Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Untitled II (FICTION)
The meal was amazing, perhaps one of the best I've had in a while. But then again, I can't really remember the last time I had a proper meal. Or perhaps it's just my mood tonight. I'm in a good mood, despite everything. She must have felt it, somehow, too. She doesn't normally make this much food. It doesn't matter, though, I've got business to take care of and she's just getting in the way, now.
We finish eating without exchanging a single word. I'm glad for this peace before the storm; the bitch really knows how to nag. She hands me another beer and washes the dishes. I stare, working out the details of tonight.
She's taking an hour to do the dishes, and I'm beginning to grow impatient. "The dishes will still be here in the morning, " I mutter. "Let's go!". She understands immediately and turns the water off. She goes towards the bedroom and I finish my beer, slowly, savoring every sip. When will I have the chance to have another? I feel a little bad for what I'm going to have to do to her, but I have no other choice. She shouldn't of been poking her nose around where it don't belong. The bitch deserves it.
I make my way back to the bedroom. This will have to be good. After all, it is the last time. With her. She's waiting for me in bed, just as I like it, with no clothes on. I take the blindfolds from my drawer. "Put this on!" I demand. Those eyes - not tonight. I can't look at them anymore tonight. No, I want to remember her just like this, the dirty slut that she really is. Not the angel she maybe once was.
Two-and-a-half hours later and she's fast asleep. She sleeps like a baby after a night like this and that's what I'm counting on. I get up out of bed and get dressed, careful not to forget anything. I take one last glance around the room, and leave. I walk directly towards my car without looking back. If she wakes up, starts asking questions, this won't work. I leave, quietly, and drive away. Far, far away.
She wakes up in the morning to the sound of banging on the door. It's 6:30 am. She hasn't noticed that I've been gone until now. She's confused. She walks to the front door in her sheer nightgown, hardly understanding what's going on.
"Are you Mrs. Cooper?" the cop asks, clearly noticing that she's not armed, but reaching behind his back nonetheless.
"Yes," she stumbles, seeing for the first time the six cops standing behind the first one, all with their weapons drawn.
"You're under arrest...," the first one says, turning her around in one swoop and cuffing her. "...for the murder of Stacey Hawk, Rachel Dole, Angela Smith..." he continues. They're all women, she thinks to herself. Monster!
They put her in the back of the police car, clearly surprised by how easy the catch was. She sits there, with a dumb and maybe a bit sad?, look on her face. Unless she's smarter than she looks, she will have to pay for my crimes.