by Marni Mann
Permanent was the only solution.
Always.
So, I went to her apartment, and I rang the doorbell. She was out of breath when she answered the door. She hadn’t put on any makeup. Her hair was messy and on top of her head in an unflattering knot.
I didn’t know what my father saw in her. Why, out of all the women in the large city we lived in, he’d decided Carol had to be his girlfriend. Surely, there were better catches out there, someone who had something to offer besides a weak job and an annoying voice.
Her eyes and brows told me she was confused. That was because she had been expecting my father.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
I had anticipated this. I’d played out every scenario in my head. My answers had been rehearsed.
“I had a doctor’s appointment right down the street, and Dad was supposed to pick me up, but he’s running late.” I smiled. It felt awkward. Unnatural. It was something I needed to work on. “Looks like he’s late in picking you up, too.”
“He told you?”
“Don’t worry; I won’t mention it to anyone.” I could tell she knew whom I was referring to. “Maybe you could give me a ride to his office? Then, he won’t have to pick you up since you’ll already be there.”
She glanced behind her. So did I. The place was a mess. Boxes on the countertops, overflowing garbage, cleaning supplies on the floor that would never get used. And right next to the door were two suitcases. She was packed; she just hadn’t finished cleaning up.
To set things in motion, my father had agreed to give Carol a warning. She thought that, this evening, as a precaution, she was going to be leaving town for a little while. An ex of my father’s, who was also a psychiatric patient of his and someone who had recently become addicted to opioids, was jealous of their relationship. Jealousy led to revenge, and he wanted to keep Carol safe.
All lies.
Carol had fortunately believed every one of them.
“Let me just grab my purse,” she said.
My hands began to shake. That was what happened whenever I got close to my victim. They yearned to be around a throat, to feel the veins stretch while the creature gasped for air. I wanted to see their eyes bulge from the sockets, the tongue thicken with spit, the skin change colors, the pupils enlarge.
I needed to take things slow with Carol, to savor everything that was about to happen, so I could learn from my first kill. But I was so anxious. My skin was covered in sweat, and my mouth watered.
When she returned, I shoved my hand into my pocket and used the other to wheel one of her suitcases. She pulled the second piece of luggage, and I followed her to the car. In all the times I’d been in her Toyota, I’d never sat in the passenger seat. I’d just watched her from the rearview mirror—at the way the lines in her forehead deepened when she spoke, how her lips tilted upward when she called her son baby.
My father was so tailored. He thrived off perfection.
But here was Carol with chipped nails, yesterday’s makeup still under her eyes, and a red stain on her T-shirt, like tomato sauce had squirted when she took a bite of pizza.
The next woman he’d find would be perfect.
Or she’d have to go, too.
We listened to country as we drove to The Mills where my father kept his office. My best friend, Jae—whom everyone called Beard—and I nicknamed his shops The Mills. They were pill mills, and my father owned many of them all over Southern California. I watched her tap her chipped nail on the steering wheel. I listened to her sing. I observed her fixing her hair at the red light.
I could barely swallow, I was shaking so badly.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot, the syringe was already in my hand. It was filled with just enough opioids to make her unresponsive. I would continue injecting her with drugs until it turned dark outside. Then, I would bring her to the abandoned building that was three houses to the left of The Mills. I’d break the window that led into the kitchen and carry her up the stairs and into the master bedroom. There, I would have my fun.
Planning and detail were just as crucial as the kill.
“We’re here,” she said as she shifted into park and turned off the engine. “Do you—”
“Carol”—my voice deepened as my mouth stopped watering, and I was breathing hard through my parted lips—“come here for a second. I want to show you something.” I pointed at my cheek. “Is there something right here? I forgot to have the doctor look at it today. Do you think I should go back and have him check it out?”
I heard the words come out of my mouth, but I forgot what I had rehearsed. Adrenaline was taking over my body; it was controlling my speech and my movements.
Carol leaned across the center of the car to look at my face, her hand reaching for me at the same time to hold my chin and keep it steady. Once I knew that her focus was on me, I removed the needle from my pocket.
“What am I looking for?” she asked as she searched.
With my other hand, I fingered the imaginary spot again. “What it looks like exactly, I don’t know. But it feels like it’s cracking open from my pulse. That’s what happens when I’m about to kill something. I have this rush and this tingling, and I can feel it inside my skin.”
Shock passed through her eyes. “Shank—”
“Yes, Carol,” I said, sticking the needle in her neck, pushing the plunger so that the drug emptied in her bloodstream, “I’m going to kill you.”
She grabbed for my hand, but it was too late. I was already sticking the cap back on the head and tucking it into my pocket.
It took only a few seconds before she felt it.
“Shaaank,” she slurred. “But Jaaae.”
Those were her last words before her neck tilted forward, her chin pressed against her chest, and her eyes closed, nodding out, just like a junkie.
My father came up to the car a few hours later. I hadn’t moved from the passenger seat, and Carol’s high had kept her quiet and drooling. I rolled down the top of my window as he stood outside of it.
“How much did you give her?” he asked.
He was trying to hide his concern, but I saw it in his face, and I heard it in his voice.
He didn’t want me to do this.
But I didn’t give a fuck what my father wanted.
I looked at the glass vile that I kept tucked under my thigh, although I didn’t really need to. I knew how much the needle held and how many times I’d stuck her.
“Enough,” I answered.
“When it turns dark, I’ll help you carry her to the house, but then I’m leaving.”
He didn’t want to watch me torture her.
That was fine. I didn’t need an audience. That wasn’t why I was doing this.
What I needed was her blood. Across my chest. On my hands. Under my nails.
And then I needed to watch it drip from her body until there was a pool of it on the floor. When the circular red stain was large enough, I would take my achingly hard dick out, and I’d come in the center of it. Cum floated, and I wanted to watch mine swim across her blood.
Then and only then, my heart rate would return to normal, my breathing would even out, and my body would get the relief it needed.
“Do whatever you want,” I told him.
He watched a guy walk behind the car, crossing the sidewalk, before he turned his attention back to me. “Do not come home until you’ve washed up. I don’t want any DNA in my house, and I don’t want Jae seeing any blood on you. He’ll be asking enough questions over the next few weeks. We certainly don’t need you to alert him with any clues.”
Yesterday, Carol had dropped off Beard at our house along with trash bags full of his clothes. She’d told him he was staying the weekend. He didn’t know yet that it would be a lot longer than that.
“Did you bring everything I’d asked?”
He pointed at his car. “It’s in my trunk.” His eyes moved to Carol where they only stayed a second. �
��I’ll be back out after sunset.”
I closed the window and turned toward Carol. “Did you think you could soften me by mentioning Jae’s name?”
Hours had passed since she said it, but it was time I brought it up. She didn’t reply. I knew she wouldn’t, and I didn’t want her to.
“I don’t give a fuck if you’re in love with my father or that you’re my best friend’s mother. I have no empathy toward a slut who steals my father’s attention. You might have stolen it, but I’m getting it back.”
I checked both windows, making sure no one was watching us. Then, I dug my fingers into her scalp, gripped her hair, and pulled her head back. Spit continued to flow down her chin.
“I’ll make sure Jae turns into a killer like me. And, the second he turns soft, I’ll get rid of him, just like I’m going to get rid of you.”
So, Kid, had I killed Beard’s mother?
Hell yeah, I had.
I’d wiped her blood on my chest, my hands, and I’d made sure it got under my nails.
I’d come on a pool of it.
And I loved every fucking second.
Four
Huck
“He said you’d help me.”
As I repeated the girl’s words in my head, trying to make sense of them, the silence between us grew. So did her tears, dragging the blood from the corners of her eyes as they dripped down her cheeks.
“And he said you’d keep me safe,” she added.
I clenched my teeth together and put my hand up, warning her not to breathe another word. I turned toward the door and said, “Lawan, go back to the front desk and tend to our clients.”
Lawan didn’t need to hear this.
She saw my purchases come in. She got those girls what they needed, and she was informed when they left.
She didn’t ask questions; she didn’t need details.
This situation was no different.
“What’s your name?” I asked once the door shut.
She bent her knees and slowly wrapped her arms around them. “Arin.”
“Then, Arin, tell me who the hell promised you that.”
As she pulled her legs closer to her chest, she yelped, immediately releasing them, her knees dropping toward the ground. Her panting told me she was trying to calm the pain. “The guy at the pier. He told me where to find you. He said you’d—”
“Help you. I know.” With my phone still in my hand, the flashlight illuminated the condom wrapper that hadn’t made it into the trash. I kicked the foil as hard as I could and spit, “Jesus, fuck.”
Chati was the man she was referring to. He worked the graveyard shift at the pier, the time when the docks saw the most action. On the books, he purchased fresh catches from the fishermen and sold it to all the different markets around town. But, off the books, he sold a completely different kind of catch.
Bangkok was the largest trafficking hub in Thailand. There were many piers, but if a girl came into Chati’s, he would negotiate a fee and find someone willing to pay.
For the last three years, I’d been one of his buyers.
I wouldn’t take just any girl. I had certain requirements, and Chati knew what those were. But never had one randomly shown up to Serviced. And we never conducted business without a phone call first. And the last conversation we’d had, I’d told him I was done. No more. I was out of the game. He hadn’t listened, and that fucking worried me.
“If I call the man at the pier, will he tell me the same story?”
Her nod gave me no reason to believe her.
“You’d better be telling the truth.” I tapped the screen of my phone, pressing the number for Chati.
“Huck,” he answered. “I take it, you found your present?”
I searched the darkness for the girl’s face as I translated, “Tell me what you know,” into Thai, assuming it wasn’t a language she spoke or understood.
“A dinghy pulled up, looking like every other fishing boat I deal with. Two guys were inside, and they lifted a burlap sack onto the dock, barked something in Hindi, I think, and took off. Wasn’t expecting to find a goddamn person inside it.”
“They didn’t try to sell her?” I asked in Thai.
“No, which tells me they weren’t trafficking her; they were just trying to get rid of her.”
She’d told me the truth about Chati. That might earn her a meal.
But there was still plenty of shit I needed to know.
“You’ve got some balls, sending her here,” I said in Thai.
His laugh sounded more like a cackle. “You were a good customer; consider it a bonus. She’s what you like, and she’s free. Win-win.”
“Did you lose your fucking phone? Because, had you called, I would have reminded you that I was done.”
“Ah, come on, man. It’s been a busy night. Lots of boats unloading and all kinds of interesting catches. Wasn’t sure she’d even make it to you, honestly.”
I needed to guarantee Chati wouldn’t send another girl here. That conversation would happen in person and when I had both of my hands free.
“We’ll talk later,” I said and hung up.
I shoved the phone in my pocket and stared at her outline. She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even made a sound.
“Who was driving the boat, Arin?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“I really don’t.”
“Fuck this.” I turned around and grabbed the door.
She was taking my patience as kindness, and I wouldn’t put up with it for a second more.
I had it open only a crack when she called out, “Huck, stop, please. I’m not lying. I swear I don’t know who they were.”
I glanced over my shoulder, and the light from the hallway shone across her eyes. They were watery and fearful, but they didn’t reveal if she was telling me the truth.
I shut the door, losing the light, so I replaced it with the flashlight on my phone. She winced until she got used to the brightness.
“You have my attention. Don’t lose it because you won’t get it back.”
She crossed her legs in front of her, her arms wrapping around her stomach, her body slowly rocking back and forth. “I just graduated a few weeks ago with my master’s degree. I had some time before starting my new job, so I thought I’d spend it traveling. I picked India because an old roommate of mine was from there, and since living with him, I’d wanted to check it out.” She squeezed the bottom of her shirt, pulling it down, revealing a few bloodstains that I hadn’t seen earlier.
“I was in Mumbai. Had only been there about a week when I met a guy. He took me out for dinner and then to a club. We ended up back at my hotel. I don’t remember much else besides the feeling of the waves underneath me and the hardness of the dock when I landed on it. I…” She looked at the building behind me and at the one on the other side of her, sitting in the alley that ran between them.
“Some guy opened the bag I was in. He asked me a few questions, and then he gave me your name and told me how to get here. I didn’t make it inside.”
Her stare dropped down to her lap, and I realized what she was trying to tell me. She’d pissed herself.
“I wasn’t here long when the lady came out.”
I had a feeling, Chati’s prediction was right. These men hadn’t been trafficking her; they had been trying to get rid of her. I was sure they had taken her credit cards and sold her passport. Maybe they’d even raped her. She’d probably woken up before the drugs wore off. They’d beaten her badly enough, so she wouldn’t remember anything. Leaving her in Bangkok would make it more challenging to backtrack to India, especially without a passport.
“Why didn’t you run your ass straight to the police station?”
She shook her head so hard, I was sure she was getting dizzy.
“No police. They…” As she paused, I saw her drift to a place that wasn’t here with me. “They hurt me once. I’ll never trust them again. No doctors either, so plea
se don’t call one.”
“What do you want, Arin?”
“I want to go home.” Her voice changed, but her eyes still held strong.
“Where is home?”
“New York City.”
I ran the flashlight down her legs, over her bare feet, and back up to her face. “How do you plan on getting there?”
“I’m going to have to go to the embassy and figure out how to replace my passport and buy a return ticket. I only had a one-way. But I have no cash on me, no credit card, and no one back in the States to call for help. This is all going to take some time and a good chunk of money, and I’ll need somewhere to stay in the meantime.”
Whenever I asked one of the girls I’d purchased what they wanted, their response was always, “I just don’t want to be hurt anymore.”
They had been battered and abused and tortured to the point where they could barely remember home. Their only wish was for the pain to stop.
But that wasn’t what had come from Arin’s mouth.
Because she wasn’t like the others.
She had been beaten, but she hadn’t been broken.
She had enough sense to formulate a plan.
And, even though her shaking body told me she was coming off something, her detox wasn’t severe, like all the others I’d seen.
I needed to know how badly she wanted my help and what she was willing to sacrifice.
I waited until I felt her eyes bore through mine. “That place inside there”—I pointed with my head toward the hallway—“is a brothel. My girls sell their cunts for a percentage of the take. They get a little extra for anal and much less if they only give head. What hole of yours can I sell, Arin?”
She tucked her legs into her chest. This time, she fought through the pain, and I only heard it in her breathing. “I didn’t know. I…thought—”
“You thought the guy at the docks sent you to someone who would hold you while you cried and put medicine on your cuts and give you everything you needed to get home.” I kicked a rock in between the doorway to keep it open and moved over to her, kneeling so that she could see the seriousness up close. “This isn’t America, princess. I don’t know what you thought when you packed up that backpack and headed to this part of the world, but we don’t do handouts here. We work for what we have even if that means selling our fucking holes. So, tell me, what are you willing to do to get back home?”