Of course, she was the one who’d wanted to snap a picture of him performing this very act, so who was the sick one here?
He returned some ten minutes later. This time he was no longer completely nude, wearing a clean pair of briefs probably swiped from John’s dresser. No way this piece of human garbage owned anything remotely clean. It was almost sort of funny. He was too much a prisoner of his twisted sexual appetites to think clearly. So he’d banged one out and put something on to take his dick out of the equation.
“So why doesn’t Lulu want you to do anything to me?”
“She says you’re…” His lips curled in his hesitation, making his distaste for the next word clear. “…special.”
Julie stifled a laugh. This guy was insane. That was a given. Clearly this “Lulu” existed only in his head. But the asshole just as clearly believed she was real. Which was good. Because Lulu was on her side. God knows why. But maybe it was something she could exploit.
Julie smiled. “She’s right. You should listen to her.”
“I always listen to her. That’s why you’re not dead, bitch.”
Julie’s expression sharpened. “Don’t call me that. You think Lulu would like that? She said I’m special. Well, treat me like I am.”
The man frowned. “I…” His jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. Deep lines formed on his brow. He looked frustrated. Probably wasn’t used to getting this kind of attitude from a girl. Women were supposed to tremble in his presence. Or cringe away in disgust if he happened to pass them on the street. He didn’t have the first clue what to do with her. Well, here was another thing she could exploit.
“Hey, asshole. You forget how to talk? You look like you’re having a fucking seizure. And Christ, but you stink. You smell like you’ve been submerged in shit the last ten years. Please go take a fucking shower.” She smiled. “A nice, long one.”
His whole body was shaking. “Don’t. Talk. To. Me. Like. That!”
Julie’s smile never wavered. “Relax, baby. I’m just playing.” She giggled. “Did Lulu tell you why I’m special?”
The man let out a long breath. His hands slowly unclenched. “She said you’re like me on the inside.”
Julie’s smile drooped a little. She thought of her collection of crime-scene photos. Recalled with only a small echo of shame her first impulse upon spying this crazy fuck’s defilement of Karen’s body. Only a few very close friends knew about her secret obsessions and fantasies. And yet…no. She was reading too much into this. Lulu wasn’t real. And this guy wasn’t psychic. Psycho, yeah, no shit, but not psychic.
Still…
Play along.
“She’s right. I’m just like you.”
The man’s expression was somber. “Yes. And that’s why you’re coming with me when I leave.”
Julie shook her head. “What? No…I…”
The man began to smile. “Yes. Lulu says it’s your destiny.”
Julie kept shaking her head. “No.”
The man laughed.
Then he went out of the room, disappearing down the hallway again. He came back a few minutes later with another item pilfered from the Lees’ belongings-a bottle of sleeping pills. He forced a few down her throat and slapped a strip of duct tape over her mouth. She cried and struggled against her bonds a while longer as he puttered about the house gathering things to take with him.
The crash came fast. Her head felt thick. She stopped struggling and closed her eyes. When she woke up again, briefly, she was in the trunk of a car. The space was cramped, more than it should be. She moved around a little, enough to determine she had company in the tight space. The man she had killed was her companion in darkness. She couldn’t see him, but the god-awful stench was proof enough. She began to cry. Mercifully, the swish of tires on pavement soon lulled her mind back into that hazy, gray drugged space, and she fell asleep again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Diary of a Mixed-up Girl blog entry, dated September 10, the previous year
Sometimes I think I really don’t feel human at all. I mean, I KNOW I’m a member of the fucking species. What I really mean is I feel disconnected from humanity. Like I don’t understand the inner workings of a healthy human being’s brain. I guess I’m mostly thinking about emotions. Most people seem to feel things really deeply. Like the love they supposedly feel for the people they care about. That’s something I just don’t get at all. Seriously, I don’t think I could ever love anybody for real, in a romantic way, like you see on TV and the movies. That fairy-tale shit. There’s this guy I just met, right? Really cute. Like cute verging on hot. So I talk to him. I see how he looks at me. He’s into me already. I bet I could make him love me. And it’d be cool ’cause I’d definitely like to fuck him. And maybe when he says he loves me, I’ll say it back, because he’ll want to hear it.
But it won’t be real.
People like to think humans are some kind of elevated creature. Yeah, we’re capable of things beyond the abilities of any other species. We have the ability to reason and figure shit out. But humans also do a lot of ugly things. Read a fucking history book and you’ll see. Genocide. War. Slavery. And it goes deeper than the bigger things like that. Every day, somewhere out there, some crazy fuck is killing somebody else just for kicks. Rape. Murder. Abuse. A fucking pandemic of violence. It doesn’t ever stop and CAN’T ever stop. So when you get right down to it, we’re not really any better than dogs, cats, apes, llamas, lions, wolves, or fucking aardvarks. We’re savage animals, and all this shit about love and whatnot is just that-SHIT. It’s something we’re taught to believe in so the world doesn’t fall apart. Me? I think the world could use a good dose of anarchy. Some fucking chaos. YEAH. I want to run wild in the streets!
I want to break something. Scream and shout. I want to get in my car and go run somebody down. Last night I had a dream I shot my mom in the face.
I don’t love any of you.
Later, bitches. Cold Case Files is on.
4 comments
lord_ruthven: You make me sad.
Mixedupgirclass="underline" It’s pathetic how hard you want me.
lord_ruthven: About as hard as I want a chainsaw enema.
Mixedupgirclass="underline" That can be arranged. God, you’re boring. Stick your head in an oven or suck on a shotgun, okay?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
March 22
Chuck was still gone when Zoe came out of the bathroom, and that was fine with her. She hoped he would be gone a while yet. With any luck she’d be asleep by the time he returned. It would be one less night of fending off awkward advances.
Her hair was wet from the shower and she had a fresh white towel wrapped around her torso. The towel was there to hide the temptation of her body from Chuck. Because he just wouldn’t be able to help himself. He simply couldn’t keep his hands off her when she was sans clothes. But with Chuck still missing in action, the towel could go. She tugged it loose and let it fall to the floor.
Someone knocked on the door.
Chuck.
“Shit.”
The idiot had probably forgotten the key card. She snatched the towel up from the floor and hurriedly wrapped it around her body again as she strode quickly to the door. She’d planned to knock herself out with some Ambien and be asleep by the time he returned. So much for that. Goddammit. She yanked the door open and an epithet froze at the tip of her tongue as she saw who was actually there.
“Emily?”
Her friend smirked. “You look pissed off.”
Zoe sighed. “Sorry. I thought you were Chuck.”
Emily laughed. “That explains the pissed-off part. Can I come in?”
“I was just about to go to bed.”
“Come on. Just for a few minutes. I’m bored.”
Zoe shrugged. “Okay. But just for a few minutes. I really want to get to sleep soon.”