by Stuart Keane
Shay looked back at Odette. A deep, stern quality radiated from her deep brown eyes, and it was as if the two women had already formed a strong connection. “I guess I’ve always known. I was never what the doctors categorise as the standard psychopath. You know, killing defenceless bugs and animals in their youth before moving on to people. Truth be told, I can’t even remember when it all started. I know I’ve done some bad things in my life, but I’ve always kind of justified it to myself that … I enjoyed doing it, so to hell with the consequences. If I’m honest, due to the fun that we had with Gavin back at his house, it’s reignited something that I haven’t felt in quite a while.”
Odette smiled. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
Shay chuckled. “Yes. And you’re just getting started. You wait, it gets a lot better.”
“How so?”
“You’ll see,” the woman said, a sparkle in her eyes. “You had fun with Gavin, right?”
“I did,” Odette purred, winking. She sipped her coffee. “What was your favourite part?”
Shay shook her head. “Nuh uh, you first. You’re the,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “you’re the murder virgin here.”
Odette placed her cup on the table before her. She smiled and shivered, the feeling was new, fresh, and unusual. She felt ecstatically giddy and happy, as if an electric shock was pulsing through her blood stream and igniting her brain, opening her blinkered eyes to a whole new world of possibilities.
“I’ll admit. Cutting his balls off was fantastic,” she muttered, her face now cut in half by a sadistic grin, bearing bright white teeth.
Shay nodded. “Oh yes. That … that was exquisite.”
“The feeling, the … it was so visceral, so wet and … urgh, I felt powerful, in control!” Odette chuckled. “I must sound like a right noob to you.”
“No, go on. Enjoy the moment. We all start somewhere.”
“I thought I was going to be sick, you know, when I put one in my mouth? It felt like one of those chocolate eggs, in shape, but maybe a little larger. It was definitely an experience. Feeling the smooth testicle roll around my cheek, and glide across the roof of my mouth, my tongue lapping it without all that hairy scrotum in the way. And to not have the cunt shoving his dick down my throat at the first opportunity … well, you might have changed sex for me forever.”
“I might just have. Feels amazing, doesn’t it?”
Odette nodded. “Sure does. When I bit it in half, it felt like a scallop, ever had a scallop?”
“Fuck no. I’ve been living on rations for the past four years,” Shay said, laughing.
“Remind me to show you, to let you try one. Tell me it doesn’t taste like a man’s ball when you eat one.”
“I wonder if that sentence has ever been uttered before, especially over coffee.”
Both women laughed.
Odette smiled. She folded her arms, leaning forward, excited. “Now, your turn, what was your favourite part?”
Shay leaned back in her chair and cast her mind back to the scene in the bedroom with Gavin and Odette. After her four-year break, the whole thing had been fantastic, just thinking about it got the adrenaline pumping around her body again.
Shay was pulled back from her reverie by Odette. “Well?” she asked.
Shay laughed. “Sorry, I was in a world of my own there. I know this is a little fucked up, but it was something that I’ve never tried before. Being eaten out by a dying man, forcing him to thrust his weak tongue deep inside you whilst fighting to keep himself alive, it was something else. I think I must have come three times.”
Odette burst out laughing. “Is that what you were doing? I thought you were trying to smother him.”
Shay grinned. “Well it was either that moment, or when you threw his half-eaten balls at me from the other side of the bedroom, and I batted them back to you with his trusted baseball bat. You know, the one that he kept at the side of the bed.”
Odette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I hated that fucking thing. I always used to knock into it during the night.” She smiled when she realised that it would never happen again, the small inconvenience of the baseball bat now plucked from her life. For some reason, it lifted a weight of inferior worry.
Shay nodded towards her coffee. “Want another?”
“No thanks, I’m good.”
The woman smiled. “Me neither, but I need to visit the ladies, though. I think I have some dried blood … down there. It’s itching like crazy.” She slid from the booth, looked around, and walked away. Odette watched her go.
I can’t believe this, she thought.
If you’d predicted the outcome of this day, the afternoon.
Odette shook her head, still dumbfounded, the graphic, horrific events somehow not registering correctly inside her head. She remembered the severed testicles, the dark blood as it splashed onto the carpet like red water, whipping the scrotum skin around her head like a soggy dishcloth, the flaying, and the slow, methodical skinning.
She remembered Shay shoving her head beneath a severed flap of skin until it bulged and split over the back of her cranium, tearing the flesh down the middle, perforating a ragged hole in Gavin’s pimply, plump back. She remembered the sound of the woman biting on his exposed spine, bone on bone, the primitive screech of enamel and the sound of tearing cartilage enough to give her a breakdown.
Yet, she hadn’t, she’d simply sat there and laughed while bouncing his broken, severed arm gently from hand to hand. She remembered the acrid stench of spilt blood, the tang of copper that made her smack her tongue against the roof of her mouth, the broken rattle of Gavin’s snapped fingers as she moved the limb across her vision, staring into nothing. She saw Shay having her sexual way with the mutilated corpse, all unbridled thrashing and aggressive moaning and sucking – oh, the sucking – but she saw something else, something … enlightening.
She saw her future.
She saw her new life.
And it wasn’t with Gavin, or in that apartment, one which would need to be condemned for the bloodshed alone. Her future was clear.
It was here, in this coffee shop.
Don’t be a fool, you’re just happy in your epiphany.
You’re right.
Huh? I have two voices in my head?
Too right.
Fucking hell…
Her future wasn’t with anyone, or anywhere.
No, it was out there, in the urban wilderness, taking the scourge of humanity to sentence.
She knew what she had to do.
Shay walked over, zipping up her fly. She frowned, puzzled as she noticed Odette watching her intently from behind the table. The look in her eyes was a look of admiration, almost lustful.
Shay grinned. “What’s up? I haven’t got blood on my chin, have I?”
Odette smiled. “Sit down.”
She nodded to the vacant seat opposite her. Shay followed the woman’s instructions, curious as to the shift in her body language. Sitting opposite Odette once more, she watched the woman with an element of caution. Odette had a playful look in her eye. Shay had never noticed how captivating her brown eyes were. Her silky brown fringe hung across her face, her stunning looks completed by her full, pink lips. She started to get that tingling sensation in her loins once more. She had never thought of herself as that way inclined, but four years inside a nut house does strange things to a woman.
Shay spoke. “You look like you actually want to ask me something. What is it?”
The other woman drained her coffee, licking her lips as she placed the cup back on the table. Her eyes flicked to Shay’s. They stared at each other for a long moment.
Silence filled the gap, comfortable and contemplative.
Then Odette spoke.
“Do you have competition?”
Shay narrowed her eyes, confused. “Come again?”
Odette giggled. “Competition. Or, if I was to reword it, do you know anyone else like you, anyone who has the … killer urge
, so to speak?”
Shay shook her head, quick and decisive. “Nope. And I never have.”
“You do now,” Odette responded, her voice raising an octave.
“I don’t get it,” Shay said. “What are you suggesting?”
Odette licked her bottom lip, a deep growl emitting from deep inside her. “I propose a contest. Between us. Best kill wins.”
Shay leaned forward, concerned about the few patrons around her. “How so?”
“We exchange numbers and go our separate ways. We pick our own victims, and our own methods, but we compare notes. Take pictures and whatnot. Let’s say … three kills apiece? We text each other in code – we can’t have anyone suspecting us of our newfound obsession –”
“– new to you, maybe. Do you know what you’re proposing?”
Odette fell into silence, and shook her head.
“It’s … delicious, it’s new. It’s … totally original. Two killers trying to one-up each other.”
Odette’s smile returned, her cheeks turning a mild red. “So, you’re in?”
Shay returned her smile. “You bet your arse I’m in. But you’re going to have to bear with me for a few days while I get myself straight.”
Odette replied, “How do you mean?”
Shay rolled her eyes. “Well, unless it hasn’t registered, I’ve spent the last four years locked away. I don’t have a mobile phone. Give me your number and I’ll text you in a few days when I’m straight. This needs to be a level playing field, don’t you get started without me.”
Odette reached into her handbag and grabbed Gavin’s mobile phone. She’d lifted it when leaving the flat, in the event someone should come snooping. She held it out, offering it to Shay. “Here, take this.”
Shay took the phone from her and looked at it. “Who the fuck carries two mobile phones?”
Odette laughed. “It was Gavin’s. I guess he won’t need it anymore.”
Shay smiled, and took the phone from her, touching the screen. It made a digital tinkle and lit up. Shay smirked and held up the handset, which displayed a picture of Odette’s smiling face. She waved it in the air. “Oh look, if I ever forget who I’m competing against, all I have to do is look here.”
Odette laughed. “You’ll have to screen his calls, you know, just in case he gets any messages from his bit on the side.”
Both women laughed.
Odette calmed down and grew serious. “Right, this is on. I’ll give you two clear days to get yourself straight. Take the phone, and I’ll call you. Then it’s game on. Got that?”
Shay laughed at the woman’s offer. “Bitch, please, I don’t want your charity.” She placed the phone on the table and slid it back towards her competition. “I’m more resourceful than you’ll ever know. Besides, that’s a man’s phone. I don’t even want to know what shit is on that.” Shay pushed a wrinkled serviette towards Odette. “Here, scribble your digits down on this.”
Removing a pen from her handbag, Odette scribbled her phone number onto the back of the serviette and handed it back to Shay, who folded it and placed it into her pocket. Shay looked at the woman. “So, three victims each? Do you have any rules in mind?”
Odette nodded. “Just one; no secrets. We only kill three people each, that’s it. Nothing more. How and when we do it, that’s up to us. When we each get the third kill, we’ll meet up, compare notes, and pick a winner. Remember, photos are good proof, so get a camera phone. You know what that is. They had those before you went inside, right?”
Shay nodded. “Cheeky bitch.”
Odette winked. “Always.”
Shay finished her coffee. “Two days, that’s all I need.”
“Cool. I’m going to go and do some … spring cleaning.” Odette stood up, shrugging her arms into her coat. “Wish me luck.”
Shay smiled, wobbling her empty cup around. “Fuck that shit; you make your own luck. You should just burn the place to the ground and claim on the insurance.”
Odette smiled, her eyes lifting to the sky as she wrapped her scarf around her neck, considering the new option. “I’ll let you know how it works out.”
Shay pushed back her chair, the legs grinding against the tiled floor of the café. She extended her hand towards Odette, who looked at it blankly. “You’re not really expecting me to shake your hand, are you? You came into my life today, and ruined it forever.”
Shay smiled. “Bitch, please, I’ve ruined nothing. I’ve just awoken something that was already there.”
Odette took the woman’s hand, surprised by the strength of her grip and shook. “Two clear days.”
“Two clear days.”
“May the best woman win.”
Shay winked at Odette, and turned towards the entrance. Opening the door, she took one more glance over her shoulder at Odette who stood by the table, impassively. She smiled before walking out of the café, slamming the door behind her.
And with that, the two women parted ways.
For now.
The hallway of the apartment block was still clear. Glancing left and right, a sheen of sweat on her brow, Odette sighed loudly; she was finally alone. Her eyes flicked to the door of Apartment 3, which was now firmly closed. Her gaze took in the expensive wooden sheen, the light brown grain that ran vertically, the gold trim that was completed by the garish metal door number nailed perfectly central. For the first time, she noticed that the subtle décor of the hallway clashed horrendously with it, and made a mental note. Not that she would be doing anything about it anytime soon, she wasn’t that type of neighbour.
Well, no, but you are certainly … something.
Shut up!
She breathed out with suspended relief, placing her hand on the smooth surface of her front door, the fingertips stretched to their maximum. She kept her distance from the entrance, the faint whiff of spilt blood now tickling her nostrils. It reminded her of copper, no, iron. She opened her mouth, breathing deeply.
That was a close one.
Mr Heathcote was always a nosy bastard.
And he nearly followed you to your door, wanting your help. Something about an important delivery he was expecting tomorrow, something about keeping an ear out. Heaven forbid it should be sent back to the depot if he isn’t home to receive it, probably the safest place for it.
She closed her eyes, trying to expel the image of his jaundiced fingertips, his overly long fingernails, the dirty greying beard, his blackened gums, and his nicotine-stained smile. She was suddenly glad for the smell of Gavin’s dispersed insides; it covered up the stench of Heathcote’s disgusting forty-a-day habit. It was a smell she couldn’t stomach, and it always made her gag and relish a shower.
That was the old Odette.
How do you mean?
The new Odette, well, she kills people, serves up her own justice, licks the primal terror from their sweaty flesh, and swims in their hot, sloshing blood.
Really?
Yes, really. Embrace it.
Is this propaganda a permanent fixture? If so, maybe I can perform a lobotomy to get fucking rid.
Ooooh, touchy.
Odette shook her head. She fumbled the door keys in her hand, and then realised she was delaying the inevitable. Her eyes stared at the front door, stared through it, remembering what lay on the other side. She shivered, a little scared. Not only was there a bloodbath waiting beyond, a literal abattoir at the end of the hallway on the other side of that door, but she was the one responsible for it.
You did this.
No, Gavin did this. He didn’t have to cheat on me.
Touché. At least you did something about it, many wouldn’t.
For once, I agree with you.
I knew you would eventually. You’ll come around soon enough.
A slight smile hooked the side of her mouth, and she couldn’t help but giggle. The sound bounced off her small lips, barely audible in the long open space. She plucked a handkerchief from her pocket and holding it to her face, covering
her nostrils and mouth, she hesitantly twisted the door handle.
Odette rushed into her apartment, and slammed the door behind her. She pulled the bolt across, slid the chain in place, and shoved her back to the door. Staring into the gloom of the apartment, the young woman felt the first tendrils of fear creep up her slim back. Removing the handkerchief, and taking a small cautious breath, she realised the metallic smell wasn’t as penetrating as expected. Relieved, she sighed, tucking the handkerchief back in her pocket.
Now, the hard work begins.
She took a small step forward. Odette flicked on the light, waited for her eyes to adjust, and scanned her gaze down the murky hallway. The spine, she thought. She knew she would never refer to this hallway as a body part again, that fond memory came about during a lovey-dovey weekend with Gavin, one of the first in their new home. She wobbled on her feet when she realised something; their unique way of life, the perfect connection, their shared geeky banter that meant nothing to anyone else; all of it was now severely tainted, no, completely ruined, by her boyfriend’s treacherous betrayal.
Much like the majority of the past three years.
Odette sighed, the sudden loss crippling her for a moment. Three long, happy years – practically gone. She found herself staggering a few steps, and leaning on the wall to remain upright. She dropped her handbag to the floor as her chest began to thud, her heart beating against her ribcage with the power of a jackhammer, leaving her short of breath.
Now, now, don’t let him do that to you, she thought. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
You’re stronger than that.
She nodded, and breathed out slowly, fighting the onset of tears.
After a long moment, she composed herself.
Right, back to work.
Once again, she took in the narrow space ahead of her. Miraculously, no blood had found its way into the hallway, spilt, trodden or otherwise. In her mind’s eye, she saw Shay ambling to the bathroom, crossing the hallway to do so, every inch of her toned, supple body dripping with dark, viscous blood. How the carpet was intact and unblemished by red footprints, was beyond Odette.