by Lily White
I wasn’t even sure if she was completely dead, but fucking an ice cold cunt wasn’t exactly high up there on my list of things to do before I died, so I opted to use my knife on her instead.
I destroyed her with it, and I couldn’t help myself…I had to bite her as I slipped it inside, fucked her with my makeshift dildo, my knife.
I left it sticking out of her and bit down, grabbed myself and began to jerk off vigorously over Pet’s cooling form. I almost reached completion when something occurred to me.
I couldn’t leave DNA at the scene of the crime.
Not that I’d given much thought before that and there was probably more than enough present to convict me if I was ever found, but spunking on her body would probably push them into giving me a death sentence.
And if anyone was in control of my death, it was me and me alone. I would choose when and where it happened.
I released a long frustrated grunt, tore into her flesh and pulled the knife free, leaving my unreleased, pent up rage unspent and swirling around somewhere in the back of my mind.
I cut off a piece of Pet and stood up, slid the knife back in the sheath in my pants, pocketed the nipple and zipped myself up.
I had work to do, many miles before I rest and all that.
I would enjoy the fruits of my labor later in the comfort of my own home, until then I would clean up the scene and leave enough evidence to convince the FBI that Agent Blake and Pet had been the Cascades Killer, Agent Chase had discovered their devious murder spree, and had been killed as a result.
I was going to be off the hook, cleared of all charges, and everyone could stand down from the red alert in their brains. I would go back to being that charming nice rich kid, the douche with a charming smile and trust fund that allowed him to be charitable and kind.
I paused as I began cleaning the scene and inhaled deeply. The scent of pine mixed with blood and shit wafted up towards me, mingling in fragrant waste.
I felt alive again, as if my time with Pet had dulled my senses. I heard birdsong and the sound of a distant creek babbling along rocks. The trees were greener than normal and the sky a brighter blue.
I was no longer living the great love story I’d envisioned, I was no longer part of a couple…Jude and Veronica. It was my story now.
I was back to being me, alone, the lone wolf. I was back to taking that next step on the evolutionary ladder and saying fuck it every time my parents pressured me to reproduce. Let the other Hollisters spread out and slowly take over the country, I had habits to return to and women to kill.
Besides, after fucking my half-sister, I doubted my parents would pressure me to shack up with anyone at this point.
I got back to work cleaning up the bodies. Blake disgusted me in death, but Pet was returned to the way I’d envisioned her that first time in The Waffle House. She was noble and elegant, a beautiful baby girl, my perfect match.
It really was a tragedy that I only found perfection in death. That I could only truly fall in love with dead girls.
I carried them to the back of my Range Rover, pulled out a length of plastic wrap, rolled each of them in it carefully and loaded them inside.
Other than that, there wasn’t much at the scene that would indicate their murders once I lit it all on fire.
I dragged Chase’s body around the back of the FBI SUV, propped her up against the bumper and opened the rear door. I found a small gas can in there, Blake had been more than paranoid about winding up stuck and out of fuel on the mountains here. It had come in handy to my advantage in the end.
I poured it on Agent Chase and trailed it towards the scene of the murders not too far off.
I tossed the gas can against Chase’s body and stood back admiring my handiwork. I would walk away from this, I could feel it in my marrow.
I pulled out my lighter, lit a small dry branch on fire, and flicked it at Chase’s body. The spark didn’t catch at first and I exhaled slowly, annoyed that I might have to try again, but with a small woof sound, it finally took.
Flames licked up her body and grew bolder with each passing moment. They gained strength and shot along the gasoline trail I’d left, consuming evidence and obscuring the scene of my crimes.
I smiled as the fire roared, obliterating Agent Chase’s body and eventually the SUV.
As I got into my car and pulled away, I was rocked by a small explosion. The fire must have hit the fuel tank and I’d left the scene just in time.
I drove back towards the city, taking my time to enjoy the soft afterglow of the murders and the arson. It felt good to be me again, singular in my thoughts and alone in my actions.
Halfway back home I stopped at a rest stop along the highway and parked for a while. It was the only one that didn’t have a working camera, so I could dispose of a couple bodies without too much fuss. The underbrush was extremely dense here, and it was unpopulated. Wildlife and the elements would have them scattered within no time at all.
The parking lot cleared and I backed my Range Rover up to the farthest spot against the woods. I waited until the sun dipped behind the horizon and the couple of buzzing sodium lights flickered on near the front, by the building housing the washroom and a couple vending machines.
I was alone, it was getting dark, and I could do this and be home in time for a meal and some sexual release.
I opened the rear door and dragged them out, one by one. I pulled them into the woods quite a distance, the plastic sheet acting as a kind of sleigh. It got caught a couple times on branches, but I pulled it free.
Finally when I was certain I was far enough in, I unrolled each of them carefully, stripped them naked, and wrapped their clothes in the plastic I’d used to cover their bodies.
In death they both looked so peaceful, so perfect.
Even Agent Blake looked beautiful in the dusk, his nude body vulnerable and exposed, his cock finally flaccid as the blood had been pulled by gravity, drained to his backside.
I almost felt like kissing him just then, even though I’d never had any homosexual tendencies, death seemed to be the great leveler after all. He was simply a perfect corpse, forever captured in this state of beauty by my handiwork.
He’d become my art, and I felt love surge through my body for him.
And Pet, delicate, perfect Pet. My younger sister.
It was strange, in life I hadn’t seen any resemblance to the Hollister side of her equation, but in death she’d achieved what she’d sought in life. The mark of sophistication, elegant genetics and superior breeding.
I glanced at her stomach and caught a slight swell there, she hadn’t been dead long enough to be bloating, so she must have been telling the truth after all.
She was carrying my child.
Our child.
And now both of them were dead and preserved for all eternity, perfect, silent, and forever mine.
My heart almost ached for them, the three of them, there in the dark.
If I had a heart, it would have surely swelled so full of love it would have burst at the scene laid out before me.
But I didn’t, and I had things to do, so I took my leave. I reached into my pocket before I exited the forest and felt for Pet’s nipple though, it was there where I’d left it.
My trophy, the only thing I wanted from my fantasy family. The alternate ending to my story.
I inhaled deeply and climbed into my car, revved the engine and sped off down the highway. Each mile brought an added sense of lightness as the burdens of my love for Pet were lifted and I left her behind.
I was a singular creature after all.
And it was better that way.
14 Jude, of course
It surprised me how quickly I fell back into my routine.
Work all week, with the news of Agent Chase’s burned out SUV being the talk of the office.
People who had refused to speak to me when I’d returned on Monday were laughing like nothing had happened by Thursday.
The media
did all the work for me. There were multiple rumors of Pet and Agent Blake sightings around the US and the world.
The speculation was that Pet and Blake had orchestrated the entire thing all along, and had tried to frame me. When Emily Chase had discovered their terrible secret, they had murdered her and taken off together, knowing they couldn’t touch a man like myself.
I spent Friday night partying it up with Lucky, Ton Ton and Marcy, just like old times. It didn’t matter that Marcus was a married man or that I’d missed his wedding, being in jail and all. It only mattered that we were four rich white dudes out on the town looking to fuck.
And I needed to fuck. Jerking off hadn’t cut it at all, not after what I’d witnessed in the mountains. Not after what I’d done.
I woke sometimes and swore I could still feel hot blood pouring down the front of me, gushing from Pet or Blake, it didn’t matter…all that mattered was the blood, the hot, thick blood.
“What’s gotten into you, man?” Marcus asked, yelling over the steady bass beat of the club sound system. “You’re distracted and all over the place. Did prison rape not agree with you?”
Tony and Luka bellowed with laughter and I flashed them an agreeable grin.
“Just looking to get laid, is all. I got dumped while behind bars and haven’t had much time to get my dick wet since then.”
“Well shit, son, why didn’t you say something? We’ll hook you up tonight,” Marcus yelled, instantly scanning the club for drunk women.
Marriage hadn’t changed him much, but he was affecting more of a fatherly air these days, like he was so much more mature than me or something because of the wedding band on his finger.
I imagined the look on his face as I slashed his carotid artery and jerked off in the spray of blood, but mentally shook the thought out of my mind.
I couldn’t let myself go there, not when I was determined to be normal for a little while, until everyone cooled their jets over the CK case and I was free and clear for certain.
“You know me, I’m just the shy and quiet type,” I laughed and they howled like a pack of monkeys, but the three of them went straight to work. Within five minutes our table was filled with beautiful young women, all of them either drinking or already drunk, and I was in my element.
Not hunting, I swore I wouldn’t do that now, but feeling almost normal. For just a night, nearly normal.
I chatted up a young financial advisor named Nikki for a while. She was good looking in the conventional sense, somebody I could take home to my parents and she wouldn’t embarrass me by being crass…or my sister.
I stood to go to the bathroom and she stood with me, her blonde hair hanging in her eyes, giving her an almost feral look.
She was drunk. But not sloppy drunk.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
“I’ll come with you,” she replied and drew her tongue across her lips in a way that let me know my cock would be down her throat in the time it took me to take a piss and turn around in the bathroom.
She was dirty, and although I was horny, it didn’t turn me on as much as one might expect. I liked to be in charge, I didn’t want a woman who thought their sexuality was power and all that.
Then again, I really wanted my cock sucked, so I gave her a nod and took her hand. She followed behind me looking smug and satisfied to have landed such a specimen as me. I was a catch, on paper I was the one women wanted.
Let’s face it, I was physically very attractive, thick black hair, the scruff of a beard when I felt like roughing it at times, I worked out so my body was, for lack of a better word, banging.
I was ripped, rich, and impeccably dressed. No doubt Nikki suffered from the delusion that a skanky bathroom stall hook up would magically lead to marriage and children and a life of luxury.
I’d seen her eyes light up when she heard the Hollister name. Not many people in Portland didn’t know our family, and everyone who recognized me knew we were loaded.
“I don’t usually do this,” she laughed, breathless and flushed with excitement.
Flushed. In the toilet.
I chuckled.
“What?” she simpered. “Are you laughing at me.”
“Not at all,” I replied, dragged her into the stall with me and slammed the door shut. I unzipped, pissed and turned to her when I was done. “You gonna give it a shake?”
“It’s huge,” she said, her eyes widening as she looked down. “But I love a challenge.”
She dropped to her knees and began to stroke, but not much happened. I braced myself against the walls of the stall and closed my eyes, imagining Pet’s mouth and hands on me, but my cock still hung, useless and soft.
“It happens to everyone,” she said, pulling her mouth off me. “You probably just had too much to drink.”
I smiled wanly and looked down at her. I narrowed my eyes and exhaled slowly. How could I tell her that what my cock needed was fresh blood, arterial spray, a death rattle and a torn nipple between my teeth as I slammed into a dying woman.
I couldn’t, obviously.
“It doesn’t happen to me,” I growled and grabbed her hair, twisted it and shoved her face back against my pelvis. She whimpered but opened up and took me again.
Her discomfort made it stir, and her pain got him hard.
I don’t even know fully what I did to that girl in the stall, but I realized I needed more than a drunken whore to get me off.
I needed her fear to draw me out and I needed her animal noises as she gagged and choked on me to make me come. I was beyond hope at that point. I was beyond normal. I would never even be nearly normal again.
I needed so much, but she was lucky. I came before I had to kill her, I flooded her mouth with my hot spunk and held her head tight against my hand as she gurgled and tried to breathe. The whites of her eyes showed as she rolled them around, my cum spilled out on either side of her mouth, down her face, and it was a fucking glorious site.
“Oh yeah, that was good…you’re a good girl,” I said and relaxed my grip, released my hand and loosened her bonds. She didn’t react right away though, she made eye contact with my cock still in her mouth, her mascara blackening her gaze as it mixed with tears.
But I saw something there that caused me to feel that familiar red rage rising up in the back of my head.
I saw power. I saw defiance. I saw smug satisfaction.
She had enjoyed it, and that pissed me off.
I pulled my hand back and punched her once, fast and hard, right in the eye.
She screamed and fell away, I put my cock back in my pants and opened the stall door.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I told her and bent to help her up. “You don’t fucking look at me after I’ve had my way with you. Don’t ever look at me.”
“Yes, Jude,” she said, her nose filled with snot and her eye already beginning to swell.
“Now fuck off, go find your friends and tell no one what happened here. If I find out you’ve told anyone, I’ll fucking kill you. And I mean it. I will kill you.”
“Okay,” she said and scrambled away from me. Two guys at the urinals turned to look at me as I strode out, but I didn’t bother looking at them. They were meaningless to me.
As I stepped out of the bathroom I was surprised to find Nikki waiting for me.
“Can I text you?” she asked and I stared at her for a long minute.
I weighed my options carefully and decided that she might come in handy in the future. I could envision her covering for me, offering an alibi when needed, attending social functions with me so I didn’t stand out as that thirty something loner everybody began to mistrust after a while.
“I’ll text you. When I need you.”
“Marcus has my number,” she called after me as I walked away.
I wouldn’t kill her, but I could use her. It interested me, this new girl.
Perhaps another Pet would take the sting off the old one being such a disappointment.
Perh
aps this time around I could really fall in love.
And be more than nearly normal.
The possibilities were endless.
15 Patty Wilson
Patty rolled on her cramped bunk and tried to get comfortable. For the first time in a long time she’d woken up in the midst of a nightmare.
Something about the Cascades Killer, the face of that man who had taken her. The news had flashed a story last night that had almost knocked Patty off her plastic chair. The FBI agent who had interviewed her, the woman, was dead and the FBI man was gone.
But more importantly the FBI man was gone with that evil woman who had forced Patty to murder that poor girl. They had run away together. Or so it seemed.
It didn’t matter though, whether it was true or not, all Patty’s memories come back, especially the part about her captor being let off the hook. They’d shown his face, smug and sophisticated as he’d looked into the camera and said something about trusting the legal system and never losing faith.
Patty had shivered at his face, those cold, icy eyes that seemed to lock onto her through the television screen.
And for the first time in weeks she was grateful to be in jail. At least he couldn’t get to her here. As long as she was behind bars, Jude wouldn’t have access to murder her like he’d wanted to the entire time he’d had her.
She’d seen it in his eyes. She’d known it then. The only reason she survived his capture was simply through fate. She wouldn’t get a second chance to escape him, so why bother trying?
Patty moved again, trying desperately to get comfortable enough to catch another hour of sleep before the morning began, but the nightmare still clung to her, fear soaking her like gasoline.
“Shut the fuck up,” her cell mate, Christine, grumbled from the bottom bunk. “Don’t make me come up there, sweetheart. Or is that what you’re after? A little morning nookie?”
Patty froze and breathed shallow breaths until Christine began to snore again.
Christine meant it. She would drag Patty down to her bunk and force Patty’s face between her thighs until she was satisfied. Patty didn’t think she could handle another round of it, the big woman’s stink clung to her face for days after each time.