Melissa was always late when we arranged get-togethers, but I was getting frustrated that she couldn't bring herself to come on time in a situation this dire. I had called her about the Jessica situation and she simply said: 'We need to talk, I'll be there in an hour' and had hung up. It was about an hour and a half since that call, and I just sat on the sofa in front of the television. I felt in a living coma, sleepwalking, you might say.

Footage of my girlfriend snacking on crowds like they were screaming little candies ran over and over. I flipped the channel and watched her bring the Brooklyn Bridge to ashes like she was some sexy Godzilla. Next channel showed her in the park across the Hudson, sitting with her knees to her chest, motionless. Then interviews, tear-ridden and shaken people sharing their unintelligible babbling, then back to square one.

I turned the TV off as I heard Melissa pull in, making sure I looked presentable. In hindsight that was a silly worry, but that's how I tended to be. Mistakes are much easier to identify once you've already screwed them up.

She knocks once and I open the door. Something about her was off; it was the same thing everyone was 'off' with for the past week, a grave look that robbed all emotion. She doesn't even give me her usual smile as she walks into the room.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, as if I didn't know.

"Shut up, Dustin," she utters, shaking her head. "This isn't the time for that."

"I... I know," I whisper, blushing a bit at my own stupidity.

"I know we're here to talk about Jessica. What did they ask you at the questioning?"

"They wanted me to ask her their questions. Can you believe that? They wanted me to just walk right up to her and ask her some questions!" 

"So I'm assuming you said no?"

"Of course. She's looking for me, you've seen the footage. She must have found out about us... and now she's looking for me!"

"Did you ever tell her about us?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how would she know?"

My mind seemed to halt for half a second, trying to reason with me. But fear quickly overran it again; there was no other explanation.

"I don't know... but who else would she be looking for?"

Melissa stared at me for a moment, completely still. She must have been processing that question for herself. She had never really known Jessica that well, and for good reason. I really had liked Jessica, but she hadn't changed since senior year of high school when we got together. It had been three years and still she was the same. The relationship wasn't interesting enough, so I met Melissa. 

Melissa was quirky and imaginative. Jessica had been real and uninspired. Sure, she could have a fun time, but Melissa was a fun time. Of course, I couldn't help but regret Melissa standing in the room now, couldn't help but regret my own boredom. This must have been what it was like to be FBI's Most Wanted, but I'm not on a hitlist, I'm on a menu.

"I don't know," Melissa finally said. "But if she really wants to kill you so bad you should make a plan with the military or something to draw her out. Then they can bomb her and it'll be done."

I was shocked, no, flabbergasted. I felt betrayed, in a sick sense of irony.

"You want me to go out there and see her?"

"If that's what it takes, Dustin. Jessica needs to die. Deep down, you know that too. It's her or the rest of the world, we can't both make it out."

"We can escape!" I stutter, desperate for an excuse to save myself. "We can run away, she can't be everyone at once!" Melissa slowly shook her head, her stare piercing right through me.

"No. No, I can't escape. Because when she attacked that first day she took my sister. You're fucking girlfriend ate her!" she screamed, reverting to an untapped anger inside of her. "And now you're standing here in front of me and telling me you just want to run away?! You just want to pretend this never happened?! You're the one person who has even a chance at stopping this and you're too cowardly to even try!?" Her face was red as she tore through me, her eyes leaked like faucets but it never became evident in her voice. "I can't escape," she repeated. "I have to live with her for the rest of my life. But will you be able to live with yourself in the end?"

I was a statue as she collapsed into the couch, rubbing her eyes. I could vaguely remember Melissa's sister from a bar one night: she had looked very little like Melissa with her black curls. Maybe it was the tequila shots, but she was rather beautiful. The one thing I remember clearly was when she had danced on the floor. Nothing could stop her. It was an ultimate showcase of individuality, swinging around the stage without a care in the world. It wasn't necesarrily an elegant dance, but it had struck me in its vibrance. It was brilliant.

And now she was gone. It didn't matter how beautiful she was or how well she danced when Jessica came.

God dammit, Jessica, what the fucking hell is wrong with you?!

But I brought myself back to the question: how would I live with myself? If Jessica was deranged enough to do what she had already done, I severely doubted my death would be the end of it. It might just be a new beginning.

"I won't live with myself if I'm dead," I replied. Melissa looked up from her sorrow and glared at me.

"What did you say?"

"I'm going to die if I talk to Jessica, don't you see? What will that accomplish? Who's to say she'll stop once she's had her way with me? This is something much larger than me and her... she's crazier than that. I can't stop this with a few questions. We need something better."

"It's not just the questions, Dustin. You'd be bait to lure her into a trap. She'd trust you--"

"No, she wouldn't! She's looking for me! She found out about us and wants revenge! I won't do it, Melissa, I don't want to die!" She looked down and shook her head again.

"You selfish piece of shit," she remarked loudly. "I didn't want this to happen, you know, I told them it wasn't a good idea. But you deserve every second of it."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, but I was soon answered by the shattering of windows and everything went black.

When I came to I was inside a dark room with two men standing above me, one dressed in a full suit, the other in a spring coat.

"Finally waking up, huh?" the coated man laughed on the left. I went to move but found myself handcuffed to the chair I was sitting in.

"What's going on?" 

"We've received word that you're not too keen about helping us with our problem, Dustin."

"How--"

"After you stormed away from the questioning we tapped into your phone network and listened in on your scheduling chat with Melissa. She agreed to try to convince you into being cooperative, but you still fell flat."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean 'cooperative'?"

"You're going to come into contact with Jessica." My face flushed and I thrashed in my seat. This can't be happening. Do they not see what's happening? They're tying me to a string and dangling me over her mouth. 

"You can't do this to me! This can't be legal!"

"The law's a little busy right now," the suited man said with a dry grin. "He'll overlook this little slip-up."

"You can't make me talk to her! You can't make me go anywhere!"

"Oh, yes we can. Micheal here will be taking you."

"What?" me and the coated man both exclaimed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I was never a part of this," the other man begins to say, holding up his hands.

"Yeah, listen to him, this is crazy!"

The suited man walks to the back of the room for a second and comes back with a suitcase. "There's no one in the world that knows more about giant Jessica than you, Micheal. You're the perfect tracker. And as for your motivation..." he unclicked the briefcase and exposed the hefty sum of dollars inside of it. 

"How much is this?" the stunned receiver asked.

"Five million. What you're doing could save a lot of people, Micheal. We'd like to pay you appropriately." The briefcase was closed and Micheal seemed to wake as from a dream. "After you've delivered Dustin."

"Alright," he said, much to my horror. "I'll do it. But if you skimp me out of this..."

"No worries, Micheal. It'll be waiting for you right here." The suited man placed the brieface down at the back of the room. Micheal started walking towards me.

"Let's get you ready to roll, Dusty."

"NO!" I screamed, kicking my legs and trying to free myself. This was absolutely ludicrous. They couldn't possibly be making me do this. Micheal unbound the cuffs and I tried to dash to freedom but was caught in a surprisingly powerful bearhug. He put the cuffs onto my wrists and escorted me out the building.

I still couldn't believe a single second of what was happening was real. The law enforcement, who I had trusted for my safety all these years, was sacrificing me to Jessica. Did it make me a coward that I didn't want to die? Was no one else afraid of her? In that moment, I was more afraid of my own girlfriend than I'd ever been afraid of anything my entire life.

We approached what must have been his car: a shoddy red Honda with a shattered windshield and cracked windows. He opened one of the back doors and pushed me inside. I struggled as he tried to put on the seat buckle, trying to be as difficult as possible. Eventually he gave up and simply left me unfastened; not quite what I was going for.

I try to make myself comfortable while I can, seeing Micheal start the car in the corner of my eye.

"Do you even know where we're going?" I ask him, hoping for the littlest reassurances.

"Well, last I saw her she was across the Hudson by the other end of the Brooklyn Bridge. She's not there anymore, so I can only assume she went deeper into Brooklyn. If I could just go across the river I would, but my legs aren't the size of skyscrapers so we have to drive around it. Could be a while."

"Where are we?"

"New York."

"How'd you get me all the way to New York?"

"I didn't bring you anywhere, the other guy did. He's the chief of a task force working to stop this Jessica thing."

"Jessica 'thing'?"

"Sorry if I'm offending you or whatever, but I'm not gonna refer to Jessica as a person. It goes against my profession, and quite honestly, she hasn't been one lately."

"Profession?"

"You're just full of questions, aren't you?" he laughed, pulling out of the empty parking lot. "I'm a cryptid hunter. And before you ask, think Bigfoot."

"I'm being driven to my giant girlfriend by a Bigfoot hunter?!"

"Sounds about right," he said, looking at me in the rear view mirror. "Aren't you just the luckiest guy? Listen, there's gonna be some heavy traffic in a bit when people start to lose their shit about Jessica, so things are gonna be slow. While you're here, why don't you tell me what you know about Jessica."

I was petrified in the seat of that scrapped car, taking me on a one-way trip to my doom, and had trouble trusting this Micheal, but decided I had nothing to lose.