him over the head with a blunt object and he slips unconscious to the floor, his pants pooled around his knees.

"Quick, get the key!" The woman says pointing towards the fat bastard on the floor.

Norman picks his pockets and finds the key, quickly freeing the woman from her handcuffs as she grabs a nearby butcher knife off the counter.

"Mother, you're bleeding." Norman observes in complete shock.

Where am I? I am still glued to the doorframe, convinced there's no way this is really happening right now.

"Get the first aid kit upstairs." Norman's mother replies, her voice oddly calm although her hands are trembling as she clutches the weapon and points it down at her rapist.

Norman runs past me upstairs and I am left alone with his mother, who seems unaware of my presence until now.

"Do you want me to call the police?" I ask, my voice so quiet I'm not even sure if it's audible.

The woman looks over at me, and I am met with frightened baby blues.

"Who are you?" She demands, her expression quickly changing to anger.

"I'm-"

"This is Jen." Norman interrupts brushing past me and setting the medicine kit on the table.

"And what is Jen doing in our house? Where were you Norman?" His mother demands.

Norman looks guilty as little beads of sweat trickle down his forehead.

"And don't lie to me, I know you weren't upstairs or you would have come to help me." She adds looking between Norman and I for an answer.

"I snuck out, went to a party with some friends, but I didn't know we were going there Bradley said we were going to the library. Mom, I'm so sorry." Norman replies now looking down at the unconscious man on the floor. "Should we call the police?" He asks nervously.

"No. No, no, no. The police won't help us…" She mumbles.

The man begins to show signs of life, sitting up and groaning. The three of us back away as he gets to his feet and staggers towards us. He looks at me and licks his lips before looking back at his original victim who's currently shoving a knife in his face.

He smirks, "You liked it."

Everything went to shit from there. All it took was those three little words and now there is blood everywhere. We're drowning in it. I've never seen someone stabbed before, only in the horror movies I love to watch alone in the dark. There's something numbing about watching someone die. You become detached. I am reminded of a quote from one of my favorite books,

"No matter how much you think you love someone, you'll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close…" I'm whispering and I didn't even mean to say it out loud.

"Invisible monsters."

I look up at Norman who's looking at me and then we're smiling and then we're laughing. Because this entire situation is just so fucked up and here we are discussing our favorite book while the pig on the floor is being butchered. The knife plunges into his flesh over and over and over and over.

Finally Norman snaps out of it and reaches for his mother who's going to town on this fucker like a real serial killer would.

"Mom, stop." Norman speaks softly and this seems to bring her out of it as she rests her hands on her knees and lets go of the knife, catching her breathe.

She finally stands up and now she is wiping off her hands getting the pigs blood all over her pretty floral apron.

"We need to get rid of the body." She is saying and her voice is so casual you'd think we were discussing the weather.

As for me, I don't even know what to say right now. My head is spinning as my pupils take in the sea of blood before me.

So much blood.

You don't realize how much of this stuff is in a human body until you see it pooled around your boots. They don't teach you these things in science class.

"It was self defense." Norman is muttering, looking up at his mother who seems to deep in thought, planning our next move.

Our next move.

Because I am now involved whether I like it or not,

I have just witnessed a murder.

"We will get the sheets from every room in the motel."

Motel, that's why I'm here in the first place.

"We will soak up all this blood and it'll be good. Yeah, everything will be fine." She is saying.

"Mrs. Bates…" I begin, gaining the attention of both family members.

"Is this a bad time to ask for a room?"


It's 2:34 am and I am on my hands and knees pulling up berber carpet in room 6 of the Seafairer Motel.

What am I doing with my life?

How the hell did I get myself into this mess?

I can hear Norman ripping up carpet in the next room, the walls are paper thin.

I am just about finished and am rolling up the carpet when a bright light illuminates the room. I look up towards the open door just as a patrol car circles the parking lot.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and use the hair tie around my wrist to pull my hair into a messy ponytail. Some delusional part of my brain associates ponytails with innocence.

Yeah Jen, just put your hair up nice and neat and they'll never suspect a thing.

I'm glad I left my jacket in the Bates house because at least now with my plain v-neck tee and dark skinny jeans I look like I belong here. A leather jacket would really clash against the Bates neatly ironed collared shirts.

I hear voices from outside, recognizing one of them as Norman's mother, the other two are cops.

I emerge from motel room 6 and the two cops frown at the sight of me.

My moms a local celebrity with these guys, I couldn't tell you how many times I've had to bail her pathetic ass out of jail.

"Jenny Jacobs, is that you?" Sheriff Alex Romero asks, shining his flashlight beam on my face.

I squint my eyes in the light, "Hey Alex, my moms not locked up again is she?" I joke attempting to keep the conversation light.

The older man doesn't look very amused, but then again he never does.

"No not tonight." He replies looking between Norman's mother and I. "You two know each other Norma?" He asks.

"Yeah, I'm a school friend of Norman's. Mrs. Bates here has been kind enough to hire me." I explain.

"Jennifer's been a great help so far, I'm hoping to have this place up and running by the end of the month." Norma adds casting the younger deputy a charming smile.

The cops eat up our story and are about to leave when Alex decides to use the bathroom. Ironically he chooses the bathroom housing the dead body. I follow behind them into motel room 5. We all stand around nervously listening to the Sheriff pissing in the bathroom as Mrs. Bates attempts to make small talk with the other officer. Norman casts me an anxious look.

They finally leave and we're able to breathe easy.

"I think you should find somewhere else to put the body." I speak up first interrupting the silence.

"We'll get rid of it tomorrow, I say we get some sleep. You two have school in the morning." Norma suggests before turning to face me a frown on her lips.

"I would like to say it's been a pleasure to meet you Jennifer, but it hasn't." She states.

"Likewise." I agree.

"I trust you know better than to speak of this to anyone since you are now involved as well?"

I force a smile, "yes, and I trust we have ourselves a deal Mrs. Bates? I'll be staying in room 6 free of charge for as long as I please." I name my price and she bitterly agrees.

"Oh, and a hot meal once a day would be greatly appreciated." I call out after her retreating form.

Once she leaves I turn to face Norman who is grinning at me in amusement.

"You're insane." He chuckles shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"I think she likes me." I tease, and we each laugh.

"Goodnight Jen." He says.

I close the door behind him with a soft click.

As much as I'd like to say I regret befriending the strange Norman Bates, I'd be lying to myself.