ABERRANT
ATTENTION
The following is a work of fiction not intended for younger audiences. Discretion is advised.
An inevitable anomaly of human existence, the aberrant shall debase the human race. An individual born naturally of human parents, yet devoid of a human soul, the aberrant moves seamlessly among mankind, her black hole soul shrouded by her disarming physical beauty. For those who put stock in biblical revelations, her birth marks the advent of the antichrist. If allowed to live, her life will consume the quintessence of human existence.
PART ONE
SETH
A LONG TIME COMING
“There seems to be something stuck in your mouth…” Turning her back on her house guest, she scans the instruments laid out on the table before her, grabs a pair of heavy-duty garden shears, and runs her thumb down the cutting edge. The bright red stream of blood the blade releases from her finger is evidence enough for her that the shears are more than adequate for the task at hand. Her pulse quickens in anticipation of the night she’s been fantasizing about for weeks. She can hardly maintain her composure as she turns back towards the night’s main attraction.
She takes in a deep, cleansing breath to steady herself. She doesn’t want a repeat of last month’s faux pas. Last month she had let her excitement get the best of her. In her haste, she’d watched months of planning and anticipation melt, almost instantly, to little more than a frothy, red mess on her marble clad living room floor. Tonight, she would take her time. Tonight she planned to make memories from which to fuel her fantasies for years to come. And with that thought, she fixes her breathtaking blue eyes, which seemed to have darkened at that very moment to a midnight blue, on the eyes of the man bound to her favorite chair before her.
She lets the nail side of her fingertips slide across his neck before she rests her hand there, on his collarbone, and leans down so that her lips brush against his ear as she hisses, in a nearly inaudible tone, “Come on Love. Give us a kiss.”
She drags the blade of her garden shears up his arm, sending a blood curdling chill directly up his spine, and making the hair stand up on his neck and arms. His eyes dart frantically between hers in an effort to understand the clearly unthinkable. She grabs a hand full of his thick, caramel colored hair from the back of his head, and pulls him towards her. His entire body tenses and instinctively retreats as far as the chair back will allow. In turn, she strengthens her grip and pulls his head into hers for another kiss. Just one more before she clenches his tongue between her teeth and nearly rips it clean out of his throat.
She feels herself beginning to lose control again. The taste of his blood in her mouth is almost more than she can stand. It nearly sends her reeling as the memories of each of her past conquests flood her consciousness in concert. She pulls back and wipes the warm liquid from her bottom lip with the side of her thumb. Her eyes instinctively narrow as she bites down on her own bottom lip to rein in her quickening emotions, and goes to grab his tongue with her meticulously manicured fingers.
As if reacting to a sudden flash of blindingly bright light, the pupils of her eyes constrict completely before instantly dilating so that their midnight blue all but disappear into nothingness. His pupils follow suit at precisely the same moment as if they were staring into a mirror. She directs a bone chilling smirk towards her new toy as she pulls her hand out of his mouth’s reach, shaking off the acute discomfort of his counter attack and subsequently layering his face and chest with thick blobs of warm blood.
A flash of sincere delight moves across her face as she admires the extent of the damage to her index finger. The crushed bone is vaguely visible as it starkly contrasts with the blood oozing from her fresh wound. Half of the finger dangles from nothing more than a thin stretch of flesh.
“Impressive.” Her eyebrows drop as she, once again, fixes her chilling stare on his ever-dimming dark green eyes, baring the vast emptiness of her soul. The corners of her damp lips curl into an insanely sinister smirk, and she faintly chuckles when she continues, “Incredibly inane, but impressive none-the-less. You know, Seth, I’m really beginning to like you. I do believe that you and I are going to get along just fine; splendidly in fact.”
To prevent it from impeding upon the night’s activities, Blake finishes the job her pet had started. As if she were nibbling-off a hangnail, she snipes her dangling fingertip off at the knuckle with a swift chomp of her front teeth. While she quickly wraps her finger to stifle its bleeding, an involuntary whimper of sheer terror escapes Seth’s throat as he realizes the irony of the bold declaration he’d made to his wingman at the bar less than two hours ago. That gorgeous stranger, from which he was helplessly unable to tear his eyes all night, is the woman with which he will spend the rest of his life; all four, sadistically torturous, weeks of it.
“Humm. Now then, let’s get back to it, shall we?” After the unexpected physical rebuttal of her newly acquired plaything, Blake finds herself to be undecided as to where she should now focus her attention. After several minutes of quiet deliberation, while searching deeply into the eyes of the man whose tenacity has shot him straight to the top of her list of favorites, Blake decides that this man deserves special care. She steadies her hand with a deep breath and turns back to her table of trinkets.
First she grabs a soldering iron and plugs it into the power strip on the floor behind the chair to which Seth is bound. She then grabs a pair of forceps that have a locking mechanism, much like a pair of vise grips, but with much finer teeth and a more slender nose. She turns back to Seth and flashes that chilling smile before she goes to work liberating him of his finger nails, one by one.
Blake had played this particular game so many times before that she is able to perform the physical procedure without thought or so much as a glance. A skill she painstakingly cultivated with the intent of freeing her eyes for more pleasurable findings. The shallow breathing, panicked sweating, and nervous trembling of her victims were certainly amusing for Blake, but the bit she cherished most was watching the onslaught of human emotions, terror in particular, wash over their faces and dart frantically within their eyes. Incidentally, it also helps her to gauge the precise moment in which to break from her festivities to prevent her toy from losing consciousness or going into shock. After all, the game is hardly worth playing if all parties are not fully vested.
SHE LIVES
It was a clear, August night in the Hollywood Hills of Southern California. The air was crisp and dry and smelled of summer, sunshine, and sunflowers. The sun had set only moments before, abandoning its post in the night sky, and allowing the bright crimson moon to rise and claim its nightly throne. It boasted nearly as bright as the fleeing sun, and bigger than life in the distant horizon. The evening stars shone in multitudes, giving one the undeniable sense that you could never truly be alone here. One couldn’t help but wonder how even one, let alone millions of those stars were able to shine so bright in the presence of that majestic blood moon. The lights from the city below seemed to mirror the stars, only enhancing the breath taking magnificence on display in the City of Angels. The city was on fire with electricity and life. This terrestrial light show endured throughout the night, and exemplified the undying mentality of the city’s inhabitants. It is said that the city never sleeps, a sentiment that was indeed true for those inhabiting the house on the hill that night.
The mood in the house was one of unyielding hope and contagious excitement. The walls were thriving with life. People surged through its hallways and corridors as if they were the life’s blood coursing through its veins. Conversation meandered in out of each room, bouncing from mouth to ear in endless succession. The mood was so light, and the energy so bright, that the house seemed to hover happily above the peak of the hill upon which it typically rested.
Like so many health conscious, vegan and wealthy Southern Californians, Sonya had decided to welcome her first born into this world in her very own home; a decision that was enthusiastically supported by Sonya’s husband and business partner Jason, and for good reason. One would be hard-pressed to imagine a more loving and welcoming atmosphere on the planet in that moment.
Jason had pulled out all the stops. He had purchased, and personally constructed, an enormous home-birthing tub in which Sonya was to be in complete comfort during the delivery of their tiny daughter. The pool nearly filled the magnificently decorated, unnaturally immaculate, and drastically underused auxiliary room of their eight bedroom palace-like dwelling on the hill.
A team of modern day midwives had been hired to assist with the home birth, and to provide any and all medical support necessary during the home delivery. With them, they brought, what appeared to be, the entire contents of the neonatal unit at the UCLA Medical Center. Thusly, the room that had formerly seen little more than the attention of the cleaning lady every Wednesday and Saturday was now full of people, birthing equipment, and genuine anticipation for the arrival of the newest addition of the LaShey family.
The night had gone on as expected. Sonya’s labor had begun earlier that evening, just before the summer sun started to set over the Pacific Ocean, casting streaks of orange, pink and purple over its languid blue waters and across the cotton candy sky above. Her friends, family and hired hands all busied themselves like worker bees attending to every need of their regal mistress. Ice chips, back supports, temperature adjustments…anything Sonya requested, was granted in full and without hesitation. However, the elegant poise with which this magnificent creature was typically imbued had long since hit the wind with the arrival of the ever intensifying and brutally quickening labor contractions threatening to rip the young mother-to-be inside out.
As she had already done several times prior to this moment, the midwife in charge took to investigating the degree to which Sonya’s body was prepared for the final stretch of her journey to motherhood. With an encouraging smile and an impressively confident demeanor the midwife reported her findings, “We’re at ten centimeters. It’s time to welcome your daughter into the world.” She offered an encouraging smile to the mother to be. “I hope you’re ready Sonya. It’s time to push.”
The statement seemed to immediately electrify the room. An intensified excitement shot from face to face as a new wave of adrenaline pumped through the veins of each individual in attendance, and the significance of the moment dawned on each of them.
Sonya was far from the exception. The color that had faded from her face during the hours of intensive labor, returned to her cheeks. A spark lit behind her crystal blue eyes, and her posture straightened as she prepared for the final decent. She felt the blood coursing through her veins as her heart beat soared.
“I’m more than ready.” A forced chuckle burst from her lips. “Let’s get this show on the road. Clearly, my daughter has inherited her father’s sense of timing and flare for making a fashionably late entrance.” The room erupted in a quick chorus of laughter that died off almost as quickly as it spawned.
Only a few minutes to go, she thought. I can do anything for 10 minutes.
Sonya clinched her jaw and waited for the next contraction to inform her that it was indeed time to push.
From the spot where he stood, directly behind his laboring wife, Jason dabbed her forehead with a cool damp cloth and wiped the sweat from her neck and face. He knew better than to open his mouth, but instead gave her a loving and supportive kiss on the brow and gave her shoulders a firm squeeze as a show of strength and support. Sonya reached up and grabbed hold of both his hands simultaneously and nearly pulled him down into the pool on top of her.
The pain hit her core, as if a stage 5 hurricane, a 9 point earthquake, and a magnificent bolt of lightning shook through her being all at once like the wrath of God. The shriek that emanated from within her soul nearly shattered the glass of the enormous, full length windows that allowed the city below to violate the reverence of their home at will, like an ever present fiend stalking and awaiting some sacred, internal signal to ravage the very essence of those who inhabit it.
The temperature within the room, indeed within the entire mansion, dropped drastically and immediately. The change did not escape the awareness of a single soul in attendance, as evidenced by the immediate and simultaneous paling of each and every face. Goose pimples crawled across every inch of human flesh in the room. The lights flickered, but for such a brief moment that no one was sure of what they thought they saw; and not a soul dared even entertain the notion.
“I- I can see th- th-, ah, her head.” The midwife’s voice lost all hint of confidence, and emerged as a whimpering mockery of her previous tone. Her body almost melted into itself, and she seemed to shrink an inch or two with the disintegration of her posture. Her lip quivered as the words stuttered from her choked throat, and her smile dropped into a desperate grimace.
Had those looking on detected the sudden, uncontrollable trimmer in her hand? Her thoughts darted and scattered about in the echo chamber within her skull. She scanned the faces surrounding her. Her lips were not the only ones searching for stability. All eyes were wide as wilderness and locked on her. Bolts of clear terror surged through their expressions riding on the pulse of their exponentially increasing heartbeats.
Jason tried to speak, tried to swallow, but his tongue was like a sponge found at the bottom of the sink after haven been discarded and forgotten months earlier. He attempted to choke down a swallow, yet was unable to capture even a breath of air, let alone utter a discernable sound.
The next shriek nearly floored the entire party. Sonya’s eyes seemed to widen beyond the limits of their sockets. Her pupils consumed her eyeballs entirely, and her voice seemed to escape from a hell hidden deep within her soul. Beads of sweat chased one another down the curves of her trembling body until they were finally engulfed by the raging sea below. The life seemed to be vacuumed from the room as it was consumed by an unearthly darkness. The lights were clearly operational, yet unable to penetrate the ever-deepening darkness that now shrouded this new hell on earth.
Sonya’s entire body twisted and contorted, nearly folding itself in half. Her back arched to such a degree that she seemed to float above the black pool in which she was previously submerged. Her limbs dangled, limp and lifeless, from her torso. Her head hung back nearly submerged in the now steaming black bath beneath her body. A cold silence filled the room as the dark consumed all else.
Not a sound was to be heard throughout the entire estate. Not a pin drop, a cricket’s chirp, nor a mosquito’s hum was heard. Not a clock’s tick, a single breath, nor a solitary heartbeat broke the hellish hush that had fallen upon that place. All that remained was that complete and utter deafening silence; a silence that seemed to thicken and close in along with the darkness that was steadily consuming every inch of life’s essence from within the confines of that decaying domicile. The scene fell still, dark and silent, like a terrifying tableau in Madame Tussaud’s House of Horrors. A moment that seemed infinite dragged on so that time lost all meaning. Forever died while that moment of silently sustained terror claimed eternity…
***
As the sound of a newborn’s cries filled the otherwise void space now occupied within, the house itself seemed to shutter, and crimson tears freely flowed down the ghostly green cheeks of every single face as they beheld the newest member of the LaShey for the first time; that tiny terror, she who shall usher in the end of days.
THE BEST OF TIMES
“Do you have any plans for this weekend, Kas?” Sevryn, the yin to Blake’s yang, asks as the two beauties exit the bistro in which they shared brunch. Sevryn and Blake stand nearly shoulder to shoulder although Sevryn claims an extra ¼ inch on paper. Her silky straight jet black hair is cut short in a bob, exposing the small Eye of Horus tattooed on the back of her neck. Her golden skin stays tan all year around showcasing the gold and green stars in her hazel eyes; eyes through which her singing soul is readily accessible to any eyes that meet their gaze.
Still, Blake reaches an impressive 5’11 ¾ on bare feet. Her rich springy blond locks flow endlessly past her neck and shoulders, and down her back. Her mesmerizing indigo eyes shine on for centuries on the breathtaking backdrop of her creamy fawn colored skin, successfully shrouding the emptiness where her soul should be.
“Ugh…I promised my mom that we could go for a mother-daughter weekend to the spa. You know how she loves that bonding crap. You want to tag along?” Blake confidently offers her lie to her best friend as she had a million times before. “You know my mom loves you more than me anyhow. She’d wring my neck if she knew I forgot to invite you earlier.”
“Damn, I wish you had. I made plans to go to Frisco with Jeff this weekend.” This, of course, was a fact of which Blake was already fully aware. “I was gonna invite you to come with.”
Jeff is Blake and Sevryn’s very tall, very handsome, very gay best friend. A male model that has the same agent as Blake and Sevryn, Jeff definitely holds his own when accompanied by his drop dead gorgeous girlfriends. At 6’2 220lbs, it isn’t uncommon for him to be mistaken for their bodyguard. If tall, dark and handsome is your drink, Jeff is a double.
“Well, I guess we weather our own battles this weekend. You’ll have to catch me up on all the fag drama when you get back then.” Blake shoots a wink in Sevryn’s direction with a playful smirk before she grabs a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Sevryn responds with a thrilled giggle and returns the hug and kiss warmly. Sevryn always gave the best hugs. Even Blake’s empty soul could feel the warmth that emanated from Sevryn's. If there was anyone that made Blake feel even the slightest of human emotion, it was Sevryn.
After parting with Sevryn, Blake heads straight back to her place. She’d been exhausting every effort to hide her anticipation all day. When she left her house this Sevryn, Seth was passed out, but still breathing. Even after all of the blood he had lost, he was still hanging in there. It had been three weeks since she first picked him up at the bar that night. She’d never had a toy last so long before. Either she was getting much better at controlling herself, or this guy had the stamina of a dozen men. Whatever the reason, Blake is not quite bored of Seth yet, thusly she hopes deeply that he hasn’t died while she was away.
As she walks home, Blake’s thoughts wander around, finding little tidbits and oddities to focus on randomly before meandering elsewhere. She sees a young couple, a man and a woman, walking hand-in-hand down the street, whispering and snickering to one another, no doubt about trivial ideas bouncing about between their ears. She doesn’t even bother to roll her eyes at the thought before moving on to two birds engaged in a quarrel over a discarded bagel bit abandoned on a nearby bistro table. Her eyes glance over the bus boy that arrives at that moment to claim the discards ransomed by the battling birds, and her gaze locks on a woman sitting alone awaiting her tardy companion. The dark hair, those lonely eyes, and radiant skin, she’s almost a dead ringer for Sevryn, and Blake can hardly contain the overwhelming desire to approach the woman.
Blake’s eyebrows about cross, and her nose and upper lip give a rhythmic twitch. If it weren’t for Seth already being at her place, she would jump at the chance to spend some time with this woman, but why? Is it because she favors Sevryn? Blake shakes her head against the thought. Sevryn is the one person Blake had never even considered taking into that dark place where all her secrets live. She was, too good. Even Blake couldn’t touch that. Could she? Would she want to? Surly not after all that Sevryn had done for her.
As soon as she turns the key to the lock on her private penthouse lift, Blake feels the cold embrace her being. Sevryn leaves her mind. The image of that stranger disappears, and Blake’s expression narrows and focuses in on a single thought…It’s game time. The light dims behind her eyes, and her lips tighten and expand into that familiar sadistic smile. Her fingertips begin to tingle just a bit, and her mouth starts to water. She’s waited all day for this. As the elevator reaches the top floor, Blake doesn’t even bother to remove her six inch stilettoes, allowing their contact with the marble to send a mores code cue to Seth that his temporary period of relief is now drawing to a close.
Seth’s stomach muscles respond to the warning by immediately tying themselves into a kinked up Celtic knot. His head starts to spin, painting a constellation of stars across the wall adjacent to him. He attempts to relieve the desiccation that has become of his mouth and lips, but with no avail. His soul weeps, but no sound escapes his throat and his eyes offer no tears. Just as fear has overtaken his spirit, exhaustion has conquered his body. His limbs, what remains of them, hang limp, damp and lifeless wherever Blake left them last. With the exception of those created last night, the burns have mostly been reduced to nothing more than a raised pink roadmap leading from city to city on the atlas of Seth’s torso. The thick scabs inhabiting the area where his nipples once were, are still tender and oozing, but the bruises around them have faded to a light greenish yellow, much like the color of festering lettuce, as have those that appeared under his eyes as a result of the massive blow to the back of his head he sustained a week ago at the hands of his bafflingly beautiful brutalizer.
Seth’s entire body shudders when he hears the final clat, clat, as Blake arrives outside the door to his hell. When her key slides into the lock and engages the cylinders, a ping strikes his ears and the ringing begins. The room turns over on top of itself and Seth’s focus widens and narrows with syncopation, and the ringing drowns out all other sound as Blake enters the room, seemingly on the ceiling.
The scent of her perfume attacks Seth’s throat like a swarm of angry wasps from a kicked hive. He loses his breath as he struggles to grasp any fiber of reality as it swirls about into oblivion before his weary eyes. The ringing in his ears splinters off, and Seth becomes aware of the inhuman humming emanating from the goddess before him. His upper lip curls up in an unexpected solute of utter disgust. His grimace quivers, and when his will is spent, Seth’s stomach heaves in an effort to empty itself, seemingly unaware that there is nothing within to expel.
The dry heaving continues until Blake places her hand under his chin and lifts his head to gain access to his dimming eyes. She tilts her head to one side as she draws his attention. Her eyebrows raise and her smirk drops slightly, almost in a show of pity, as she addresses her quivering victim.
“How was your day love? Did you sleep well? I missed you all day.”
Seth’s blank stare would have to suffice as reply, both because he is beyond the cognitive capability to offer facetious banter, and because his mouth had long since been relieved of the muscle necessary for producing word sounds. Seth succeeds in choking a sullen swallow down his swollen throat as his thoughts plead a silent prayer to whatever god may be listening to free him from the clutches of this unholy cunt that is clearly determined to ravage his soul the way she has already ravaged his body.
With that thought, Seth squeezes his eyelids shut, and Blake sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, reopening the gash she’d created hundreds of times before, and causing a fresh stream of warm, sticky blood to streak down his chin and neck. Much to his surprise, and Blake’s delight, Seth’s left eye is able to produce one last tear drop that clings to his lower eyelash until Blake stands up, lets her hair down, wipes the blood from her own chin with the back of her right hand, and throws her shoulders back with an audible crack.
Seth’s neck gives in to despair and his head drops down until his chin hits his chest. The tear drop frees itself from his lash, races down his cheek and joins the rushing river of ruby red blood running down his torso. No souls will be saved tonight, but for Blake, these are the best of times.
NEVER HURTS TO TRY
It was a brisk autumn day in LA. The equinox had passed, and Halloween was just around the corner. The school yard was thriving with youthful energy. Children of scattered ages, ethnicities, and degrees of cleanliness scurried about the playground engaging in whatever tomfoolery mused their blossoming curiosities. There was a moderate chill in the air that appeared and retreated opposite the sun’s manifestations between scattered clouds. The light scent of rain lingered about as a constant reminder that the skies might open up at any moment. The intermingled shouts, hoots, hollers, and giggles of the children sang a whimsical song of juvenile delight.
Blake was sitting alone, cross legged “Indian style” on the black top against the wall of the school building, like she had done every day since her arrival at her new school. She was scribbling in the tattered, leather bound journal her father had given to her. Her long blond locks poured over the pages, guarding her secrets from the gaze of any prying eyes; her tiny hand tiring from its desperate effort to keep up with the pace of her darting thoughts.
The hand that reached through her blond veil momentarily startled her into releasing the death grip with which she formerly held her precious piece. Her head shot up, and her blistered gaze met with that of the brazen brown bulbs staring back at her. Her nostrils flared out first in outrage before her lips and tongue had time to react. When her mouth caught up to her anger she lost it.
“The hell are you doing? Give it back you little bitch! I’m gonna rip your fuckin head off!”
Those brown eyes nearly shot from the skull that housed them as their owner instinctively jumped back to avoid the right hook sailing straight for this left cheek. He took off running towards the basketball courts where his band of buddies waited to see what their dare had scored them.
Their laughter and cheers were quickly squelched when Blake caught the little bandit before he was able to enjoy his temporary triumph. She grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him back in time where he landed face up on the pavement. She leaned over top of his breathless form, digging her heels into his ribs on either side of his scrawny skeleton. He quailed beneath her when she grabbed a fist full of his t-shirt and reared the other back over her head, ready to knock him into next Tuesday, but a tiny fist grabbed hold of her wrist and spun her around so quickly that she almost fell down on top of her would be tormentor. She was able to catch her balance, partially in part to the firm grip with which her wrist was being held.
“Don’t hit him, Kas. He isn’t worth it. Look at him. He’s not good enough to waist the effort on.”
Sevryn grabbed her friend’s journal for her and leaned in to address the face she just saved from a world of pain.
“You’re so pathetic, Jeff. One day, you go learn to pick on people your own size. She’s way out of your league. Next time, I ain't go stop her. You should really think about getting some new friends. Losers!” The last word was hurled at the boys gawking from the basketball court.
Jeff got up in silence and patted the dirt from his jeans. He examined the rip in his shirt collar and fingered the red welt across his neck that resulted from the clothesline he experienced at Blake’s hands. He could only imagine what his mother was going to do about it when she got home later. He winced at the thought, dropped his head and hands, limp and defeated, and fought the tears as they swelled in his throat as he sulked back to his supposed friends. He was met with mockery and laughter by the group as Blake and Sevryn headed off in the other direction.
The two girls had gotten somewhat close since Blake arrived at the school two months earlier. Truth be told, Sevryn was the only person Blake could stand to be around for more than a minute without wanting to rip her arm off and beat her with it. Sevryn, on the other hand, was friends with everyone, even Jeff, when he wasn’t playing the puppet on the string for the admiration of the “cool kids.”
Sevryn tried her best to calm Blake, “You know Jeff’s just trying to look cool in front of the other boys. Boys are so stupid sometimes.”
“Sometimes? I can’t stand those fuckers. I wish they’d all just die. He’s so lucky you Sevryn me. I was gonna mash his fuckin’ face into play dough. Little ass-”
“Sshh. You go get us in trouble with that mouth. Why you always talk like that? Mama says it’s not very lady like to use such foul language. You know, people might treat you better and like you more if you weren’t sooo…mean and angry all the time.”
“Yea, that’s what you always say. Maybe I don’t want them to like me. Maybe all I want from them is to just leave me the fuck alone. I don’t give a shit about any of these little fuck-tards. If I had my way, I’d take ‘em all to hell an-”
“Whatever it is you want,” Sevryn tried to cut her friend’s clear and frightening anger short, “it’s probably easier to get people to do it, if they like you. Even if what you want is to be left alone.”
Sevryn shrugged off the entire incident and grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her playfully around the yard. Blake scoffed at that last remark; although it was clear she understood its intent and heeded her little friend’s wise advice. The two girls skipped around the schoolyard arm in arm, giggling and snickering about the boys they had just embarrassed.
“Little help, please!?!?”
The voice came from the basketball courts just as the ball rolled into Blake’s ankle. She promptly booted it over the fence, glanced at the boy holding his hands out for the pass that would never come, and shrugged her shoulders before she giggled inwardly and skipped off with her only friend.
NEVER ENOUGH
Blake’s head springs up from the mountain of down pillows on which it typically rests; her white knuckled fists clinging to her Egyptian cotton bed sheets, while an army of sweat beads cling to her frowned forehead and flawless cheeks. Her piercing eyes scan the room, searching for the unseen fiend that must have awakened her from her dreams.
The room is cold and still, as always. She shuts her eyes, squeezing the lids tight as she shakes her head in an effort to recall the images of her fantasy that were just ripped from her consciousness. She claps her palms to her face and rocks her head left to right, attempting to coax the memories back from nowhere. A sigh of annoyance growls up through her throat as her hands fall down to her sides and she collapses back down into the mattress.
This makes four nights in a row that Blake has found herself unable to maintain sleep. Although her favorite toy, Seth, is still alive, if not quite kicking, in her penthouse, she has found their time together increasingly less satisfying with each passing day. She continues to find herself wanting and needing more. Seth just no longer has that fight, that spirit which convinced her to keep him around for the last four weeks. It has become clear to Blake that she may have finally exhausted all the will within Seth’s soul, and that the time has come to destroy what remains of his mangled body and move on to more exciting undertakings.
She sits up, spins around, and flings her mile long legs over the side of her bed. She wraps her silky sheet around her unblemished body as she stands up in front of her full-length bedroom windows. She draws in a long, refreshing breath as she takes in the view of her favorite city from her penthouse bedroom.
As the sun rises over the mountain peaks to the east, the city slowly crawls back from the darkness it was plunged into for the past ten hours. Blake lets her thoughts wander toward the object of her cresting interest, Sevryn. She thinks of her warm smile, her raven black hair, her breath taking eyes, and most of all, her shimmering sterling soul. She smiles brightly. As her fantasy gives way to her own reflection in the glass, she decides to let the sheet drop to the floor, and she runs her fingers through her golden mane of hair. Then she turns on her heels and heads to the shower to get the ball rolling on the busy day ahead of her.
Blake hums humorously as she goes about her morning routine. Her thoughts drifting and weaving about in her mind causing the images they produce to fuse together in her consciousness. Her delight over her dinner plans with Sevryn combines with her plans to dismember Seth before lunch, causing an intoxicating euphoria to saturate her senses. The profound pleasure that she anticipates will arise from the completion of both tasks sends seismic shivers up her spine. Her fingertips tingle as they glide across her skin, washing away the sullen sentiment left behind by her broken dreams. She is now, more than ever, convinced that the key to unlocking her life’s ambition somehow lives within her one and only true friend, but so many unanswered questions still remain and continue to taunt her. Would she really kill Sevryn? Could she kill her? Did she really want to?
She grabs two fists full of her own lathered locks from the base of her skull and tugs her head back and forth as if it were a magic eight ball poised to answer all of her most elusive inquiries. When no such enlightenment comes to bare, she relinquishes her grip and rinses the frothy white foam from her hands and hair. She grabs her over-sized bath sheet from the large hand shaped hook on the wall beside the shower and steps out onto the heated tiles of her luxurious master bathroom. She admires her own reflection in the heated, steam-resistant mirrors lining the opposing wall and pats her radiant skin dry before swathing herself in her plush pink cotton bathrobe. She bends over at the waist, wraps her dripping hair in her micro fiber hair towel, and saunters off into her enormous walk-in closet.
Although the closet light self illuminates the moment Blake breaks the threshold of the door, she finds the items she’s after without so much as a glance in their direction. She knows the exact location of each and every skirt, blouse and pants set, because, like her shoes and accessories, they are all meticulously and flawlessly organized by color, season, brand and style. Not a single piece is out of place. This had been the state of her belongings for as long as she could remember. Even as a small child, Blake had spent hours painstakingly separating and categorizing her belongings so that they could be organized and stored to the exact specifications of her choosing. The inventory may as well be etched into the very tissue of her brain.
With no small amount of self-satisfying, sadistic pleasure, Blake dons a skintight, black leather bodysuit. She releases her damp hair from its towel and allows it to bounce down around her shoulders and upper back. She pulls a pair of thigh high stiletto boots onto her pampered feet and zips them up around her thighs. She tosses her hair from side to side to separate the curls as she floats over to the vanity where she adds a small amount of product to her bounding curls before pulling them back into a ponytail so tight, that the corners of her eyes jump towards her ears. She adds black liner to complete her cat eye look and covers her pouting lips in a shade of lipstick which matches that of Seth’s arterial blood impeccably. She gives her reflection a crimson kiss just before she drifts out of the closet, through the master suit, past the kitchen and heads directly to cellar stairwell.
On her way down the pitch black, ¼ mile long flight of stairs, her mouth begins to water as she breathes in the smell of vomit, feces and seared, rotten flesh that she has come to associate with her most treasured hobby. She flexes her fingers then quickly curls them into two tight fists and flairs them out in rhythmic succession resulting in a series of audible cracks and snaps. She rolls her neck and shoulders with the same result just before expanding her chest for a final, and intensely gratifying, pop. She allows her eye lids to flutter and shut as she inhales two nostrils full of that musky pungent aroma she’s come to loath so dearly. She holds her breath as she opens the door to her favorite toy for the very last time.
“Hello love…” she moans, as she shuts the door behind her.
YOU ONLY LIVE
“…and welcome to the rest of our lives.”
With those words, Sevryn concluded her speech and flung her tasseled cap into the air where it was joined for a millisecond of weightless freedom by those of her fellow high school graduates. The stunning valedictorian descended the stage steps as the cascade of caps rained down onto the turf, and the gaggle of graduates sprang up in unified enthusiasm and embarked on their futures.
When Sevryn reached the bottom of the steps, she locked both arms into the waiting wings of her two best friends, Blake on the left and Jeff on the right. The threesome made their way through the clamoring crowd to the parking lot where they de-robed, flung their gowns into the open trunk of Jeff’s graduation gift, and jumped inside. Jeff started the engine, flipped open the visor mirror, licked his middle finger tips, and smoothed his eye brows and meticulously maintained facial hair.
“I can’t believe you bitches are leaving me for three whole weeks to go to Europe. I hate you whores. I don’t know why my mom has to be such a cunt, making me work with that asshole of hers for the summer. Ugh.”
“Seriously, Jeff?” Sevryn chimes in with her typical motherly advice, “You are always callin your mother some kind of bitch, cunt, or tramp. You know you love yo’ mama. You love her asshole (Sevryn added finger quotes for effect) too.”
The eye roll she directed towards the driver seat may as well have spawned from the back where Blake added without skipping a beat, “I’m sayin, I don’t recall hearing any use of such terms last night when step pops handed you the keys to the whip…”
“Whatever, bitches. Ya’ll can walk if you want.”
Jeff pouted his lips, rolled his neck, threw his right middle finger into the air, and waved it back and forth in front of the girls’ faces. Faces which responded with unanimous lip smacks, eye rolls, and audible exhales that turned into mocking laughter. Jeff turned back to the front, turned up the music, slapped both hands on the steering wheel, and proceeded to chauffeur his hecklers to Blake’s house to pregame for the most epic graduation party in history.
The 20 minute drive gave Jeff enough time to adjust his diva-tude to a reasonable level, so that by the time he pulled his black on black, late model Mercedes Benz C Class into the driveway, the three graduates were, once again, thick as thieves. They were teaming with teenage excitement as they nearly skipped up the walkway to the house on the hill. The scent of sunshine and sunflowers jarred an uneasy nostalgia imbuing the entire scene with a foreboding air.
As they entered the house the drastic drop in temperature coaxed goose bumps from the flesh on their exposed arms.
“Eww-wee. It’s always so cold in your house, Kassy. I think we need to get the whiskey flowing like NOW!”
Jeff gleefully scanned the eyes of his gorgeous companions and darted straight for the dry bar in the den. The bar was always stocked with the finest top shelf liquors, liqueurs, and spirits.
“Don’t touch the single malt, Jeff. Papa could tell last time, and don’t call me Kassy.”
Blake tossed a secret glance in Sevryn’s direction, a sullen warning that she’d had about as much as she could handle of “trying” with Jeff for the day. His flamboyant attitude, his cheeky comments, his overfriendly presumptions; he was about to push the limits of Blake’s façade and bring the entire charade crashing down. When Sevryn offered back an apologetic smile, Blake collapsed down into the chaise lounge and told Jeff to make hers a double. There was only one person Blake allowed to call her Kassy, and Jeff was not that person.
Sevryn thought it best to change the subject to guide the conversation away from Blake’s boiling point.
“I am so effin’ excited about tonight. The bus’ll be here in like an hour, so drink up. We need to be beyond buzzed by the time the bus gets here, in case we can’t convince the driver to let us sip. What kind of drinks are you making anyway?”
“Fairy farts?” Blake facetiously chimed in. Jeff’s facial expression instinctively pinched in at Blake’s low blow, but he quickly brushed it off with a solo shot of whiskey.
Sevryn made her way over to the bar and leaned in to give Jeff a piece of life saving advice, once again, “Don’t call her Kassy. You remember what happened last time.”
Jeff finished pouring the drinks and took another swig from the bottle. He did remember the last time. The deep scar on his chin would never allow him to forget it.
Blake heard the warning, despite Sevryn’s glaringly pathetic attempt at whispering, but made no indication to that fact. Instead, she threw her head back into the cushions and made a genuine attempt to block out the murderous fantasies vying for her attention. She took in a deep breath as she contemplated rushing the bar. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands as she bashed Jeff’s head in with the fifth of Goose. She cracked her neck as she carved out his left eye with the shard of broken glass. She licked her lips as she tasted the blood flowing down his cheek.
“Here you go, Kass-andra.”
Jeff stood next to the chaise and held out the glass of scotch neat. He painted a sheepish smile on his face, in an effort to coax the same from his friend’s lips. He bounced up onto his tip toes momentarily as he extended his peace offering. Blake blinked her breathtaking blue eyes extra hard to erase the remnants of her wet daydream from her mind.
“Thanks.”
She grabbed the glass, tapped it against the one in Jeff’s other hand, and offered a faux tap to Sevryn’s before she swallowed its entire contents in one fluid motion. She then stretched out her arm towards Sevryn with a deep breath and asked her to please, pour her another.
Sevryn returned the ceremonial gesture, took a solid gulp from her glass, and refilled Blake’s from the scotch bottle she’d grabbed from the bar top. Her eyes shot over the rim of her glass to Jeff. Still wearing his awkward smile, he downed his drink while murmuring, “mine too,” into his own draining glass.
Three to four double shots of scotch later, the three friends jumped nearly out of their skin when the air horn of the party bus signaled its arrival outside. Delight danced about in the eyes of the three amigos as they made their way to the bus in record time. An insanely sinister smile curled on Blake’s lips as she turned to lock the front door before boarding the bus. Her body tingled as the scotch made its way through her bloodstream setting her skin on fire. She always enjoyed the surge of rage that pumped through her veins at the verge of inebriation. She turned towards the bus and nearly leapt aboard with one hop as she allowed the alcohol fueled euphoria to overtake her senses.
As the bus driver shut the door behind her, Blake’s gaze fell on her intended prey. Her empty eyes locked on Jeff’s. As she moved toward him, intent on devouring every bit of humanity with in him, Sevryn grabbed her arm and pulled her into the seat beside her. Blake could hardly hear the words as they slid off of Sevryn’s lips into her ear. The need to concentrate caused Blake’s rage to temporarily retreat. The bus was dark, and the music was blaring. The party strobe lights mounted on the ceiling flashed erratically, adding to the surreal sensation that slowly overtook Blake’s body. She found herself staring at Sevryn’s lips without the slightest clue as to what she had been saying. Jeff left her mind entirely, and she lost herself in lull of the night.
BEEP, BEEP BEE-
Sevryn’s hand slapped down on the snooze button, stopping the alarm in mid beep.
“What. The. FFFUCK…is that noise?” Blake’s words were deliberate and exaggerated as she tried to squeeze the pounding from her own head by pushing in on her ears with the palms of her hands. The two girls surveyed the room in disgust as they took in the clear signs of debauchery and mayhem all around.
“The fuck is that smell?” Sevryn’s words were far less emphatic and much more inquisitive than her friend’s. The stench of liquor vomit and stale beer lingered around in every inch of the hotel suite. The comatose bodies of hung-over teenagers were strewn about the floor like corpses in a mass grave. The girls stumbled from the bed they had apparently passed out in together at some point during the party that no one would ever fully remember. Their arms clung to one another’s as they attempted to traverse the corpse gauntlet laid out between them and the suite door. Just as Sevryn’s hand found the knob, the door swung in towards them. Jeff stood on the other side of the threshold with an enthusiastic zeal.
“Good morning, ladies. Your chariot awaits!”
Jeff’s enthusiasm was met with two deadly scowls from inside the room. Blake nearly lunged for his throat until he offered up a bottle of Excedrin and a large bottle of Perrier as penance for his far too cheerful morning gloat. Blake snatched the offerings from his hands and held back the urge to kick his throat in. She handed the Perrier bottle to Sevryn, and they went to work opening their treasures.
Blake poured about five Excedrin into her mouth then swapped bottles with Sevryn. She poured nearly half the bottle of soda water down her throat before growling in Jeff’s general direction, “The hell are you smiling at?”
Her top lip was pinched up in clear repulsion. She glared at her supposed friend with such intensity that Sevryn actually swooned when she realized the magnitude of the current situation. She caught her balance by clasping Blake’s shoulder. A move that inadvertently, if only temporarily, dissolved the visible tension in Blake’s demeanor. Blake measured out a couple of pills and fed them to her friend. Sevryn chased the pills with a couple of gulps of bubble water, and took a deep breath. She glanced around the room aimlessly while she patted her torso and thighs as if taking inventory of the contents of her pockets and bra.
“We’d better get going if you two are going to make your flight.”
Jeff chose his words wisely and took care not to make eye contact with the devil in the room. The last time he encountered that look from Blake, he ended up with 11 stitches on his chin. He was nowhere near ready for a rematch. He swung open the suite door and held out a hand to help steady Sevryn as she and Blake locked arms and carefully made their way down the hall to the elevator. Jeff trailed behind them in silence.
The elevator ride down to the parking garage was tense and uneasy. Sevryn divided her attention between her two friends in an effort to sort out the increasingly hostile air between them. The ride back to Blake’s house held more of the same, as did the journey to LAX that followed shortly thereafter. The three hardly exchanged five words by the time Blake and Sevryn gathered their luggage from the trunk, offered faint hugs to their bashful friend, and shuffled into the international terminal. Jeff watched with a tinge of jealousy and a swell of relief as the girls made their way to the kiosks and their whispers melted into the din.
ENOUGH ALREADY
For as long as Seth could remember, he had always loved the beach; watching the sun set over the Pacific Ocean; feeling the wet sand between his toes and beneath his bare feet. He loved to watch the seagulls as they battle for the scraps left behind in the sand.
He relishes the fond memories as he takes in massive nostrils full of the salty ocean air, basks in the brazen sun, and allows the sea breeze to caress his skin and tousle his hair. He admires the massive waves as they roll into the shore and claim the earth for the ocean’s sake, if only for brief moments at a time. He dares to dip a toe into the frothy white water left behind as the waves retreat back into the vastness of the open sea. A warm smile stretches across his face as the breeze beckons goose bumps from his exposed skin. He senses a bit of déjà vu when he feels his nipples respond to the chill as he admires the cotton candy streaks smeared across the sky in the horizon.
He sits down in the dry sand just beyond the tide line. He sinks his feet into the sand, laces his fingers behind his head, and collapses back into a cozy mound. He notes the majestic shapes in the clouds as he welcomes even more found memories from times long past that resonate in the moment he is currently experiencing. He allows his drowsing eyelids to shut as his memories take over his consciousness.
He sees himself and his younger brother building a sandcastle in the wet sand as his mother and father look on and capture video and photographic evidence that siblings can indeed get along from time to time. A gleeful smile overcomes his face as his memories transport him to the Fourth of July celebration his sophomore year in college. He remembers choosing Sara as his beer pong partner because she lit up the entire world with her smile,and regretting that decision when it turned out that she couldn’t win a cup to save the world. That was the night he lost both his title as beer pong champion and his virginity within the same hour.
He feels the sea breeze pass over his beaming face reactivating the goose bumps that had begun to fade. He suddenly sits up as a tinge of pain shoots from his stinging nipples up his neck and a single tear wells up in the corner of his left eye. Every muscle in his face, in fact in his entire body, twitches in turn, and his smile drops to a grimace when a faint humming manifests in his awareness.
A fierce panic bolts through his being as the world seems to crash down instantly on top of his head. The smell of salty sea air is replaced by the pungent odor of human excrement. As the solitary tear plunges to the ground and explodes into the sand, reality ripples outward and engulfs the serenity of Seth’s dream with violent, penetrating flashes of light and sound. Seth physically becomes ill as his eyes spring open and consciousness kicks him in the groin.
His pupils fully dilate partly due to the darkness, but mostly from the shock of reality. His head spins out of control, he literally loses his breath, and if not for the fact that he is shackled and suspended in air by the chained hooks attached to the flesh of his back, he would have fallen to the stone ground beneath his broken feet.
Hell is real, of that fact he is certain, and the peaceful yet temporary escape into his dreams was ripped from his grasp by that inhuman humming that, somehow, almost mystically penetrates the stone walls of his personal prison.
As Seth begins to catch his breath, hyperventilation kicks in and the room begins to spin and twinkle behind his drowsing eyelids. The dry heaving begins again as the ringing in his ears reaches its peak pitch. Then the bitch bounds into the room.
He hadn’t noticed her footsteps approaching. He hadn’t even seen the door swing open, but he couldn’t have missed the woman that now stood before him if he tried.
“Hello love…” she moans as she shuts the door behind her, and lights the gas fireplace in the corner with the push of a button. Seth wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to die, but none of his wishes are expressly granted.
Blake stands statuesque and terrifyingly gorgeous in the now moderately lit torture chamber below her penthouse apartment. She steadies her breath as she takes in the sight of her toy before starting their final game. Her body shivers at the thought of finally ending their time together. The bittersweet sensation electrifies her senses. She places her hands on her own breasts and allows them to slowly run down the length of the black leather bodysuit she had made specifically for this occasion.
As her hands move slowly down the curves of her magnificent body, Seth notices the deep red, razor sharp fingernail on her right index finger. He remembers the first night he was cursed to spend with the bitch before him. He remembers biting that fingertip clean the fuck off. Once again, his entire body shutters as he remembers the dreadful disbelief he experienced when he watched this devil spawn finish the job he had started on that finger, and the deepening despair into which his soul was plunged when she moved on from removing his finger nails and tongue to reattaching her own fingertip as if they were all chores to check off from her day’s to-do list.
His stomach turns again. He wants to look away, but his blistered eyes are unable to break free from Blake’s sinister stare. He wants to cry out, and he most certainly would, if not for his bleeding, swollen throat. He wants, no needs, relief from this hell that has lasted longer than any nightmare could ever conceive.
Seth ignores his cramping stomach, musters every ounce of strength left within himself, and speaks. Through chapped, cracked lips his voice emerges wilted and defeated. His lips shutter and his jaw shakes with each sobbing breath.
“Pa-hee. Pa-hee, juh keeh meh. I-”
His mouth opens so wide that his jaw nearly locks. The strings of thick saliva, mucus, and blood stretch like gooey cobwebs from the roof of his hollow mouth to the floor of his empty jaw. The same slime drips lazily from his chin down to the floor where it mingles with the rest of his body’s filth. He gives up; gives in. As his body weight drops from sheer exhaustion, one of the hooks is ripped from the flesh on his back.
Nothing…
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t grimace. He doesn’t NOTICE.
Blake tilts her head slightly in an effort to absorb the gravity of her pet’s poignant plea for peace. Her eyes narrow slightly, and she smiles, not out of pity, nor out of love, but from sincere satisfaction as she realizes that she has finally and fully decimated the soul that once lived within the defeated vessel before her.
With that thought she slowly moves toward Seth’s limp body. She runs her right hand through his hair, pulls his head up, and locks her bafflingly beautiful blue eyes on his. She grins as she pulls his head towards her and kisses his lips; a long, almost lovingly passionate kiss. The last kiss Seth’s lips might ever feel; a kiss that intensifies and gains fervor as Blakesqueezes her fist at the base of Seth’s skull and nearly rips that chuck of hair clean from his scalp. She sucks his bottom lip into her mouth and sinks her teeth deep into its flesh, biting clean through and causing a crimson tide to rush down both of their chins. She clasps her left hand around his throat and rears the other back over her head. With one fluid motion, she brings her right arm down and plunges her claw clad hand into Seth’s belly up to her elbow.
She exhales audibly when her hand finds his heart. Warm blood cascades down Seth’s torso causing a crimson river to flow down the cellar floor. He releases an almost orgasmic gasp as Blake pulls back with his mangled heart in her hand. One scarlet blood laced tear drop is released from his eye lash and crawls down his cheek before it’s lost in the oozing river of blood. As Seth’s consciousness fades into finality the last thing he hears is the final beat of his stolen heart.
Blake’s face is all smile as she devours the heart in her hand. She loses herself in the euphoria of total decimation. Seth’s blood bathes her body while his soul fills the void within her entirely; giving her a momentary glimpse of true humanity.
AND SO IT BEGINS
One thing is for certain, he had no idea what he had gotten himself into. This girl was incredibly beautiful and couldn’t have been a day over 16, but what the fuck did he care? He bought her; cash money; bought and paid for. This bitch was his now, and he was going to get his money’s worth. He had saved up for two and half years. Six full month’s pay is what he had handed over for this prize. He intended to keep her for as long as it would take to satiate the sadistic desires he’d been forced to hide from the entire world for his entire life. Then, when he was through with her, he’d just sell her to the next guy to get his jollies off. That’s how this shit worked. Did he feel sorry for her? Was there even an ounce of pity in his horrid heart for the life he was quite intent on tearing apart? In short, no, not even an ounce.
He shrugged his shoulders at the thought as though it were as natural as considering his choice of side dish at his favorite restaurant. As he did so, he turned toward his newly claimed prize and gave her the full-Monty with his superman pose that he’d practiced in the mirror several times after his morning shower. Of course, he instinctively looked down to inspect the state of his package when he noticed the significantly less than impressed expression on Blake’s face. His expression deflated when he looked back up to catch her in mid yawn. It didn’t take long for defeat to give way to rage, and he lunged full long toward the gorgeous girl he had successfully chained to the furnace in the apartment his father had fashioned for him in the basement of the family home.
The smile that stretched across Blake’s face as his hands threatened to claim the life’s breath from her throbbing throat did much to further his fury. His teeth grinded against one another as his jaw clenched and his grasp tightened around her throat. Sweat beads raced down his bumpy forehead and face before they soaked into the collar of his dingy, pale pink t-shirt that used to be red when it belonged to his father. As her eye’s squinted and made contact with his, Blake’s fists grabbed hold of the chains to which they were shackled and waited for him to make one final, fatal mistake.
As if he had felt the power from within her darkened soul smack him in his foul face, he relinquished his grip on her neck, and backed away from her entirely as his chest heaved heavily and his lungs clamored for air. Blake stood cool, calm, and collected, casually leaning against the furnace. If one were to walk in at that very moment, it would have appeared that Blake was the one who had been strangling him. But no one walked in, and no one would. His parents were away on holiday for the next month, so he had the entire house in which to live out his fiendish fantasies. That thought came and went as he looked down at his flaccid penis in disgust and horror. Violence was usually his Viagra. When he looked back up into those eyes of hers, confusion was written all over his face. Blake knew he was about to give her exactly what she needed, and she definitely hit the nail directly on the head.
There was something about her eyes. There was no terror in them. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, which he clearly wasn’t, he would have realized that she terrified him to his very core. Of course, he ignored that last inkling of a thought and entertained the asinine idea that followed.
He scratched his dangling balls as he turned on his heels and made for his nightstand across the room. He found the key to the shackles that restrained his prisoner. He flipped the key into the air with a flick of his finger and caught it in the palm of his hand as he made his way back to the furnace. On his way, a thought hit him.
This bitch is kinda crazy. Imma have to leash her ass or something...
He stood there in the middle of the room staring blankly at the wall beside Blake. Clearly, thinking was not his strong suit. What seemed like a lifetime later, he bounded up the stairs to retrieve the choke collar and leash he used to walk the neighbor’s dog.
During his short absence, Blake scanned the room to solidify her plan. The drugs those assholes at the club had slipped into her drink had worn off, and rage was coursing through her veins with rabid intensity. Her pulse was soaring, but her thoughts, like her outward demeanor, were cool as a frozen cucumber.
She had never felt so alive before. Her cheeks were flush, her skin warm and dry, her vision was sharp, and her entire being was tingling and on fire. She felt higher than she had ever felt before. She could feel the rage fueling her desire. She couldn’t wait for her would be rapist to return and make the second biggest mistake of his soon to be concluded, catastrophically ill-calculated criminal career.
She seemed to take in the entire contents of the room all at once. Her eyes moved so quickly, so efficiently, that they seemed not to move at all. She saw the collection of pocket knives on the book shelf, the sticky stack of porn under the bed, the semen stained sheets, the puss spackled mirror, the construction boots in the corner, the sex toys in the box beside the desk, the shotgun behind the closet door, the lighter and pack of cigarettes on the dresser next to the revolver that wasn’t even loaded and the ring of keys that looked like they could have belonged to a school janitor, the house phone discarded in the dirty cloths hamper, and the cell phone plugged into the lap top on the desk under the playboy and hustler magazines that had seen far too much use as of late.
As she noticed the smell of incense floating into the room from the opened bathroom door, she heard his bare feet scratching down the uncarpeted steps. She rotated her ankles, wrists, and head to loosen her muscles and crack the necessary joints. She curled her toes and fingers to ready her feet and hands. Lastly, she squinted her eyes and bit her bottom lip as she instinctively shook her head, methodically, back and forth.
This guy has no fuckin clue what he just got himself into.
She was hardly able to hold back the chuckle that intended to accompany that last thought.
He completed his decent back into the basement and wasted no time at all getting back to Blake at the furnace. He was still stark naked, as was she, but the erection he had coaxed from his fickle package while upstairs was already drooping by the time he noticed that Blake’s nipples were inexplicably hard.
Whuh dafuq?
His nose pinched in and his upper lip scrunched up as his head tilted, ever so slightly as the bewilderment made its way to his conscious thoughts. He, unintentionally, took a deep breath, then, very intentionally, rolled his eyes and decided, once again, to ignore the bolt of terror that shot through his being at that very moment.
He shook the unwelcome thoughts from his head and stretched the choke collar out in front of his face. He stood there for a moment with the collar held out towards Blake as if he were checking it out to see if it coordinated with her imaginary outfit. Apparently satisfied with the fit, he slid the loop over Blake’s head and felt an undeniable chill choke his soul when he accidentally locked eyes with those of his intended victim.
He stumbled backwards as he lost his breath and his balance all at once almost teetering over like a weeble-wobble. After another ignorant head shake, he tightened the noose around Blake neck and wrapped the leash around his hand several times before closing a very shaky fist around it and giving Blake’s neck a timid little test tug.
He missed the smirk that crossed Blake’s lips as he fished the key out of his mouth, where he had apparently put it for safe keeping, and reached up to unlock her shackles. He spun her around and attempted to hold both of her wrists with the fist that held her leash, while grabbing ahold of his marginally emasculated man muscle with the other.
He didn’t even have time to exhale before Blake reached around and grabbed his package. He thought to pull on her leash and regain control, but never got the chance. The head-butt she delivered was brilliant. It caused a cascade of blood and fear to rain down on the entire room. Blake sunk her fingers down to the knuckles, through his scrotum, and kabobbed his testicles with her razor sharp nails. She presented his castrated organs like a couple of meatballs offered for a taste test on toothpicks.
Before the shock of that reality could hit him, Blake had grabbed his ring of keys and the lighter from beside the revolver on the dresser. She stuck the BMW key in her mouth to coat it with saliva for lubrication, for ease of entry not comfort, and then shoved it into the head of his penis through his urethra. He contemplated lunging for the revolver just before she closed her fist around the head of his already retreating Richard and squeezed with the strength of the devil incarnate, while turning the key relentlessly in an effort to unlock his desire to scream, to cry, to die.
The flash of pain laced white light that had previously blinded him began to dim and he teetered on the edge of consciousness, until she wrapped her lips around his penis, placed it in the side of her cheek, and bit down with the full force of her jaw causing a new, even brighter light to explode from behind his eyes and consume his sight. His chest heaved frantically as he tried to breathe, but his efforts exhausted his already shocked system, and his consciousness waned to the brink of oblivion.
He tried to swallow, but his mouth was far too dry. His face was flush and his limbs too weak to wield. He suddenly felt sorry. Very, very sorry. Sorry for himself. He prayed. He prayed for his parents to come home; to save him, but no one came. No one would ever come. Blake smiled, and continued her work. He finally passed out from shock. He periodically regained consciousness, but only long enough to wish that he would never wake again.
The poor sap endured hours of systematic torture, glorious torture. He was pistol whipped, burned with cigarettes, sodomized with his own shotgun, and carved up with his own knife collection. He lost blood, so much blood, gallons of blood. He continually whimpered through shivering lips, and quivering muscles that never fully stop twitching.
Blake felt whole for the first time in her life. She felt like she had finally taken her first full breath of air. Covered in blood, it saturated her skin and soaked into her soul, she was whole. She tasted his flesh. She wanted more. She woke him, to burn him, cut him, stab him, and scold him. She aroused him to watch him bleed and pass out again. It was truly like a wet dream, and she never wanted it to end. The rage that fueled her was laced with ecstasy, and she never wanted to allow that feeling to dissipate. At that moment, she embraced herself, and she would never let her go…
***
“Kassy…Kas…” That distant sound scarcely seemed strong enough to be a voice. It was almost like a dream, more like a fantasy. Blake tried to open her eyes, but they were stuck shut. They were glued shut…with dried blood. Not hers of course. He had never actually gotten a chance to hurt her beyond a few bruises. He had no idea what he had gotten himself into.
Blake was lying on the bare floor, completely nude, covered in blood, and shivering. Her hair was matted and stuck to the ground. She was in the fetal position, and seemed to be holding on to life by a thread. Inwardly, she was floating on a plane light years above heaven. Then she felt the arms around her. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t angry. She knew it was her. They were her arms. Blake could feel the rocking. She let her rocker her, lull her. She heard her humming softly in her ear. She could smell her skin as she leaned down and kissed her blood stained forehead. She could feel her warmth, her soul. She could feel her hands on her back and neck, checking her bruises and caressing her skin. They were her hands. It was her warmth.
Blake laid there cold, bruised, bloody, and satisfied, and she allowed her to warm her. She allowed her to love her. Blake took in deep breath after deep breath as she allowed the magnificent memories of her first slaughter to drift away and settle into the deepest chiasms of her blackened soul, and she allowed Sevryn to bring her back from the brink of hell. Her friend, her best friend, her only friend had come back for her. Now she sat there in that bloody basement and held her. In that moment Sevryn had become her one and only tether to humanity.
PART TWO
THE PLAN
THE BEST
The restaurant they chose for the evening is full of people, but far from lively. Although each of the white linen clad tables, with candelabra center pieces and leather cushioned high back chairs, is occupied by at least two people, each party sits quietly in their own little world. Apparently if you ignore everyone long enough, they don’t really exist.
Each party sees themselves as the only people in the place, aside from their waiter who appears and disappears periodically like some type of halfhearted specter. Similarly, each waiter only seems to be aware of the people seated at the tables in his zone. The hostess erased all those seated at tables from her mind the moment they were escorted from her podium posted at the front door. Even the bartender only allows those seated at his bar into his own little realm of reality. The bus boys are entirely alone. All they know are empty tables, empty glasses, and plates of napkin littered leftovers.
In her own little piece of the universe, Blake lightly licks her lips as her memory falls onto her morning’s activities. The smirk that stretches across her face is mirrored on Sevryn’s as she relishes in her own thoughts.
As Seth’s soul wept within her grasp, she tasted divinity. Sitting in this dimly lit restaurant she finds herself craving that sensation with every fiber of her being. Her senses were enraptured by the surreal sensations that now echo in her mind and filled her with an ecstasy that far surpassed that which she encountered during her first, or any subsequent, slaughter. To simply kill would never be enough for her now. She craves the sublime sensation that can only come from the decimation of a once beautiful soul in decay. And her next fix can’t possibly come quickly enough.
As Blake notices a twinkle in Sevryn’s eye, her smirk becomes a smile. Before she can ask, the question falls from Sevryn’s lips, “What are you smiling about? It looks like you might actually be happy or somethin’.”
“Of course I’m happy. I missed you, Love. We’ve been so damn busy. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve had a chance to just sit and chat with you.”
Sevryn peers over her glass of wine at her best friend and sips her cabernet. The tranquil look on Blake’s face can easily be mistaken for love. The satisfaction that she feels at this moment is nearly limitless. Joy is what it is, pure and simple. She can still feel Seth’s soul as if it remains within her. She can taste him on the tip of her tongue. His scent lingers in her sinuses, and she can feel the warmth and security of his genuine soul. She can even feel the terror he felt in his last moments of life; not surprisingly, it comforts her. The whole experience reminds her of those arms that pulled her back from the abyss all those years before in Germany.
The subtle scent from Sevryn’s skin drifts across the table and mingles with her memories, completing the panorama in Blake’s mind. To Blake, Sevryn feels like home. Her soul is just so warm and loving. If Seth’s soul felt this amazing, how would it feel to hold Sevryn’s? Blake longs to envelop that immaculate embodiment of pure humanity into herself. She can feel the lust building up within her being. She longs for another sample of divinity. Although this time, she needs more. It has to be even better than before. It has to be the best.
“I’ve been missin’ you too, Kassy. It’s been way too long. I don’t think we’ve gone this long without seeing each other since the day we met. ”
A muted giggle escapes Sevryn’s throat. She swirls her wine a bit, breathes in its aroma, and takes another small sip before setting the glass down on the table and offering her friend another warm smile. They sit in silence, smiling at one another like love struck teens. The rest of the world falls away, and everything in time seems to stop as Blake nearly arrives at the conclusion she’d been dancing around all night.
“I miss both of you. We never do this anymore. Just enjoy each other’s company. I-”
Jeff is cut off in mid word when his breath is taken away by the dagger shot through his throat by the look Blake gives him. His eyes had been bouncing back and forth between his two lovely companions since they arrived at the restaurant. He couldn’t help but feel like the third wheel; although, this wouldn’t be the first time. He’d certainly felt this way in their presence before, given their unique connection, but never quite so strongly.
There was an energy, like electricity, flowing between them that felt unreal. Not to mention a degree of warmth emanating from Blake that he had never felt from her before. Thusly, he felt brave enough to test the proverbial waters. A decision he regrets instantly as the invisible dagger severs his vocal cords, and renders him momentarily speechless.
A quick chill slides across the table and smacks him dead in the forehead. Exasperation fills Blake’s eyes as his impudence reminds her of his presence at the table. Her nostrils flare and her jaw clinches, but her temper quickly simmers allowing her to offer appropriate small talk in response. However, one insolent thought slithered into her psyche and refused to leave.
“Jeff…”
Blake offers a snarky smile with the side of her face.
“You’re so right.”
She barely glances at Jeff as she responds to his interruption, “We should have a kick back soon, just us, like back in the day.”
Outwardly, Blake successfully keeps her cool, but inside she can’t seem to shake the thought now screaming at her consciousness. Sevryn, on the other hand, is clearly impressed by the way Blake is able to handle Jeff this evening. Other than a brief flash of irritation following his most recent verbal contribution, Blake’s unprecedented elation seems to be unaffected by Jeff. This realization paints a truly resplendent smile across the length of Sevryn’s face. Jeff follows suit, and soon all three are beaming like kiddies in a candy store. All the while that insidious thought is coursing like a virus through Blake’s brain contributing to her ability to put on a happy face.
The three friends erupt in laughter as Jeff offers up a charmingly witty anecdote about a guy he met a couple of weeks ago at a club in West Hollywood. He refers to the city as WeHo, as Southern Californians typically do. He smiles warmly as he begins to feel truly welcome in Blake’s presence for the first time that he can remember.
Blake still can’t shake the thought that has all but completely consumed her consciousness.
Sevryn finds herself drawn to the warmth radiating from Blake as well. She’s never seen Blake so happy, ever.
Blake begins to embrace the inevitability of the cognition she just can’t shake.
Jeff suggests a movie night at his place next Friday.
Blake smiles and nods her head in unison with Sevryn’s, all the while her thoughts are racing in the opposite direction.
I’ll wipe that smile off your face soon enough old friend. Better yet...
There it is. That thought. The one she can’t escape; the thought that’s slowly draining her newly acquired humanity. The thought she has finally wholly embraced. It isn’t that Jeff needs to die. Not that she would mind killing him, but there would be no point. As she sees it, his soul is too dark and bleak. He tortures himself relentlessly with self-doubt and self-deprecating ridicule to the point that killing him would be all but pointless. It would almost be a favor.
Conversely, to kill Sevryn would likely be an insurmountable high. She’d be doomed to dragon chasing for eternity. No soul would ever fill the void eventually left by Sevryn’s. However, if she could debase that impeccable soul, defile it to her standards; she would be able to create a void even greater than that of her own wicked soul. She could create a chasm that would devour human souls from a distance like a black hole. She would be able to enjoy the fruits of such an endeavor for years, if not lifetimes to come. The devastation they could jointly rain down on humanity would be without bound. They would rule. They would subjugate. They would revel in the desiccation of the entire human race. They could claim the very quintessence of human existence, but…first…things…first. She needs to address that little nugget of a thought that just darted through the door of her deepest darkness and opened her up to the possibility of never ending nirvana…at last.
…I’ll get Sevryn to kill Jeff for me. It’s absolutely brilliant! I’ll be her murder mentor. When I desecrate her most pious soul, not only will I experience the heights of her humanity, but I will create a spiritual vortex, a vacuum, the depths of which all of mankind would be powerless to escape.
A glimpse of hell’s wrath is visible in the shining smile that stretches across Blake’s face in the very moment she allows her sadism to slither summarily to the surface of her consciousness, but a moment later it’s once again shrouded by the mask of her beauty.
Neither Jeff nor Sevryn caught that glimpse, as evidenced by their continued chatter through the remainder of the night. As their conversation lulls on, Blake falls back into her own thoughts. She rebounds into the memories of Seth’s final moments. The crescendo of emotion capsizes her being and floods her senses in euphoria. As her thoughts begin to brush on the subject of Jeff’s impending demise, Blake tunes back into the conversation buzzing around her at the table.
“So, when are we gonna get a chance to meet this guy Jeff?”
“At the movie night, Friday.”
Jeff shoots a glance in Sevryn’s direction, and they exchange a slightly mischievous chuckle as they both realize that Blake has been in her own world the whole night.
“You just agreed to it. Are you completely spacing out over there?”
Of course this question came from Sevryn. Jeff has no desire to die tonight, and for perhaps the first time ever, Blake blushes. Her cheeks and ears turn red from the rush of warm blood delivered by her quickening pulse.
“Alright girl, what gives? You’ve been spacing all night. You can’t stop smiling, and you’ve barely touched your dinner or beer; and we all know how much you love the steak here. Not to mention I have never seen you babysit a drink for as long as I’ve known you, you little lush. So spill! What’s up? Did you meet someone?”
“I…” Another first for Blake, she’s speechless. Donning the dumbest smile ever shone, Blake searches the eyes of her friends for a reasonable cover story. When she can’t come up with one, she excuses herself and heads straight to the ladies room, running into and almost knocking over a waitress on the way. She and the waitress exchange apologies and then scamper off in opposite directions, the waitress back to the kitchen, and Blake to the restroom. The whole walk there she’s shaking her head and talking to herself like a crazy person.
Get a grip woman. The hell is wrong with you? Blushing? What are you, 15? Running into people? This Seth thing has me actin all funny. Fuck this shit…
She bursts through the bathroom door with such ferocity that she nearly knocks it off the hinges, and causes the woman in the second stall to drop her cell phone in the toilet bowl.
“The fuck is goin on? Is there a fire or something?” It’s hard to tell if the woman’s being sarcastic or if the edge in her voice is caused by actual terror. Either way, Blake responds as she normally would.
“Yea! Can’t you smell the fuckin smoke?!”
“What?” You can almost hear the woman roll her eyes in the stall when she picks up on the sarcasm.
“Never mind, sorry for slamming the door.” Blake shakes her head again, this time in the mirror, and splashes cold water on her face.
“Whatever…” The stall woman reluctantly retrieves her phone from the bowl just as the auto-flush activates, splashing toilet water all over her arms and blouse. “Son of a bitch!”
Blake turns toward the stall as the woman exits. “You ok?”
“NO, I-” when the woman looks up, her anger quickly dissipates as she realizes who she’s be cursing at through the stall door. “Holly shit…You’re fuckin Kassandra Blake aren’t you? I am a huge fan. Oh my god. Can I have your autograph? Could you sign my phone?”
Blake raises an eyebrow and chuckles at the request. “You want me to sign your phone that you just fished out of the toilet?” crazy bitch
“Well yea. I’ll wash it first…” The woman rushes to the sink and starts to lather up her already dead iPhone. “I’ll put it in a bowl of rice when I get home. It’ll dry out. This isn’t the first time…well, never mind. Please???” The woman flashes a smile that gives Blake’s dumb smile from earlier a run for its money.
Blake shakes her head, chuckling to herself, “Sure, I guess. Do you have a marker or something? I don’t think a pen’s gonna do the trick this time. I’ve been asked to sign some strange things, but a pissed off iPhone? This is definitely a first.”
The woman bursts out in nearly hysterical laughter, and pulls a Sharpie out of her Louie V. “Pissed off phone, ha! That’s funny. Thank you so, so much for this. I am, like, your biggest fan.” She hands the marker to Blake.
“You’re welcome, Love. I’m sorry I startled you and made you drop it in the toilet.”
“Are you kidding? This is freakin awesome. I do wish I could tweet this right now though, hashtag Blake drowned my phone.” The woman almost doubles over with laughter at her own lame joke.
Blake finishes the autograph and hands the phone back to the fanatic. She holds back the urge to shake her head in amazement. Instead, she shoots her the old Hollywood smile, offers the polite and customary small talk short hand version of “okay, you got the fuckin’ autograph. Now leave me in peace,” and takes refuge in the stall the woman formerly occupied. The woman thanks her again through the stall door before heading out of the restroom. Blake pulls off a reasonably sincere sounding “your welcome” while holding back the bemused laughter threatening to erupt at any moment. She takes a deep breath, and slumps down onto the toilet seat with her face in her hands. As she exhales a sigh of exasperation, the bathroom door swings open.
Oh no…
“Kassy, you ok? You’ve been in here for a minute.”
Blake breathes a sigh of relief, “Oh hey, Sev. I’m good. I ran into a fan in here. You won’t believe this shit,” Blake continues to recount the story as she gets up and walks back out of the stall running her hands through her hair, “this woman had me sign her phone that she dropped in the fuckin toilet.”
“You’re fuckin kiddin me.” They break out in unanimous laughter as they both claim a sink and start washing their hands and conversing with each other’s reflection in the vanity mirrors.
“Naw, you probably walked right past her on the way in. Her blouse was all wet from the toilet auto-flushing on her. It was pretty fuckin hilarious; I had to hold back my chucks the entire time. It was funny cuz she was cussin my ass out in the stall before she came out. Once she saw me though, she forgot all about that shit.”
Blake shakes her head and continues to laugh at the incident, but Sevryn just stands there gawking at Blake’s reflection waiting to get back to the conversation they were having at the table before Blake made a run for it. When Blake notices that the novelty of the fan story had already worn off, she places both hands on the counter, takes about a half step back, and bows her head down with an audible exhale.
Sevryn grabs a couple of paper towels from the counter, dries her hands, and shoots them into the waste basket by the door. Then she grabs a couple of fresh ones and offers them to her friend. Blake tilts her head sideways so that she can see Sevryn without standing up straight. She grabs the towels, abandons her current position, turns around, and leans her behind up against the sink counter. Sevryn leans sideways against the same counter top facing Blake
As Blake intently watches her own hands dry themselves with the paper towels, she takes another deep breath. Sevryn’s face momentarily scrunches up with a flash or concern, until she notices that she’s starting to feel a little bit tipsy from the bottle of wine she’d consumed in the last twenty minutes. She nudges Blake playfully with her shoulder.
“What’s goin on with you, girl? I was just messin with you out there. You don’t have to hide out in the bathroom. You know I’m just fuckin with you. You were in a great mood, let’s not fuck it up.”
“No, I’m still in a good mood. I was just caught off guard. I don’t usually get like this.”
“Tell me about it. What’s the deal?”
Sevryn half turns and leans back onto the counter, mirroring Blake’s position. Blake tosses the paper towels into the trash and looks Sevryn directly in eye.
“Well, I kinda wanted to talk to you tonight. I didn’t know you were going to bring Jeff with. Not that I’m mad or anything, I just didn’t expect it, you know?”
Sevryn scoots a little closer, then a lot closer, and locks her gorgeous hazel eyes on her best friend’s indigo bulbs. Blake’s brain goes blank, and before she can stop herself, she pulls Sevryn closer and kisses her with a passion she’s never felt before.