Chapter 7 of The 3 Little Piggies

Chapter Seven

The tragic house on Ravenstone Drive harbored a seething human.  He quietly raged inside, his eyes sunk low in his skull.

The dark girl bothered him.  She fucked him up.  It’s just not supposed to be like this.  She made him feel inside out, unfamiliar with himself and that wasn’t good.  His black polo neck sweater was scratching him and that annoyed him intensely.  He tore the sweater off his body and threw it viciously from him.  He needed to remain calm.  Take some deep breaths and focus.  A gurgled sobbing gasp fell out of his face, it was grief, it stung and it burnt.  He hated the hurt and the vulnerability that came with that sting.  It clouded his judgement, shifted his usual focus into a fog which left him open to attack, open to feel.

Something moved inside him – a feeling that made him want to protect her from people like himself…. What the fuck was he thinking!?  He needed, desperately, to kill some slag right now.  It tensed him – his muscles twitching on his face and his fingers jerking like they had some little invisible nylon threads attached to them.  What a shame the nylon wasn’t for real and he could cut some bitches head off with his hands – freaky!

A fly wandered jerkily across his arm.  He swept it up effortlessly with an Olympian speed and skill.  Holding it up to his ear he shook it gently and listened to the buzz.  That tone was familiar.  The constant humming soothed his shrieking nerves.  His eyes glazed over as he stood, swaying slightly, in his darkened lounge.  The musty smell in this room was replaced with a breeze on his face as his thoughts travelled back to when he was a kid.  He automatically shook the fly every time it stopped and dreamed on of travelling at night.  The car humming and warm.  “The Father” was driving and therefore unable to mete out any punishment or tortures upon him and it was about the safest place he could be in his whole wide world.  He was allowed, on very rare occasions, to sit next to the window.  Never in the front seat.  Not even when he was older and after he was ten he never got taken anywhere anyway.  He remembered the breeze and how different the night smelt to the daytime.  The sounds were different too.  Smothered.  The darkness muted the sound like it did the light.  Darkness can do that.  He could feel the darkness move in him and shuddered as he came back to reality.  He had goose bumps all over his body.  He felt tingly and awkward in his skin.  He didn’t fit in.  Still couldn’t fit in.  Was never going to fit in.  And the fly was dead.

He shakily lit another cigarette and thought about how to kill – it was better to focus on something other than himself.  Once he got a taste of an idea the seed was planted and from that his murderous plan would grow.  Sometimes it could take weeks to find the right woman.  Sometimes they just appeared like magic.  The spontaneous, magic ones were like masturbating or a one-night stand.  The ones you take your time with and get to know, the ones you watch and wait for, they are the ones with which it is like making love or thinking that you’re parents might like to meet them.  They mattered.  It mattered to him who he killed. Killing them was like telling them he loved them.  One was able to be picky and choosey – like a giant fuckin’ supermarket.  He had taken many lives now and not one of the women he had seriously approached had even considered not following him or helping him.  His memory pulled together some scattered pictures of some of the poor women he had paid attention to.  Yeah, it was like a supermarket.  He nodded his head in verification.  C’mon my man, he said to himself, let’s go shopping.

Once he was in the car he became confused and wasn’t quite sure about where he should go.

He drove for a while, round and round. Should he take his own advice and actually go to a supermarket again?

But no, he didn’t want that.  He wondered if he’d be welcome at the blonde girlfriends’ house.  Hmmm – the thought gave him an exquisite tingle of deviousness.  He felt really bad about wanting to do the girlfriend but man it was good!

He felt good already – really good.  His driving miraculously improved and he drove with an anxious determination.

He knew where he was going – Heaven … I’m in heaven, he hummed.

Yes! The lights were on.  No extra cars parked in the well-lit driveway.  He just hoped she was there.  For some reason this killing had a special … What could he say – a special feeling?  A special little meaning for him?  He was going to take her life and give himself a special little something – what it gave him he was not quite sure.  Somehow satisfied?  Contentment?  No, more like a control – a power.  He was the punisher.  The punisher of all those dirty breeding bitches that couldn’t keep their legs closed and then wouldn’t keep their unwanted spawn either.  He knew all about being unwanted.  Oh yessiree Bob he knew!

They had no choice when he was there – he made them want it.  They begged for it and the words he heard coming from their terrified mouths was that HE was wanted.  But if he listened properly he’d realise that they were begging but for him to end it.  Please just end it.

As he pondered a little longer on his pleasant daydreams the twisted thought of him killing the dark girls’ friend almost peeled the top of his head off with anticipation.  He’d be able to watch the dark girl cry and be angry and be sad while he hid himself from view.  Aaah influence dahling … It’s not who you know, it’s who you kill.  He grinned to himself pulling over on the shoulder of the road.  The grin ended in a grimace as the crunching tyres on the gravel set his teeth on edge.  He deftly clicked the car door closed with hardly a sound, pulled the balaclava out of his jacket and put gloves on.  Tonight was the night. He checked for his keys making sure they were some place tight so they didn’t clink and give him away.  He was almost invisible to the naked eye and would have little or no trouble blending into the undergrowth behind the blondes’ house.  He wondered if he should lock the car.  Definitely not – what sort of neighbourhood did he think he was in?  Besides they’d have to notice the car first and it seemed to him to be a rather offbeat road.  It would allow him to look down on the property and approach it from behind.  A little bit of a bush walk but that may be a pleasant experience anyway.  He set off into the greenery and hardly moved a leaf with his stealth and agility.  The intensely focused walk there gave him enough time to be so psyched he was bursting.

He found the house easily enough, not only that, but he had done his due diligence and pretty much knew the set-up.  Besides his previous visits, earlier on he had been watching and waiting for hours in her garden.  Waiting and thinking.  Imagining her coming home. Dreaming up ghastly possibilities. Boy, he was ready to Rock ‘n Roll now!

The brunette better not turn up. That’d really piss him off.  But right now he wasn’t going to let anything interfere with his plans.  Little Miss Leanne Boyd was in for a huge surprise.  He’d better not laugh – at least not too loud. She only had herself to blame – it wasn’t like she was too young to be responsible for a baby.   She lost her virginity to Stephen Caldwell when she was fourteen – what a slut!  I know all about you, he thought to himself, I know all about you and I’m going to find out all about your friend.  Yes he had found out everything there was to know about her and her cold calculations.  But not as cold as him.  He was going to enjoy this.  She needed to get it real good.  OH YEAH!

It was so easy getting into the house.  Even though the patio boards creaked twice as he stepped confidently but cautiously around the house, it didn’t make a stitch of difference.  Music careered through the whole place – energising him.  It was up music – hard-out groovy stuff, like the Brand New Heavies.  It really didn’t matter because he was feeling so well within himself.  So together and dynamic.  He almost wanted to burst out laughing at the overwhelming joy and vibrancy of it all.

He checked and rechecked the whole downstairs – no one about.  The music jaggedly interrupted his focus and he thought about turning it off but that would be like shooting a warning shot above a deer’s head – not smart.  Stepping stealthily up the carpeted stairs, in time to the music of course, he felt every minuscule molecule of his skin, every hair on his body.  Momentarily his brain gave him random visions.  Some broken and distorted like an old movie.  They came in no order – the dark woman, a kill, his dog, a kill, another kill, eating ice cream, a kill….  It spurned him on.  He reached the landing and his footfalls were still unheard.  The landing was made of wooden floorboards and he could feel the bass from the music jiggling his molecules into a frenzy.  He stalked along the hallway, briefly glancing in each room.  He knew she was not in any of the rooms he had seen but he checked anyway.  You can never be too careful in a murder.  He grinned to himself, shaking his head as he thought of the surprise the blonde was going to get seeing him in her house – especially when she was so naked and vulnerable.  He could never picture what they looked like until after they were dead.  See, if he had to describe what Leanne Boyd looked like right now, he wouldn’t be able to do it.  Let him kill her and then ask and he would have some good details.  Funny.

He found her right where he expected her to be, in the bath, reading a book.  Her hand was struggling to hold the hardback out of the water but it was too heavy and a small corner of the book had seeped it up hungrily making itself a watermark.  It was Stephen Kings’ IT.  How appropriate.  He could be her monstrous clown.

Her hair was clipped up but even so she had managed to get it wet and her mascara had left her with panda eyes.  Somehow that was attractive to him.  He put it down to the crying he liked so much.  It looked like she had already been in tears and that was like foreplay to him.  He suddenly wished he had a bunch of flowers and could run in to her and say,”Oh really, you shouldn’t have!  Real tears?  For me?”

She didn’t see him at first.  That’s also because he wasn’t exactly showing himself.  He wanted to make the moment last.  A lot of the buzz was the watching and fantasizing about all the different ways he could kill her, how she would react, anticipating the rush of absolute ecstasy when he did.  Body with energy – body without energy.  Body with energy – body without energy.  It was as simple as that.  As clean-cut and crisp as a granny smith.

He moved directly into the doorway and just as the bathing beauty thought she saw something, he said  “Good book?”

Leanne let out a high shriek, which ran deliciously down his spine and melted into his groin, dropped her book and grabbed frantically for the towel above her.

 © Kait King, 2015

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