She woke up groggy, with pain lancing through her body. She tried to think, to form any kind of though, but her mind wouldn't jog. It felt thick and foggy. She tried to look around, but it was so dark, her eyes strained hard though tears and swelling burned equally with weight pushing in her sockets. Trying to move she found herself bound tight. The pressure of moving against what was holding her caused new blazing pain in her wrists and ankles. Sobbing she slumped in her chair, her mouth cinched tightly with a rag that reeked of gasoline. It was tied so tightly, as were her other bindings, that it felt like it was slicing into her soft skin. It was at that point, wind leaving her, that she faded back into unconsciousness. Slipping seamlessly into the pitch that she already sat in.
She came back around to lucidity with the flicker of a light. The soft glow in the hellish blackness gave her sore and battered eyes a focal point. The light flickered and popped and snapped out when she realized tow things. Number one it was a lighter producing the ambient light, and more terrifyingly number two, she was not alone. Panting heavily in unbridled fear her eyes darted around in the dark, eventually falling on a glowing pinprick of orange ember. The lit tip of a cigarette. She sat whimpering, shaking uncontrollably, her mind now racing through terrible thoughts and realizations. She watched the cigarette move up and down as if the person on the other end was taking long deep drags off of it, but it moved no closer, not farther away. Whomever this was, they were content to sit silently in the dark with her right now. As the cigarette glowed ominously, her mind slipped inevitably to how she ended up in this chair, in the suffocating dark.
She could come up with nothing. She remembered being out with her friends, celebrating the end of finals, and the beginning of her summer break from college. Calling it a night fairly early by her usual standards, she was driving the next day early in the morning to her parents house across the country to surprise them. They wouldn't be expecting her until later on into the break. Her friends protested her leaving the bar early, but she waved them off stating her need to pack her car and get an early start to the next day. She remembered leaving the bar, but couldn't piece together anything else. Then dread washed over her with a grim realization. She would not be missed. Her friends would be thinking she left early in the morning, and because she was going to surprise her parents they wouldn't be expecting to hear from her, or more importantly, not hear from her. Anguish ripped at her in this moment. She cried, tears hot on her cheeks at the thought that she was missing, and no one knew. Living off campus she often came and went as she pleased, no on would be able to check her apartment from school, because she wasn't supposed to be there! "Oh Jesus!" She thought. Then she realized the cigarette had gone out.
She sat for some time her head swimming now. She felt like she was spinning in the dark. Waves of nausea rising and crashing from the pit of her stomach to the back of her throat. Barely audible over the sound of her weeping, the metallic click of a lighter clicked and light again flickered in front of her. Another cigarette was lit, and then two candles near other person in the darkness washing the nearby area in flitting warm light. What was revealed was a man sitting maybe ten feet away. Angular and athletic looking with dark hair and eyes he drank her in as he took a long slow drag from his smoke. Minutes felt like hours to her as the both sat silently looking at each other. She held her breath as he leered at her, looking her up and down with a slight smile on his face. As he shifted his weight and stood up, she started to thrash violently out of sheer terror at what she thought was going to happen. The man's smile broadened as he took a few steps toward her, closing the space between them. To her surprise however he didn't lay a hand on her, he moved to either side of her chair, lighting two more candles, pushing the darkness back with the light they made. She could make out the space they occupied now, but only just. It looked like they were in the back of a semi truck trailer. She looked at the ground and saw her clothes laying torn and tattered. In truth she hadn't realized she was in only her underwear until just now. The thought hit like a sledge hammer to the gut, and she coughed and sputtered vomit out of her gag as the thought came to her. The man moved his chair closer to hers, smoking and smiling as he did. So close she could now plainly see his khaki slacks and white t-shirt. She could even smell his aftershave now. He took a final drag off of his cigarette, and then extinguished it on her chest. Searing pain caused her to mutely cry out and try to pull away, but she was bound to tightly.
She cried uncontrollably as he light another cigarette. As if reading her mind he spoke finally. "Your honor is intact honey, you have my word, I haven't touched you sexually." Sobbing she looked down. His voice was harsh and demeaning. She mustered enough voice to hoarsely ask against her gag "why?" and he chuckled lightly as the candles danced throwing shadows around the enclosure. "Why?" he asked mockingly, a grim smirk on his face. "Well, why not?" His smile broadened maddeningly and as if possessed he snapped his fist quickly forward catching her squarely between her eyes bloodying her nose and tearing up her eyes. Stunned and in pain she slumped forward in her chair. Hopeless she breathed heavily to try to catch her fading wind. As he stood up he began to talk.
"Listen sweetie, I have been doing this a long time. Always people want to know why? Why did this happen? Why did they do it? Why? Why? Why?" He was angry at this point. His gravely voice fevered and loud. "How about this sweetie?" He growled. "There is no God Damned reason for any of it. I just feel like doing it. Forget psycho analyzing and the criminal theory babble. It just happens. Some people are just bad. There is no reason. No urge that needs fulfilled. No thirst quenched. Just evil. Just to do it." As he stood there talking he was tying a cloth apron on around his waist. "Like you, randomly picked, beaten, and surely you've put it together by now, killed. No rhyme, no reason. I just want to do it. So that is that." As he said that he reached down and pulled a small revolver from a holster around his ankle. She looked at it almost in relief that her nightmare would finally be over. The she saw a glint of the weapon fall as she was struck with it , again and again. He beat her with the butt of the pistol. Blood poured from her mouth, her teeth knocked loose from her head. The rush of pain caused her to fail from consciousness. She saw him striker her once more as the dark tunnel closed around her and she passed out.
She came to finding her gag removed, her mouth swollen and sore. The man was dumping fluid on her and smiling as he covered her. The stench of gasoline filled her nostrils, it was hot on her skin and scalded her open wounds. Yet she had nothing left to fight with. The man stepped back and looked at her. "You were a tough one." He said with an air of admiration. "Took a while to get all those teeth out," He started to smile "seemed like you didn't wanna give em up!" Grimly she knew why he did it, took these last steps. It was to make it harder for her to be identified after she was killed. "Oh my, look at the time!" He said jovially. "I have to get going sweetie, gotta get back for work you know." And with that he turned lightly on a heel pouring gas out behind him as he went. "The pleasure was all mine." He said as he walked away. She watched the man open up the door to the chamber, which was an old metal moving container, wave at her happily and spark his lighter, igniting the gas inside her tomb and close the door and latch it. Outside the container the man put his shirt and tie back on, climbed into his nearby unmarked police car, and drove back to his precinct in time for shift change.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
Lonely....
Lonely
Aaron lived alone in a moderate house in a nice section of town on a quiet cul-de-sac. He had lived there since he left the military, honorably discharged, a combat veteran. Although Aaron was relatively young, twenty-seven to be precise, his life was fairly in order. He worked at the local prison, where he had many friends and mostly enjoyed what he did there as a guard. Still he was alone in that house every night, not having a girlfriend, or wife to come home to. And with enough time to yourself, things can start to wear on you.
Everyday was the same for Aaron. Same routine, same process, same order. Through the years Aaron not only grew accustomed to the routine, he found that he enjoyed it, and thought it was good to have. Almost necessary. His time in the Military taught him the value of routines, and his job in civilian life enforced those ideals. His process was to wake up everyday around 11 o'clock am, go to work for his eight hour shift, come home to the empty house, and sit in his basement watching t.v. and having a few drinks to unwind. He would sit and mindlessly stare at the screen until he would finally fall asleep around 4-5 in the morning. At which point his routine was over, and starting again anew.
Things changed one cool fall evening while at work for Aaron and his lonely house. One of his good friends Jon asked to talk to him. "Hey brother, I was wondering if I could stay at your place through the week for a while. The drive in is killing me and Annie, we have no money for much else with me putting 160 dollars a week into the tank." Aaron without a second thought told Jon he would be happy to have him stay there. He and Jon were good friends, and Aaron knew that if he was asking, then Jon must really need some help trying to save money for him and his family. Besides Aaron was not one to turn away his friends, and he could use the company. So it was settled, Jon would start staying at Aaron's house next Monday, and he would then go home on the weekends. That would give Aaron some time to himself, but it would help Jon save money on gas and mileage on his vehicle.
Aaron waited that next Monday for Jon after work, and then Jon followed him to his house a short drive from the prison. After the grand tour and letting Jon settle in and unpack, Aaron waited in the basement watching the television. Jon eventually came downstairs to sit and hang out for a while. Together they laughed and drank, argued about social issues, and drank, laughed some more and of course drank. It was one hell of a night. Aaron slept in on Tuesday as he did not have work, so when he woke up Jon had already left to start his shift. But at 10:30 p.m. Jon rolled into the house and the good times started all again. And they rolled on for some time like that. Although Jon seemed to handle the upswing of late nights and drinking better than his host, Aaron was not one to enjoy the company and good time.
Three months into the arrangement, Aaron was showing some signs of wear and tear. He was late for work if he could muster to show up at all, his performance at work when he was there was also dulling. The two friends continued on their nightly binges however, developing a "frick and frack" mentality. Aaron and Jon talked and laughed their days away, and shambled blurry through their nights. They were both fraying at the seams but having a blast doing it! Others were taking notice of this as well though.
One afternoon that they both managed to make it into work, Jon was walking across the Inmate Rec yard, and walked up to Aaron saying to him "Check it out, Captain wants to talk to you, just got through with me." Jon chuckled a little bit "Barely have any ass left after that chewing!" With that Jon stepped off saying "Good luck homes." Aaron advanced through the inmate yard, and went into the administration building to see the captain, who was the commander of the shift on which he worked. "This is gonna be great," Aaron thought "just fucking great. I can hear this asshole now.". Aaron and Jon had been having some trouble at work with both their appearances and their job performances as of late, the difference being that it didn't effect Jon as it did Aaron. He would just laugh and walk away, while Aaron would stew on the issues, and get more and more angry when someone would confront him on anything. Lately he and Jon seemed to be going it alone in the prison. He walked into the office in which the Captain was sitting and the berating and verbal assault started.
"Hey Aaron, glad you came over, have a seat." The Captain said. He was always over jovial in the initial parts of these conversations Aaron thought. "I was hoping we could talk about what is going on lately?" There it was he thought, here is the rub, and now the ass chewing can begin! "See here is the thing, you have been coming to work late, if you come at all. Yesterday was a no call no show, people are starting to worry about you. I can't keep this on our shift much longer. I will have to go to the Major of the guard if this continues. You look like shit, and you're job performances are starting to fall by the way of your image!" At that Aaron roiled, "Sorry I don't meet your illustrious expectation Cap. I will work on that," but the Captain cut him off. "Don't give me this generic bullshit Aaron. You were a top officer 6 months ago. What happened? Keep screwing off and you will lose this job." All patience lost, Aaron scowled at his shift commander. "Are we done Captain? I have some things I have to do, you know with my JOB." sarcasm and venomous anger spilled through his voice. The Captain shook his head in dismay and waved him off allowing him to leave the office.
That night while sitting around bitching about the day and it's happenings, Jon looked at Aaron over his glass and spoke. "Just letting you know I am heading home tomorrow night after work bro." Aaron a bit suprised asked "ok, you took Friday off then?" Jon's voice cooled a bit as he spoke. "Naw man, I just think we need to chill on this boozin and goofin some." "What are you saying Jon." Jon looked almost past Aaron as he spoke. "Look man, we are fucking things up, and that can't happen like that anymore. We need to get our minds right, know what I mean? Cap said some nutty stuff today, and I am not pushing it anymore." Aaron was startled by Jon's sudden change in attitude. Where did this come from? Aaron thought. Jon is usually the one who is PUSHING the buttons, not giving a shit. Wonder what the Captain said to him. His last thought was out of his mouth and in Jon's ears before he had time to check it, and Jon said curtly "I imagine the same thing he said to you round about, except I have a family to take care of, so I have to give a shit, Aaron." Jon scowled at Aaron, who was furious at Jon for attacking him verbally. "You know what, I am just gonna head upstairs and go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow at work, Christ knows you won't be up in the morning until you absolutely have to be." Aaron's anger boiled over "Fuck you! I have half a mind to kick you out of MY house! With your fucking holier than thou attitude! Who the hell are you?" But he seemed to be falling on deaf ears, Jon was walking up the stairs of the basement flipping Aaron off the whole way up the steps. Fuming Aaron poured another drink, downed it, and poured another thinking about the nerve of some people.
The next day came, and Jon left early for work. After packing up all his things he set his key to the house on the coffee table in the basement where Aaron lay asleep. Some time later that day Aaron woke, saw the key and instantly became agitated again. He didn't pick it up or move it, instead he went to his trusty bottle of liquor and poured another drink. Fuck em' He thought to himself as he got drunk instead of going to work.
In the weeks since Jon left, Aaron didn't show up to work more than he did, and his behavior at night and even at work was all the more irrational. He took to yelling at Jon when he saw him, which at first Jon would say some smart ass comment back, but then gave that fight up in favor of just walking away without a word. At night Aaron would get so drunk that he would stand outside peeing on the neighbors house, yelling incoherently and smashing things in his own house. What upset him more than anything was to see Jon carrying on, not missing a beat at work or otherwise. One night Aaron decided he had had enough. He was sitting in his basement soaked in booze and urine from the past two days of non stop drinking and ranting, when he passed out from the excess. When he came to again he saw Jon sitting in his recliner watching t.v. calmly. "Where the hell did you come from?" He asked startled. Jon looked over at him brightly "well, I needed a place to stay again, and since I stayed here before I thought I could come back and crash awhile, that's ok isn't it?" Aaron was drunk and full of anger directly related to Jon. "Fuck you! No you can't stay here asshole! Get the fuck out NOW!" Jon stood up. "I'll just go upstairs, let you sleep this off man. You need to get yourself right." Aaron reached for something to throw, or hit Jon with. He was furious and whats more, he was too drunk to stand up and throw Jon out, being in no condition for physical confrontation, he slurred his verbal one. Jon laughed "you really are pitiful Aaron, I mean look at yourself. Here you are wanting me out of your house, and having no way to do it. People were right about you, you're absolutely worthless." The words stopped Aaron in his tracks. Jon kept talking. "Ever wonder why you're always alone? No one can stand you, you are a vile wretch. A creature." Jon's tone was cold and even. "You are going to lose your job, you've lost your friends." Jon chuckled "You could die and no one would really notice or care you were gone homie." Aaron raged inside himself at the comments. He found his pistol, and pointed it at Jon. "Oh wow, tough guy gonna shoot an unarmed man?" Jon said sneering at Aaron. His voice finally boiled over "You are trespassing in my house, I woke up and didn't know who you were at first. Shit I coulda shot you then." Aaron's voice shook with rage. Jon took a step forward. "Go ahead then, do it. I am trespassing you say? Well check it out, I am not leaving." Aaron chambered a round pistol now square and level with Jon's head. "I am not kidding Jon, get out of my house, and leave me alone!" Urgency mixed with pain and anger flooded his words. Jon opened his mouth to speak "You don have the ba".
He never finished his sentence, Aaron drunk accidentally pulled the trigger. Jon was right, Aaron didn't intend on shooting him, it just happened. Taken by a fit of sheer shock at what happened Aaron passed out. He never woke again.
A full week went by before the prison sent officers over to Aaron's house to look in on him to make sure he was ok. What they discovered was truly horrifying. They gained access through the basement door which was usually locked, but was not secure upon their arrival. The smell was almost violent. Acrid and heavy it hit them as soon as they entered the door. As they rounded the corner they saw Aaron, sitting on his couch, t.v. on, gaping hole in his head from behind.. Visceral matter was strewn about him on the floor behind his head, where he apparently shot himself. One of the officers couldn't stomach it any more, and back peddled out, coughing and vomiting on the way. The other was quick on his heels, calling the police as he went.
Police came, and theorized what happened, and reconstructed the final moments of Aaron's life. They documented the death as an apparent suicide, finding no other blood, bodies, or evidence of foul play. The weapon was his own registered .45 caliber handgun which hung slack in his hand when they found him. Entry of the bullet appeared initially to be from point blank range, and exit also suggested an incredibly close range shot. However disturbing this was, the other information they found was more disturbing, in his basement, were stacks upon stacks, literally thousands of sheets of paper, which on them contained full conversations between two people, with strikingly different handwriting. A police psych made sense of all of it. "Acute split personality. He manufactured the other person on this paper, and even gave him a different style of handwriting. It is seen often times in moments of severe mental trauma, or in some certain cases long bouts of segregation and separation." "In plain English doc." One of the police officers said. "Plain English? He was lonely." That cop looked thoughtfully at the wrecked body still laying in the basement, which now felt more like a tomb than anything else and said "I guess he was right." Another asked "Who was right?" The first answered "The guy this nut created, he said I'm not leaving. I guess in some way, he really aint."
Friday, May 4, 2012
A brief discription
Yours in fear
Z.J.
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