by A. E. D
“Done what?” I ask from my position in her neck. Marking her skin and tainting her with my darkness.
“Been with a girl before or..or anyone before.” I still. She’s a virgin? I growl as my demon breaks through my control. I bite her neck as my hands come up her sides grabbing her waist in a painful grip, afraid that she’ll realize who’s lap she’s on and run away at any minute.
“I’ll take good care of you.” I don’t fully lie. I will take care of her and her needs, it’s just little does she know I’m going to break her, steal her light. This darkness inside me that feeds off others purity. I was punished for my innocence and now the darkness craves to take others.
✧✧✧
Three hours later, I lay naked on my bed with my sheets draped across my naked waist. Turning my head, I look at the blonde girl in my bed. Laying on her side facing me, her hair sticks to her sweaty forehead. Without a second thought I lean over and shake her awake. She’s not long passed out before she stirs awake.
“Time to go.” Her eyes crack open as she leans up on her elbow, slowly rubbing her eyes.
“Oh, okay. C..can I have your number? I don’t even know your name.” She blushes hard and looks down embarrassed.
“No. Get dressed and leave.” She’s sits up fully now, clutching the sheet to her naked chest. Tears start to line the edges of her eyes as her mouth opens and closes at a loss for words.
Realization sets in that she’s been used. Her purity and innocence taken by someone without a soul, a monster. She silently gets dressed and heads for the door. Tears streaming down her face now as she takes one last look at my bored expressionless face before continuing on. I know if I was a normal person, I would feel horrible about taking something so special from her and kicking her out afterwards but I don’t. I had my purity and innocence ripped from me. I never had the chance to experience life like people like her do. That’s why I destroy them that way, taking from them what I never had. Trying to fill the need inside of me that yearns to be innocent, yearns to experience a carefree life like that.
When I hear the front door slam shut, it almost immediately opens again.
Did she forget something?
Looking around I can’t see anything of hers so what is she doing.
“Why do they always cry when they leave?” Keenan's voice makes me jump in the dark. I was expecting to hear her squeaky little mouse voice not Keenan’s deepening young one. Pulling the sheet up over my bare chest I sit up, seeing him more clearly now that my eyes have adjusted to the dark.
“What are you doing here, Keenan?” Instead of answering, he walks over to the empty side of the bed before laying down on the spare pillow.
“It smells like sex in here.” He snickers. I’m glad the room is dark or else this little shit would see me fighting off a smile. Sometimes he just says these one liners that surprise me so much that I can’t help but laugh. I lean over the side of the bed to grab my thong off the floor where it was tossed in my haste to get that girl in my bed. After slipping the thong on I reach over towards the front of the bed on all fours to grab my pyjama top laying over the top of the ottoman. I feel slight movement from the bed behind me and I don’t need to turn around to see what he’s about to do.
“Don’t think about it, Keenan.” He huffs before I feel his weight hit the bed like a sack of potatoes.
“Your ass was right in front of my face, Lake. Why can’t I smack it?”
“Why can’t I break your hand?” I question back. Even in the dark I can see his eyes roll before his mouth starts silently mimicking me.
Fixing my top, I lay back down, leaving the sheets bundled around my waist. There’s no need to cover my breasts now that my shirt is on. We lay in silence as the time ticks by. I almost thought he was asleep until he spoke again. Only this time the playfulness in his voice was gone.
“Why do they cry?” Sighing, I turn to face him knowing he won’t drop this. It’s the question I’ve been waiting months to hear. Every morning after I have my one-night stands, Keenan will look like he wants to ask a question but never goes through with it. I guess he finally built up the courage.
“Those girls are sensitive.” It’s not a complete lie. All the girls I’ve brought to my bed have been sweet little docile creatures. Unaware of the monster they laid with.
“It’s not just the girls who cry, Lake. The men cry too.” I could hear the hostility in his voice. I was too shocked to compose myself before I answered.
“I didn't know they did.” I said in a small voice that sounded so foreign to my ears. I hear him breathe in deep before rolling over, effectively trapping me in a hug.
“I’m sorry I sounded mean. I didn’t mean to sound like that. I just wanted to know what you did..do, to make grown men cry. I get the women because they all seem like the same uhh..quiet type?” He questioned but I knew what he meant.
“I don’t really have that much of an answer for you. I didn’t know the men cried. Maybe they weren’t tough enough to handle rejection. I got what I wanted from them and that was it. I didn’t need them to stay any longer than they needed to.” He seems to mull over my answer before speaking.
“You know, if you ever needed someone to fu-”
“KEENAN!” I push his big lug of a body off mine in repulsion. He’s always doing this shit, ruining moments! He laughs before giving me a quick peck on the head before rolling over, facing his back towards me. I guess we’re having a sleepover. He always seems to do this when he worries about me the most. He’ll just barge his way into my place without asking, clearly just wanting to be the big brother type and look out for me. I don’t mind really, it helps me keep an eye on him easier.
We lay there in silence for a while before Keenan’s breathing becomes soft and shallow. Since he’s already asleep I might as well close my eyes and cherish the day’s events. Although Keenan meant well, those feelings he tries to make me feel only do me more harm. After every birthday that Keenan makes me celebrate, I end up either fucking some random stranger to forget or doing another job. Just something that gets my adrenaline pumping.
Soon the darkness of the night takes over and I fall into a comfortable sleep.
Chapter Seven
*Beep*
*Beep*
*Beep*
“Ugh..”
The incessant sound of my phone going off woke me from my much-needed slumber. The place where my demons and I go to rest. The one place that we can truly be ourselves. No laws to hold us back, no judgement on the way we conduct our business, no nothing. Just the darkness that feeds my soul.
“Yes.” I speak sternly through the phone.
“Number?” My patience is wearing thin. A regular client finds it amusing to test my patience. Something I have little of.
“When?” I calmly say. The calmer I am, the deadlier I become. I hear his breath hitch as he notices the change of tone.
I end the call.
My next job has been delivered. The man whose call I just took has hired me many times before. Our first dealings together did not go well. Working amongst mobsters, gangsters and kingpins will always have their struggle. But worse if you’re a woman. The moment Joe Morelli met me, he made his first mistake. Which was doubting me. The second mistake he made was touching me. Men like that think they have the power to do what they please with anyone, especially women. But he learnt that day not to ever treat me as such. For I am not the same, I am something else. I do not love like they do, I do not cry like they do, I do not need men the way they do.
I set off in collecting my supplies.
Knives... check.
Hooks... check.
Gloves and suit... check.
I pull on my latex catsuit and zip up the back. Next are my latex heeled boots that stop just before my knee. The only skin exposed are my hands and face. I pull my hair back into its signature ponytail and proceed to pull on my black latex gloves all the way up to my elbow. With a scan of my closet, I find what I
’m looking for. My silver mirrored mask sunglasses. It’s like wearing a pair of ski goggles except they’re not as bulky. Perfect for the job. With the reflective mirror lenses, I can see out but others can’t see in. No hint of what my eyes look like, not even my eyebrows. All anyone will ever see are my lips, chin, cheeks and hair. That’s all they get. For the amount they pay me to do each job, it shouldn’t matter what I look like anyways.
I grab my duffle bag that consists of my knives, D style meat hooks, syringes and anything else I might need for the job. You never know what can happen with the crowd I work with. I could get there and the man who hired me could change his mind and want his prisoner killed instead of being left alive after I’m finished my job.
Once my bag is packed and double checked that I have everything I need in it, I sling it across my chest and head to my snake room, or the pit as I call it. The room that houses some of the deadliest snakes in the world.
The man who just called me, Joe Morelli, ordered a number one. Rules apply when you work with me. Three numbers; One, Three and Five, which each measure the lengths I need to go to. Joe ordered a one for tonight, meaning he wants the person I’m extracting information from to die afterwards. Three means my employer doesn’t care if they live or die and five means they get to live after the interrogation.
Which is such a shame.
Entering in my twelve-digit code, the green light flashes with a beep above the keypad, successfully unlocking the door. Entering into the temperature-controlled room, I head straight for the snake I know will work wonders on the poor unfortunate soul I’m about to kill tonight.
“There’s my baby.” I say spotting the snake I need in one of thirty glass tanks that line the edge of the back wall that are filled with my beautiful obsessions. Zeroing in on the tank in the middle, I reach in, grabbing my secret weapon for tonight. The snake coils around my forearm after striking twice at my hand before he stills. Next I walk over to the left side of the room where two clear glass door fridges stand that hold antidotes for each one of my snakes' deadly bites. If I’m being hired for a one, I often bring one of my snakes because I’ve found a lot of men in the criminal underworld, although are killers themselves, are terrified of snakes. They could take on other mobsters with no fear but once they see the snake in my hands their foreheads start to sweat. I find it so amusing. Bringing the antidotes even though I’ve been contracted to kill is merely an indulgence of mine. These rats, as they’re branded, think just because they see the antidote, that means they’ll be all good after I’m finished with them. But they couldn’t be more wrong. It’s for my pleasure only. There’s nothing better than watching the light go out in someone's eyes before they even take their last breath.
I was taught to enjoy the fading light, taught to cherish in the moment when someone takes their last breath. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I want to sometimes when I watch strangers on the street living in a world they don’t truly know. I watch as the female barista behind the counter at a coffee shop has no idea the man she’s flirting with rapes women for fun before he sells them to his sex slave buddies. Or the man who greedily flirts with the blonde woman with the fake breasts and the diamonds adorning her ears, neck and wrist, is married to one of America’s most wanted mafia leaders. He has no idea that death is a mere second away if that woman were to tell her husband or her guards do. People don’t know the dangers that lurk among us every single day. Women in the park don’t see the way men look at their daughters as they walk by. They don’t realize that a week later when their child goes missing from the same park that the man she smiled at as he passed by was the one who took her daughter. I didn’t know the dangers until I left my past behind. I had no idea that the one man I was supposed to trust, was the one that turned me into what everyone should fear.
A monster.
I never got the freedom to do what I wanted. I never got the freedom to simply walk down the street and smile because the sun was shining down on my face. No, the only freedom I got was to know who people actually are. Even though I was raised by a monster, he taught me to detect other monsters. To know who they are, what they are, what they do and what they want. He taught me to read monsters because I read him. It was the only way I could survive my childhood. To read the biggest monster I knew.
My father.
After locking up my apartment and making sure Congo didn’t slither into the pit while I was there, even though it would be incredibly hard to miss him, I headed to Keenan’s. He wasn’t beside me when I woke up and I just need to check on him. I don’t like when he comes and stays with me because I always feel guilty for leaving him the next day to go to work. He always appears chill and relaxed but some days he gets so worked up and anxious around me, like he doesn’t want me to leave the apartment. When that happens, he usually sleeps over and makes sure I stay with him the whole day but today he didn't. So it’s strange for me not to see his young face drooling all over my expensive pillows.
When he didn’t answer I had to stop myself from breaking the door down. He always hears me. Two, three, four breaths and I decide to walk in. Fear clouds my mind as different scenarios play through my head. We both have each other's security codes, so I open the door after being granted access and pull the door open with a little more force than necessary. The layout of his apartment is similar to mine, except for the furnishings. The kitchen is empty besides the freshly crumpled In-N-Out takeout bag on the benchtop. I’m about to turn around when an arm comes out, touching my arm. On instinct my body shifts, quickly grabbing the assailant by the throat with one arm pushing them against the nearest wall while the other hand reaches for one of my concealed knives strapped to my thigh.
“L..Lake?” Keenan's strangled voice reaches my ear, clearing away the cloud of darkness that quickly took over me. His hand is tapping my arm as quick as his heartbeat that I can feel from the grip around his throat. Gasping, I quickly jump back letting his throat go immediately. Clenching my fists hard enough that the bone could pierce the knuckle, I try to calm myself down from the pure fear that’s running through my veins. I could have killed him.
“Lake? Open your eyes, I’m okay. Look!” I didn’t realize I had closed them or that they were shut so tightly.
“Lake, look at me, please I’m okay.” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the purple finger marks that I knew would be around his throat. His voice was raspy and already making my chest hurt in regret.
Opening my watery eyes, I grab my duffle bag that had fallen to the ground and run to the door. He let me go without protest, knowing he couldn’t help me from myself.
Chapter Eight
The wind whipped my face as I flew through the city. I was using mother nature to punish me from almost killing the one person that has grounded me since I got here.
Car horns pierce my ears as I weaved through New York’s congested traffic. The sleek machine between my legs roars to life as I hit the open road. My black KTM 450 SF-X dirt bike, that’s reaches top speeds of 123 mpa, can take me to my destination in minutes. But this time it doesn’t. I momentarily lose control of my bike before gaining control of it again when I felt wetness on my face. It wasn’t the rain that made me panic. It was the realization that tears were streaming down my face.
In all my years of living I’ve never remembered crying out of sadness. I know I’m crying for Keenan because my heart hasn’t stopped its rapid beating since I ran out of his apartment. My grip on the bike loosened as I realized I was crying. The one emotion I never knew I could do unless I was hurt and bleeding. But even then, the tears don’t come anymore. My body and mind have been conditioned to not feel pain since the age of six.
The rumbling of the thunder clouds above my head mixed with the echoing sound of my bike as I pulled into one of the side alleys. Getting off the bike like it’s burnt me, I fall to the ground, heaving sobs of sorrow that I can’t keep in escape my mouth. I can still feel Keenan’s warm neck burning my hands as my f
ingers clench tight, pounding the ground from the recent memory. My body vibrates as I struggle to draw air into my lungs.
Many years ago, I accepted the fact that I was a monster. I never had a problem with hurting people to get what I want or what I was asked to do. I never had a problem with the fact that I could never be normal. I never act the way everyone else does and I was fine with that. I was fine with being a monster that could kill anyone within a second.
Until tonight.
Until I saw Keenan's life flash before my eyes. Until I heard his coarse voice plead for his life while my hands tightened their hold. I could justify it and say that he scared me but I know the truth. It’s my PTSD that makes me react the only way I know how. To kill first, ask questions later. But I could never do that to him. That’s why I never wanted to get close to him because I knew that I had the ability to kill him instantly without a second of hesitation, but he never listened. That ten-year-old kid never listened to me when I told him to go away, when I told him that if he hung around me he would die.
But he didn’t.
He never listened to me. Now he’s at home struggling to breathe right after I almost crushed his windpipe.
Hurling my last bit of dinner on the ground, I wipe my mouth, almost forgetting the snake curled around my wrist. After dusting myself off and making sure my appearance is presentable again, I climb back on my bike before starting it up and pulling back out onto the busy streets of New York.
“Please.. daddy... stop.”
“I.. can’t...breathe.” My father tightened his grip around my throat as I begged for him to stop. My voice could no longer escape my mouth as my body started to panic. Legs thrashing around as my little hands clawed at his large ones. The dead look in his eyes stopped me from fighting but my body continued. My body's instinct was to not die and that’s why it continued to fight. But my mind knew to stop. His eyes told me if I wanted to breathe again I would have to stop. When my head started to feel dizzy, I knew I didn’t have long before I couldn’t breathe anymore. I didn’t know what would happen but I knew it wouldn’t be good. I’ve seen this look on my father's face before when he hits my mum. Fighting against every fiber of my being, I stopped fighting against him. When my vision clouded and black dots rapidly appeared, only then did he let go.