by Athan,Jon
Wide-eyed, Lucas fell to his buttocks and hid in the grass as the woman opened the window. He couldn't help but smile as the thrill aroused him. The woman protruded her head and glanced towards her left – there was nothing out of the ordinary. She sniffled, then she closed the window.
Lucas' eyes rolled as he massaged his crotch and breathed heavily. Although he was fully clothed, he practically masturbated in the unkempt grass – fondling himself in public. He couldn't resist his urge anymore. He was overwhelmed by his sexual desires.
Between breaths, Lucas said, “I'm... I'm coming for you, baby. It's been... It's been so long. I want to bless you with something special.”
Lucas stood on his knees and knocked on the window again. He smiled and giggled as he scampered away from the apartment. He was amused by his devious mind game and aroused by his inevitable 'release' – he was ready to explode.
He stopped in front of the apartment building. He brushed the dirt off his jeans and shuffled in his jacket, then he ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn't wipe the filth off his clothing, but he wanted to be prepared. He wanted to look decent for his unscheduled date.
From across the street, Dean watched as his mentor entered the building. He leaned on a lamp post and shook his head, wrestling with his conscience. He considered screaming to warn the residents, but he couldn't muster the courage to challenge the killer.
As he stared at the building, saddened by his lack of resolve, he whispered, “Don't do this, Lucas. Please, don't do this to her...”
***
Lucas inhaled deeply, then he knocked on the door. Although he sought to present himself as a professional, he could not wipe the devious grin from his face. He figured he could play the role of a prying door-to-door salesman, but he despised those people. Even psychopathic killers found themselves with more self-respect than annoying salesmen.
As the door opened, Lucas smiled and said, “Good evening, ma'am. I'm a building inspector doing a routine inspection. Nothing to worry about, but I figured I should introduce myself. You are Miss...”
The woman answered, “Steele. Ms. Steel. You can just call me 'Samantha' or 'Sam.' It doesn't matter.” She furrowed her brow and tilted her head, curious. She asked, “What exactly are you doing here again?”
“Just a routine inspection. I'm checking for bugs, rodents, and all that good stuff. Checking the water pressure, the pipes... It's a routine inspection. Like I said, it's nothing to worry about. I'm going to take good care of you.”
“Excuse me?”
Lucas nervously chuckled, then he said, “As a tenant, I'm going to take good care of you. That's what I meant. I'm going to do my job right. No half-assed jobs on my end, you've got my word.”
Samantha leaned back and examined her peculiar visitor. The leather jacket, the sweaty t-shirt, and the filthy jeans piqued her interest. He didn't look like any building inspectors she had ever met. Then again, building inspectors were seldom seen in the bad side of town.
The young woman said, “Well, I was never told about a 'routine inspection.' I'll have to talk to the manager. So, you should probably come back later.”
Before Samantha could close the door, Lucas waved and said, “No, no, no. I'm sorry. I wasn't very direct, was I? I'm not here to check your apartment. At least, you're not on the schedule today. I'm checking one of your neighbors upstairs. His restroom isn't working, you know, so I came to see if I could use yours while we wait for a plumber.”
Samantha sighed, then she said, “I don't know. I don't really...”
Samantha's words were muddled nonsense – a garble of noise spewing from a pair of juicy lips. Lucas nodded and grunted, playing the role of an attentive listener. He didn't care about her excuses, but she didn't seem to notice. His eyes glided across her body, scanning her bare chest and unclad knees. He was tired of waiting.
Realizing she finally stopped babbling, Lucas bowed and said, “It would mean a lot to me if you'd let me use your restroom for a quick piss. As you know, some of your neighbors are assholes and they're not very clean.” With glimmering puppy eyes and a pouting lip, Lucas said, “Please.”
Samantha smiled and said, “Okay, okay. Make it quick, though. I was about to take a shower.”
“Thank you.”
As Lucas entered the apartment, Samantha pointed down the hall to her left and said, “It's the first door on the left.”
Lucas nodded and smiled – a wordless thank you. He strolled down the hall, then he entered the first room to his left. He locked the door behind him as he examined the room. The small bathroom was fairly simple – a toilet, a sink, a medicine cabinet, and a shower-bathtub combo. There was nothing out of the ordinary.
As he walked towards the sink, Lucas muttered, “Shit... Shit, I can't hold it anymore.”
He grimaced as he grabbed his crotch, lost in his lust. He unbuttoned his pants and slowly pulled his zipper down. The crackling was loud, but the noise was not unusual for a bathroom. He dropped his underwear and stared down at his penis. He was stiff, yearning for a woman's gentle touch – even if he wouldn't be as soft with her.
As he stroked himself, Lucas said, “It's time.”
Drenched in sweat, Lucas exited the bathroom. He held his erect penis in his right hand as he shambled into the neighboring living room. Samantha stood near the window with her back to her visitor. She was still worried about the knocking on her window, pondering the eerie possibilities. She assumed a prowler was watching without knowing her stalker was already in her apartment.
As she glanced back, Samantha gasped and hopped. Wide-eyed, she stuttered, “Wha–What... What are you doing?”
Lucas smiled and said, “I just want to mingle.” As Samantha glanced at the front door, the ex-convict revealed his pocket knife to the young woman. He pointed the tip of the blade at his prey and said, “Don't make us do this the hard way, sweetie.”
Samantha stared at Lucas in disbelief, frozen in place. The sheer dread paralyzed her. She sniffled and croaked, then she shrieked. Her screeching scream for help echoed through the apartment, dancing down the halls. Weeping and wheezing, she sprinted towards the front door.
Before she could reach the exit, Lucas grabbed her bathrobe and dragged her to the ground. He mounted her waist, trying his damnedest to control her flailing limbs. The pair wrestled on the ground, tossing and turning across the living room.
The ex-convict could have killed her with a knife to the neck, but he wanted fresh meat for his first lay in two decades. He showed restraint while grappling with her, sparing her life numerous times.
Samantha staggered to her feet and escaped the madman's clutches, then she lurched towards her bedroom – the last door in the hall. Lucas followed closely behind, exhausting all of his energy for a swift dash.
To her utter dismay, Samantha did not have the opportunity to lock the door. Lucas tackled the door with all of his might. The edge of the door collided with the woman's face, creating a grisly gash on the bridge of her nose. Dazed by the blow, she tumbled onto the queen-sized bed towards the center of the room.
Pants and underwear around his ankles, Lucas stood at the foot of the bed and said, “Let's have some fun, sweetheart...”
***
Dean sighed, then he walked towards the dilapidated building. Although he could not connect it to Lucas, he was certain he heard a woman's shrill shriek. He couldn't think of any other reason for such a bloodcurdling screech – stepped on a nail? No, of course not. He followed the ex-convict's trail. He walked to the side of the building, then he squeezed himself between the apartment complex and the fence.
Peering through the first set of windows, Dean found nothing of importance. In fact, the first apartment seemed to be abandoned. He slinked towards the second apartment, lunging over the tall grass and pits on the ground. The young man gasped as he reached the first window. His eyelids twitched as he narrowed his eyes – as if the squint would help his vision.
Dean stammered
, “N–No... No... No, no, no.”
Holding a knife to her throat, Lucas pinned Samantha to the bed. The woman still donned the bathrobe and brassiere, but her underwear was torn off. The ex-convict giggled as he mounted her, thrusting into her with glee. He was unperturbed by his savage actions. Her squirming and crying only served to arouse him. He would use her tears as lubricant during his masturbation if he could.
Teary-eyed, Dean gagged and shook his head. He rushed out of the crack, slipping and sliding with each frantic step. He was captivated by his rage, consumed by his need for vengeance. He hurtled down the hall, then he slid to a stop in front of the second apartment. He didn't care about the neighbors or his image, he only cared about Samantha. After three loud and powerful kicks, the front door swung open.
As he rushed into the apartment, Dean shouted, “Stop! Stop, damn it!” He stumbled into the bedroom, teetering every which way. Leaning on the door, he said, “Stop... Don't do this, Lucas. She didn't do anything to us. She's not like the others. She's innocent. She's innocent, man...”
Lucas sighed as he stopped thrusting. He withdrew from Samantha, pulling out like a fleeing battalion. He glanced back at Dean, then he huffed. He rolled his eyes and shook his head – annoyed, flustered, disappointed. The ex-convict pulled out his handgun, then he aimed the firearm at Dean.
Astonished, Dean stuttered, “Wha–What are you doing?”
Lucas said, “Go back to the living room, close the door, then come back here. If you leave, I'll kill this woman, then I'll kill you. You understand me, boy?”
“Wha–What?”
“Lock the front door and come back or you all die,” Lucas sternly said. “Make sure no one can get in here.”
Tears streaming from his eyes, Dean sauntered towards the front door. While Dean secured the apartment, Lucas turned his attention to Samantha. The woman whimpered as she vacantly stared at the ceiling. Mentally, she had already escaped the violent situation. She was floating above the bed, witnessing her own rape.
Dean stood at the doorway and said, “It's locked.”
With Samantha sprawled across the foot of the bed, Lucas leaned on the headrest and said, “You shouldn't be here. You should have gone home. You've put me in a very, very bad spot, son. Now, I've got to... I've got to kill you.”
Dean slowly shook his head and said, “Please, just let her go. I'm sorry. I'll listen to you next time, I'll do whatever you say. You can't hurt her, you can't do this.”
“Are you blind, boy? It's too late for that. I already hurt her, didn't I? What do you think this woman's going to say? 'Oh, you fucked me, but you didn't cum, so it's okay. Don't worry about it.' No! Of course not! She's going to report a rape. If I let her go, we both go down.”
“What? I... I had nothing to do with this.”
“You helped me kill two men, Dean. You watched me track this woman. You could have stopped me earlier, but you let it get this far. You think you're just going to walk away a free man? It's possible, but there's really only one escape route.”
Dean wiped the tears from his blushed cheeks as he asked, “What is it?”
Lucas jabbed the handgun at Samantha and demanded, “Rape her.”
Dean grimaced in disgust, appalled by Lucas' suggestion. He glanced at the woman and sobbed. She had not uttered a single word since he arrived. She was breathing and whimpering, but she was visibly absent. Her eyes were empty – voids of despair and agony.
Lucas said, “You rape this woman and I'll forgive you. I'll help you get out of this, just like I always have. You have my word. You rape this woman now or you'll be raped in prison for the rest of your life. You have my word on that, too. It won't be pretty.”
Dean held his trembling hand to his mouth as he stared at the ex-convict. He could see the man was serious. He knew the man's horrendous prophecy was accurate. If he were caught, he would surely spend time in prison – perhaps two decades like his mentor. He couldn't take the risk.
Lucas smirked as he stared at his student with devious eyes. He was a master manipulator. He knew how to deceive the weak and vulnerable – Dean was perfect for him.
Dean struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, as if he were swallowing a can of tuna. He dragged his feet towards the bed and slowly unbuttoned his pants. He sat on Samantha's knees as he stroked his penis. Like most everyday people, he was not fond of sexual abuse. His penis was flaccid, a puny slug of meat.
Lucas chuckled, then he said, “Mash it in, boy. Force it in and it'll get hard. Try closing your eyes, too. Imagine you're with that girl from the diner.”
Dean followed the instructions. He rubbed his penis on the woman's clitoris, then he shut his eyes. Before he knew it, he was plunging into her. She did not squirm, she did not resist him. She just let it happen. She felt hopeless as her body was invaded. Suicide echoed through her mind, but the fear of death caused her to bite her tongue.
Lucas placed the gun under the pillow. He held the knife in his left hand – a precautionary measure – and he masturbated with his right. One question would always rattle Lucas: are you gay? If he were asked, the questioner would likely end up dead. Yet, he found himself sexually aroused by Dean. Samantha also stimulated him, but Dean titillated him beyond control.
With veins bulging on his shimmering skin, Lucas whispered, “I'm... I'm already going to finish. Shit, I can't hold it.”
As Dean continued thrusting with his eyes closed, Lucas pulled the pillow over his crotch and ejaculated. He trembled and groaned, elated. He finally relieved his stress – it wasn't during sex, but it was close enough. He glanced down at the pair's victim. To his utter surprise, Samantha was staring at him with hollow eyes.
The serial killer grinned from ear-to-ear – thank you. He stumbled towards the foot of the bed, then he jabbed the knife into Samantha's throat. He turned the knife in her neck, which caused blood to squirt from her grisly wound. Samantha stared at the ceiling as she violently convulsed, wiggling like a worm in mud.
Dean gasped upon opening his eyes. He tumbled off of the bed, falling on his buttocks as he shuddered uncontrollably. One moment, he found pleasure in imagining sex with Lori; the next, he found himself staring at a bloodied woman with a knife protruding from her neck.
As he stared at Samantha, wide-eyed and baffled, Dean asked, “What... What have you done? Why did... Why the hell did you do this?!”
Lucas rubbed the nape of his neck and shrugged, then he said, “I'm sorry. It was an accident. I came over to... to cum on her and I must have lost my footing. It was a slip up. Besides, I figured the... the... the rigor mortis would make her tighter for you. I heard that somewhere. I don't know if it's true, though.” He glanced at Dean and asked, “Was it tighter?”
Disregarding the ex-convict's vulgar theory, Dean said, “We're dead... We're dead, Lucas. You... You killed us.”
“Don't overreact, boy. We just have to hide the body.”
“Are you kidding? How can we hide something like this?”
“I'll take care of everything. I gave you my word, didn't I? Remember, as long as you stick with me, everything will be okay. Please, trust me, Dean. I would never do anything to hurt you. Hell, I'd serve a lifetime for you. I'll take care of it.”
Dean asked, “How?”
Lucas removed the knife from Samantha's throat, as if he were pulling a legendary sword from a sturdy stone. Blood spurted from the puncture on her throat, squirting like a garden sprinkler. The ex-convict's hands, shirt, and jeans were smeared with droplets of blood.
As he wiped his hands on the bed, Lucas said, “We'll search the apartment to find out if anyone else lives here. It doesn't look like it, though. Then, we'll lock her up here until tonight. At night, we'll move her to our building. It's only a few blocks away. It's simple. If we work together like last time, everything will be fine. We can forget about all of this by morning. Okay?”
Dean sniffled as he reluctantly nodded. As he stared at the woman's hollow eyes, he whispered
, “Okay, okay...”
Chapter Ten
Home Sweet Home
Steer clear, run in fear, the harbingers of death are near!
The sound of plywood cracking and snapping echoed through the desolate road, announcing the couple's arrival. Their arrival, however, was in the dead of night – and with the dead of life. Neighbors slept their pain and aches away, finding comfort on their beds and solace in their dreams.
With the moonlight at their backs, Lucas and Dean lugged Samantha's bloodied corpse into the laundry room. Down the makeshift aisle, the pair found their previously stashed victim – Otis, the drunk from the bar. They carefully placed the woman's body beside Otis, situating her near the dead man like a couple in bed.
Dean inhaled deeply, then he said, “I can't believe this. I can't believe I let it go this far.” He leaned on the wall behind him and glanced at the cracked ceiling. He whispered, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me...”
As Dean murmured his apologies, wearing his contrite heart on his sleeve, Lucas knelt down in front of the bodies. He grabbed Samantha's hand and chuckled. He placed the dead woman's hand on Otis' crotch, making her fondle the drunk. He was amused by his deviant behavior, delighted by the setup.
Lucas smiled and said, “Look, boy, I think they like each other.”
Dean glanced down at the dead bodies, dejected. He shook his head as he stared at the woman's hand and the man's crotch. Even after their brutal deaths, the victims were tormented. Lucas happily insulted their corpses for a repulsive gag. Dean could only scoff at his mentor's morbid sense of humor.
Lucas said, “Don't be like that, son. I'm just trying to lighten the mood. I mean, I said I was sorry, didn't I? Don't hold this against me.”
Dean crossed his arms and looked away, disappointed and pensive. Lucas sighed and scratched the back of his head. He did not feel remorse for his actions – he was an apathetic sociopath after all. He didn't like disappointing or hurting Dean, though. He just didn't know any better.