Kevin

[Cordellia Amethyste Rose]

Here is my second story.  It's essentially the story-within-a-story of my last story, Miles.  I didn't really title it since it's just the actual telling of an old story line and there are too many other characters in my head for this to feel like a real story in itself.  Almost none of it's new material.  

 

Kevin

            I didn’t think it would end this way.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  You don’t own me, you bitch.  You’re mine.  This was supposed to be my big finale.  I’m supposed to finish you.  I’ve been waiting for this day for seventeen years.  I’ve got all my tools here, don’t you see?  This one was to carve your heart out.  You always looked so pretty in red.  Don’t spoil it.  You owe me this moment.  I’ve been dreaming of this for too long.  You have to let me finish you, so we can both be free. 

            I remember the day I met Baby.  She was young, just like me, but more of a lady than I would ever know in my life.  I was thirteen years old.  My mother, that naïve bitch, was reuniting with the daughter of an old friend who’d just moved to town.  They were reminiscing of the young woman’s father who’d been in a coma for many years.  Her name was Laura, and she had just moved to town to run the local theater.  She was so desperate for love and inspiration.  I suspect that meeting her thirteen-year-old protégée was the best day of her life.  The sad, lonely duo clung to each other for dear life.  She’d brought this young angel with her to meet my mother.  I don’t know why, come to think of it.  Yes, wait, I do.  Poor desperate Laura needed all the support she could get.  She brought her to facilitate this sad reunion and brag about the new talent she’d discovered.  In the few short months they’d known each other, this young angel had already nurtured Laura’s soul more than anyone had in years.  A young actress with more talent than Laura had ever seen, this young beauty had every promise of being the greatest to happen to ever happen to the world.  The instant I saw her, I understood.  It was true.  This angel would be our savior.  She would also be my captor. 

            The women sat talking in the living room, while I listened from my bedroom.  Slowly, I made my way out.  They barely saw me.  My mother, her eyes sunken from the exhaustion of crying, turned towards me briefly.  She smiled and introduced me to the girl they called “Baby” who was sitting nervously near Laura.  It was the nineties, so baby doll dresses were in fashion.  Baby wore a loose, white baby doll dress, white tights, and black Mary-Jane shoes.  Her hair was long and black, to match.  It fell loosely around her dark eyes, framing them in sad, scattered waves.  Her skin was almost as pale as her dress.  It was shiny and sweaty from her thick hair.  Embarrassed, she kept trying to wipe the sweat off her brow while pretending to be brushing her hair back with her hand.  It didn’t work, of course.  The more nervous and self-conscious she became, the more flushed her face became.  The more she would shine…… 

            No one cared as I sat watching on the corner of the couch.    My mother and Laura were taking turns speaking about Laura’s father.  My mother had known him when she was little until she moved away when she was ten.  They’d been pen pals ever since until the accident that left him in a coma.  She’d never met Laura, who was now twenty-two and fighting to keep the memory of her father alive.  The poor sap had been connected to machines for years.  No one had any hope, but she couldn’t let him go.  She couldn’t pull the plug.  Part of her felt guilty, but killing him would’ve been inconceivable.  I wondered what that would be like.  Every so often, the women would get too choked up to speak and there would be this awkward silence.  That was Baby’s cue.  She’d speak up, in her trembling, mousy voice.   Usually it would be something simple and kind, not meant to have any effect but to stir the pot of emotions and open the flood gates again.  “Laura’s told me so many stories about John.  He seems like a perfect father.  I never knew a father could love a child so much until she told me about him.  I’ll bet he was wonderful growing up.”  Then Laura would look on her lovingly and brush Baby’s sweaty hair off her brow.  Then Laura and my mother would be sobbing and talking again for another half hour.  Baby stared deeply at them the entire time, leaning forward like she was literally about to leap in at any moment.  She was there to keep things going.  Laura, exhausted from all the years of waiting needed to keep feeling.  She needed to keep bleeding just to know she was still breathing.  I got the feeling this was their permanent dynamic. 

            Eventually they got everything out and started to smile and laugh about current times.  Laura bragged about Baby and all the things she could do.  She made her perform scenes from Shakespeare, which she did flawlessly.  Then she sang, first a sad song and then a more upbeat one.  Apparently this young lady was also a fantastic choreographer.  Baby was even known to have visions.  She’d even had a dream that John would wake up one day.  Out of nowhere he would open his eyes and start talking like nothing had ever happened.  He’d fall in love with a woman Laura worked with, and they’d get married.  My mother was completely enchanted.  That wouldn’t last for long.  Within six months, my mother would come to loathe Baby and all she represented…..namely the emerging of my true colors.  Soon, my mother would hate this little angel because she would see me for the first time, and it wouldn’t be good.  That stupid, stupid weak bitch would never be able to handle knowing what she had spawned.  For now, though, she was under Baby’s spell.  Things calmed enough that Baby saw her services were no longer necessary. 

            Baby always needed someone to play with.  She needed to look upon someone with those magical eyes and stir the pot.  Whatever lurked deep within their souls had to emerge and remain at the surface.  Suddenly she looked up at me and blinked her wet eyes open to get my attention.  She looked deeply at me and gave me a sad, pouty frown like a damsel in distress.  Then she gave me a sheepish smile.  She came and sat next to me and nervously tried to make conversation.  I invited her back to my room to look at my books.  Laura smiled and told her to go ahead.  We sat in my room talking about whatever I wanted for hours.  She sat there on the bed, listening to my every word, her head and shoulders arched forward a little more every few minutes.  My poor, sad, lonely Baby doll.  I just wanted to put her on my lap and play with her hair.  I never did. 

            Time went on and Baby and I became friends, if you want to call it that.  She didn’t have a lot of friends back then, so she was all mine.  When she wasn’t working at the theater, she would come by in the afternoon.  She would take the bus all by herself.  I would sit up for hours showing her my books and drawings.  I would set her on the bed and stare at her angelic face.  She always looked up at me, never down.  Her face was always tilted down like a dog’s who’s been repeatedly beaten.  I liked her that way.  I would sit there staring in awe.  Occasionally I would wink, and she would blush.  I imagined myself playing with her long hair and trying different shoes on her.  I used to draw her wearing different dresses and shoes.  Sometimes I drew her with a head band, other times not.  She was always delighted at the attention I showered upon her. 

            Things were going well for Baby at the theater, a little too well.  She started getting more roles and more responsibilities.  She was so devoted to Laura and their craft.  One play was particularly devastating for me.  She really bonded with her costars.  Months passed, and she started to come over less and less.  When I called her, she was never home.  When I called her at Laura’s, and she’d always be gone or busy.  I tried to get her friends’ phone numbers, but she refused to give them to me.  Finally, she would come over.  I knew she would miss me eventually.  I told her how much I missed her and needed her.  I couldn’t hide my frustration.  She cried and said she couldn’t help it.  She and her male lead were becoming very close.  He protected her and needed her.  I knew he was falling in love with her.  He’d started accompanying her on the bus.  She said it was just a coincidence that he was on there as well, but I knew otherwise.  She said they were just friends.  That was a lie.  I knew something more was going on.  If not yet, then it certainly would be.  He was trying to steal her from me. 

            They had another friend who was teaching her how to sew costumes.  When she wasn’t with one, she was with the other.  I told her she couldn’t stay away from me like that.  How could she do that to me when I needed her so?  She cried and told me that if I cared about her I’d let her be free.  This was out of the question.  I flew into a rage and hit her.  I hit her again and again.  Then everything went white.  I don’t even remember what happened next.  I just remember hearing her running through the bushes outside my house screaming for me to leave her alone.  I yelled after her and ran.  My rage was so thick I could barely see, and I felt dizzy.  I tripped and fell over some twigs.  Before I knew it, she was gone. 

            The next day I heard my mother on the phone arguing with someone.  There was no way her son could ever do such a thing.  At first she emphatically denied any wrongdoing on my part.  She looked at me with sad eyes but never questioned me.  She knew there was no other explanation.  Baby’s face was all swollen and bruised.  She had bruises up and down her arms from an apparent struggle.  My mother told me not to see that girl anymore.  I cried and told her I was sorry.  I never wanted to hurt Baby, but she just made me so angry.  She let me feel like I was the only person in the world, and then she abandoned me.  How could she forget about me like that?  My mother cradled my head in her arms and caressed my hair tenderly.  Her poor sweet boy never meant to hurt anyone.  That horrible girl was just asking for trouble. 

            I kept trying to call Baby to apologize, but she refused to talk to me.  Laura took her to the police, and they questioned me.  I cried and told them I never meant to hurt anyone.  I was so sad and pathetic that they felt bad for me.  I promised not to go near her, and they let the matter go.  Laura saw me on my way out and told me never to go near her baby again, or she’d have me thrown in jail.  She was so upset that they had to restrain her.  She looked like she would’ve killed me had they let her go.  It kind of felt good.  In a weird way my power was growing, and so was my motivation. 

            I knew where Baby lived, and I quickly found out where her friends lived.  I started following her.  There was a space between the two buildings across from her apartment building.  It held a rather large trash can, some boxes, and a gate in front to keep people out.  It was easy to hop over, though and became a perfect place to hide.  Poor, foolish Baby would always go out at night to meet her new friends.  I popped out once just to talk to her and she screamed.  I wish she hadn’t done that.  Naturally I had to respond.  I kicked her in the gut and pushed her down.  I grabbed her by her hair and told her to shut up.  She kept screaming, so I told her I had a knife.  Just then her friend David, the budding seamstress, came from around a corner.  I wish I’d have known he knew martial arts.  He quickly got me away from her and did some sort of move on me.  My arms hurt for a long time afterwards.  He told me to leave her alone.  I wish I could, but it just wasn’t an option. 

            After that, one of the boys made sure they were always around Baby when she went anywhere.  I knew I couldn’t take David, but I had a feeling I could take the other boy if I had to.  Still, I tried to avoid it.  That French bastard who just happened to be on the bus when she came to visit me was now her boyfriend.  He was in love, so he would do anything for her.  So would I.  I wondered how his perfect skin would look with a few blood stains.  Oooooooooh, blood.  What an idea.  I bought a pocket knife for protection.  If I should find one of them alone in a dark alley, I would need to be prepared. 

            Things went well for awhile.  I learned to relish my spot in between the two buildings.  When I looked up, I could see her bedroom window.  She hadn’t actually seen me coming that night, so she didn’t officially know where my hiding spot was.  I’ll bet she wondered on occasion, though.  Well versed in Shakespeare, she had a natural love of balconies and moonlight.  I’d catch her sitting by the window, looking up.  She was always looking up.  Even from up high, she always knew everything that mattered was above her.  Her skin, already so white, practically glowed in the moonlight.  It was probably the sweat from her thick blanket of hair.  I wanted to nuzzle the side of her face and smell it.  I continued my drawings, though I could barely see from my little perch in the shadows behind the gate.  I had her shape memorized, though.  I wouldn’t even look at the paper.  My hands would just glide over it as I looked up at her, looking up at the moon.

            This went on for months.  I would sneak out most nights to watch Baby in her environment.  I had spots all over town I could watch her from.  The theater had plenty of shadows outside, as did David’s house.  My favorite spot there was an area with a few really tall bushes behind a park bench near his apartment building.  The fools practically lived there.  They would walk through the park and talk and sing.  David’s mother had escaped from an abusive marriage with her children.  That’s why he had learned martial arts.  That’s why his guard was up.  He was always looking around when he was with her, ready to pounce on me if he saw me.  A few times he did and told me to leave and stop stalking them. 

            A few times I mentioned my knife, for protection.  This would usually end in a call to my mother the next day.  I’d hear her on the phone with Laura, vehemently denying any wrongdoing on my part.  She would sob and say that nothing like this ever happened until Baby came into my life.  Baby, the needy, emotional instigator always kept hearts bleeding.  She always knew just what to say to get everyone sobbing again.  I was such a good boy before she came. 

            The day after my sixteenth birthday, the police came.  I knew they would.  They just didn’t like my art.  I thought Baby’s white dress would look good with a little color down her neck.  I had to see for sure what this would look like.  I didn’t really hurt her.  She’d just have a lovely small scar on the side of her neck.  The way her head was always bowed in shame, I doubted anyone would notice anyway.  They put me away in juvie for awhile and told me not to go near her.  They were always telling me that anyway, so it was nothing new.  Leave the little instigator alone, and she won’t cause problems.  Meanwhile, my art was suffering.  I spent all night trying to get her feet right one night.  I kept getting the size and shape wrong.  It was so aggravating.  I had to draw a knife and pretend I had used that knife to carve them into the shape I kept drawing.  At least that made sense. 

            Things got tougher when Baby got her driver’s license, but I’m not one to shrink from a challenge.  I would follow her around in my car.  Occasionally she’d have Laura’s brats in the back seat, so she’d freak out.  I got a bigger knife and loved the way it felt against my lips.  I’d hold it up and kiss it when I’d see her.  It’s not like I could draw while I was driving.  I had to do something to make the experience of seeing her more tangible.  I was never aroused by her sexually.  She was my art, my baby, my doll.  She was my muse and my paint.  It wasn’t enough just to see her and think of her.  She was too much of an experience for me.  Man, I loved that blade.  She would completely over react and call the police on her little cell phone just because I was “stalking” her and “threatening” her with a knife.  That’s not at all what I was doing.  Oh, but Baby had to stir the pot.  It made me want to stir her with my knife, that little melodramatic bitch.  Ah, but I’m an artist.  Even as a teenager, I was above reacting with such petty emotion.  I was no loose cannon.  No, an artist takes time to plan and move with precision. 

            Right after we turned twenty, Baby wed her French asshole boyfriend.  It was a lovely ceremony in the park.  I sat and watched with my binoculars from the second floor of a café on the other side.  She was supposed to wear white, but David made her a purple dress instead.  He did it just to spite me.  Why were they always so petty and spiteful?  Was it really necessary to spend all that energy doing things just to irritate me?  Did they really have nothing better to do?  She was supposed to wear a long, white dress and black shoes with round toes.  What exactly was so difficult about that?  It was one of the most important, fashionable days of her life, aside from her death which I would handle later.  This one thing he was in charge of, and he completely screwed it up.  He made her a stupid, ugly purple dress with lavender shoes.  She held purple and red roses when I specifically wanted a red bouquet.  I told them that in my letter.  I was very specific.  How the hell could they screw that up unless it was to spite me? 

            After that, Baby moved away.  She and her French husband went to live in France.  I knew I was going to be stuck for awhile.  I moved to a nearby town and got a job in a knife shop.  I loved sharpening the blades.  I decided to use my time wisely and learned as much as I could about them.  I increased my collection and decided to improve my social skills.  One day, a beautiful, raven-haired maiden walked in.  She looked almost like my angel, except she had a pointier nose, which I hated.  I smiled and flirted with her.  When she blushed, that sealed it for me.  I knew it was the Universe telling me to be patient and practice.  She was only passing through town.  I convinced her to stay a few extra days at her hotel and visit with me.  She was so easily persuaded.  I was completely entranced.  She was almost perfect. 

            I enjoyed making this new woman look like Baby.  I found a nice white dress and then met her in her hotel.  She was so weak like Baby that she didn’t fight hard when I strangled her.  I got her dressed and then fixed her nose and face with my knife.  This was becoming an art form, and it was exhilarating.  I was so proud of my work.  When I was done, she looked just like Baby except her skin was no longer white.  Even I can’t control the stain of blood.  Small imperfection.  It would take the police years to figure it out it was me. 

            I scored big when I went into an old shop and found several white dresses that looked much like ones Baby had worn.  I bought them all.  The next woman was perfect except she was too tall.  I had to get a saw to fix that.  The next woman’s hair wasn’t the right color.  This was much easier to fix.  I enjoyed my work, but sometimes it was grueling.  I welcomed the relief of the easy jobs.  Each one brought a sense of relief and exhilaration that would last for a few months until fortunately I would find another.  I wouldn’t work with just anyone.  They had to be a slight variation of my muse.  In all, I think I found twenty-nine of them before the time came for the final scene to play out.

            Finding news about Baby was such a pain.  I had to follow Laura and David to get any information.  I tried writing them, but that only got me a visit from the police.  I was polite as I could be in my letters.  Sometimes I would cut myself and draw little pictures on the pages.  I thought this was beautiful, but I guess they didn’t appreciate it.  People can be so ignorant when it comes to art.  I snuck into Laura’s office and found some lovely packages from Baby.  Then they stopped writing letters, so I had to hack into Laura’s email account.  I was constantly having to learn new skills, but I managed.  This went on for years as I waited to finally see Baby again.  I never lost faith and kept honing my skills and planning my final victory.

            One day I read an email from Baby saying that she missed Laura horribly and wanted to know if she could stay with her for a few months over the summer.  At last, my dream would come true.  I would see her again and end the control she’d had over me for seventeen years.  Laura was ecstatic and told her to come.  It was time to kick things into high gear.  I had to start planning.  There was no way out of this.  Either I would win, or she would have control over me forever.  I was tired of it, so tired, so horribly tired.  I was so nervous and elated that all this was finally going to come to an end. 

            My heart started pounding after I read that email.  I had so much to do.  This was so important.  I couldn’t screw it up.  I had amassed five knives so far, which was a good start.  I needed to plan for other circumstances though.  Baby had a lot of friends now.  Laura’s father, John, had been awake for years, and he and his wife were very fond of Baby.  So were Laura’s husband and children.  David was as strong as ever, and his family deeply loved Baby as well.  They all knew about me.  I know this because I’d run into them on occasion when I was playing with my knife outside where they worked.  They would do anything to protect Baby.  I put my head down and started to cry.  What was I going to do if they were all there and came after me?  It wasn’t fair for them to vilify me so.  It was her fault.  She was always stirring up emotions.  They, of all people, should’ve known that.  She always got them crying and hugging.  It was ridiculous.  How could they not see it?  I started kicking my desk and shaking.  It wasn’t fair.  I would need a back-up plan.  I would need guns.  Yes, that’s right.  Guns.  I would build up my knives, so I could enjoy cutting her just as I wanted.  After all, this was going to be my big finale, my greatest art project yet.  I wanted to enjoy it as much as possible.  I didn’t want to get started and want to switch knives halfway through only to not have the right knife and start sobbing.  That would ruin everything. 

            In my previous projects, I had come to meet some unsavory folks.  I had no problem securing a few guns.  I placed them strategically, so no matter what position I’d be in, I’d have one.  I didn’t learn much about them, but they seemed like they’d work.  I bought a cute tiny little one, which I would keep in my pocket as a back-up.  I posed with it a few times in the mirror, but I guess that’s neither here nor there.  If things were going well, I would still have that one in case something went suddenly haywire.  I placed one in my suit pocket, one in my coat pocket, one in my glove compartment, one in the side of my car, and a few bigger ones in the trunk in case we got into a really bad situation.  I didn’t want to have to reload.  I was too clumsy anyway.  I wanted to just be able to toss out my gun and reach for another.  Guns weren’t my weapon of choice anyway.  These were strictly in case things went wrong. 

            My plan was this:  I would set out early Saturday morning.  I decided to do it then because there were some other things I wanted to take care of as well.  I would start out for my mother’s house and take care of her first.  Then I would go by Laura’s apartment and handle her.  Baby, it turns out, was staying at John and his wife’s apartment, so I would go there last.  I would have my knives in my pockets and only use the guns if someone tried to fight back a little too much.  I didn’t have time for fighting.  I knew Baby would be leaving for the theater in the afternoon to meet Laura.  If I got pressed for time, I would just shoot whoever was being a problem. 

            Everything was set.  I left this morning at seven AM and drove the hour or so to my mother’s house.  I took my coat off, figuring I wouldn’t need it or the guns in it.  I knew my father had left for work.  Mother would be alone, and she wouldn’t fight back.  Then the craziest thing happened.  I walked in the door to see her with a terrified look in her eyes.  She was holding the phone receiver and screaming at John to leave her alone.  She said it wasn’t true.  She set down the phone and stood looking at me, frozen in fear.  Tears streamed down her face, and she was trembling.  John was yelling that I was going to kill her.  Baby had seen it in a vision.  He was begging her to run, to leave and never look back until she heard things were safe.  Then he put Baby on the phone.  She was screaming and pleading with my mother to believe her.  “It’s all your fault!” my mother screamed.  “He was never like this until you came around!”  Baby wasn’t even denying it.  She just kept sobbing and begging my mother to leave.  We stood there staring at each other.  I put my hands on her arms and held her tenderly for a moment.  “You know I have to do this,” I whispered.  She looked up and me and shook her head, pleadingly.  I had already reached in my pocket and grabbed my knife.  I jabbed it into her gut.  Her eyes bugged out, and she made some sort of sound.  She crumbled forward, and I let her down gently.  I laid her on her back and froze for a moment.  Baby, who apparently was seeing this all in her mind was screaming on the phone.  I stabbed my mother again and again and again.  She lied there sobbing the entire time.  She didn’t even say anything.  Blood was splattering everywhere.  It was all over my hands and clothes.  I had forgotten a spare set of clothing, but it was alright.  I had some leftover in my old room.  I had even left a nice suit in there, which I needed.  I showered and got dressed.  I didn’t want to be ugly when I was killing my muse.  Mother died while I was transferring my weaponry over.  Somehow I’d gotten distracted by all the blood and missed this crucial moment.  Oh well.  This wasn’t the big moment anyway.  It was just something I had to do. 

            I left just as easily as I came.  I appeared calm and remarkably focused.  Normally I was pretty clumsy, but not today.  I wondered if the neighbors would see me getting into my car with unusual ease and suspect something.  Normally I was always fumbling with my keys and getting upset. 

            Next I went to Laura’s apartment.  I had long since made a key, so I could look through her things.  She was obviously too stupid to figure this out because it still worked.  Not surprisingly, she and her family were gone.  I trashed the place and left some slashed pictures of Baby in the middle of her floor, so she’d know I was there.  I’m sure Baby told her I was coming.  She wasn’t at her office either.  I didn’t have time to hunt for her further.

            I was getting fed up now, so I went straight to John’s apartment.  I didn’t like them trying to outsmart me like this.  It wasn’t very nice.  I busted down the door, but no one was home.  DAMN IT!!!!  Where could they have gone?  Did they really think they were going to beat me?  I slashed up all their furniture.  Then I cut myself and smeared blood all over their pillows and some on their floor.  There, now they would have to live with that ugly stain.  They weren’t going to beat me this easily.  I would find them.  I tore up some of John’s nice suits and a purple shirt of his wife’s.  I hate purple. 

            After this, my blood was boiling.  They actually thought they were going to outrun me.  I got my gun out and was carrying it through the parking lot when I saw something out of the corner of my eye that took my breath away.  Baby, in all her beauty, was there on her motor cycle waiting for me.  I almost started to cry.   She was on her cell phone pleading with someone to listen and send the police.  I guess they didn’t believe the whole “I saw a vision” story.  Even now that she said I was there in front of her, they weren’t buying it apparently.  She sped off, out of the garage.  I hopped in my car with a smile and followed her. 

            My heart was pumping.  Time was passing by so slowly.  I tried to hit her, but she kept dodging me.  She kept going and going further out of town.  She knew she wasn’t going to outrun me, so she had to do something else.  We ended up in some remote area at some old tavern that wasn’t open yet.  She stopped, jumped off her bike, and ran in through an open door.  The manager was there alone fixing some things.  He opened his mouth to yell for her to get out, but she was screaming too loudly for him to run and call 911.  I followed her in.  He took one look at me with the knife in my hand and ran for the door with the phone.  I could’ve shot him, but I was too preoccupied with Baby.  There she was, at last.  My shining moment was here. 

            Baby looked so beautiful……..for someone wearing pants.  She wore a lovely white tank top just for me.  She knew I’d enjoy it.  It would be so beautiful to carve up.  I stood there imagining the blood soaking her top for a moment after she took off her jacket.  She was wearing black pants, which I didn’t love, but oh well.  She only had short notice and needed to ride her motorcycle, so I understood.  Her shoes were black as well.  Her hair was shorter and went just past her shoulders.  She still looked perfect to me.  It’s hard to believe that it’s been seventeen years since we met.  Her face had definitely matured but hadn’t quite aged.  Her skin was still shiny and glistening.  Tears were streaming down her face, but I got the feeling that they were fake.  She wasn’t frightened of me.  She just wanted me to think I was winning.  Poor, sweet lamb……..she was staring me right in the eyes with no fear.  She had no pockets to carry a weapon.  I held up my knife and asked for her cell phone, which she reluctantly gave.  Then the real tears started.  It was over.  There was officially no way out.  I told her to have a seat and went back into the kitchen to fix a sandwich and some French fries.  It had been a very exhausting day, and I was starving. 

            When I went back out she was seated at a table waiting patiently.  She told me she knew I had guns and wasn’t going to let me kill anyone else.  I smiled and told her I was relieved.  She was all I wanted.  We sat and talked for a moment while I ate half the sandwich.  Then I stopped and stared at her.  A look of fear came into her eyes as she knew exactly what I was going to do.  She trembled and whimpered as I got up and jabbed my little knife into her gut.  She cried and whimpered but didn’t quite let out a scream.  I actually didn’t stab her that deeply.  I went back and sat across from her and smiled.  I told her I wanted to savor this moment.  I asked her how she was planning on getting out of this, since she didn’t quite look defeated yet.  Perhaps she was hoping the cops would still arrive.  That was unlikely after her wild story about seeing me coming in a vision.  I picked up one of my French fries, reached over, and swiped it against her bloody shirt.  She cringed.  It had a lovely metallic taste in my mouth.  I smiled deep into her eyes.  She was more beautiful every moment.  I got up and cut a long, shallow line down the side of her neck and across her chest.  She was shaking and crying.  I could tell she wanted to fight back, but she knew I’d just shoot her.  I had a gun in my little shirt pocket and in my suit side pocket.  I also had one in my pants pocket.  There was no way she could get away. 

            She tried to keep me talking, which I was happy to do.  We reminisced about old times.  We talked about my mother and her family.  She didn’t want to talk about her family, but I wanted her to know I knew about them just in case.  I knew about her children and her husband.  I knew where they lived, even though it was far away.  I knew that her husband was visiting his relatives, and I knew where that was.  I knew everything.  Baby was bleeding slowly, and she had her hands cupped over her wounds.  I didn’t want her to just die.  I wanted to control that moment.  Finally, I decided it was time. 

            I got up, and she whimpered “No.  No, no, no, no no……..”  Ah, yes.  It’s time.  I grabbed her by the forearms and turned her around, away from the table.  I pushed her down onto the ground and got out my favorite knife.  I stabbed her once with a big, sweeping motion.  I stabbed her again.  She was starting to gurgle and cry.  Her eyes were staring off into the distance.  She wasn’t giving up.  I stabbed her again and again.  Then………..  NO!  No!  You bitch!  You horrible bitch!  No!!!!!!!!  I heard a bang……….a horrible bang.  I fell backward.  My heart felt stiff like something was stuck in it and it wouldn’t move.  My body felt weak.  I felt paralyzed.  No, this couldn’t be happening.  I turned my head and saw that Baby was still on the ground, my gun clasped in her bloody hands.  Her chest was heaving, and she was sobbing, screaming, trying to work up the strength to get up, but she couldn’t.  Blood was oozing everywhere, from her body and mine.  I watched as the two pools of blood merged together.  Then, my body stopped for good.  I felt myself get up and walk over to her. 

            Soon, I saw an ambulance come.  They hoisted her up onto a gurney and took her away.  I followed, silently.  They never saw me get into the ambulance.  They never saw me stand over her in the operating room.  They never saw me by her bed as the doctors told Laura it was touch-and-go, but she was hanging on.  They never saw me watch her leave on the day she was discharged later.  They never saw me, period.  At the same time, I had lost and won.  I had not been able to kill my torturous muse, but now we were bonded together forever.  She could never say she wasn’t a killer, for now she was.  Though they would never prosecute her, she would always know she had led me to my demise.  From day one, I was doomed.  

 

[Gemma]

very powerful story i enjoyed reading this one too.

i find it hard to write down my stories, i hope i will be able to get as good as you.

keep it up though because your writing is awesome!

[Cordellia Amethyste Rose]

Thanks for the nice things everyone's saying!

[Cordellia Amethyste Rose]

It's VERY difficult making stories out of my daydreams, as I found out with this story. This story is loosely based off events in my daydreams. All the characters in this one are from my daydreams, and all this more or less happened as it took place. I left out a lot of characters & such, and yet there were still things that felt like loose ends.
The Miles story is more my "what if" story. It's imagining if all my sensitivities got strong enough to just push me over the edge. The main character is based off myself. Miles is new, and this scenario is new. That story did not actually play out in my daydreams, but the Kevin story, which she briefly told, did. The main character in Miles is pretty much just me. All her sensitivities are mine. I don't actually see walls creep. Lol. I can imagine it though. I imagined that if anything did blur reality for me it would be the insomnia because I've been there, and it really sucks.

[Story_Teller]

By the way, from what I understand Kevin and Baby are long standing characters of yours, but what about Miles?  Was that whole story line one of your fantasies or was it something you just made up while sitting down to type a story? 

 

Sorry for so many questions.  :)  It's just that I'm trying to write down my own stories, and I'm often torn on whether or not I should use my daydreams or come up with original material while at the computer.  I usually do a combination of the two, coming up with original ideas but adding stuff from past daydreams, but I'm curious to hear what others do. 

[Story_Teller]

Awesome stories!  It leaves me a lot to think about.  For instance, if the main character in "Miles" really did act out her fantasies on herself (cut up her abdomen), does that mean she's psychic?  She knew what was going to happen to this Kevin (whom she'd never met) years before it actually happened? 

Or is her grip on reality so far gone that Miles himself isn't real and therefore the whole Kevin-being-a-real-person twist is actually all fantasy along with Miles? 

 

I know you said to read them as if they're not related, but I find it more interesting to to try to connect the two.  :lol

 

I like the way you describe little things such as Baby's hair and the sweat or the glass window in the other story.  It gives a good visual. 

 

[phoenix62]

Great writing:D
You need to write a book....

[Creator]

Ohhhhh gochya, yeah that makes sense now. Yes, I can see how that would be confusing for you. 

You're very welcome, its well-deserved! :)

[Cordellia Amethyste Rose]

These are 2 different stories written from 2 different points of view. In "Miles", the character is a person like us with Maladaptive Daydreaming who has a persistent fantasy world. She's essentially me, if all my issues pushed me over the edge. Baby is her main character, and Kevin is another character. To make it easier, I would forget the "Miles" story when reading this one. Just pretend you're reading a different story. In the other story, we found out that there existed someone named Kevin who died in a similar manner, and it's left up for debate whether or not the main character is really "Baby". She doesn't think she is. She does have cuts on her abdomen, but we don't know if they're the stab wounds or if she just took her fantasy to a whole new level and started acting them out on herself. Eek. I'm not sure if any of this helps. I would just pretend they're not related when reading them and think of them each on their own. Lol. You see why I get so confused when I try to write this stuff down? It's all too connected.
I'm not sure Kevin's insane. I think he's just evil. I feel bad for his poor mother. She was a good person.
Thanks for your wonderful encouragement! It means a lot to me! :)

[Creator]

That's intense. You portrayed his insanity with such remarkable precision! One question, so is Baby the girl speaking in the other story? I'm a bit confused, because you said before that when she said "she" she was not referring to herself. 

I hope you write a novel and get it published some day.