Serial Volume Three (3 page)

It was too soon, I still couldn’t fully trust her to not blurt out my murderous predilections to the first person she saw. And yet I couldn’t back down from my father’s challenge. Dear old Dad needed to be knocked back down yet again.

He had shaped me, after all, and needed to understand how much further ahead his offspring was. Beyond anything he would have ever imagined.

I pushed a button on my phone. It clicked and I said, “Thomas, find me an at home lady’s shopping service please. I’ll need something within the hour.”

He sounded confused, but replied, “Yes sir, I’ll get right on that.”

I thanked him and clicked the intercom off. I sat back and went over what I’d need to drill into Pet’s head before meeting my parents.

But first and foremost, she needed to look the part.

If only I could get her to keep her mouth shut.

Jude

Patty wasn’t moving when I opened the door to the room in the warehouse. The body room I had started calling it in my head, but hoped I hadn’t developed the powers of precognition along the way.

She had to be more than a body; two days of my neglect couldn’t leave her dead, could it? I went through the temperatures over the last two days, and I knew I’d left the heat on. She was still covered with the thin blanket I’d left behind, but she stunk of human waste.

One thing I’d forgotten about. Perhaps I did need to leave her free range when I was gone, shackled to a wall or in the room I’d kept the other girl, the waitress. I needed a better system if they kept dying or shitting themselves.

I set the Chinese food take out on the counter and stepped to the table.

Her eyes fluttered and I could see the slightest rise and fall in her chest.

Thank god, thank you Jesus, whoever was looking out for me and had my back.

Getting rid of another body would be a fucking tedious task right now. Who knew being in a loving, committed relationship would cut so much into my killing time?

I certainly hadn’t predicted it.

“Patty,” I said and slapped her cheek softly, “wake up dear. You’ve soiled yourself, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She moaned and her eyelids fluttered harder. She opened her mouth and I could hear the sticky click of her dry tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

Water. Dammit, I’d forgotten about that. Dehydration would kill her faster than anything.

“Patty dear,” I said louder and slapped her harder. “Come on sweetie, there’s a hot shower in the employee lounge.”

“Jason?” she said with an arid croak. “You came back.” She smiled and her cracked lips widened in a smile.

“I did, babe,” I said, playing along, “let’s get your sweet ass in the shower.” I took a stab in the dark at what a two-bit loser pimp might say, but it seemed to work.

She softened, smiled wider and said, “I missed you. I had the craziest dream, this rich guy kidnapped me and…” she tried to move her arm and couldn’t. Realization crept over her and her eyes flew open. She started to moan and sob, but no tears came.

“It was no dream, sweetie,” I said and brushed the back of my hand on her forehead, “but you need to wake up and get yourself together.”

She closed her eyes again, squeezed them tight and I undid the bindings on her wrists and ankles.

She sat up and I helped her off the table, almost gagging at the scent that enveloped us both.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I had to go.”

She was shaking so hard she could barely stand. I had forgotten about her drug issues, she had probably been coming down pretty badly over the last two days.

I helped her to the former employee’s lounge slash change room area. I stood watch as she cleaned herself up. I didn’t have much in the way of soap, but I did find an old sliver of hand soap she could use.

When she finished, I handed her the same thin sheet and made a mental note to pick up towels and more blankets, maybe a bucket or two and some soap. Something my girls could wash with, nothing as caustic as the cleaning chemicals I used to get rid of all evidence of me on the body.

That could come later, at the end of it all.

“Feel better?” I asked in a lighthearted, friendly tone.

“God, yes,” she said and remembered who I was. Her face shut like a blind coming down over a window. She closed me off and I knew I’d need to work to draw her out a little, treat her better than I had been.

The opposite of the problem I had with Pet. The irony was not lost on me. Pet was overfed and overindulged and wouldn’t stop talking or moving.

Patty was treated miserably, because of my inconsiderate nature, and couldn’t be drawn out of her shell.

If only I could find a happy medium between the two extremes.

We walked back to the body room and she visibly shuddered when the scent of warm shit mixed with greasy Chinese food hit us.

“Help me clean up,” I said gently and handed her some rags, strips of cloth and such, along with some diluted bleach.

She took it, wrapping the cover around her thin body, and started to mop up her own filth.

I took the Chinese food out of the paper bag and removed the paper plates I’d previously discovered in the cupboard.

I didn’t think I’d want to eat with her, but watching her crouched in her thin sheet, mopping up after herself, her mouth set in a determined line, her face expressionless…I suddenly developed an appetite.

The smell didn’t bother me much, smells didn’t bother me, spraying blood didn’t bother me, decaying flesh and rot…none of it bothered me at the moment.

I served us up some of the food and cracked open a bottle of excellent wine I’d scooped from home this morning.

She finished up and stood with a bundle of filthy rags, looking uncertain and afraid.

“Toss them out there,” I said and pointed to the open door. I’d left it open for her, to air the place out.

She shifted nervously and made a move towards the door.

“Don’t bother running, by the way,” I said as she left, “we’re in the middle of nowhere and I’ll catch you before you make it outside. I’ll break your fucking legs if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”

She squeaked, disappeared for a moment, but ducked back in the room like a very obedient girl.

This pleases me.

“Please, come, eat,” I said and dragged a chair beside mine. I set the plates on a small file cabinet between us and poured our wine into matching plastic cups. “It’s like a picnic,” I added and watched her sit down. She drew the sheet around her and hunched miserably.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked and picked up the cup of wine.

“Not yet,” I said and tapped her cup with the edge of mine. “Here’s to new friends and uncertain futures,” I said and downed my wine in a single gulp.

She sipped hers, holding her cup in her shaking hand.

“Are you going to eat something? Is this not to your liking?” I asked and moved her plate closer.

She set her wine down and took a look at the food. “It’s good,” she said and picked up a fork. She took a bite and instantly transformed, she was obviously famished and it all came up at once. She made little grunting noises of pleasure as she gobbled her meal down at lightning speed.

I smiled congenially, picked up my fork and started eating.

It was cooling, greasy, nothing I would normally enjoy, but it was delicious. I let her take seconds, but stopped her at thirds. She would end up vomiting if she ate too fast, and I thought she should save some for the next day or two in case I couldn’t make it back.

When we were finished I packed up the leftovers and put them in the small fridge. I corked the remaining wine and left in on the counter.

I noticed the table had dried nicely and the room no longer stunk. I decided I could leave her there, but I had to adapt the bindings to hold her while allowing movement.

I left her to finish the last of her food and hunted down a couple of the chains I’d brought along. I had intended them to lock the front door, but hadn’t needed them.

I pulled them out and hooked one through the edge of the heavy table, through a solid metal edging. I tugged and didn’t think she’d be able to pull it free. She looked rather frail.

I hooked a small padlock to the loop and pulled the long end up. I had one more padlock I could use to attach to Patty’s neck. She would be afforded the luxury of movement without being able to escape.

When I had finished, I stood and noticed her watching me, her mouth hanging open in fear and her eyes wider than should be humanly possible.

“You’re not going to let me go, are you?” she whispered.

“Not just yet, dear,” I said and patted the now cleaned up table. “Be a sweetheart and hop up here, would you?”

She obeyed silently and I was struck at how small she seemed next to me. She was thin, but her hips curved out in a womanly fashion and her breasts, although pert, were heavy in my hands.

She didn’t make eye contact with me as I fondled her, playing with her breasts and running my hand along her thigh. The previous slashes I’d made with the knife had healed pretty well; she seemed to be in good shape for a junkie whore.

“You’re very beautiful, did you know that?” I asked and got close to her face and inhaled. The sliver of hand soap had given her a fresh, honest scent and I could see her pulse fluttering delicately in the artery at her throat.

She visibly responded to my declaration, she straightened slightly and I swore I saw the hint of a smile pass over her lips.

“Thank you,” she said.

I pulled her face towards me and kissed her, tasting the wine and Chinese food, her fear and the fact she hadn’t brushed her teeth in several days now.

It tasted raw, like humanity served up on a platter for me. I had the sudden urge to push her down and bury my face in her cunt, chew at her from below until I devoured her inside out.

I resisted and kissed her instead.

She softened against me and I felt her hand creep up my arm, she gripped my bicep and held on as she fell into our union.

My own hand moved up her thigh and parted her legs, found her hot slit and shoved a couple fingers inside of her. She was wet and open, ready for me. She pushed against me, struggled ever so slightly, but gave up as I started to retract and reinsert my fingers inside of her, slowly at first, but faster as she started to breathe hard against my lips.

“You like that?” I asked and ground my mouth against her. She whimpered, part fear, part longing, and I kept going. “You fucking like it, you whore, you cunt, you slut. You beautiful fucking bitch.”

She moaned and I felt her sudden, surprised release. She’d wanted to fight it, I could feel her balking at first, but I knew women and I knew her.

Women were whores, they just needed to be shown the depths of depravity they’d sink to in order to please a man.

“I’m…” her voice trailed off and she looked downwards under thick lashes.

“You’re what, sweetie?” I asked and pulled her chin up so she’d look me in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m just so confused.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, “just relax.”

I unzipped my pants and pulled my throbbing cock out. Freedom, sweet freedom. I’d been aching for this all day, thinking of Patty here and helpless. I’d been enjoying the excoriating pain of my hard on the entire time we’d been making small talk and eating.

I almost gasped as I slid the head inside of her tight, hot hole. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her towards me, but I didn’t want to kiss.

I bit her neck as I sunk my shaft balls deep in her pussy. She screamed and I bit harder. I felt chorded sinew grind in my teeth and skin give way as I came.

Hot blood flowed down my chin as hot cum spurted up inside of her. I let out a long groan and loosened my teeth.

I spat a chunk of flesh out onto the floor and cradled her head against my chest as she cried.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I get so excited I can’t help myself. I promise I’ll be more careful next time. Shhhhhh…”

She sobbed and my cock softened, fell out of her with a wet slap and cooled in the air as I comforted the whore I’d meant to kill.

The whore I would kill eventually.

But for now I soothed her and cared for her and channeled all the frustrated anxiety I had because of Pet, because of my father, because of fucking life…I channeled it all into her.

Fair or not, it was her lot in life.

Patty Wilson

Her neck throbbed and her heart pounded in the darkness even though he’d been gone for hours.

After he’d left, she’d cleaned herself up using the napkins from the Chinese take out bag, but she could still smell him on her.

It made her sick.

As bad as Jason or Chico or his other friends had been, they’d never been like this. This terrifying, this intense.

Her entire body shook, and she thought she might actually throw up. She didn’t know if it was from the assault or coming down off the coke¸ but she was in a bad way.

She didn’t want to puke though, she didn’t know when he’d come back and bring more food. She couldn’t afford to lose it.

She closed her eyes and felt hot tears slide out. She knew she was going to die. Patty had stared into the eyes of the Devil himself, and she knew he was going to take her soul.

She would never see sweet baby Sarah again, never nuzzle her soft neck, never pat her little tummy and sing her songs as she cooed and kicked her chubby feet.

She wailed, it echoed back at her, and emphasized her plight. She reached up and tugged at the chain he’d wrapped around her neck before he’d left, the padlock like some sick pendant. It rubbed her wound and she winced.

She prayed for the hundredth time that Sarah was okay, that her mom and John had kept Sarah with them.

It was strange how sensory memories could come back based on some small trigger.

When she had pooped herself on the table, she’d been humiliated and prayed for death.

When the rich guy had come back and taken her for a shower, all was good again, in spite of her kidnapping.

But going back into that room, smelling that warm shit and greasy food scent had almost made her break down in tears.

It smelled like home. The tiny house she shared with her mom and John and Sarah and her mom’s dogs and cats, always had the vague odor of crap and greasy food lingering in the air.

What a stupid memory to have, but Patty was choked up thinking about it.

She’d hated her bedroom the entire time growing up, hated the chipped and peeling green paint on the walls, the dead, brown lawn, the broken down cars in the driveway of their neighbor, Mr. Raymond.

She’d hated it all, but right now she would give anything to spend one more day with them all.

Even her mom, she craved sitting on the couch next to her ample body, feel one of her mom’s soft, pillowy arms wrap around her and talk about the last big win her mom had at bingo.

Even John, although he wasn’t Patty’s dad and he was one guy in a string of men her mom had brought home, she missed the kindness he’d shown her. Kindness with no strings, no lingering hugs or pats on the ass when her mom wasn’t looking.

And Sarah. She would give anything to spend five minutes with her baby in her arms again. The fresh scent of her hair after a bath, the soft silky skin on her little cheek.

Patty sobbed alone in the dark and felt her neck. The wound was pretty deep and still oozing.

The rich guy was so confusing, she was certain he would kill her, but he took care of her, fed her and talked to her in such a polite and nice way.

Then he’d made her come, and that had made her feel all kinds of stupid. She was terrified of him, and there she was groaning on the end of his rough fingers like she needed it or something. Like a bitch in heat.

She wondered if she escaped, could she even call it rape? He didn’t exactly force her, she had no choice in the matter, but how can you say you’re raped if you orgasm like some slutty bitch all over him?

He was so attractive, not at all like she would have imagined a kidnapper to be. He could probably get a gorgeous normal model type girl, why did he have to pick her off the street and leave her here?

She shivered in the cold and sat up. Fresh blood flowed from the injury on her neck and she slid off the table. She fumbled around until she found the pile of rags on the counter and pushed one onto her neck.

He didn’t seem like he was going to kill her right away, but she knew she wouldn’t survive this.

She decided she’d try bargaining with him. Mention Sarah more often, he’d seemed a little uncomfortable when he’d found out she had a baby.

Maybe if she could connect with him somehow, like Oprah had said on her show once, he’d let her go.

She sat down on the floor, pulled the thin blanket around her and leaned against the cupboards. She pressed the cloth into her neck, felt her heartbeat pounding against her wound, and plotted her escape.

If only she could convince him that she’d never tell, she was sure he’d let her go. And then she’d see Sarah again.