7PM - Brittany (A 5PM Short Story)

by Chris Heinicke

  7PM

  BRITTANY

  A 5PM Short Story

  By CHRIS HEINICKE

  COPYRIGHT PAGE © 2016 Chris Heinicke

  7PM-Brittany (A 5PM Short Story)

  By Chris Heinicke

  Cover Design by Rebecca Berto, Berto Designs

  Manuscript Services—Editing & Interior Design by

  Rogena Mitchell-Jones, Literary Editor

  www.rogenamitchell.com

  All Rights Reserved

  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Both author and editor have taken great effort in presenting a manuscript free of errors. However, editing errors are ultimately the responsibility of the author. This book is written in Australian English, therefore, includes Australian diction.

  To my dear wife Glenda, whose love, support,

  and belief in me helped make this novel possible.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Sneak Peek — 5PM

  Sneak Peek — The Man in Black

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  I REMEMBER THE first time I slit someone’s throat, a merciful action following the process of slicing off his scrotum and making him swallow his own testicles. But he deserved it, and I mean, really fucking deserved it. It was the first kill of many, but still the one I enjoyed the most.

  Ever since my junkie mum first brought him into the house not long after my fourteenth birthday, Russell decided my body existed solely for his own perverted amusement. It didn’t surprise me, though. The first time he set his beady little grey eyes on me, I shivered as he absorbed every inch of me in one sweeping gaze. The way he smirked, I may as well have been naked.

  Before then, I already hated my mother for so many reasons. The selfish bitch could never find it in herself to spare a single dollar for me to go on any school excursions, swimming lessons, or even for food on some days. But she always had money for drugs. She always had time for whoever wanted to put their dick in her, but my presence always served as an inconvenience. It all made sense the day Grandma told me the only reason I existed was her daughter couldn’t stay sober enough to leave the house and get an abortion.

  I wished Grandma were still alive. Before she died, I spent most of the first ten years of my life with her. An excellent cook, generous with her cuddles, and always telling me great stories, Grandma seemed able to do anything, the lone exception being able to help her own daughter beat her addictions.

  At first, I felt anger at Grandma for dying, therefore forcing me to live with my mother full time again. The truth was, I missed her and didn’t know how my life could go on without her. I never knew my real father, but I had been told he travelled from city to city playing in whatever pub or club would have him. Even with the amount of time and energy spent trying to find a clue to his existence and whereabouts, I couldn’t find the smallest detail about him, not even a name.

  So, for the years after, I kept my mother’s house going, stealing money from her purse when I could so I could buy food. Most days she looked at me as if I were a stranger, and I looked at her with a mixture of pity and hate. But she was my mother, and I would take care of her for as long as needed.

  Every week a new man frequented our house. Some were kind enough to throw me some money to allow them some alone time with my mum while others wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence. But, one day, it all changed forever when ‘HE’ came to our house for the first time and stayed until he was taken away in a body bag.

  The dark times began the first time he walked into the bathroom without knocking and saw me in the shower. I’ll never forget the way he exposed his rotten teeth as he looked up and down at my barely formed breasts and the area between my legs he would soon invade uninvited. Even though I quickly grabbed a towel to cover myself, the damage had already been done.

  Just two nights had passed when a peaceful night’s slumber became interrupted with a spider-like movement of calloused hands trickling along my legs all the way up to my most intimate place. My body tightened as the offending fat finger was shoved in and out, unable to move while my mind failed to wake my body from shutdown mode. All I could do was cry all night, even hours after he ceased his perverted actions. I avoided the wet patch on the sheets he created from rubbing his cock while he fingered me, waiting until morning to show my mother what he did.

  When your own mother refuses to protect you from the ugliness of the world, a child with no one else in his or her life needs to learn to be strong or find some other coping mechanism. Russell was too big to fight off, even with my height of nearly six foot at just fourteen. He stood a few inches taller than I did, and about three times wider. Just two nights after the first time he molested me, he stole something from me I could never get back, the one thing I wished to share with a special guy one day.

  I screamed and cried as he put his weight on me and thrust himself in and out, over and over and over. When he finished with me, I curled into a ball and cried hysterically, my mother not once coming to check on me. Feeling dirty and sore in nearly every part of my body, I prayed for death to take me away from this before the sun rose again.

  But the reaper never came, nor did he the next night or the night after. Every night was the same. When my period finally came, I felt relieved I wasn’t carrying some unwanted devil spawn inside me, at least—and I hoped the raping would stop for a few days.

  I could never have been more wrong. He simply turned me over and took me up the ass, a much more painful experience.

  I had so few friends at school, but I soon learned to use my assets to get the type of attention I attempted to use to numb myself from what Russel was doing to me. I had a pretty face, full of innocence and framed with long and silky dark brown hair. My legs went from the ground all the way up to my little round ass, the length of my legs the main contributor to my height.

  It wasn’t hard to get the boys my age to have sex with me. I never received a lot of enjoyment from the experiences, but at least, I was able to fuck people my own age. Some good-looking types, some not so great, but at least, I was able to choose with them. Within months, I had slept with every boy in my class but two, the gay boy, David and the quiet, shy boy, Billy.

  I knew Billy liked me. In fact, he seemed to be the only friend I had left after going into full-on slut mode. He actually asked me how I was, wanted to know things about me, and what I wanted to do once school finished and we were to make our way in the world. I had never known anyone sweeter, apart from Grandma, and not once did he pass judgement on me. We hung out a lot and would visit a new café every week. He was smart and funny, and never attempted to get into my pants.

  “One day, Billy, I hope you find a sweet girl who deserves you,” I once said to him. It couldn’t be me—the dirty slut who had a secret home life she couldn’t tell anyone about. But as fucked up as it was, I didn’t want to get family services involved and find myself in foster care, locked away in a house thousands of miles away with annoying families. Or another pervert wanting me to call him Dad.

  So I stayed and let Russell tear my
soul away piece by piece and continued my nymphomaniac lifestyle with the boys my age, as well as some a year or two below and above my age. Sex meant nothing to me. I endured it from one creep and used it to try to feel some sort of love from others, even if just for a few minutes. Numb inside, the only thing keeping me going was the need to get good grades, score a scholarship, and get the hell out of this shithole town.

  The day came when I graduated high school and waited impatiently for a letter of acceptance to university. Billy called to say he had been accepted into some type of scientific course, not surprising considering how smart he was. I told him to come over and wait with me for the postman to come.

  Not less than five minutes later, he arrived, and we sat and talked on the front porch for an hour until the letter arrived. Billy looked over my shoulder as my nerves took over, and I fumbled through the process. To this day, I still remember the moment I read the words, ‘your application has been successful.’ The tears flowed fast and free, and Billy wrapped me in his arms for a moment, reassuring me I had one real friend in this world. I looked into his eyes, catching a glimmer of something I never saw before. I nodded at him. His head moved closer to mine, and without putting any thought into it, I closed my eyes and waited for his mouth to reach mine.

  “What the fuck’s going on here?” Russell’s feet thumped through the house, his gruff voice slurring probably due to the effects of another booze-fuelled morning.

  Billy relaxed his embrace and stared back at Russell, “Karla’s going to college, away from this God-awful place.”

  Russell stared directly into my eyes, his gaze visually raping me. He dropped the beer bottle and stomped towards Billy. I could just tell this wasn’t going to end nicely. “She’s not going anywhere while I’m in charge of this house.”

  Slowly backing away, Billy didn’t stand a chance. The punches flew like a hurricane from Russell’s beer-filled temper, hitting his target twice in the face and kicking him in the ribs repeatedly as the teenager hit the ground. I jumped on Russell’s back and started smacking him with my free hand, my efforts in vain, as he flipped me over his head.

  Landing in a pile next to Billy, I stared at this beast hovering above us. Was there anything this perverted prick wouldn’t do to hurt someone?

  “I’m going to kill your boyfriend here if he ever speaks to me again.” Russell’s nostrils flared. I’ve seen him angry before but nothing like this day.

  “Just leave him alone, Russell. I’ll stay. I’ll stay and do whatever you want me to if you promise not to hurt Billy anymore.” Tears moistened my cheeks. I knew what I had signed up for if I didn’t do something drastic.

  “Don’t do it, he’ll destroy you. Run away, run away now, and don’t ever come back to this place,” Billy struggled to smile through his injuries.

  “I warned you not to speak,” Russell said and pulled out a gun. “Say your prayers, little boy,” he said as he lined up his target.

  “Russell,” I yelled, taking my singlet top off, “let him go and we’ll go inside.”

  He turned to face me, licking his lips at the sight of me in my lacy bra and denim shorts. I didn’t need to see Billy’s face to know of his disappointment. But I knew Russell would kill him if I didn’t distract him.

  “You better be off my lawn before I finish fucking your girlfriend, boy,” Russell yelled. He grabbed my ass, and I felt my whole body tense up. Mind you, hardly a day went by when he didn’t invade my body by some method. His hand travelled to the front of my shorts while we walked, pulling down my zipper and undoing the button with one hand.

  I stopped walking and turned to him. “Why don’t you go lie on the bed and get ready for me.” My hand slid into his jeans, and I cupped his cock and balls in my hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  He peeled away from me and slid his shirt over his head, and then turned back to me. “You better hurry up, girl.”

  I smiled back and took my shorts off while he watched. I unclipped my bra and saw his leering eyes wash over my small breasts, and then he walked away to the bedroom. I could hear my mother snoring from somewhere, probably from the spare room where she liked to shoot up. I took some long deep breaths and searched through the kitchen drawers for what I needed.

  “Where the fuck are you, girl?” I heard the monster’s voice.

  A few seconds later, I went into the bedroom he shared with my mother and saw him lying on the bed wearing only his underwear. I walked over to him, exaggerating each step taken, wearing only a white lace G-string. “Russell, let’s try something new.” I showed him the lengths of rope.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re gonna do with them?”

  “Wouldn’t you like me to be in charge for once? I thought I could tie you up and ride you.” To emphasise my point, I pulled my panties down, letting him see me completely nude. This was my one chance.

  “Oh, fuck, you’ve never done this for me before, why today?”

  I couldn’t blame him for his suspicion. Even though after the first couple of months I stopped struggling, I never initiated a sex act previously. “Please, take your undies off, Russell.”

  His creepy smile took over his face, and I almost pitied him as I saw how foul his remaining teeth were. I looked at his exposed cock, the instrument of evil having ruined my life for so many years, and probably the cause of my fucked up mind.

  “Russell, I need you to lie flat on your back and stretch out your arms and legs.”

  My heart raced as he did what I asked. I started with his hands, tying a knot around each wrist and then around the legs of the bed, as learned from my Grandmother, who taught me things I didn’t get to learn in the local youth club. He chuckled away, and I felt his eyes on my body the whole time.

  I had to keep it together. I would only get one chance at this.

  “Fuck, baby girl, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so hard.”

  I grabbed his erection in one hand. “Nice, Russell.” I pumped it a couple of times and then released it. “You’re not quite ready for me yet.” I looked at his feet.

  Russell sniggered as I tied a rope around each ankle, and then tied the other end of each to the other bed legs. Looking like a starfish, I knew he was ready for me.

  “Well, come on, get on board. I’ve never had you on top before.”

  With good reason, I think to myself. I climbed on top of the bed and inched closer to him, moving like a cat. I parked myself a few inches from the horrid erect thing that haunted me for years and grabbed his balls with one hand, massaging them gently.

  “Just fucking get on top, you bitch,” Russell almost yelled.

  “I need to cut something first.” I leaned all the way to the right, reaching under the mattress and fumbled until my fingers located the treasure they searched for…

  Russell’s eyes lit up, and for the first time ever, I could actually see fear in them. My right fist holding a switchblade I had hidden beneath the mattress a few weeks ago, I sliced at what my left hand was gripping.

  He screamed as his scrotum became separated from him, the fluids soaking the sheet beneath him.

  There was no way my mother could sleep through this ruckus. I needed to be quick. My left hand wiggled inside the detached hairy sack and my fingers found his testicles. I closed my fist around one, and with a bit of effort, I pulled it free. I repeated the process for the other testicle, and I held both in front of his face.

  Russell couldn’t put any words together. I couldn’t even imagine the agony he was enduring, but I could tell by the fact I was getting wet that at least one of us was enjoying it. I placed his two misplaced testicles near his mouth. “I want you to eat them, Russell.”

  He cried, but managed to spit out a couple of words. “Fuck you.”

  “If you don’t eat them, I’ll cut your cock off.”

  “You fucking sick—” His opened mouth gave me all the time I needed to place his own balls into it. I almost felt sick as he involuntarily took a swallow
and coughed as the unwanted morsels travelled down his throat.

  I didn’t want to risk him vomiting on me, so I got off the bed and put my knife to his neck. I then pushed with all my strength until the whole blade went in. His blood poured out like water through a whale’s spout. I slid the knife across and the wound grew to a couple of inches long before my mother entered the room.

  “Oh, my God,” she yelled. I smiled back at her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Mum,” I said to her as I withdrew the knife from the bleeding throat of Russell. I could only assume he was dead by then as I watched my mother charge towards me.

  I held my knife ready in case I had to defend myself. Running the few feet to get to me, her drug-fuelled body was put down as the noise of a few shots from a cop’s pistol hit her in the back.

  She fell face first. It was then I saw the handsome cop for the first time. He was telling me to put the knife down, and I obeyed without hesitation, my whole body shaking.

  I began to cry as the officer put his gun back in his holster and picked up a blanket, placing it on my shoulders. Covering myself, I could only imagine what would happen next. I had been caught red-handed at a murder scene with the murder weapon in my hand.

  “It’s going to be okay, Brittany,” he told me.

  I whimpered, “My name’s Karla.”

  “Not anymore,” he placed the knife in my dead mother’s hand, and then slung me over his shoulder and carried me outside to the police car parked in the driveway.

  Chapter 2

  THE LAST THING I remembered was being placed in the back of Ed’s police car and given a can of cola to drink. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, but when I woke, I found myself in a bed wearing a pair of silk pyjamas. Aside from the bed, the only furniture in the room was a built-in wardrobe and an oval mirror hanging on the wall. I crawled out of bed noticing the window to my left and went to have a look to see what was outside.