Psycho Inside Me

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  A dull ache replaced the awareness of my nipple. Warmth trickled down to my stomach, seeping into the waistband of my shorts. I’d never bled before. I’d never left anything of myself at the scenes. I couldn’t start that time.

  “Well?” He motioned toward his lap with a jerk of his head.

  I never understood men. Didn’t they know that placing a part of themselves so close to an enraged woman was not the smartest thing to do, if they wanted that piece to stay intact? From some of the girls, I’d heard stories about tricks biting off the heads of the johns’s, well, johnsons because of the abuse. You’d think they’d learn.

  Now or never. I curled my knife up under my wrist as I bent over his lap. His junk lay limply in the crux of his lap, as if pulled out to be relieved. I raised my head up and met his gaze with mine filled with questions.

  He drew his fist back and popped me in the stomach, stars – there they were – bursting in front of my face. He lowered his nose to mine. The growl reached me on an intimate level, scaring the serious crap out of me. “If you can’t make him do what he should, you’re going to die.”

  So it really was me or him and I wasn’t talking about his mediocre junk. How many girls had been unable to turn him on? He liked them young, but why?

  I nodded. What else was I supposed to do, warn him of the impending cutting? He leaned his head back against the window and closed his eyes. I approached his crotch with determination, my grip tightly clenched. I’d make the cop’s problem disappear. Fast.

  Over his shoulder, through the glass, movement caught my attention. Deegan darted between two cars on the far side of the lot, carrying something in his arms.

  “Now!” The cop struck the side of my head with less force but enough to make me grit my teeth.

  I jerked my face to the side, staring at him from the corner of my eyes. Would he treat me the same way if I wasn’t pretending to be a hooker? If he knew my dad was a preacher?

  Deegan appeared behind him, hand up like he wanted me to stall or something. I whimpered. “It’s hot in here. I do better work with the windows down. Is that okay?” I raised my hands, expecting another blow.

  “Sure, kid, but this better work.” He used his elbow to push the automatic window button. Both the driver’s and passenger’s glass rolled down.

  Cooler than I’d like, the breeze ruffled my short hem.

  Deegan ducked and disappeared from my line of sight.

  The cop leaned his head back again, this time half-in and half-out of the window. His eyes closed, he shifted and sighed. “Oh, yeah. This is nice. Now, get going.”

  Suddenly, Deegan was there, wrapping a nylon cord around the cop’s neck, fast like someone tying off a boat. Rope around his throat, the man’s eyes grew wide and he scrabbled at the silky line with his fingers. The rope cut off his ability to cry for help.

  Deegan twisted the rope in his hands, nodding at me to do my job. When I raised my knife, Deegan loosened the rope. The man straightened his neck and clutched at the remaining cord while coughing.

  With a sly flick of my wrist, I ran the knife through the soft penile tissues not once, not twice, but three times and then once through either femoral artery, before the cop knew what hurt more – the near-strangling or the slice-and-dice.

  “Move back, now.” Deegan released one end of the rope and slid it free, wrapping it in his hands. He rounded the car, his steps slow and determined.

  I pushed back, clear over into the passenger seat, against the open window, knife held aloft in front of me, in case he had more blood than any of my other kills. Or in case he went for the gun and got off a shot before he died. Which he would die. I had no doubt.

  He moaned, grabbing between his throat and his lap. Lifting his head, he watched me. His mouth worked, spewing words that had no meaning in the suddenly close air. He lifted his hand toward the radio piece, as he tried focusing his attention on the black square inches from his reach. He tossed his hand again, but this time it only jiggled at his side, under the steering wheel. “Oh, shit.” His eyelids drooped. His head lulled and then dropped completely to his chest.

  From behind me, Deegan placed his fingers on my bare shoulder. “You okay? We need to get out of here. This is an unmarked car for a reason. He might do check-ins but I’m not sure how often. Come on.”

  I worked at the door handle, but couldn’t get it, the lock more complicated than I could handle at that exact moment. Deegan reached in and flipped the lock. Opening the door, Deegan caught me as I half-fell, half-jumped from the confining quarters. I couldn’t catch my breath. A sob wanted out, but I could only breathe hard and fast, my heart close to exploding.

  Deegan stuck his head in the window and scanned the interior. Over his shoulder, he whispered, “Did you leave anything in here?” Then he spotted my still bare breast, he whipped to a standing position. “Is that blood? How did he cut you?” With the edge of his shirt, he reached up and wiped at the dark trail leaking from my nipple down my stomach. The act seemed so normal while so intimate, but I was unable to feel shame or embarrassment. In the seconds after one of our kills, it seemed Deegan knew me – deep into the darkest corners of my soul. If he saw my boob right then, what did I care?

  But the wound made me self-conscious. I covered it with my cupped fist and shifted my feet. “He bit me.” The halter top had ridden up. I pulled it down while keeping myself covered with my fingers.

  “He… Bit you? I…” Deegan looked back into the car, staring at the body. He pulled off his hoody and wrapped it around my shoulders, his arms holding me close. “Come on. We’ll talk about this later.”

  Teeth chattering, I held firm to my spot. “Did you see any of my blood in there?”

  Stronger than me, not to mention larger, Deegan didn’t have to struggle hard to get me to succumb to his will. He pushed and pulled me and I moved, tripping over my own feet. He breathed in sharply and scooped me into his arms, sweeping me away from the scene and further into the protective shadows of the alleys. “I don’t know. Everything’s covered in blood, but I’d say it’s his. I wouldn’t worry about a spot or two of yours. Are you okay? What else did he do?”

  What he was really asking was where else had his mouth been on me. I could feel it in the tension of his arms and the heat from his chest.

  I didn’t answer. I hadn’t done anything I was particularly proud of, but I also had nothing to be ashamed of either.

  Yet the guilt flooded me and, once we returned to the alley where we’d arrived, I pushed from his arms, falling to my knees. Vomiting. And vomiting. I held my hair back, uncaring that the minimal contents of my stomach splashed on the broken slabs of cement and dotted my skin. I hadn’t fixed my top yet, nervous about potential pain and, in complete honesty, I kind of liked the way Deegan avoided looking at it, but at the same time couldn’t keep his eyes away from it.

  Arms holding me from falling into my mess, I used the back of my hand to wipe at my mouth. “With experiencing two of these before, and throwing up each time, you’d think I’d remember to bring mouth wash and some napkins, you know?” My laugh turned into another gag and I curled into the violent throes of my body as it tried expelling the shock and horror of the past twenty minutes or so.

  Holy shit, time flew when trying to kill someone. I shook my head, rocking back on my heels, crossing my arms over my knees. “How did you know?” My stomach rumbled in protest at speaking too soon, but I had to know.

  “About him being a cop?” Deegan knelt beside me, holding out the blue cloth. “He had too many things poking out of the car, like antennae and stuff. I’m surprised you didn’t.”

  Soft, the welcomed cloth hid my face for just a second, but it was a second I couldn’t help but be grateful for. A slow nod and I folded the square in half, then half again. Wiping at my stomach and breast, then covering up what I could with my halter top, I nodded again. “I knew. Just not until I got in the car.”

  “Why didn’t you get out of there?” He plu
cked something from my hair, his fingers lingering a little long.

  “Because…” I couldn’t tell him I thought a dirty cop deserved what this one got more than even Sheldon and Bobby combined. A cop that used his power against others was the biggest bully in the world – and I hated bullies. “I just didn’t, okay?” Standing, I offered him the material back, holding it out at waist level.

  His pointer finger applied gentle pressure to the small notch under my chin, lifting my face to him. With his other hand he traced the tender skin of my face where the cop had imprinted his wants. “Oh, Cassie. You can’t do this again. You keep getting hurt. This time…” Deegan didn’t even try to hide the direction of his gaze as he took in my disheveled appearance – bruises, blood, and all. “Each time more happens. What happens if we do a next time, and —”

  “There has to be a ne—”

  He held up his hand. “If there’s a next time, and you get hurt worse… I don’t know what I would do, okay?”

  The emotion in his words betrayed me. I hunched my shoulders, arms circling my waist, real tears dampening my cheeks. “Stop. Just stop.”

  “What? You need to consider the danger, Cassie.” He brushed at my hair as the breeze picked it up and sent it drifting across my chest. “How much have you been victimized already? Look, these guys get short sentences for hurting people – those that report it. From what my dad says, there are only about ten percent of actual victims that report anything. I agree with what we’re doing. So many pedophiles get a slap on the wrist or a fine and then they get to do more.” His jaw flexed. “It’s important we do this.”

  “Why?” I got why I was so into it. The shame and fear that the men instilled in me had become almost addicting because shortly after they were dead and the power had shifted to me which made it even headier, like a rush one would get jumping from a plane but much more dangerous.

  “I… When I was little, something like this happened to me. My mom had a part-time job and I stayed at a daycare. Let’s just say, they didn’t watch the kids that closely.” He looked at my chin, my hairline, anywhere but at my face.

  For some reason, I hadn’t been forced to speak about the way the men treated me. I couldn’t comprehend the shame that washed over me when I just thought about the acts. How difficult must that admission have been for Deegan? I pressed my hand on his upper arm. “I’m sorry. I get it. This isn’t easy.”

  He shook his head. “It was a long time ago. Every time I’ve met with you and one of these guys has gone down, a small piece of me feels avenged. We can’t stop, not yet. I just don’t want you getting hurt. I can’t handle that you’re touched and injured every time and I don’t know about it until afterwards.” He touched the lobe of my ear with his thumb. “We need a different plan.”

  I slapped his hand away. “No. You. Stop. I can’t take the uncertainty for another year. What is this?”

  He held up his palms. “What is what? I’m concerned about you. I think we need to reconsider what we’re doing.”

  “What are we doing? I didn’t plan on your help. You’ve ignored me this past year. Why? Because I didn’t kiss you when you wanted? Sorry, but just because I’ve been in these situations doesn’t mean I’m a whore and know what I’m doing. I don’t. Okay? I have no idea how to kiss or when to or even how to deal with it when someone tells me to kiss them.” My chest heaved with my gasps. All my hurt and pain from Deegan ignoring me, my mom’s death, and being beaten in a car mixed with the adrenaline from enacting justice left me shaken, cold.

  He looked at the brick wall behind me and then down at our feet. Lowering his hands to his side, he nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Look, I know I wasn’t fair to you, I just… it hurt that you didn’t feel the same way about me that I did about you, alright? No big deal. I’m over it. But you’re right, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.”

  Over it? He was over me. The fact that he’d been under me, or whatever the opposite of over me was, and I hadn’t known it and worked it in my favor made me want to throw up onto the ground again. And then to hear he’s over me… well, needless to say I felt cheated. But my pride rallied. I lifted my chin. “Okay, good. I’m glad.” We stood in awkward silence until a siren wailed in the distance.

  Our gazes clashed and we tensed. I spoke first. “Crap, what do we do?” I wanted to run home, hide, but a bigger part of me wanted to see how they treated the scene. I’d never been into exhibiting or even rehashing each and every event, but I’d also never been so close to the bodies when the cops and paramedics finally decided to show.

  “I hate to say it, but I think we need to split up. Two people are more obvious than one.” His words made sense.

  But terror filled me. “No. Please. Stay with me. We can make it work.” He couldn’t leave me alone at that point. Any other time would’ve been fine. I could’ve killed the cop by myself. I could’ve made it there alone and I could’ve escaped just fine. But right then, the moment when capture had a real taste and feel, I couldn’t do it alone.

  My hands felt heavy and cold like snowballs. I folded my arms and tucked my fingers against my skin.

  His eyes softened. “Okay. But this time, can you try to remember the together part?”

  I opened my mouth to argue. He’d initiated the apart issue, not me. But relief won out that I wouldn’t be alone. Relief and gratitude. He pulled me into the curved part of his arm, up against his side, and we took off down the trail. Side by side. I kept my mouth shut.

  Part of me wondered what Deegan thought about me and my activities. He had always seemed to have pretty straightforward black and white ideas of right and wrong, but it seemed more gray tones since he continued to show up on the anniversary.

  We couldn’t jog joined at the hip like we were. I would only bounce without my sports bra on and I needed a minute to pull myself together. We stopped just at the edge of the tree line separating the city streets from the residential areas. My sports bra slid easily on over my halter. I clipped my knife to the inner lining of the elastic.

  We’d made it. At least for a little bit. Euphoria created a giddiness that spread like melting butter over my nerves. I smiled at Deegan, who watched me with a territorial glint in his eyes. The thought that he considered me his, if only for the night, lightened me even more. I had no guilt, not for a few minutes. Not then. Not when we’d succeeded – again.

  And then reality settled around me like an icy shroud. My mom. I’d forgotten all about her funeral, her absence, her death. I’d been able to push the pain away for the time I’d been on the street, with Deegan and killing Mr. Pervy Patrol. But then…

  Deegan cupped my face in his hands. “What’s the matter? You look like your mom…” His face fell. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I wasn’t thinking. I got caught up in this and forgot the real world.”

  Alarm swelled under my skin. How could I forget? “She… She died. Her funeral was today. I—” Sobs rent my speaking capabilities in two.

  Arms engulfed me. I let out my sorrow in the middle of the woods onto the chest of a guy I quickly decided I couldn’t live without. Releasing my grief with him seemed the most natural thing for me. Like the most normal thing I could do.

  “Cassie, I don’t want you coming this way anymore, okay? I can protect us only so far. Do you understand?” He waited for my nod, then he continued, his voice lower, slower, as if he really wanted – no, needed – me to hear what he was saying… and not saying. “And however I act at school or wherever, you cannot take it personally. The last thing I want is for us to get caught. Trust me. Okay? Everything will work out.”

  He wanted my trust over minor issues when I’d shared things with him my own parents had no idea about. No matter what, I wouldn’t argue on it. But I needed assurances of my own. “Okay. I trust you. But can I join the boxing team at school? Now that my mom’s… gone… Dad won’t be tolerant of the private lessons anymore, you know? He was against it from the beginning. Can you make it happen?”
Like a drug deal or some kind of illegal favor.

  He pushed his lips out as he thought. “Okay, I can do that. Just be ready to deal with a bunch of crap from the guys. You being a chick won’t make things easy for you.” Deegan held up a finger. “I won’t make anything easier for you either. No one can suspect we’re together, okay?”

  Together like “together”? I couldn’t force the question. He might mean it! Or he could just be saying it like we usually meant… Oh, man, the boy confused the crap out of me. What was I supposed to do with that kind of a statement?

  “Cass? Got it?” His furrowed brow questioned my silence.

  I blushed, grateful he couldn’t see me clearly. Lost in thought over his use of the word, I’d missed whatever else he’d said. Rather than further embarrassing myself, I smiled and agreed and pretended to have heard everything. “Sure. Okay, let’s get going.”

  We broke into a loping pace until we reached my street. The run with Deegan had taken me back to the year before when my mom had been alive, when we’d run every day together, when I’d felt safe and secure in our relationship.

  “I don’t want to go back yet...” Back to life where my mom no longer waited.

  He looked down my street, toward my dark house. “Okay, come with me. I don’t want the night to end yet either.”

  “What will we do?” I turned with him toward his street.

  “Let’s go get our tattoos updated. I think this is a year we need to mark big time.” He moved along beside me, keeping pace.

  Too much had happened in the last year. Part of me wished I could go home and pass out. But the part in control ran with Deegan, mindful of the break he offered, the chance to wind down after a tense evening.

  We ran to his house, his car. And I was so glad I didn’t run alone.