Michael Wolfe watched as his new lawn-boy, Malcolm, left the movie theater. The boy pulled up his red sweatshirts hood, to shield himself from the rain, before putting in his ear-buds and flipping through his playlist.
Wolfe picked up the pace; the music and phone would cover his approach. He watched him go between two rows of shops, then down an alley that delivery trucks used to supply the stores; they had long since closed. He had parked twenty yards down the alleyway- the perfect closing distance. The boy had taken the same route last week.
Wolfe's face flushed, breathing increased, and he could hear his heartbeat. He still felt the thrill after all these years. He matched the boy's pace perfectly, but when he rounded the corner- the boy was gone. He whipped his head around. His car was now in a pool of light instead of in the shadows. Something red was on the hood.
Ignoring his internal alarm bells, he approached curiously. He found a picturesque rose and a note. A paranoid head turn later, he read it [Smell the Rose]. The penmanship was beautiful- certainly not the boy's.
He cocked his head in thought, then picked up the flower and got in the car. He looked at the rose; it was picture perfect and he couldn't resist smelling it.
It did smell flowery, but there was something else… sweet, like cotton-candy, but chemical as well. Maybe it was perfume? He looked up and was startled by a figure in a red hood standing in front of the car.
He thought it was the boy, until they reached up and pulled back the hood; it was someone else, a woman!
"What the hell?" He tried to comprehend what he was seeing, but couldn't think straight.
He heard a cold voice in his ear whisper, "Looking for something ?" as a gloved hand held a cloth over his mouth. Then he recognized the sweet smell: Chloroform!
He grabbed the door and was able to extricate himself from the vehicle, as he half pulled the boy over the backseat. He hit the pavement hard and was unable to move as the woman walked toward him. She stopped a foot from him and slowly stepped on the rose and ground it under her Dock-Marten clad foot.
Darkness consumed him…
As consciousness wafted back, he heard voices…
"So, do you understand what we did- in the alleyway?" it was a woman's voice.
"Yeah," the boy said eagerly. "You ruffled his hair and shirt, and poured rum on him- so he'd look drunk if we were pulled over. Brilliant!"
"Exactly. Okay, when we're done I want you to: take my car, drive to the ATM I showed you -here's my card, take out two-hundred dollars, then go to Wal-mart and buy a coke- use cash…"
"So… I'll be on camera. There is a camera on the ATM too though; they'll know it wasn't you."
"I spray-painted it already. We'll both have alibis. Then come get me. I should be finished cleaning up by then. You'll be excited and it's been raining, watch your driving."
's eyes opened and he saw they were kneeling over him. He tried to speak, but it felt like an old sock was in his mouth.
"Good, you're awake. Malcolm, put this cookie sheet under him. It will keep the blade from puncturing the tent if I stab too deep. It's no use doing this in a tent if the blood leaks out everywhere…"
"HURMP!" Wolfe tried to scream.
"Awe, shhhh," she cooed. "What are you saying? Help? How many times have you heard that? Help… Please… Stop… I want to go home… Let me go… I want my mommy…"
"HERMPMELF…"
The boy laughed bitterly, "It was rhetorical dude…"
"LEFT-MEF-DOUGH-WENCH!"
She leaned forward suddenly, "You did not just call me a bitch!"
The boy mused, "Wench, witch, bitch…"
"Watch your mouth," she scolded, even though she was too young to be his mother, yet too old to be sister or girlfriend.
She saw Wolfe's quizzical look, "Oh, no relation. We met at a survivors meeting."
"She's my sponsor," the boy laughed. "I'm supposed to call her if I feel like doing anything violent or self destructive. Needless to say: I have her on speed-dial."
"We are currently working on the anger phase of his recovery. I enjoy our little sessions Mal, but it's getting late. It is a school night."
She straddled Wolfe and held out her hand for a knife like a macabre surgeon. "What do you see when you look at your reflection ?" she asked, examining her hair using the flat of the blade. She breathed deeply and looked momentarily transfixed. "I see myself before men like you got a hold of me," she said softly.
Suddenly she raised the knife in both hands and brought it down in a vicious arc, putting her weight behind it as it penetrated where his heart should be.
She yanked the blade out and relished the hot arterial blood that gouted all over her. She screamed, "LOOK AT ME," as his eyes grew cold- lifeless. She gasped, clutched his shoulders, and squeezed her eyes shut in bliss. The wave of ecstasy hit her and couldn't keep her body from racking. Finally, she exhaled completely and went limp.
The boy whispered in awe, "Whoa… you orgasmed?"
The cobwebs of ecstasy vanished- she had forgotten that the boy was there. "Yeah."
Her legs were rubber so she sat backward, before laying down opposite her prey.
"God…" she purred.
She felt the boy shift positions awkwardly in anticipation, as he prepared to 'make his move'. She held up a bloody hand, "Don't make me say it."
He pouted, "I wish I were older…"
As tears baptized the pedophiles blood from her face she whispered, "If you had one wish… wish I were younger…" He nodded solemnly and held her in a nurturing embrace.