Please Don't Go (33 page)

“
Can we move this along?” Zephyr asked, leaning back in his chair, trying to emote a nonchalance in attitude. “I’ve got a lot of things to do.”

Such a joker. Such a liar
.
You play with me as if I’m a dullard.
You lie without thought, and you hurt my feelings so very much, and on such a special evening. I’ve slaved so hard for you, and you lash out in rebellion. But tonight is not just about you and I.

“
Isn’t it really all about
you
?” Zephyr queried, surprised that she was still remaining so restrained from harming him, throwing empirical evidence upon its head. “Lover?” he added as a bit of salt into her wounds.

No, no, no. It’s about us, my dear. You and I and our very special guest.

A knock sounded off at the door and Zephyr darted his eyes across the room. “Who is that?” he asked, backpedaling through his mind in an inventory of possible suspects on the other side of the door frame. Zephyr thought to himself that this person, whoever it may be, was a potential savior. Somebody to send a message out with, to report his capture to the proper authorities. His mother and Jackie had thus far failed in tracking him down, which was unbelievable on its own. In that thought, he gasped at the idea that it could be somebody he loved and cared for. Would she/Aleesha/Emily/The Bitch have the proper knowledge or methods to communicate with one of his loved ones, as she had threatened in so few words? Optimism said yes. The other half of him dreaded his captor being near or speaking with either of them. “What is this shit?” Zephyr asked with a bitter tongue.

Just a guest. We need to maintain a social well-being. Without friends, we are nothing.

Zephyr had never really had any friends, not since moving to Maine. He had some back in high school, in Connecticut, but they were nothing special. Nobody that he would consider a long-term companion. Acquaintances that he may one day attend the weddings or funerals of, but little else beyond that. All his life, he had always befriended his girlfriends first and foremost. Chicks, one of his pseudo-friends had once observed, ruled his life. There was something embarrassing in that observation, but also a dose of truth. Friends were something he would one day have, just not today. And probably not tomorrow, either.

“
Hello?” a female voice called from the other side of the door. It was familiar, but not distinct enough to pin down for certain.

The door swung open, at his frothing hell-hound’s unspoken command, and he wondered if that was how the dinner spread had been created, out of the thin air, or from a machine like the Jetsons had in their futuristic kitchen. The screen door was opened next and Karen, the other raging bitch in his life, stepped over the threshold with groceries clutched to her chest. “Oh my,” she whispered, and her face became visibly flushed, as if flattered. “You’ve outdone yourself, haven’t you?” She placed the bag down on the end table beside the couch, sauntering over to the makeshift dinner table on awkward feet, scanning the surface with her eyes, the candlelight flickering in them. Zephyr could barely make her face out in the half-lit room, like a shadowy phantom stalker.

“
You need to leave this place, Karen,” Zephyr said, struggling to stand from his chair, but finding those standard invisible shackles firmly in place. The monster in his new home had formulated this doomed liaison, to lure his snarling co-worker into the honey-trap. He, Zephyr realized, was the honey and Karen was the dim-witted fly, flitting about the room in the clutches of its own stupidity.

“
I always knew,” she said in a seductive voice that failed to hit the intended target.

“
Always knew what?” Zephyr asked, shaking his head from side to side, trying to incorporate his worry into his voice, as well as his face. If Karen could see through her blinding passion for him (how had the thing
known?
Could she really read his mind?), then she would observe his troubled face and opt out of their candlelit dinner. If only she could see past the pink butterflies swirling around her head, which seemed to be tricking her brain into thinking she and Zephyr’s unspoken passion was coming to fruition.

“
Always knew that you wanted me. I’ve dreamed of you,” she stated as if rehearsed, her face stony with a disgusting obsession that she could not control, though she wanted to, her love a demon as big as his jailor’s. “When I sleep. When I wake up. I want you to be with me, to take me like I’ve imagined.” She was putting it all on the line, Zephyr realized. She had bottled up the words for a long time.

“
Karen, you need to
get the fuck out of this house
. You need to call the police, and tell them I’m trapped here. You don’t understand what’s happening.”

“
I know
exactly
what’s happening here, lover,” she said, her words smacking of his ghostly housemate. Had she possessed Karen in that moment that she had stepped into the house?

You’ll enjoy her. Both of us will enjoy her. And when we’re done with her, we’ll destroy her. How does that sound? Would you like to take part in her desecration? She’s brought our groceries. Nobody knows she’s here, lover. I saw to that. She can disappear and nobody will ever know the difference. I’ve watched her off and on for weeks. She has a brood of felines, dozens of them. That’s the only thing she has in her life. Not a friend in the world, just like you. Her family is thoroughly deceased. People like that can evaporate and nobody will know the difference, my lover. The perfect kill. You’ll enjoy this if you will allow it of yourself.

“
Let her go!” shouted Zephyr. He screamed so loud that one of the candles went out. A moment later, it came back to life. Karen’s reaction was genuine. Somehow, the gum-snapping bane of his previous life had been lured of her own emotions. “Let her go and you can do whatever you want to me!” There was something that felt noble in that statement and Zephyr felt a pang of honor. Even though he could not tolerate the mere existence of Karen, he did not want to see her hurt. His mind hopped back to the manual drill, burrowing into his skin. Would she deliver a similar wrath to Karen if he allowed it?

“
Who are you talking to?” Karen asked, sitting down at the seat across from Zephyr. She noted her blank plate, glancing around for the serving dishes. “Are you
high
?” she asked. “If you’re high, can I have some? I’ve heard it makes sex better.” Her face squished and she touched her rough hand to cover her contorted facial expression, that of a fourteen year old girl who is preparing to kiss her first boy.

“
I’m not high. Will you please listen to me?” he begged.

Oh, she’s listening. Look at her. We’ll wear her skin by the time the night’s over. Look at those pimples on her face. That nasty twisted hair. I’m not sure I want to do anything but punish her. What do you say about that? Shall we crack her skull open and scoop out the insides? I’m not so sure about intercourse, now that I’m looking at her in the candle’s light. She has the skin of a brown lizard.

“
I’m listening. Of course I’m listening.” She paused. “Shall I serve myself? I’m really hungry,” she said absently, but Zephyr realized that she was anxious, and wanted to speed through their dinner as fast as possible. She was under the assumption that Zephyr had called for her, that he wanted to become her sweaty clutching lover on this very evening. What lay ahead in her mind was nothing but pure bliss, but the truth of the oncoming torture was nothing short of grievous trauma. She picked up her plate and started for the kitchen. “I brought more wine. It’s in the car. I’ll get it after this one,” she noted.

“
Yes! Go to your car! Please, go to your car, and don’t come back, you dumb bitch. It’s the last thing you’ll ever do,” Zephyr threatened, fighting to convey himself as the Dirty Harry archetype that he needed to be. It was a requirement of the situation that he terrify her with his words, since he could not remove himself from the chair and push her from his door in the physical sense. “Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll kick you in the face.”

From the kitchen, he could hear Karen clacking around in the pots of miraculous immaculate food upon the stove, dishing herself out some of the steamy niblets. “You’re a funny one. I always appreciated your sense of humor.” Hidden in those words, Zephyr could hear her thoughts resonating. Beneath her whispers, she wanted to interject that she loved him, that she had always loved him. From that very first day he had started at Richter’s, an awkward young college student trying to make ends meet, his sly cool demeanor had both enraged her and titillated her at the same time. “Do you need anything from the fridge, sweetie?” she asked. The words felt alien on her tongue, but she embraced them all the same. Zephyr, in the next room, asked himself who this strange confused girl really was.

“
I’m serious, Karen. You need to get the fuck out of this house while you still can. I’m trapped here and you will be too. There’s something here that I can’t even begin to explain to you, but you need to trust me! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” he shouted, pausing to ponder the fact that he had unknowingly referred to the house as “MY HOUSE.” That troubled him, but it was not a time for dragging his feet over cold coals.

“
Come on now. Watch that language,” Karen advised as a grandmother may.

I’m going to enjoy this.

“
You’re going to regret this!” Zephyr shouted. It came off as a threat, but it was not his intention.

Karen walked back into the den, sitting at the card table, placing her plate of food before her. She stared into Zephyr’s eyes as though it were all a dream, studying the contours of his face in the undulating candlelight. It was probably a day not so dissimilar from what she had pictured in her soft fantasies. Now that it was here, surrounding her like a warm blanket, she could not help but quiver. She cupped her hand in front of her face and breathed outward in struggling nonchalance, lurching at the rebounding gust of hot death that came from her gullet. Reaching across the table, she poured herself a glass of wine to combat the stink-breath. “I’ve never regretted anything, and I’m not going to start now,” she said with an uncomfortable (but coy) smile.

She’s been a heartless bitch, but how much of that is a defense mechanism?

“
She did nothing to deserve this.”

Lover, this is so exhilarating. I can’t take anymore. Look at her!

“
Who the hell are you talking to?” Karen asked of Zephyr, examining his face.

“
I’m talking to somebody that is going to hurt you. And that’s the reason you’ve gotta leave.” Zephyr glared at Karen. She was not listening to him, and did not seem to be near any state of acquiescence to his demand. Warnings had not worked, nor had blatant cruelty and slimy words. Were he able to move his body even an inch, he would drag her from the house. “This may be your last chance, you dumb bitch. Go.
Now.
”

Stop that silly talk. This sorry sack has become my favorite toy. Watch and learn.

Karen’s head snapped back, her face frozen in fear as she felt the sharpened talons digging into some part of her body, of which Zephyr could not decipher from where he sat. Karen reached up with both hands, tearing away at the invisible mitts at the back of her neck. His lover-demon had a way of grabbing skin that was both painful and demanding at the same time. He had felt that same grip himself several times already, and so his heart filled with pity for Karen, something he may have never otherwise felt (for her, at least). Yes, he had despised the girl, but no human being deserved such treatment. “Zephyr?” Karen asked blankly, misunderstanding the situation she had been thrust into, of the non-existent painful force upon her. Shock and worry sent her face into rapid twitches and she gasped in pain, little bits of salty tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. She groaned, leaning forward, mumbling beneath her breath to let her go, casting aspersions in Zephyr’s direction.

He could only shake his head, knowing that he had warned her, but he wanted to help, all the same. “I’m sorry, Karen. I told you. This is where I’ve been all this time. Now you understand.”

“
I don’t...” Karen trailed off, yelping in pain as the claws raked across her back, slicing away the pretty blue dress she had worn for her “date” with Zephyr. The dress had been given to her by her Aunt Talia before she had died, insisting that she wear it as a love amulet for just the right guy, when she found him. Though, at the time Karen had responded with bitter sarcasm that such a man only existed at the bottom of a pint of Chunky Monkey. She had thought of just such a day, possibly with her handsome young co-worker. Now, that dress became severed in two, torn asunder by a vapor force of grueling will. “Please?” she called out in desperation, bent over the table, her face mushed against the lukewarm barbecued pork chop on her plate, looking up to Zephyr for aid. “Please, Zephyr. Stop this!” Her face was driven deeper into her disheveled plate by a hand at the back of her skull.

“
I warned you. You didn’t listen,” Zephyr whimpered. He had never intended for anybody to get hurt. Karen’s attack was as much his fault as his own imprisonment belonged on the shoulders of Rattup.

Would you like some time with her before I show her the pain?

“
Fuck off.”

“
Don’t tell me to fuck off, please...” Karen cried, grasping at the wobbly table for purchase, to escape the transparent thing looming over her backside, claws and body pressure pushing against the small of her back and the backs of her knees.