New Title 1 (13 page)

Still she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Theo had sort of half-turned and was staring at her with one cocked eyebrow.

‘What? Now you want to talk to me?’ He puffed his chest up in indignation.

Rachel forced a deep breath; fought back the urge to leap on the man and claw at his eyes.

‘Look I’m sorry but I’ve had a bad morning. What did you say about a boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.’

A shrewd, calculating smile split Theo’s face and Rachel hated him so fucking much at that point. ‘Ha, sure you don’t. What, you think I don’t know what’s going on?’

‘What are you talking about?’ It was getting harder and harder for Rachel to control her irritation.

‘You certainly play the field don’t you?’ Theo’s grin spread a little wider, ‘Got a few on the board at the same time.’

Rachel knew that it was only giving Theo what he wanted, letting him know he’d upset her, but she couldn’t help it and blushed bright red; a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

‘What I do is none of your fucking business,’ she snapped.

‘Yeah, well you might want to tell your boyfriend next time you bring a new guy home. I saw him last night and he looked pretty pissed off.’

‘I don’t have a boyfriend…’ Rachel started through gritted teeth but her words trailed off and her heart skipped a beat as a new thought occurred to her. One that left her feeling jittery with sudden adrenaline. ‘Who do you think is my boyfriend?’

Theo barked a short laugh. ‘Oh don’t worry; I know what goes on around here. Didn’t take you long to shack up with the new fella next door did it?’

Rachel’s heart skipped another beat as her saliva dried up.

‘What?’ she croaked.

‘Oh what? Are you gonna deny it? I saw him. Even had a key for the place. Guess things move a little more quickly than they did back in my day. Back when we still had a little decency.’

‘What?’ Rachel repeated, suddenly sick to the stomach.

‘Well we didn’t go around shacking up with anything that has a heartbeat for a start.’

Rachel could feel the pulse building at her temple again. ‘What do you mean he had a key?’

That fucking old bitch!

Theo was looking at her oddly now and it dawned on Rachel that her eyelid was rapidly fluttering again.

‘He was locking up as I walked past. Fucking prick wouldn’t give me the time of day. Too busy to stop and say a few words…’

Theo’s voice drained away into the background as Rachel tried to compute what he was telling her.

It was a strange, almost dream-like state that descended on her as she slowly eased herself back a few steps and looked back down the driveway.

And there he fucking was…

Had he been heading for her door?

He was making a beeline for his car now but it looked faked and forced; like he’d taken a few too many steps forward before changing tack.

Had he only moved after he’d seen her?

And what was that he was stuffing back into his pocket? Was that the glint of metal in his hand?

Rachel stood and stared at him; stared at him and at the duffel bag he held, tucked under one arm. The cramping tension spread through her body once more.

She watched him open the door of the car; watched him fumble around inside; saw the furtive glances he was shooting her through the back window.

He didn’t look back at her when he headed for his door but Rachel watched him the whole way. The cramp stinging as she slowly clenched and unclenched her fists.

The fucking bastard. The fucking bastard…
It looped in her mind as she dug her nails into her palm, reopening the scabbed crescents that ran across it.

Come on, don’t…
the voice began but Rachel roared
shut the fuck up
and it promptly disappeared.

‘…Are you alright? You’re bleeding?’

Rachel felt a hand on her shoulder and whipped around to face Theo, her anger blazing.

‘I’m fucking fine,’ she hissed and Theo recoiled, cupping his hand to his chest like he’d just touched a hot-plate. He opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it again.

Rachel left him standing there as she slowly walked back to her flat. The loop played repeatedly as the blood dripped through her fingers.

The fucking bastard, the fucking bastard, the fucking bastard…

* * * * *

Ben felt all his worries melt away as the red enclosed him. The last lingering shreds of his panic dissipated. The fear that had gripped him after he’d almost been sprung. Dissipated in its comfortable embrace.

It had been a close thing. A stupid thing. He should have been tipped off by the fact she wasn’t in her uniform.
If she’d been a minute later. Even thirty seconds, he would have had the key in the lock…

But at least he knew it was the weekend now, even if that meant another night or two’s wait.

That was okay though. He could keep himself occupied. He grinned now as he remembered the agonising wait with his back pressed to the door; certain that she’d seen through his ruse; that she’d seen the key in his hands; waiting for the first siren to sound. None of it mattered now though because he was back in the Red Room with his leather apron on and he had the whole night to play. He didn’t have to emerge again until she left for work.

And then the real fun would begin…

…He stood and surveyed them hanging there on their meat hooks and his hand slipped beneath his apron as he saw her in all her infinite varieties. He stepped across and lifted the thigh of number two – she’d been naked when he’d taken her – and revealed the slit between her lifeless thighs. His fist pumped and pumped.

He dropped the leg back down after a minute and his eyes drifted across to the empty hook as he hoisted her down. Soon, it would be so soon. It was becoming his favourite refrain.

He slapped her down onto the table and strapped her in. He waited patiently for the life to return to her eyes and timed his punch to perfection. It connected just as she opened her mouth to let rip and his penis pulsed as he felt the teeth give way beneath his fist.

The wide eyes flooded red as she bucked in shock and agony, bursting the blood vessels as she strained. He clamped her jaw hard, forcing it open and studied her now ripped and torn gum line while she choked on the blood trickling down her throat. He flicked aside the apron as his orgasm approached, manoeuvred into position and ejaculated into her open mouth, the semen splattering in thick ropes across the shattered fragments of her teeth.

He threw her head back down. It impacted with such a satisfying crunch. He smiled as he watched her lying there dazed, choking and spluttering at the horrid cocktail in her mouth. He especially enjoyed the confusion in her eyes. As he slowly walked over to the bench and surveyed his tools, the look stayed with him the whole way. It was just so fitting. The perfect visual to sum up how he’d felt the first time she’d come for him in the middle of the night

She was trying to talk behind him but the words only came out as gibberish. He picked up the carving knife from the bench, his cock already swelling to life again. He held it up nice and high so she could see.

He circled her and listened to her sobbing. He did three circuits and then stopped at her feet. Gently, he prodded the sole with the blade’s tip.

She bucked but there was nowhere for her to go.

He prodded harder and flicked the blade down, tracing a red line over the sole.

He watched the blood well for a moment.

She heaved and panted; heaved and panted.

He pushed the blade more firmly this time. It took two hands. It sank through flesh and gristle. It grated against bone. His penis throbbed as he watched it slowly emerge from the other side. The blood flowed down over her ankle in a slowly increasing river.

Her back arched off the table, she froze in an agonising rictus. Blood and jism sprayed from her mouth as she screamed long and loud. Her breasts were framed perfectly against the red hue of the background, the nipples stiff and erect. He decided he’d work on them next.

But first finish with the foot…

He began to saw, yanking the knife upwards. The sound of grating bone filled the air. He got the blade up a centimetre and it jammed. He tore it free and studied the gobs that spattered on his apron for a moment.

Vomit bubbled from her lips.

He smiled as he returned to the bench and let the knife clutter back among the tools. He picked up the metal shears and returned to her. She’d passed out so he slapped her back awake before he returned to her feet. He locked eyes with her as he opened the blades. She mouthed something that looked like no.

Three snips took care of the remaining join. The crunch of the bones forced a dribble of pre-cum. She passed out again as he levered the two sides apart. Two toes to the left; three to the right. He studied the inside, his hand, finally freed, slipping back beneath the apron.

Yes there would be plenty to keep him occupied until morning… plenty indeed… for a start he would use the skewers on the breasts…

* * * * *

Rachel sat on the bed, staring blankly at the wall ahead as she cradled her wounded hand. She had no idea how long she had been there after she’d locked and chained the doors; no idea how long she had basked in her seething anger. She knew she should really bandage her hand again but couldn’t force herself to move.

Occasionally the voice would chirp up: some sort of justification or a suggestion to call the cops, but Rachel clamped down on it quickly. She was beyond hearing the voice of reason at this point…

…
It had gone too far for that now.

She felt like screaming. Like smashing things. She just couldn’t stop each indignity from spiralling through her mind, looping to and fro, feeding back into her anger; restarting, over and over again.

It was beyond anything she could tolerate. Beyond it all. She had to fucking do something about this. She just fucking had to.

And that fucking old bitch!
It looked like she had another shortcoming to add to that bitch’s list. She’d whined enough about the fact the spare key to her flat hadn’t been in Thea’s belongings when she died but never even mentioned she still had a spare key to Thea’s flat.

TO MY FUCKING FLAT!

The thought made Rachel’s blood boil and naturally segued into one of the fenced-in building site down the road where construction had been halted for a good three years now. A thought of the bundles stacked inside the concrete tube and a thought that
there was plenty of space for more…

But that’s really what you wanted all along isn’t it?
The voice chirped up.

Oh fuck off!
Rachel screamed in her mind.
This isn’t what I want. I just want to be left in peace. I just want people to be a little fucking considerate…

Really? Would they ever be considerate enough?

‘Oh, fuck off.’ She said it aloud this time, spitting it out viciously and the voice beat a hasty retreat.

Something was definitely going to be done.

She just needed to calm down first. In the state she was in she was going to do something stupid. She needed to focus, get control, but the anger was ever present. Boiling away inside her.

‘Fucking pervert,’ she hissed it as she pictured his stare and finally her paralysis broke. She lent over, reached down and slid the box from beneath the mattress.

She just needed to blow off some steam. Get herself thinking clearly again. She’d have to be so damn careful this time.

Rachel scooted herself back up the bed, dragging the box with her. When she was lying back against the pillows, she levered the lid off the box and set Walter down beside her. She lifted her hips and dragged off her tracksuit pants and underwear in one motion, kicking them free as she lifted out the first of the photo albums.

She ran her fingers over her cleft as she laid it down on the bed beside her and flipped open the cover. She rubbed as she studied the pages, her pussy moistening and spreading at her touch. She reached for Walter and twisted the base; felt him vibrate to life beneath her fingers as she turned the page, feasting her eyes on the photos, slowly bringing Walter up, trailing him along her thigh, the buzzing tingling her skin.

Some of the tension began to finally eke out of her in the face of her growing arousal.

She turned another page and slid Walter in, gasping out loud and wishing she’d taken the time to heat him up a little first.

Just blow off a little steam
, she thought as she flipped another page and pictured the key hanging on the hook in the drawer.