Die for Me Darling

by Caroline Clark

  A silky laugh left her throat and stroked his taut nerves. “I went straight into the lab. I’m sorry, Sweetie, that police chappy only just caught me. You know my work and how time-sensitive it can be.”

  Nick nodded, but the problem was he didn’t. She worked with chemicals, and it was all very secretive. If she ever did explain anything, it went straight over his head, all those numbers and letters, nothing had a name. There was nothing for him to clasp onto, and at times he thought she made it more complicated just to belittle him. Now he was getting paranoid!

  She stroked his head, and it was nice to lie in her arms and feel her breathing. It was relaxing, comforting. Exhaustion overcame him, and he felt himself slip down into a deep sleep.

  He dreamt of the girl and an eight-inch serrated hunting knife that Sadie had given him last Christmas. It had been a strange gift. At the time, he had tried to hide his disappointment but had failed miserably. They ended up rowing about it. She had sulked for two days and then, as usual, she had come to him, apologetic and loving.

  “You asked for it,” she said. “Don’t you remember?”

  The thing was he didn’t. In fact, he couldn’t imagine a situation when he would want a hunting knife. His only hobby was his running, surely she knew that.

  In the dream, this all chased through his mind, but then he picked up the knife, and he felt a surge of power. It was sexual in its intensity, he reached down and adjusted his dick. In his dream, he closed his eyes and thrilled at the feeling of dominance the knife gave him. It pulsed through his body, euphoric in its intensity.

  Opening his eyes, he was on a side street. It was dark, and the streetlight above him flickered on and off like some convulsive disco light. Where was he? Gradually his senses kicked in. It was the other side of the woods, a rough area, maybe he shouldn’t be here. Then he felt the knife in his hands and confidence surged through him. He had nothing to fear. He was the one to fear.

  A car pulled up, a rusty old Vauxhall, and a young girl got out. Her blonde bob hung tiredly around her shoulders as she stumbled over to her door. Wobbling a little, she fumbled with her keys. Where had he seen her before?

  Panic rushed into him along with a dirty, naughty thrill. He was hunting. Silently he crossed the roads as the blonde dropped her keys, unaware that death stalked towards her like a whisper on the wind.

  Bending down, he could see her long legs beneath the coat. They were shapely and fit, and the urge to run his hands up them and feel the sweet treasure that waited at their top made him stumble down the curb. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, but she had seen him.

  Turning, her eyes were so wide they lit up her face and beckoned him onward. Dropping into a squat, she searched for the keys, desperate now that she had seen the hunter and realized that she was the prey. Scraping her hand along the ground, he could hear whimpers of fear that sounded almost like she was close to her orgasm. Soon my pretty he thought. There was no longer any need to stalk. She knew he was here. Now it was simply a matter of who was faster. The hunter or the hunted.

  In his mind, Nick felt a wave of revulsion, stop, what are you doing? Then it was gone, and his body took over. His feet flew across the tarmac, the knife gliding forward in his left hand as he pumped his arms to gain every second of speed he could. In his right there was a cloth, it smelt funny and he couldn’t remember how it got there. Maybe Sadie left it out. It gave off a chemical smell. That was not unusual, she was always bringing jars and tubes of unpronounceable things home.

  The girl found her keys and stood. Now the sound coming from her throat was a high pitched keen, over and over again. It was as if she was trying to scream, but her throat was closed down so tight it could only manage this siren call of sorrow and despair.

  She turned the keys over in her hands, glancing at him, then back to the bundle. At last, she found the right one and touched metal to metal. Safety was so close he could smell it coming off her in big waves of relief. Nick leaped the last step, and his left hand-delivered the knife into her kidneys. It tore through her coat and clothes without even slowing. There was a slight hesitation as it hit her skin. Pushed forward by his weight and speed, Nick felt the knife as it sliced through skin, muscle, organ, and then it bounced back at him as it hit bone. He thrust into her and let out an orgasmic grunt of pleasure. At the same time, his right hand came up and covered her mouth and nose. It stifled the scream that had at last formed on her lips, and he pulled the cloth harder. Instinct told him that the chemical would silence her, and give him more time.

  As he thrust into her, she pushed back, wanting more, he thought, and he gave it to her. The blade pulled out, its edge serrated for extra pleasure, it caught, but he pulled it free. Her juices flowed over his hands, and with a feeling of rapture, he plunged back in, taking her to the pinnacles of… death?

  What am I doing?

  Like a trapped bird, she fought in his arms. Her tiny wings pushed back, but they had no strength, no power, and she was fading. Whether from the pleasure from their encounter or the cloth over her face, he could not tell. Letting his right hand drop to his side, he wanted to step back, to wake up, and then, he heard Sadie’s voice.

  “Give it to her baby.”

  It was as if some animal took over. His arm plunged forward, and the knife went back in, he pulled out and thrust in, again and again, grunting with pleasure and effort as he rose to new heights of ecstasy. All the time, he rubbed his dick against her legs, and the slick feeling of her blood brought him higher until with a final thrust, he came and collapsed forward. Stepping back, he turned her around, wanting to see her face, to kiss her. Wide, terrified eyes had closed, her face was relaxed and tender after their loving. He licked the sweat from her top lip and kissed her. She tasted salty and young and slightly of rice pudding. Nick pulled back, he was not finished, as he did her eyes came open, it was no longer the blonde. It was Sadie in his arms, she opened her mouth and holding the knife she said, “Would you die for me, darling?”

  Before he could nod a yes, she plunged the knife into him.

  Pain and revulsion jerked him awake. His eyes shot open and looked straight into Sadie’s big blue ones. Wearing a neutral expression, she was leaning over him. Looking at him as if he were some experiment that she evaluating. It was too much. Nick shot off the sofa and ran to the bathroom, too late. He fell to his knees and sank to the carpet, and a long, caustic stream of vomit burned its way out of him and sank into the rug.

  Chapter Six

  It had been a long night. Nick spent most of it lying in their bed. The soft duvet provided warmth and security as he cried in Sadie’s arms. The problem was he wasn’t sure why he cried. The dream had been horrific, nauseating, and yet exciting. It was just a dream… a fantasy? Had he killed that girl? Turning it over in his mind and feeling sick to his stomach, he fell back to sleep. This time the dream was not so nice. He was stalked. Hunted by the darkness of his conscience. There was nowhere to hide, and the fear that he was a killer brought terror to his heart.

  When he woke, Sadie was gone, the bed cold and desolate. As he remembered the night before, bile rose up his throat and threatened to spill all over the white sheets. Biting it back, he dressed and showered. Somehow he felt better today, more alert and less dizzy. Maybe he was coming down with something, and that was why he kept losing time. Maybe he should book into the doctors and get a checkup. Yeah, just don’t mention the vivid dreams about killing a girl, oh yeah, and the fact that she’s dead.

  As he came down the stairs, his hand on the rail, the soft green carpet beneath his feet, he could hear whistling. “At least you woke up happy?” he said as he stepped into the kitchen.

  The room was always immaculate; Sadie kept it like her lab. Everything was sterile, and everything was in its place.

  “A good morning to you too,” she said, and with a quick peck on his cheek, she popped a plate of toast on the table and passed him the jam. “Are you going for a run this morning? I already mixed
up your special drink.”

  Nick’s stomach roiled and gurgled at the smell of the toast. He was hungry, even felt a little weak, but the thought of eating right now just made him want to wretch again. Should he go for a run, get some clarity before they had their talk? Maybe he should leave the talk for another day? The problem was it would eat away at him, and that was probably why he was feeling so ill. The distrust he felt, the betrayal, stayed in his head, he did not want to give her time to think or to make up some excuse and duck out on him. “No, not this morning. Eat your breakfast. We need to talk.”

  “Okay, sweetie, mine’s in the oven ready.” With that, she pulled out a plate of egg, bacon, mushrooms, and sausage.

  It looked and smelled scrumptious, but his stomach heaved, and he had to run from the room. Nick slammed through the toilet door and dropped to his knees on the hard tiles just in time to wretch into the bowl. His stomach was empty, so all that came out was a dribble of acid. Still, his stomach heaved again and again. At last, it stopped, and he rested his head on the porcelain, his abs ached, and his stomach just felt slick and greasy.

  Back at the table, let’s try again, he took a mouthful of coffee and tried to nibble on his toast. It was cold and dry and clogged in his throat.

  Sadie pushed away her plate and ran a hand through her hair. It struck Nick like a lightning bolt, the dead woman, she looked like Sadie. It had to be a coincident, and the resemblance was only slight. Yeah, his inner voice said the same hair, the same height, and the same weight. Her face was not quite the same; Sadie had an oval face that made her look young and innocent. “Oh God,” he groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “The girl who died, I think she looked like you.” The enormity of it was like a punch to the gut.

  “Really. That’s just what every wife wants to hear, you look like a corpse. Was she as attractive?”

  Attractive. “I don’t really know, she was dead, her eyes ripped from her face it was awful.”

  She looked down at her food and pushed the nearly empty plate away. “I think we should talk about something else. Something, anything, to try and take your mind off this.”

  “Okay,” he said. He wanted to confront her to shout and scream and call her a bitch, but somehow, this still didn’t seem like the right time. There were tears forming in her eyes, he could see the telltale signs, the quiver of her lip, and the moisture behind her lashes. It had always crushed him to see her cry, but just for a moment, he wondered if this was another manipulation. Then he shook his head, he really was getting paranoid. “Any ideas?” he asked.

  “I have to tell you something.” She was looking straight at him.

  He had seen this look before too, she was trying to be confident, but she knew he would hate what she had to say. “Okay,” he said, but there was a lump in his throat and the cold hand of fear in his gut. Was she sleeping with someone?

  “I’ve had a promotion at work. Because of that, I’ve had to rethink my plans…”

  She let the words hang, and all he could think of was she’s leaving me, how can she be leaving me?

  “Nick, I can’t have children… not just now… I’ve been meaning to tell you, wanting to tell you, but I knew how hurt you would be, and so instead, I went back on the pill, and now I feel like such a bitch.”

  “What?” Nick heard the words, and it was as simple as that, she had changed her mind. Her damn career was more important than they were, and she didn’t even tell him first.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” she said and got up and walked around to him.

  A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and he wanted to push it off to jump up and ram her into the wall. In fact, right then, he wanted to bang her head on the table, pull down her jeans, and fuck her over the breakfast pots. Instead, he bit down his anger. “You couldn’t discuss this with me first?” There was acid in his tone, and she stepped away.

  “This is important to me,” she said. “It’s more money, more responsibility. I may even get to design new chemicals. This could be groundbreaking.”

  “You know how much I wanted a child?” This time his voice sounded petulant. “Is it so much to ask that we do what most couples do and have children? Damn it, Sadie, I would do anything for you.”

  “I know you would, and we will have children, but just not now…” Her words trailed off as she realized just how disgusted he was. “Remember what we used to say what I used to ask you?”

  This time there was a lightness to her voice as if she was teasing, and he was not in the mood. Of course, he remembered. It had always seemed a little creepy, even when they were in the throes of young love. There was no way he would say the words.

  He had been looking down at his hands on the table, at the remains of the dry toast when her laugh went through him like a knife to the bone.

  “I used to ask you. Would you die for me, darling, and you would reply, of course, I would.” Her face was smug as if she had beaten him. “I’m not asking for you to die for me, all I’m asking is for a little more time, to let me get this job under my belt before I go off on maternity leave. All right, Sweetie.”

  Nick felt like a shit. When she put it like that, it made him sound like a real dick. Some jerk who wanted her to give up her dream just so he could have kids, but he thought it was her dream too. “I understand,” he said, but the words were hard to say, and they seemed to clog his throat. “I just need to know how long we have to wait.”

  Her laughter was like water on a tin roof. It jarred his nerves and irritated. “Just a year, at the most two. You can do that for me, can’t you, darling?”

  Nick nodded and wondered how many years this would turn into, maybe he should think about leaving.

  “That’s so good of you, and I will make it up to you, but now I have to run I have an MMA demo in forty minutes, bye.” With that, she turned, grabbed her kit bag, and walked out.

  When she was gone, the house was so quiet. Nick sat and wondered why he had stopped the Mixed Martial Arts they both used to enjoy. This time it was him that laughed. He had stopped because she was a natural. She was soon competing and winning while he could hardly master the basic kicks. She had a determination and animal-like skill that meant few could beat her when she put her mind to it. Now she competed at the national level, and she was good. That’s just what he needed, not only did she not want kids, but she could whoop his ass anytime she wanted.

  Chapter Seven

  Nick decided to go for his run, but today he opted for the streets. Somehow the woods were too scary, and he did not think he would be able to relax. Every corner would hide unimaginable horrors. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could see the girl's empty sockets rimmed with blood.

  Thinking about his dream, he tripped off a curb and almost went down. Get a grip, man. Why was he so tired? Why was the run not renewing him like it usually did? Of course, he had still done nothing about that doctor’s appointment. It was too late today he would book in first thing Monday.

  The run back was just as bad, He tripped, lost his breath even got a stitch at one point. It had been a disaster, and he felt weak and dizzy instead of alert and energized. Taking off his trainers, he left them neat in the mudroom and stumbled into the kitchen. Grabbing his energy drink from the fridge, he would usually rush up and shower. It always left him invigorated after a run but not this week. This week he just felt tired. Slumping onto the sofa, he switched on the TV and relaxed back. Closing his eyes, he took a drink and reveled in the buzz the energy drink gave him. Yet still, he felt tired. It must be all the stress, he would just close his eyes, just have five minutes, and then he would shower.

  ***

  The sound of the door slamming woke Nick. He jerked upright, it was dark outside, what the… Had he been asleep all day? A groan from his stomach was accompanied by the sound of Sadie putting away her equipment. The routine was always the same. Put down her bag, pull out her soiled clothes, and put them straight in the washer. Then
place her bag in the cupboard. Once everything was tidy, she would switch on the kettle and then come look for him. Shit – he was still in his running gear, and he was lying on the sofa. His neat-freak of a wife would have a dickey fit.

  Nick raced up the stairs and jumped in the shower. As he stood under the streaming water, his heart pounded, and he felt faint.

  The rest of the evening was spent in their normal routine. They watched TV, they talked, Sadie practiced some of her routines, she even offered to spar with him, but Nick didn’t have the energy to be humiliated again. Around eleven, they went up to bed. He climbed under the covers and wondered whether to make a move. It all seemed so surreal. She turned toward him and reached over and kissed his forehead. Then she stroked his eyes closed and kissed each of his eyelids, and that was the last thing he remembered.

  ***

  Nick woke to the sound of ringing. Pulling the covers over his head, he snuggled back down, but the noise just wouldn’t go away. His head ached, and at last, he realized that it was the phone. Opening his eyes, he reached across and picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Nick, where are you?” John seemed to yell down the phone.

  “What… What time is it?”

  “Eleven thirty, and you missed the board meeting. Luckily ole John here covered for you. I wondered if you had to go see the police again,” John said.

  “What?”

  Ah, came down the phone. “I can see you’re in top form this morning. Have you seen the news?”

  Nick cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, concentrate. “No, what news?” Three whole words, he was waking up.

  “That Gillian from the account you were working last year. She was found murdered this morning. The news said it was brutal. I told the boss you had a doctor’s appointment, so shake a leg and get in here pronto.”

  Nick put down the phone and raced to the bathroom. Hot vomit streamed out of him, splashing on the toilet seat before he could get fully over the bowl. Sinking to his knees, he tried to remember Gillian, and a smile of relief came over his face. She was fat, well plump, and she had long ginger hair. She looked nothing like Sadie. The sense of relief was overwhelming, and it kept him smiling until he walked back into the bedroom and saw his trainers next to the bed. There was mud on the carpet, how had Sadie not noticed?