PillowFace (15 page)

“I don’t know. I just suddenly started wondering what he was doing.”  She pulled the mop out of the bucket and slapped it on the floor.  “I got the feeling he was up to something.”   

(III)

Joel finished mopping up the coagulated blood.  He’d waited until last to do that. When they’d first started cleaning, he’d retraced Pillowface’s every step, swabbing up his evidence. Then he realized that they were just muddling right over his clean floor and decided to wait.

While he’d cleaned, Pillowface, with a handful of trash bags they’d stolen from under the sink, had draped the body and taken it outside.  He was probably already back at home, gathering up her head and waiting for him. Joel really should be wrapping up and getting over there.  It was certainly getting late, and they still had more work to do before calling it a night. 

He took the mop to the sink and stuck the head under running water. The clear liquid turned murky as it swirled down the drain.  When he was finished, he stuck the mop-head in the bucket, and washed his hands.  He used some paper towels to dry them and stuck the sodden pieces in his pocket when he was through.  He didn’t want to risk someone finding them in the trash.  Maybe he’d burn them or flush them down the toilet when he got home, anything but leave them here. 

A faint slamming sound made his heart lurch. He hoped it was Pillowface coming to check on him, but when he heard it repeat he realized that it was coming from somewhere outside the house. 

The garage.

The twin noises had been car doors.   

Tonya’s parents had come home. 

Snatching the bucket off the floor, he whispered, “Oh, shit on me...”  The mop handle whipped back and slapped him across the face.  His cheek stung from the blow, hot bristles scurried up to his scalp.   

He ran to the side door, pressing the bucket against his hip to keep it from making a noise. He held the mop tightly with his other hand to prevent a repeated attack by the handle.               

He stopped at the patio doors and listened. Faint voices came from outside.  One male, one female.
Tonya’s parents for sure.
And he was still inside the damn house. Why had he taken so long cleaning? He’d finished several minutes ago, save a few touch ups. The job shouldn’t have taken too terribly long, but he’d spent a lot of time paying extra attention to the smaller details. One mistake could be one too many in an instance such as this. 

The metallic scraping of a key searching for a lock pulled him from his scampering thoughts. 
I’ve gotta get out of here
.  He turned to open the door, and froze.  Through the black of night, the flood lights at the top of the power-poles cast enough illumination for him to see that just outside the second entrance of the garage Pillowface stood against the wall with the machete clinched, holding the blade like a penetrating baseball bat. 

Pillowface was planning to ambush her parents. 

Now, Joel really needed to move. Any second now Pillowface would charge in and start whacking.  In a dash, he flung open the patio door, cracking his knee against its solid wood. The door vigorously trembled as it opened.  It hurt like hell, but the noise had at least gotten Pillowface’s attention. 

When Joel’s feet met the grass, he pitched his ear to the air, and stopped.  Tonya’s parents were talking, and from what they were saying, Pillowface hadn’t been the only one to hear all the commotion.   

“I didn’t hear anything,” said the female voice. 

Another pause.  Joel could feel his heart pounding in his throat.  He looked at Pillowface, saw he was about to enact his plan of attack, so he shook his head, hoping he could see him in the shadows.  He must have, because he stopped moving and waited. 

“Maybe you’re right,” said the male voice, finally. 

Joel realized he’d been holding his breath all this time and exhaled slowly.  His lungs unnaturally wheezed.  After he heard the door to the den shut, he bolted, passing Pillowface and cutting back through the opening in the fence. 

When they were back in his yard, he realized he’d forgotten to close the patio door. 

He could feel tears coming as fast as the panic. He turned around, creeping back to the fence. Through a thin slit between the boards, he peeked through. When he’d left, the room had been shrouded in darkness, but now it was lit up vividly.  Two shapes moved back and forth throughout.  The man--Tonya’s dad--stepped over to the opened door.  He stood there, staring out into the yard. 

He called, “Hello?” 

Joel flinched at the intensity of his voice.  It probably wasn’t as loud as it had seemed, but to Joel it sounded fiery. Any second now, he anticipated the man would catch him hiding. Convinced the man might see the whites of his eyes through the narrow slits in the fence, he screwed them shut. 

Tonya’s Mom must have joined him at the doorway.  “Who are you talking to?” she asked. 

“The door was open.” 

“Wide open?” 

“Yes.” 

Oh, shit
…. Joel tried telling himself he’d done everything that needed to be done to cover their tracks.  But, he couldn’t be certain.  He knew any moment they’d find a speckle of blood. 

“Well, Tonya was lying out in the sun earlier.” 

“Oh, that explains it,” he said back. 

Yes,
he thought. 
That’s it, now just go back inside, shut the door, and go away.  Please, before Pillowface decides to take matters into his own hands
. 

Joel pictured the two of them looking out in the yard when suddenly Pillowface was on them, using the machete to hack away at them until there was nothing left.

Then he’d have two more messes to clean up. 

The skin around his testicles seemed to be shrinking and his buttocks felt heavy like granite. When he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, he yelped. His bladder suddenly filled to the brim. 

Thankfully, it was Pillowface’s hand.

And, thank God Tonya’s parents had already shut the door and continued about their business, so it was doubtful they’d heard him, but how long would it take them to realize something was wrong?

After a few deep breaths, Joel stood up straight. “You ready?”  Pillowface shook his head, then pointed back at his house.  Joel noticed he didn’t have the head. “All right, I’ll go grab it.” He spoke as if it were nothing more than a gallon of milk, or bread. He darted in the house, leaving Pillowface to guard the yard. For a second, he’d considered sending him to get the head, that way he could handle Tonya’s body.  Just to feel it one more time before burying her.

Two funerals in just as many days. Keep it up, and he’d be a pro. 

Still, if he could just touch her….. 

Stop it
. 
She’s all torn up.

Not all of her was torn up, he realized.

She was torn up enough.  

When he was  nine he’d watched his Dad and Grandfather string up a deer and gut it.  They’d spent time taking care of the carcass, treating it delicately, disposing of the innards in a healthy clean way. Pillowface hadn’t shared their delicacy. 

At the top of the stairs, he jogged to his room. He reached in to turn on the light, but stopped himself.  If he turned it on, it’d ruin his night vision.  Leaving the room dark, he teetered through to look for the head.  It wasn’t on the nightstand where he’d left it.  He turned a circle, scanning the floor for it. 

An image flashed in his mind of Tonya’s head dragging itself across the floor by its tongue, a wet and ghoulish
bump
followed by a
scraping
sound as it sluggishly slid over his feet.

Instinctively, he jumped up on the bed and looked down. 

Nothing was there.

Of course there isn’t.  Why would there be?

Feeling foolish, he climbed down, then stepped over to the nightstand and toed something solid.  It rolled.
Found it.
Crouching, he felt around the floor until his fingers raked across the desiccated flesh of her face, brushing against a soggy lip that didn’t move.  His index finger snagged one of her teeth as he latched onto her chin, pulling the head to him. 

He was shocked that it weighed so much. In the movies, madmen would carry severed heads by the hair in one hand, but if he was to try that, her hair would surely tear away from the scalp. 

So, carrying the head two-handed like a football, he left his room.

(I)

Haley finished cleaning the floor. There was a large wet circle where she’d been mopping. She rinsed the mop in the sink.  When it was good and doused, she sat it back in the bucket to dry.  She turned around, and bumped into Alan. 

She squealed, quickly cupping a hand over her mouth. 

Alan laughed.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright.  I guess we’re even.” Her voice was flat behind her hand.  She brought down her arm. Alan stood only inches from her, and was taller.  Haley needed to tilt her head back to look at him. His full eyes stared into hers.  She found herself losing all concentration and only wanting to kiss him.  She thought about giving it a try, but was afraid of what he would think. She wasn’t even completely sure he didn’t have a girlfriend. 

He’s never mentioned one. 

But, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. 

His hand brushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, his mild touch sending tingles through her.  She resisted the urge to shudder. Her stomach was rolling.  She sucked in a trembling breath as he leaned down to her.  Arching herself up on her tip-toes, she met him. 

Haley brushed her lips against his, feeling the fullness of his mouth.  They’re lips connected. Soft and cold at first, they quickly warmed against hers.  Her body weakened, her legs felt soft and rubbery.  She fell into him.  He caught her, holding her tightly against his chest, and looked at her, again.  She lost herself in the puddles of his gaze.  He smiled.  Then he glided his hands up her back, massaging it.  She closed her eyes as his hands explored her, rubbing and kneading the curve of her back, up to her neck.  She felt his warm breath stronger and heavier against her face.  Haley opened her eyes as he came in for another kiss.

She parted her lips. This time, they kissed with fervor, a hunger that was finally being satisfied.  His tongue entered her mouth, casual and tender.  She lifted hers to find his.  They rolled around each other.  His rubbing hands moved down her back, finding the bottom of her blouse, then went under it.  His hands felt warm and sweaty on the small of her back.  She flinched as his fingers tickled her, bringing up goose
bumps like pebbles on her skin. 

Haley writhed against him, lifted his shirt and glided
her hands across his abdomen. It felt hard and solid. She traced its shape to his navel. She pressed herself sternly against him, wiggling against the length of his body. Her breasts, barely contained in her blouse, squished against his chest. He exhaled a trembling breath into her mouth. 

She grabbed his arms and slowly guided him backward, kissing along the way, and backtracking to the table.  Alan’s heels knocked against a chair. She gently pushed him down in the seat. 

Then she squatted between his parted legs.

“Wuh-what are you doing?” he asked, his breath heavy.

“It’s okay.” She slowly skimmed her hands up his thighs to his crotch.  She found the hardness in his pants. She fingered the zipper and leisurely pulled it down, freeing his penis.  It fell out of his pants, nicking her arm on the way down, and continued to grow as if being trapped inside his pants had prohibited it to. 

His penis was much larger than she’d expected, and her reaction showed her astonishment.  She gasped at it.  The massive tube looked as if it would never stop growing.  She leaned over, unveiling her tongue, licking and flicking.  He squirmed in the chair.  Then she took him in her mouth, and he tensed up, held his breath.  She had to stretch her lips around the head of his penis.  The corners of her mouth felt as if they would rip.  Her tongue hastily flicked the shaft. 

“God,” he whispered. 

She pulled her mouth away, popping a sound as it exited her mouth.  She looked up at him, grinning as her hand wrapped around him and began to stroke.  Alan quivered. She knew she needed to stop before he exploded.  She wasn’t ready for him to. 

She stood up, taking a couple of steps back.

“You’re so beautiful,” he managed to say.

“Thank you.” 

He probably thinks I’m a slut that does this sort of thing all the time.

She considered stopping, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. She was enjoying it too much.  She slid her hands up her thighs, and under her skirt.  She hooked her thumbs around the straps of her panties and slipped them down her legs.  At the knees, she let them drop to the floor. Then she kicked her feet out of them.

“This isn’t happening,” he said.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

He shook his head, and gulped. 

When she caught a glimpse of that pole between his legs, it was her turn to gulp. 
How am I going to handle this?
She stepped out of her shoes. From where she’d mopped, the floor was damp under her feet.  She walked to him, spreading her legs as she fixed a foot on each side of the chair.  She gripped his shoulders and slowly squatted, impaling herself on top of him.  He pushed into her, deep.  She sucked in a breath, the gasp catching in her throat.  It felt wonderful, but hurt at the same time. 

After a moment of adjusting to the pressure inside of her, she pushed with her hips, keeping her feet vaulted firmly on the floor. Moaning, she wrapped her arms around his neck and jerked him closer. His hands roamed her, pushing her blouse down, releasing her breasts. He tore the bra out of his way and began squeezing them. 

She should have asked him if he had a condom
. 

I’m on the pill
.

The pill only prevented pregnancy, and it didn’t do that three percent of the time. 

It’s Alan, he doesn’t have a disease.  I saw his cock, it wasn’t infested with sores.  Neither is his mouth. 

But…

She was about to ask him, but he sucked one of her rigid nipples into his mouth and nibbled at it. She moaned even louder, becoming even more aggressive with her drive.

(II)

That cunt!

With his ear pressed firmly against the door, Geoffrey Jones could hear Haley making the kind of sounds he’d dreamed about. 
He
should
be the one causing them, not some five-figure making asshole that needed to work secondhand as a waiter just to make ends meet. 

He’d begun panting so heavily that he needed to hold his breath to hear them.  He listened to the screeching of a chair on concrete, and Haley’s soft moans and gasps. 

The worst sound though was the consistent slurp. 

He knew what that slurp was.

Jonesey quickly looked around, making sure no one had seen him snoop over here.  So far, so good.  He expected any moment for Carlee’s nosey ass to find him.  It had been nearly impossible to pry from her, but he’d eventually succeeded.   

As Haley’s convulsive breaths continued to rise, so did Geoffrey’s anger.  When she held the pitch, nearly shrieking, he knew she was having an orgasm.  Enraged, he punched the wall.  He’d expected the wall to cave under the blow, but instead it held steady, cracking all four of his fingers.  Of all the places to punch he’d picked the one area of the wall where the stud had been implanted.  He wanted to cry out in pain, but bit his lip and held it back. 

“What was that?” asked Haley from inside, breathless.

“I-I don’t know,” said Alan, just as bushed.  “I might need to check.”

Shit!! 

With his right hand tucked against his stomach, he ran.  The pain was severe, throbbing.  He wasn’t a doctor, but he’d bet it was broken. 

(III)

Haley was hiking her panties up her thighs when the reality of what she’d done hit her like a slap to the face.  She’d
used
Alan.  In a way, yes, but that wasn’t entirely true. They’d both wanted it, but it was her who had needed the embrace, the approval of someone. And, she’d reverted back to her old Tonya-like ways to get it. 

I like Alan,
she told herself,
a lot.  More than I’ve liked anyone in a long time. 

But, that wouldn’t change what had happened. Since meeting Alan a few months ago, she had ordered herself to take things slow, letting them unfold naturally, slowly growing more intimate until the night finally came when they would give in to each other.  Now, she feared she’d already ruined it before things had truly had a chance to begin. 

Just as she’d done with Paul. 
Fuck Paul, to hell with him. 
Paul hadn’t been worth it, but she’d felt in order to show him that she desired him, she had to fuck him.  So, she’d let him take her, three times, and each one felt emptier than the one before it.  He’d tricked her, prayed on her insecurities of being abandoned by the one man that she had thought would never leave her. 

Dad. 

She thought her father never could have made her cry.  But, he had, and more than anyone in her life ever had or ever could.  Standing in the back room of Alan’s store, while he checked to see what that banging had been, she realized what the dark cloud—the one that had been hovering around her for so long, the one that made her do stupid things like riding Alan’s cock in a folding chair—actually was. 

Hate. 

Not only had her father made her crumble, he’d shattered her, leaving jagged shards behind of what Haley used to be. 
He died. 
She knew it wasn’t fair to blame him, but it was easier than accepting she was the cause. 
How could I be?  I didn’t leave anyone behind!  I didn’t go off and leave someone alone and frightened to fend for themselves, to try and figure out how much bullshit is associated with living your life, and not being there to offer my guidance and support along the way.

But, she’d done just that to Joel. She felt tightness in her throat, dampness in her eyes.
I’m going to cry? What the hell for? I’m pissed off.  He left me here
,
they both did…to raise Joel when I wasn’t done being raised myself.  How could they do this to me? 

Her shoulders were bouncing, clucking up and down like a chicken looking for seed.  She could feel the coldness of that familiar hollow ache drifting inside of her, encircling her heart, and clenching the love out of it.  She’d come to understand that she actually hated her
parents
for dying.  Not hating
that
they died, but actually putting all her anger
on them. 
Why?  And, why, in return for the hate she focused on them, was Joel focusing his on her? 

“I didn’t see anyone out there.”  Alan must have noticed she’d dressed.  “Hey, don’t I get my turn?”  He laughed softly. 

She glanced at him, then erupted into a whirl of tears.  Unable to stand any longer, she dropped in the chair, sat forward, bent her elbows on her knees, and pressed her face into her hands. 

“Hey…I was just kidding…Are you okay?”  He ran to her and kneeled down.  His hands slipped over her back, rubbing small circles on her shirt, and asked, “What’s wrong?” 

She couldn’t answer.  She sobbed harder each time she attempted to speak.

“Did I do something?”

She shook her head.  Then she wrapped her doused hands around him, pushing her face against his chest.  The sogginess of her tears soaked through his shirt. 

He slowly put his arms around her, and held her.