A Short by: @zombiegeekboy
The streets rumbled with dark crimes and dark thoughts. Man’s inhumanity to man stretched out like a tapestry and each weave played out its own macabre. A balding man in his mid-forties threaded the fabric of his own story. He was leaving the hospital where he worked. He pressed the button on his key fob triggering two loud chirps from his BMW. The sounds echoed the parking deck. He stepped into the luxury of a tinted seclusion of the outside world. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as the smell of freshly cleaned leather filled his nostrils.
His car eased onto the highway and a barely perceptible smile pressed into his soft features. He knew he should keep going straight but he found his hands turning the wheel and the car slipping into the exit ramp like an old habit.
His car slowed and stopped in front of a dark alley. He opened the car door and heard gun shots pop somewhere off in the distance and somewhere a woman laughed. The woman’s laugh was unsettling, like a cat screeching. Even nature seemed to be joining in the violence of the city and threatened the skies with dark clouds. A stab of blue-gray light flashed deep in the bowels of the clouds.
The alley called to him. He could almost hear his mind screaming at him already. He knew this was a bad idea. Voices of boys out for trouble echoed off the walls of buildings marked by years of violence.
“Anyone here?” He called out into the darkness. The alley answered with hollow calm and putrid air.
Why was he here? He moved forward into the darkness a little more, further from the safety of his car. Trash littered the narrow passageway and it reeked of rot and sour-sweet decay. He should go back. His shoes were getting ruined. His car would start to attract attention. The voice was nearly screaming at him now.
In the darkness he saw movement.
He peered into the shadows. The clouds overhead ignited like fireworks and he saw a flash of bare skin among the somber shades of black and gray. He caught his breath and tried to focus, leaning in with cautious curiosity. It could be a rat or even a possum, some made it this far into the city.
He saw the movement again. Bare brown skin against the pile of refuse the city seemed to gather in these corners, like trash blown in by the wind. Cautiously he moved in. The darkness played tricks on your eyes. It could still be anything, but as he moved closer and his eyes adjusted, he could see ribs, and smooth skin and pressed against a knee, the rounded pale circle of a breast. It was a girl, by the look of her, a young girl.
“Oh god, are you hurt?” He asked. His heart hammered in his chest. A prostitute? There were plenty in this neighborhood. She pulled stained newspapers around herself, attempting to hide her nakedness.
“What happened to you? Did someone do this to you?” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The girl didn’t have a stitch of clothing on. Not only that, but she was maybe seventeen or eighteen and most likely a runaway. His little voice inside also told him she was most likely a junkie. He had treated enough of them at the hospital. Kids too pumped up on junk to even know where they were.
“Hey, let me help you. Don’t be afraid. I can get you back to the hospital, and we can get you a meal and some clothes. It’ll be ok. You can trust me, I’m a doctor.”
The girl turned and looked at him. His heart missed two beats. Huge dark eyes looked up at him; deep clear eyes. Eyes that held misery, pain, and something more. These were the eyes of an angel. Every muscle in his body responded and reached out to her, wanting nothing but to help her, save her from the dance macabre. She placed her delicate hand in his, and he sighed. He would help her. He would save her. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her. His eyes dropped to her small belly and saw the curve there. She was pregnant! Oh dear Lord! He felt it was certainly God’s doing that he found her.
“Listen, uh, why don’t you let me take you back to my place — no, no, not like it sounds, I swear. It’s just if I take you to hospital, well there is, um, paperwork and you would have to sit and wait — I’m a doctor — ok? It would be better this way. Plus, if you want, I have medication.” That usually helped. Junkies knew what you meant. He tried to breathe while looking at her. Her bottom lip quivered. He wanted to pull her to him, hug her, take all this pain away.
“Ok.” She answered. He thought he heard the faint tinkering of little bells.
“Good. Are you hungry? Of course you are hungry, God I’m an idiot. You are pregnant and — and — here, umm, my car is just around the corner. I was just out — God, what was I out for?”
She laughed; a small sound, a little sound like music faintly playing in the distance. Her laugh made something in his chest pull, it was almost painful. She was in need of help and just a kid off the street. He had helped kids like her before. They all had families somewhere. He knew about their families; foul, rotten drug abusers and molesters. Victims, all these kids were victims. Poor thing. He would save her. The voice didn’t like it, but the voice had been wrong before.
In the car he didn’t say much. He wanted to talk, but what could he say she hadn’t heard before? Plus, was he really fooling himself into thinking she wanted anything more than his money and another fix? He glanced over and saw her bare breast. Her thick hard nipples swollen with pregnancy.
He couldn’t think like that.
He was a medical professional trained not to think like that, but…oh God, her skin was smooth, her legs small and sleek. She pushed her hands down between her knees in an effort to get warm, and her arms pressed her swollen breasts together. She shivered and her breasts shook.
He swallowed hard.
She didn’t have the look of a junky. She looked well fed, well taken care of. Maybe she was a recent runaway. Maybe she wasn’t hooked on crack or something worse. Maybe – maybe he should listen to the voice and not let his dick do the thinking, he told himself.
“Have you ever thought about being a model?” He asked.
She didn’t reply.
What a stupid question. Why did he ask something so juvenile and idiotic? He closed his eyes tight for as long as he could, while still driving, and cursed himself. He was being weak and he knew it. He was letting his mind get carried away by a pair of nice tits and a sweet young pretty face.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Uh, wha — for?”
“Thank you for helping me,” she said.
They were stopped in front of his place. He had been about to get out of the car but paused. No one had ever thanked him. Ever. Something was different about this girl. He swung open the door and stepped out.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I — well — you know you shouldn’t have been on the street by yourself. What were you doing out there anyway? Did something happen to you?” She didn’t answer. He went around to help her out and said, “You are lucky I stopped. I don’t even know why I did. That was blind luck, you know?”
“Yes, I know,” He heard her say. He didn’t look around. He wanted to get her inside quickly.
The girl entered his home while he hurried back to his room to retrieve clothes for her. He rushed back to the living room and held them out for her, turning his head away from her nakedness.
“So, are you a – a runaway?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she said.
“Uhh, what does that mean?” He laughed.
“It means I’m really happy you found me.”
“Uhh, call me John.”
“Ok John. You can turn around now.”
John turned and saw her standing in his shirt and only his shirt. Her thick nipples pressed against the fabric and the bottom buttons were undone so her belly had room. It also made it impossible not to see her nakedness below.
“Do you, uh, do you umm, want some tea? I think you need it after being out there in the cold like that.”
“Yes John, I need something to warm me up,” she said.
She was flirting with him? He allowed a smile on his way to get their tea. But he could hear his voice crying out, Sex, that’s what you want? Sex with her?
He stopped. He stood frozen. He just wanted to be a friend, a beacon of light in the darkness of this world, reaching out to poor lost girls who needed help.
Fucking slut.
No, she was different. He pressed his fingers into his eyes and rubbed them. He was just tired. A long shift today. His mind playing tricks on him. She had to be different. He fixed the tea but his movements were sharp, controlled. He needed to relax. He was just tired.
“What’s your name?” He asked from the kitchen.
Why do you care about her name? She isn’t different! She’s just a whore. A pregnant drug addict whore. Think she got that way from keeping her legs closed?
He returned with the tray to find her reclining on the couch with her legs open. Her sex exposed. One breast free. John dropped the tray and she jumped when the cups smashed.
John didn’t give her time to recover. He moved swift and practiced. His hand sank into her thick, long hair and gripped. Never stopping his movement, he continued past the couch, jerking her along with him. Her legs kicked into the air and she tumbled over the arm of the couch onto the floor. She cried out and grabbed his wrist, trying to keep her hair from coming out at the roots.
Slut had her legs open just like a whore.
“What? Help! Wait. Wait. I’ll do anything,” she begged. They always begged.
“Yes, you will,” John said.
Some hair did indeed rip out as he pulled her kicking and flailing down the hallway. The shirt he had given her was almost off her now. Her body mostly naked; her skin made little squeaking noises on the hardwood floor.
The wall. Put the whore on the wall. THE WALL!
He dropped her head when they reached his room. She lay on the floor shocked and crying. Her swollen belly heaved. He didn’t give her time to stand or run away before wrapping the cuffs around her wrists. Then he pulled the ropes and dragged her from the floor.
All too easy.
“No! No! Seriously. You don’t have to do this. I’m into whatever, man. Seriously. What do you want? I’ll do it. Sex, watching, or…or…awww, come on.”
“I want to help you,” he said.
This was the part he liked. Her arms up. Her legs barely able to find purchase on the floor. Helpless, with nothing to do but watch him open the case. He waited until she stopped struggling and noticed his case. She focused and he swung open the lid.
“No…please no. Please, please, please…no mister. No, no, no, aww come on, nooo.”
He ran his fingers over the blades. He wanted to make sure he choose the right one. The papers needed to give details about this one. He wanted…
Finish it quick. Something about her…just finish the whore.
“Really. I’ll tell you my name. I didn’t mean to do anything. I thought that you wanted it. You know how guys are. I thought…” the girl pleaded. She was desperate now. Why was the voice so worried? She was no different.
“Shhh,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips. Her eyes flew open wide when she saw the blades he held out. Just a cut first. A small cut. He moved in close and placed a hand on her breast. It was soft. She was a little cold, but she would warm up soon. He touched the back of the blade against her skin and she jumped, letting out a tiny squeal.
“Just the back of the blade. Yes, the power of suggestion. But soon enough you’ll feel the real blade, soon enough,” and with the other blade he made a cut down her side. She didn’t even jump. “See, didn’t even feel it did you?” He backed away so she could see herself in the mirror…and waited.
She didn’t scream.
He turned around and blood was running down her side, down her leg. Her naked body wiggled and pulled. She was trying to free herself from the cuffs.
“All I wanted was a kiss,” he said.
“So kiss me,” she sniffled. Her voice was weak, pitiful. She brought her hands together as if she were praying. “Come on Mister, you can kiss me. Just please don’t kill me. I’m pregnant. Come on, I’ll do what you want and I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“Just a kiss?” He asked.
No! Are you fucking crazy? She is fucking with you. She wants to give you some disease. Take your money! Take your soul! Finish her now and we can find another.
“Ok, just a kiss,” He said. He had never ignored the voice before, but something about her made him want more.
She shook her head. Her dark hair hung in thick sweaty locks. It clung to her skin. He noticed her lip was pierced. He had never kissed a girl with a pierced lip. He slipped his hand up her body. She was so small. He touched her breast again. He slowly moved his fingers up until the tip of his finger rested on her bottom lip.
Then he kissed her and drove the blade between her ribs.
John had expected screams and he got them, but it took a moment realize he was the one screaming. Her tongue filled his mouth and was pressing further, pushing at the back of his throat. John tried to scream but no air could escape his throat. He heard the sound of metal popping and clanging on the floor. Suddenly her hands were free and wrapped around his face. Rope still hung from the cuffs attached to her wrists, but it was flaccid, useless.
Desperate, with the voice screaming obscenities at him, he stabbed wildly with the knife. He was insane with fear. He couldn’t understand what was happening. How was she doing this? Her tongue pulled out of his mouth, and he felt fire explode inside his throat. Somehow he found the words, “What are you?”
“I’m your death. I’m your hate for women come to find you. I am your deepest fear made real. I am…”
Now his eyes opened wide, wider than hers had been. Her face had changed. Her eyes were darker. Her skin darker. The air around him harder to breathe. Her nails dug into the side of his head and he dropped the blade. Blood ran down her naked body, coating her thighs and groin. He tried to push away but her skin was slippery. He had tried to catch a sting-ray once; it had been like this, hard, thick, and slippery skin. Her hands pulled him to her like a lover but he no longer wanted her kiss. She closed her mouth over his anyway. There was a dull wet sound as her tongue penetrated him.
The two fell to the floor like blood soaked lovers. The dark girl from the streets wrapped her legs around him and hugged his body tight. Her spine moved in unnatural ways, like another creature was under her skin tying to get out.
John felt his body betray him and he stiffened. Darkness surrounded him. The walls seemed to be closing in. He felt all those girls now, all their pain, all their fear. He screamed but the only sound was in his head. A small voice, the voice of a young girl from the streets, the other voice was gone, this new voice said, “The name is Blithe, mother fucker!”
and then nothing.
Blithe moved over him, pulling from him every bit of his soul. Her dark body moved like an erotic serpent. When there was nothing but a shell of his former self below her, she clawed him and ripped. Her claws tore through flesh and it caught fire. Flames whipped up around her. Her arms flew wild, and her tongue lashed around like a barbed whip. Her dance was the dance of ancients. Her kind had performed this dance as long as humans had walked the earth.
When the flames died, only she remained. She stood and rubbed her hands over her pregnant belly. Her blackness faded and color returned to her skin. She stepped over to his closet and opened it. Just as she suspected, she found an assortment of things from past girls. She needed things now that she was trapped in this world. So much she didn’t know. So much she had to figure out.
She felt the wound at her side. His knife had penetrated far more than she thought possible. So much had changed since being pulled into this world.
She pulled out a book bag and filled it with a few things that might help her. She didn’t take any clothes. She didn’t need to. They saw her as they wanted to see her. That would never change. She would always be exactly what they wanted, and for some of them, she would burn them and take their soul.
Blithe left the house and stepped out into the well lit street. Cars drove by and she looked into the darkness beyond. Stories were playing out in that tapestry of night, and the evening was still young. It was raining.
Blithe reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She didn’t smoke but she thought it might piss him off if she did. After all it was his child still in her belly.
She felt something move. Blithe paused and placed her hand, with the cigarette still between the fingers, on her belly. There was a kick.
Blithe dropped to her knees. The cigarettes fell to the street. Just like the cigarettes, her black tears were caught in the rain and washed away. A car pulled up and the door opened. A man called out to her, “Hey girl, are you ok? You need a ride somewhere?”
Blithe looked up and smiled innocently. “Would you?”
A Short by: @zombiegeekboy
