by Olivia Myers
“Katie, you’re not making any sense…” Wendy murmured, attempting to draw the other woman back into her lap. “It’s alright, I’m not leaving right now—“ she assured her, cut short by Katie’s lips crashing against her own. Katie knew she was being foolish, likely tasted of vomit, but for a moment it felt like Wendy was kissing her back.
“Girls?” Charles repeated, and Wendy scrambled backwards, wiping her lips with the most horrified look Katie had ever witnessed. She opened her mouth to try again, anything to keep Wendy from leaving, but before she could get the words out, Wendy had leveled a glare in her direction.
“What were you thinking!? You’re acting crazy, Katie. I should have known from the start that this was all just a ploy to get in my pants. Ugh. I’m leaving,” Wendy hissed, shoving Katie unceremoniously out of her lap and rising from the bathroom floor and stalking to the exit.
“Wendy, please! You don’t know what he’s going to do to you!” Katie screamed, too panicked to care that the whole restaurant could likely hear her. Wendy stared at her for a long moment before frowning and shaking her head.
“You’re just upset that you’re not the one who’ll get to do it,” she said bitterly, swinging the bathroom door open and stepping out, grabbing Charles by the arm and pulling him away. “Come on, darling. Let’s go. I didn’t realize that mingling with the help could end so poorly,” Katie heard her friend declare haughtily as she walked away. Pain gripped Katie’s heart, soon followed by panic. She leaped to her feet, rushing out of the bathroom just in time to see Wendy slip into a limousine with her ex husband.
“No, no, no!” Katie sputtered, rushing towards the door.
“Hold up, Katie,” Greg, the head of security rumbled, grabbing her gently by the arm. She tried to jerk away, only to have him tighten his grip on her.
“Let go of me, Greg!” she hissed, watching in dismay as the limousine began to pull away.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. The boss says he’s put up with you sleeping with our customers for years, but he has to draw the line at you outright assaulting Miss Walsh,” Greg muttered, pulling Katie along in the direction of the hotel manager’s office. “If you don’t get this sorted out right now, you’re gonna lose your job. You’re lucky the boss is even willing to meet with you.” He released his grip on her arm, and she trailed just behind him, shoulders hunched together. She loved her job, she’d never meant to endanger it. She supposed she just hadn’t realized how much trouble she had been causing. If she lost her job, she’d lose her apartment, would have to move back to Texas, move in with her parents. She’d probably even have to confront her uncle. The thought made her chuckle bitterly, but thoughts of her uncle sent a flash through her mind, though this was not of her own torment. She pictured Wendy, perfect, beautiful Wendy thrown in some smelly dumpster to rot—though not before choking to death on her own blood. Tears pooled in her eyes and as she was guided into the manager’s office, she looked towards her boss, the decision made.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Brickmore?” The hotel manager demanded. Katie looked from Greg to her boss, before turning her back on both, taking several long, purposeful strides towards the door.
“I quit,” she announced, her voice quaking with tears. The men shouted after her as she began to run, sprinting out of the manager’s office and out of the hotel entirely, wondering where on earth she would begin to look for her friend. In spite of the pain it sent lancing through her, she tried to picture Charles’ fantasy, where it had taken place. It looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Then, it struck her. They were in Wendy’s own apartment. She had only been there once, Wendy had been ashamed of how messy she kept it, though the out of place mess had only served to make her more endearing to Katie. It was several blocks away, too far to make the trip by foot. Even worse, traffic seemed to be slowing once more, and even if she could hail a cab, she would be much too slow to make it in time. “On foot it is,” she muttered to herself. She simply hoped she was fast enough to stop the inevitable.
A half hour later, long after she realized that her work shoes weren’t made for running, Katie came to a stop outside Wendy’s apartment complex and scanned the vicinity for Charles’ limo. Spotting it, and concluding that they had likely already made it to Wendy’s apartment, she burst through the front door, rushing towards the elevator. She groaned upon spotting an out of order sign, and bolted for the stairs, taking them two at a time. The aggravated blisters on her feet—a result of walking the whole distance here—sent lances of pain through her with every step she took, but she wouldn’t slow down. She couldn’t. This particular apartment complex was one of the ritziest, and tallest, in the city. Wendy lived on the top floor, claiming the view helped her clear her mind. Katie gasped for breath, leaping up the final step and bursting out of the stairwell. It took her a moment to gather her bearings—the only time she had been here, they had taken the elevator up, and she had been so caught up in staring at Wendy’s butt that she scarcely remembered what direction they had even gone in. She darted down the hall, searching the doors for some sign, some hint that looked vaguely familiar. Her stomach lurched, and she came to an abrupt stop, recognizing the numbers on one of the apartment doors. She reached for the doorknob, hesitating as she heard a deep throaty moan coming from inside.
“Oh… oh god.” She heard Wendy gasp, her voice laced emotion, but otherwise recognizable. She stared at the door for a long moment, taking stock of her situation. If the moans coming from inside were any indication, Wendy seemed to be enjoying herself... immensely. Truth be told, Katie couldn’t count the times she had approached someone with a more depraved desire, and had been turned away with a look of disgust. It was, occasionally, normal to entertain some darker desires. It didn’t mean people always acted on them.
She should have trusted Wendy’s judgment. She had ruined their friendship, lost her job, come all this way… for what?
“Please…” Wendy groaned, the sound having the same effect as a dagger in Katie’s heart. She turned her back to the door, heading back in the direction of the stairs. “Please no. Please, Charles. Don’t do this,” Wendy continued, her voice sounding choked and barely audible. Katie jerked her head towards the door, eyes wide with disbelief. She could have misheard. It was very likely she had misheard in the delirious state she was in. Abandoning all sense of rationality, she threw herself at the door, forcing it open and falling gracelessly into the apartment. Her vision spun, but she could make out Wendy’s nude form, lying prone on the ground. Charles stood over her, the knife he held in his hand glinting in the light that poured in from the hallway.
“Wendy…?” Katie murmured weakly, trying to rise up on her knees. She received a sharp kick to the ribs in response, followed by Wendy’s sobs.
“Stupid bitch. You know too much. I don’t know how, but you know too goddamn much,” Charles growled, kicking Katie in the ribs once more for good measure. Katie heard, felt a resounding crack, and fell face-first to the ground, gasping for air.
“Charles, no! Leave her out of this! I’ll do anything you want, just…” Wendy pleaded, dissolving into heart-wrenching sobs.
“Shut the fuck up. You think you have any choice in what’s gonna happen?” Charles growled, stepping towards Wendy and looming over her, slicing through her navy blue dress. The knife pierced her skin just barely as he sliced, and he moaned in pleasure, leaning down to catch the droplets of blood with his tongue. “First, I’m going to fuck you senseless while your little girlfriend watches. Then I’m gonna slit your pretty little throat. Then, I’ll take care of her.” He shamelessly reached into his pants to stroke himself erect.
“No. Charles, please. If you ever loved me—“ Wendy started, cut short by the wild, crazy laugh she received in return. Charles slid his suit pants down his hips, continuing to tug at his cock.
“Oh, baby. I never loved you. I just thought you’d be a good fuck. Boy, was I wrong. It was like fucking
a corpse,” he meanly chuckled, slowly dragging the knife down her body. She sobbed in pain, and he shifted between her legs, teasing her slit with the tip of the blade. “We’ll see how it compares to the literal fucking of a corpse. Ha!” he spat, tossing the knife aside and lining up to enter her.
Katie fought against her body’s instinct to go unconscious, knowing that if she blacked out, neither she nor Wendy would get out of this alive. Her body screamed in protest as she drew herself up on her knees, struggling to get her legs beneath her. She bit back a gag, tasting blood on the back of her tongue. Fortunately, Charles seemed too absorbed in Wendy to pay Katie much mind. As he thrust into the unwilling woman, he grabbed the knife once more. Wendy screamed in fear, but he simply traced little patterns along Wendy’s once-perfect skin, digging the knife in to permanently mark her.
Katie mused that she could escape now, and at least get out with her own life. She could be selfish. She had done it thousands of times before in her lifetime, though no one’s life had ever been on the line before. Especially not her own. She glanced towards the door, and her mind screamed for her to go, run away. Hell, even her body was screaming for her to leave, to not subject it to any more unnecessary damage. Though Katie was typically one to give into her bodies baser urges, it seemed like her heart would be the one to win this round. With all her might, she launched herself at Charles, locking her arms around him and slamming him to the ground. Wendy screamed, and Charles struggled beneath her, swinging the knife in wild, uncontrolled arcs. She gritted her teeth, reaching out to grab him by the wrist. He swung away at the last moment, cutting a deep gash in the palm of her hand. She groaned in pain, and she could hear Wendy screaming, screaming so loudly.
“Katie! Get out of here! Leave me!” Wendy demanded, however Katie mused that the other woman should have known by then just how stubborn she was. She gritted her teeth, swiping her hand out to try and grab Charles by the wrist again. Her hand was slick with blood, but she managed to get a grip on his sleeve. He would have been able to overpower her in normal circumstances, but fortunately, she had leverage on her side. She twisted his arm until he released the knife with a short cry. The two scrambled to grab the weapon, and Katie managed to cut herself once more before grabbing the handle solidly. She sprung to her feet with an energy that came from pure adrenaline rush, swinging the blade out towards the man. He ducked away, stumbling back in an attempt to get away from the knife wielding woman. For every step he took backwards, she took two forward. In a last ditch effort to get the upper hand, he rushed her, tackling her to the ground. He wrestled her for the knife, keeping her pinned down with the weight of his body. She clutched the knife like a lifeline, even as he pressed a knee into her already broken ribs. She bit back a cry of pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction. He growled gutturally, wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing with all his might. Katie’s vision began to cloud, but adrenaline continued to pump furiously through her veins. She bucked up, bringing a knee up into his crotch and gasping for breath as he rolled away, clutching his groin. Katie took but a moment to catch her breath before scrambling towards him. He scrambled away, rising to his feet—though the pain in his groin had him standing hunched over. He kicked Katie in the face, sending her skidding across the floor and hitting the wall with a solid thump.
Wendy screamed, and he turned his attention to her once more, the knife temporarily forgotten. He lumbered towards her, fully intent upon finishing the job, even if he had to do it with his bare hands.
“Shut your dirty, cunt-sucking mouth!” he hissed, dropping to his knees beside her. She spit in his face as soon as he was near enough, and he roared in anger, covering her mouth with his hand and using his remaining hand to grip her slender throat. Wendy struggled as much as she could with the restraints that bound her, but she soon felt herself growing weaker and weaker as her oxygen supply was cut off. It felt as if he would crush her windpipe at this rate. “Enough foreplay.” He spat, squeezing her throat even tighter. She felt herself choking, vision going black. A sudden scream caused her eyes to shoot open, and she gasped for breath as Charles lurched backwards off of her. Wendy could only watch in shock as a snarling Katie continued to grapple with their attacker.
“You couldn’t leave well enough alone,” Katie bit out, struggling to keep her grip on the man with the blood that covered both of them.
“I was going to say the same of you,” Charles snarled. “She’s mine. She’ll always be mine. You’re just some lovesick kid who doesn’t have a clue!” he bit out, stiffening as he felt a blade press against his throat. “You won’t do it. She won’t let you,” he whispered, looking to Wendy for confirmation. Katie followed his gaze, quirking a brow at the object of her affections.
“Do it!” Wendy gasped, still trying to catch her breath. In a spray of blood, Katie sliced the knife across Charles’ neck, cutting clean through his adam’s apple. He clutched his throat, gurgling helplessly as he dropped to his knees. The irony was not lost on Katie, and she hoped it was not lost on him. He had come in here with the intent to slice his ex-wife’s throat, and had come out with a neat little cut of his own. Adrenaline still flowing through her body, she lurched over to Wendy, slicing clean through her restraints before tossing the knife aside, gathering her friend in her arms. Wendy clutched her desperately, watching as the man she had tried to love slowly drowned in his own blood. He gave a final, sickly gurgle before falling limp on the floor, blood spilling in a puddle all around him. Katie and Wendy both gasped for breath, and after a moment, Katie turned to ask if Wendy was okay. Lips pressing against her own short-circuited any thought she may have had along those lines, though granted, it was probably a stupid question. She tangled a finger in Wendy’s hair, returning the kiss with as much passion as she could muster. Wendy drew away for just a moment to catch her breath, before diving back into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Katie’s neck. As much as Katie wanted to melt into the embrace, she forced herself to pull away, but not before giving Wendy a soft peck on the forehead.
“You said you were the only occupied apartment on this floor, right?” Katie asked weakly, struggling to get her cellphone out of her pocket. “At least neighbors would have called the police,” she grumbled, her hand shaking as she dialed up the emergency services herself. Wendy stared at her ex-husband’s corpse, swallowing thickly.
“If we get out of this okay, we can move wherever you want,” she muttered, trying to cover herself. Katie mused that it was probably a bit late to feel self-conscious, but realized it wasn’t herself that Wendy was obscuring herself from. It was the authorities who would likely soon arrive. Katie quirked a smile, shrugging off her tattered suit jacket and offering it to the other woman. She exchanged a few words with the emergency operator, giving them their location before hanging up, moving to sit at Wendy’s side. Wendy shuddered, eyes still locked on the corpse that lay in the room with them. Belatedly, Katie took a moment to process Wendy’s previous statement. She was unable to bite back a sharp bark of laughter, and wrapped an arm around the other woman, pulling her in closer in an attempt to comfort her.
“If we’re moving anywhere together, you’re gonna have to pay for it. I’m sorta between jobs right now.”
Apparently, Wendy found those terms agreeable enough. Though Katie was in the hospital for around a week, once Wendy was cleared to leave, she would visit her room every day with some periodical filled with apartment listings. At first, Katie thought it was a somewhat awkward attempt to carry on a joke too long. Wendy, however, was entirely serious about the two of them finding a place together.
“Safety in numbers. Besides, someone has to tend to you when you get out of the hospital.” Wendy pointed out. Katie rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue. It was, admittedly, nice to feel somewhat cared for. She would take any affection she could get from her friend, though she was ready to admit they were just that—friends.
The kiss they’d shared went altogether undiscussed, and Katie was q
uick to dismiss it as a heat of the moment sort of thing. It seemed like she was having a lot of those. If Wendy thought anything of the kiss, she never brought it up. She had been in a somewhat difficult situation, Katie reasoned, and the ex hotel worker had essentially served as her knight in shining armor. Perhaps she simply felt obligated to repay Katie with some form of intimacy. All the same, the kiss crossed Katie’s mind every night as she lay down to sleep, and her dreams were filled with blonde haired business women with no sense of social cues.
Once Katie was released from the hospital, Jackie was quick to tell the two that they could stay in her apartment as long as they needed to. Her now live-in boyfriend was kind enough to pay half the rent, and if he held any resentment over it, he never expressed it. The somewhat awkward thing was the fact that Katie and Wendy would have to share a room, and by association, a bed. Katie had tried to do the noble thing and suggest that she take the floor. Wendy, however, was having none of it. After all, though it went unsaid, it was perfectly natural for friends to share a bed from time to time. It was even normal, Katie reasoned, for Wendy to curl up right next to her at night, nuzzling her face against her shoulder.
It was normal for Katie to sleep in, at least, since what they collectively referred to as the incident. Though she was certainly looking for work, she was still nursing injuries too serious to do any particularly labor intensive jobs. With no job, she felt no need to wake up at the crack of dawn every morning. Besides, she enjoyed lying in bed with Wendy for as long as she could prolong it.
She awoke to find Wendy mysteriously absent from their shared bed, and after several long moments of melodramatically rolling around in bed and groaning, she got out of bed, lumbering through the house to get a cup of coffee.