Kristi processes what I’ve said. A hundred emotions swim across her features. Each makes me happier than the last.
I take a step toward her and she finally tries to roll over. While she’s trying to get up, I kick her side. Another round of screams cut the cold winter air. She’s got fight in her.
And the fun continues.
****
On the ground, behind a shed, I’ve worked until I’m worn. After slicing flesh from muscle and breaking countless bones, I’m still not ready to stop, even though Kristi’s passed out from pain. There’s more blood seeping into the ground than what I thought would. Each cut I’ve made has been precise and far from life-threatening. I’ve ripped off fingernails, bitten off toes, and burned her aging skin with the small flame of a lighter.
I’ve gotten creative, and I’m on such a high I’m not sure I’ll ever come down this time.
I cut Kristi in places that have never seen the light of sun. Her pulse is still erratically beating, and I’ve decided I want to watch the life drain from her eyes like I did with The-One-Who-Doesn’t-Count. I want to see her take her last breath, but she’s still unconscious from the sheer amount of pain inflicted in the last thirty minutes.
I need to wake her.
Leaving her naked (after cutting her clothes to bits they eventually fell away) and bound, I walk the several feet to my bag of goodies. I extract the accelerant I brought. If I can’t wash away the evidence this time, I’ll burn it.
The liquid is as frigid as the air as I splash it on her face. She sputters, struggling to open her heavy eyelids, but then she’s awake again. As she watches, mortified, I dump the rest of the acrid liquid over her entire body. She screams as it touches each open wound. The burning must be incredible.
“Goodbye, doll. I’ll see you in hell.”
I strike the match and before she can suck in the breath to scream once more I flick it to her flammable body. Her eyes morph from wide to charred black as her body melts into the earth around her.
The smell is like nothing I’ve ever encountered before. It’s horrible yet exciting. And I’m the cause. It’s painful not to jack off, even surrounded by the nauseating stench, but I know I need to wait until I’m home.
Eventually all that smolders are the bones of a once-live woman. But she doesn’t exist anymore, because of me.
****
The time and work it takes to dig a hole adequate for what remains of Kristi isn’t frustrating in the least. I make a point to ensure it’s deep enough and every piece of soil that was on top, soaked with her blood, is now below with the rest of her. The cold night bathes me in moonlight, and I whistle a happy tune.
This is so much better than I expected, what I prepared myself for.
When I’ve finished, as I climb back into Kristi’s driver’s seat, I pat my pocket, smiling. I saved something. I have a donation to remember her by forever. Every time I look at the simple necklace, I’ll remember this perfect night.
Conveniently, these donations, the gifts bestowed on me after a job well done, are something I can most likely get from everyone who follows. A lot of women wear jewelry. If one of my future playmates isn’t wearing any I may have to get creative, but for now it’s something that isn’t too incriminating and also seems somewhat universally owned.
As I drive back the way I came, along the gray and overgrown path, I flick the radio on. I can’t remove the constant movement of my feet or the soaring of my heart, until I realize the one thing I didn’t plan for.
What the fuck do I do with her car?
Breathe.
Don’t panic.
Yeah, right.
Fuck.
Why didn’t I consider where to dump her car? That definitely should’ve been on my list of things to plan. I remembered to wear gloves at every step of the game, and I took measures to destroy any stray evidence. Why didn’t I think about her car?
Because I’m a fucking idiot.
I’m pissed at my inattention to this detail. My mind’s racing, anxiety dripping out from every antsy cell in my body. My nerves are on fire. I’m not sure my breath should be this quick. Or shallow.
Fuck.
Think.
Where can I leave her car, that’s walking distance from mine at the diner, and that’ll take at least a few days to be noticed? The restaurant is open twenty-four hours, so it may take a while for someone to complain about it there. And even if they tow it to impound there won’t necessarily be an immediate investigation. People leave dead cars on the side of the highway all the time and they aren’t all missing. Other all-day locations might have more cameras or security. At least the diner is a small, hometown, rickety hole-in-the-wall type. There’s no guard on duty. There aren’t any employees cleaning up the parking lot. And the lot looked busy even at the late hour she finished eating.
Well, I guess that’ll have to do. Hopefully no one notices as I leave her car to get into my own. But even if they do, that’s why I put fake license plates over my real ones for tonight. They’ll be wiped down then thrown into a dumpster on the way home. At least I thought of a few important things.
I tried to think of almost everything. But this is just another experience to add to the “to-be-considered” list.
I park next to my own car, getting out, burying her keys deep into the trash. As nonchalantly as I can, I slide into my own car and slowly, politely, drive away. I don’t want to peel out, rev the engine, or draw any additional attention.
My name is Mr. Invisible, and I’m doing my best to blend in.
For the first ten minutes of my drive toward home, I watch the rearview with rapt attention, keeping an eye out for any flashing lights or the possibility of someone following me. But when I realize I’m in the clear, I allow my muscles to relax.
I’ve done it.
Goodbye to The-One-Who-Doesn’t-Count. Goodbye, Kristi. Hello, future life. Hello, future playmates.
****
With two hours ahead of me until I coast into my driveway, there’s a lot to think about. I’m alone in the car with no one else to talk to, no one to share my excitement with. No one could understand, anyway.
As the lights on the freeway zoom by, I remind myself this has all been real. I haven’t been dreaming, fantasizing, or watching a horror movie of someone else. I’ve done horrible things, and I’ve been thrilled doing them. Actually, more than thrilled; I’ve been pulsing with excitement.
Every drop of blood has enriched me. Every scream has fulfilled me. Every second has been amazing.
Somewhere along the lines a switch that used to be connected to my empathy, to my compassion, was flipped off, and now I truly feel different. There are nasty impulses I believe everyone has. Most people struggle against them. They hide the dark parts within. Not me. Not anymore.
I used to worry about what others thought of me. I used to at least attempt not to do things that are supposedly and inherently wrong. But now all I want to do is ensure I’m happy, and fuck everyone else. I must preserve my freedom. It will be necessary to continue to hide the new me. If I’m caught I can’t collect donations from playdates.
I pull the car over to take a quick piss. In all of the excitement over the last few hours, I haven’t taken any time to attend to my bodily functions.
While gripping my cock, I think about how I’ve started to use other people as objects based on my needs. I look at everyone through the lens of what they can do for me. How can I get enjoyment out of someone? What can I do with or to them to gain something for myself? And how fast can I throw them away afterward?
Back in the car I finally turn the radio on. I’m not as high anymore, and it’s late; I don’t want to fall asleep at the wheel. I flick it to an oldies station as mile markers stack up behind me.
****
As I pass the halfway mark, there are less cars out than before. Almost every house I strain to see is dark, and the world around is quiet. Most people are already asleep in their warm beds for the
night. They tucked in their families after watching their mindless, unrealistically happy shows. They skirt through life gleaning nothing of importance from it. So many people are dumb as fuck. They do what they think is appropriate, and they try to achieve simply because it’s what’s expected, what’s normal.
There are so many robots dragging themselves through life being told what to do.
Fuck normal. I won’t be told what to expect of myself any longer. I’m much better than normal. And I have a lot more fun.
****
Little icy flakes start to spew from the clouds high above. There won’t be much of a cover, but some will stick. The tire tracks from Kristi’s car down the way to the farm should have a little disguise in a couple of hours. Hopefully her car isn’t doused, arousing suspicion too early as it sits there covered for hours.
As I struggle to look past the flakes to the empty road, I relish the feel of my previously bloodied gloves. Looking into Kristi’s eyes as I tore parts of her free was like nothing I’ve ever felt. I swear I was soaring through the clouds as the oxygen in my system was replaced with something much lighter.
After letting some of those feelings fade while journeying home, I’m left a little drained. Exhaustion isn’t far, and though there isn’t a lot of pavement left between me and my bed there’s enough to need a refresher.
So I decide to stop for coffee with less than fifteen minutes left of my drive. I pull into a gas station without any worries, parking the car directly in front of a floodlight. I feel further secure because I know the fake plates are already in the trunk from my last pit stop. That guy, the killer, he’s asleep now. Normal, boring Aidan is back for the moment. The bad one can rest for a while; he can wait until the next playdate.
The lights inside the building are harsh, dirty. The floor needs cleaning, and I can only imagine the grime covering the bathroom. From the aisles, I can smell a hint of whatever the last customer left behind in there.
I grab my coffee and head toward the counter with cash in hand.
“Keep the change, beautiful.” I dazzle the girl, no more than eighteen, behind the counter with a wink and wide smile. Her blue eyes enlarge, and she manages to return the grin just before I walk out the door. I shake my head, wondering how tight her little pussy is.
There are possibilities everywhere. I just had no idea how to look at each before.
****
As I pull into the driveway I can see the dimmed lights in my living room are still on from the previously set timer. I sigh while shutting off my car and walk up the steps. I enter my home knowing there have been fewer times in my life I’ve been this satiated. I thought I’d known satisfaction, happiness, before. But it had been a farce, just a fraction of what’s possible. This is it. This is how everyone should feel.
Regardless of what lead me to where I am, even if I could stop now, there’s no way in hell I would. I’m having way too much fun.
****
Settled in bed, I resolve that I want to bask in the glow of Kristi’s demise for a few days, but once that’s worn off I’m ready to plan my next conquest.
My single donation will quickly get lonely.
I’m so glad I decided to take care of my burning needs with the waitress before leaving for the weekend up north with Jason. There’s no way I could’ve gotten through the entire trip while agonizing over what was going to be done. Now I can be relaxed, happy while taking time away with my best friend. The time at the cabin would’ve blown for both of us if I’d ruined it with agitated distraction.
Plus, bad Aidan is still sleeping, and that’s probably better for the overall of the trip, too.
During the drive up, we listen to music from our college days, stopping for thick, greasy pizza halfway there. It hits the spot like nothing else can. Jason looks like he could’ve skipped a slice or two, though. Maybe soon I’ll ask him to start going to the gym with me.
Though I know he’s itching to start drinking, we only have soda with our food.
“It may put a damper on the trip if one of us gets a DUI.” I tell him when he whines.
“Cheers to that.” Jason raises his glass enthusiastically, sloshing a little over the side and down into his sleeve.
“Settle down. I promise we’ll get there.” I chuckle at his clumsiness.
“I’m so ready. Are you?”
“Of course. Guys, beers, and wilderness. What can be better for getting away?”
“It’s going to be so awesome.” His cheeks puff with pressured excitement.
Jason pays for dinner without any complaints from me, and we head back to the road. The last half hour of the drive is pitch dark. The sun faded while we filled our stomachs, and the further north we get the less lights pepper the side of the road.
I continually scan the trees for beady eyes. A deer can run out so quickly, fucking everything up. While I look, I try not to see more in the shadows than what’s there. Bark, leaves, needles, and an occasional small animal. Nothing else. There are no playmates, no monsters, no authorities ready to pounce. Just the darkness of night.
At one point, not far from the cabin, a bit of roadkill along my side distracts me. The blood strewn across the pavement is almost artful the way it spreads out, and the creature’s head is completely detached from the rest of the body. If I was alone I may have stopped to look closer. Because decapitation is an interesting thought.
****
Pulling into the driveway of the cabin, the rest of the world feels light-years away. Somehow it still feels simpler here in the woods, in a cozy little cabin, than it does back at home. Breathing seems easier, tension melts. Away from the cities, lights, and noise, it’s easier to relax.
“Well, what should we do first?”
“It’s your cabin, sort of, so why don’t you pick?” Indecisive bastard.
“Oh, no, no, no. This is a weekend getaway for you. You’re the family man who needs recharging. So you, my friend, need to use those balls of yours to make a decision. What will we start with?”
I could be at home doing plenty of other things. I could be picking my next pretty lady to play with and planning a fantastic night for her. Or I could be getting sucked and fucked. Both more exciting options. Except I’m here with Jason instead, so he needs to put in more effort. I’m sure his passive stance stems from years of Amelia telling him what will and won’t happen, but that shit won’t fly with me right now. When I want to make the call I do, though when it should be made for me I shouldn’t have to drag it out tooth and nail.
Jason’s been taught he doesn’t wear the pants. His face looks pinched, his brows are furrowed, and there are deep lines set into the topography of his skin. His expression depicts a man unsure.
“Ummm…”
“C’mon, man up.” Tough love.
“All right, okay. Let’s bring in logs for a fire then crack open the first case for drinking cribbage?” He lilts up his voice at the end as if he’s asking a question instead of giving a statement.
Whatever. At least it’s a start.
“Great. Let’s get to it.”
****
One twelve-pack gone and the second opened. Cans litter the table. Jason’s ahead of me in the count, though I’m not exactly sure who’s had how many. It’s clear we both feel the effects by now. My lips are tingly, on their way to numb, and my speech and eyes are both heavier than normal. Jason’s face is red and he’s much louder than usual. He’s starting to slur, too.
“You know whatsgoing on buddy?”
“Tell me. Also, fifteen.” I beat Jason every time we play cribbage. I don’t even know why he likes playing me anymore.
“Shit. You’re pegging the shit outtame.” Damn straight.
“What were you gonna say before?”
“Oh yeah. I wasgonna say that something’sgoing on with Mel.” Jason drops his shoulders as if he’s given up. He hangs his head, keeping his eyes on his cards.
“Trouble in paradise, Family Man?”
“Out with it. Either something is wrong or it isn’t.” My tone is gentle, but with so many beers it’ll be hard to remain as patient as I otherwise would.
“Nothing’swrong s’riously. She just seemsoff for the last few weeks. She’spregnant, so there’sthat. I don’t know. She’sbossier than she used to be. And she getsmad at me way more than she used to. I feel like lessofa man because of the commentsshe makes. I know it’sprobably just hormonesso I should cut her some slack. Maybe I’mbeing too sensitive.”
Or maybe she’s using the little parasite inside as an excuse to be a bitch.
But what do I know?
“Yeah, it’s the baby. She’s just uncomfortable and stressed. It’ll get better.”
Or it won’t. It could get worse instead.
“At least she’sfucking me a lot.” That’s always a good sign.
“There’s always an upside. P.S. You just got skunked. I win. Again.”
“Fuck me.” Jason yells loud enough to bother my ears.
“No, that’s Amelia’s job.” Jason spits the beer that was in his mouth to laugh hysterically. “Dude, it wasn’t that funny.” Except his laughter is contagious, or maybe it’s the booze, but either way it isn’t long before we’re both sucking in breath between hearty laughs that sting my sides.
In another hour I’ve caught up with Jason, and half of the second case is gone. My attention is fuzzing in and out, and Jason’s eyes are unfocused. We’ve abandoned our game, moving to the couch by the fire. The television’s playing some scary movie. I’m not even sure what it is, but I’ve seen lots of blood and I hear that building music right before something jumps out on the screen.
“Shit.” I spill my beer down the side of the couch when Jason yells in reaction to the jumpy scene.
The oozing blood on the TV reminds me of last weekend with the waitress. My mind starts to run through the things I did with her, to her. I can’t help but feel akin with the bad guy in the movie. His psychological torture is awe-inspiring as he practically gets his prey to stop hoping, just begging for the end to come. But his mind games don’t come close to the beauty he creates with his weapons. That’s what I love to watch. There are so many things I have to experiment with in the future. Almost limitless possibilities are ready at my fingertips.
Nothing but Darkness (Darkness Series Book 1) Page 11