Of course



Of course the first fiction I write now I’m back is something disturbing. OH WELL


I poured myself another shot of scotch. “Is that really how it’s going to be, darlin’?”

She smiled, ghastly pale and still wracked with the tremors and pangs of withdrawal. “You know it’s gotta be, asshole.” Her once-full lips were cracked and bleeding. Her hair was matted, one eye swollen shut, and what looked like an infected sore peeked out from the sleeve of her moth-bitten sweater. The bloody smile grew wider, as if in obscenely cheerful response to the pain.

I sighed and threw back the scotch. “Yes– yeah. Still. I was hopin’ I wouldn’t have to…” I inhaled to continue my sentence, but she interrupted.

“Oh, like fuck you were hopin’. You mangy hound, you been looking forward to this since the miscar–” I silenced her with a casually forceful backhand. 

“An’ you still don’t know your place. You poor, dumb whore…”

I picked up the shreds of the sleeping bag she’d been sleeping on before I caught up to her. It had been patterned red, white, and blue, once. Now it was closer to purple, yellow, and black.

“I’ll make it quick, babe.” I smiled, already tasting the blood. I slowed my breathing, made my sentence a hissingly drawled promise to be broken rather than a nervously chuckled farce. I wrapped the fetid sleeping bag around her trembling, bony form, willing my hands not to crush her pathetically emaciated arms. 

“No, you won’t… you won’t, you won’t, you won’t you won’t you won’t you won’t you won’t you…” The words died in her throat with a sickening rattle. She tried to laugh but started sobbing instead. 

She clawed at her face, as though trying to put out her eyes, but lacking the courage or force of will to do so.

I smiled down at her. “Of course I won’t, sweetheart. You’re my favorite.”

Her weeping grew quieter, but her body quivered delectably with each sob.

I started cooing in her ear. “Well, since my baby left me, I found a new place to dwell…”

I drew her close to me and thrilled at her each new shiver of terror. The next verse burst into my skull, as if it was a natural extension of the drawl and the swagger and the show. “It’s down at the end of lonely street, at heartbreak hotel…”

That’s good shit, I thought. I oughta write that down. I started gyrating my hips.

“I just want you to know, darlin’… I ain’t never known anybody who inspired me… the way you do…”

She couldn’t scream any more. That was a shame. All in all, though, it was a very productive night.

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One Response to “Of course”

  1. Sebatinsky Says:


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