A/N: It's a new story for you! I hope you all like it, and send me a review to let me know. Inspiration struck unexpectedly in the Target in Brooklyn yesterday, so I knocked this out in a few hours. Give it a read and let me know what you think and if it's worth continuing with.
inspirationimagination and courtneylovejason - thank you SO MUCH for your encouragement. You gave me the kick I needed to finally push aside the 'Oh-God-What-If-Everyone-Hates-It' fear, and to just publish the thing. So here you are - consider this chapter for you.
NB: The speech marks key on my computer does not work, hence the apostrophes.
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RECORD HEATWAVE FORECAST, NY CITIZENS WARNED
Fuck, but he loved Union Square. Lots of expensive apartments full of lovely expensive things, belonging to young people who never even thought twice about leaving the windows looking onto the fire escape open on warm nights, even when they were out of the house, which they always were on a Saturday evening...
And the best thing was, the valuable stuff was always so portable, what with the usual MacBooks, iPads, iPods and other i-whatevers. He never seemed to find much in the way of PCs though. Maybe it was considered fashionable to buy electronics named for a kind of fruit. He couldn't see why else these morons would be shitting themselves over the chance to drop nearly a grand on the Next Big Thing.
That was the problem. People these days had too much money, and they wasted it. They didn't deserve it, wasting it on faddy electronics and crappy cheap beer and expensive cocktails and fancy handbags and overpriced 'vintage', and of course those stupid glasses which didn't even have any lenses in...
He picked his way around the cramped apartment, which some sleazy rental guy had clearly described as 'bijou' or something equally bullshitty, and whoever lived here had clearly fallen for his schtick because they'd taken on this dump. I mean, come on, to get to the bedroom you had to go through the kitchen, and who'd want that? Stupid pretentious rich cheating selfish-
Oh shit.
The rich bitch who lived here was actually home.
He paused in the door of her bedroom, deciding whether he should run or not. Normally he wouldn't even have to think about it, he'd always made a swift exit before whenever he'd had the misfortune to find someone home, but... this girl...
She was asleep in her bed, the covers kicked off and her legs apart as if she had known that he was coming, as if she had been waiting for him. Her blonde hair was mussed up against the pillows and her pale blue nightdress was slightly bunched up on one side, exposing an extra few inches of pale thigh. As he watched she sighed and turned onto her side, the hem of her nightdress riding up and revealing the first hint of the curve of her young, perfect, expensively-yoga-honed ass.
It was as if she was offering herself to him, really...
Before he knew it he was on top of her, straddling her and forcing one hand under her nightdress and into her underwear, shoving his fingers into her and feeling her tear.
Oh God oh God oh God... Who was he? Why was he in her apartment? His hands were under her nightdress and ripping at her crotch, and she screamed. Run, Sarah, run, scream and shout and kick him...
She woke and started screaming like a stuck pig, and he swore to himself. It hadn't occurred to him that she might scream, and she took advantage of his surprise by pushing him roughly aside and running for the door.
She threw herself across the room towards the kitchen, grabbing for anything that she could use as a weapon. Just make it to the phone, you can ring 911, you don't even have to say anything, just scream and they'll come, they'll save you, come on...
Oh, no, you don't.
Oh God he's right behind me oh God...
He was jumping up and running after her, grabbing her hair and twisting it around his hand as she screamed, finally yanking down hard and throwing her onto her back on the kitchen floor.
Oh God, OK, Sarah, just scream, scream as loud as you can and someone will hear you, someone has to hear you, they have to...
'Shut the hell up, you stupid bitch!' He sat astride her and shoved his hand down between her legs again, but she still wouldn't stop screaming and wriggling and scratching at his face. Jesus, what is her problem?
Fight him, Sarah, fight him off, you did Self Defence For Women for six weeks at the gym, remember, it was right before Pilates, come on, you can do this... She gritted her teeth and lashed out with all her might. You can do this, Sarah...
One of her nails caught on his cheek and scraped painfully across the skin, and he swore again as he felt a trickle of blood run down his face. 'Oh, fuck you, bitch, you'll pay for this...'
A cold rush of fear spread through her body. Please don't kill me, oh please, please don't kill me, oh God what if he grabs one of my knives and stabs me, they're right there, oh God, maybe he won't see them, please don't let him see them...
She was glancing away from him and he felt another flash of anger before he followed her gaze and saw the knife rack on the kitchen counter.
He's seen them. Oh God, he's seen them...
Perfect.
He stretched up and grabbed the nearest knife and dragged it slowly across her throat, opening up the skin. 'How do you like that, huh, you stupid useless bitch?'
Oh God, oh God, it hurts, it hurts...
Oh God, she was still struggling. It wasn't meant to be this difficult! In films, they stabbed them and they just died! At least she'd stopped screaming. She was still trying as she writhed around on the floor clutching at her throat, but no sound was coming out. That was one improvement, anyway.
Why can't I scream anymore, oh God, I can't die, I'm ME...
Now, though, he'd lost interest in the idea of fucking her.
Beg him, Sarah, make him feel guilty, make him feel that he has to let you go, make him feel sorry for you...
He looked into her eyes and saw the pleading look in them, and he smiled reassuringly at her and stroked the side of her face before he plunged the knife into her chest. She gasped, but she was still thrashing around, and now she was clawing at his face again.
She coughed and her mouth filled with blood. Oh, no, no, no... no...
God damn it.
He looked at her chest and tried to work out where her heart would be, and then he forced the knife into her again. This time was more difficult. It took both hands to push it into her.
Oh... oh, no... She felt the blade biting into her ribs as it punctured her left lung. Oh no...
God, this was even hotter than if he'd just fucked her.
For fuck's sake, why won't she just die? He tossed the knife aside, grabbed her neck and began to choke her, banging the back of her head repeatedly against the tiled floor. 'You stupid useless bitch, why won't you just die?'
Oh God... I can't breathe... She could feel her arms and legs growing heavier. Oh God... Hold on, Sarah, hold on, you're not going to die...
She was still staring at him, silently pleading with him, but her struggles were finally beginning to slow a little.
She was so tired. Fight him... fight him... do something... oh God... oh... Her head started to swim. No... please... no...
Thank God. His fingers were starting to ache. Why did no one ever tell you how hard it was to choke someone?
I... my heart... too slow... oh God...
He leaned forward and put all his weight on her neck, bashing the back of her head against the floor as hard as he could, waiting impatiently for her to just stop struggling and lie still.
Her vision had started to blur. Oh... God...
God damn this bitch. If he ever did this again then he'd come prepared. This was much more difficult than he'd imagined it would be.
I... The world around her was fading. I...
There was blood coming out of her ears and nose now, bubbling out of her mouth as she gasped, spreading in a dark pool across the floor behind her head, but she was still weakly clawing at his fingers, even as her eyes were beginning to glaze.
I... She was barely alive as he smiled down at her, her heart faltering as it slowed to a stop and her hands finally slipping away from his.
He would do this again. It was better than anything he could have ever imagined. In fact, he was almost certain that he'd already come inside his boxers, and if he hadn't then he certainly would afterwards.
She heard him laughing softly to himself as she died, a long, shallow death rattle escaping her throat.
God, this was better than porn.
She was still now, staring up at him with glazed, empty eyes, but he kept choking her, enjoying the feeling of his hands crushing her throat. God, he loved this.
Suddenly he realised that he was kneeling in a wet puddle on the floor.
God DAMN IT! In the movies they never told you that they pissed themselves afterwards!
He swore and jumped to his feet. 'God DAMN you, FUCK YOU, you ungrateful BITCH!' He kicked her hard in the head, and then stood quietly for a minute, looking down at her still, bloodied and now undoubtedly dead body as it lay silently at his feet. He couldn't believe that he'd only come here to try and jack a laptop and maybe an iPod or two.
He couldn't believe that he'd ever considered just leaving.
He'd taken her life. Half an hour ago she had been alive, and breathing, and now she was cold and dead on the floor of her stupid 'bijou' apartment, nothing but a useless mound of rotting flesh and bone...
He had done this.
He looked down at her body again and nudged the side of her face tentatively with the toe of his shoe, and her head turned slightly away from him, her eyes still open and fixed. A stream of blood ran out of her mouth and pooled on the floor beneath her.
Oh my God, he had done this.
He had to take a piece of this, something to remember her by. His first.
Actually that was perfect. His first. She was his first.
(God knows it was better than losing his virginity had ever been, hearing that girl laughing at him afterwards with her friends.)
This girl wouldn't be laughing at him, God no, not now that she'd gone and pissed herself in front of him, stupid dirty bitch...
His eyes landed on the pale gold necklace that hung around her throat, partly embedded in the shallow, half-assed cut that he had made with the kitchen knife.
Perfect.
He carefully unfastened it and slipped it into his pocket before silently making his way to the door and letting himself out.
A/N: What do you think? It's kind of a nasty one I know, but is it too much?
Send me a review and let me know what you think, and whether you think I should write more or just scrap it.
Thanks so much for reading!