8. A Cold Farewell
Scarlett sat by the door and cried for several minutes, her tear-filled stare on John's body the entire time.
He was still alive, however, as was proven by his loud groans. He also coughed weakly and moved his right arm up a few times, but other than that, he stayed on his back. From where she sat, she could see that at least three of his stab wounds still bled profusely.
Finally, the redhead teen awkwardly got back to her feet and held her right hand out in front of her. She could tell that the blood was drying on it and grimaced at both the sight and smell of it. She moved around the bed at the farthest distance she could; his hate-filled stare followed her as she moved.
"You lousy witch!" he spat out and coughed. "You...you've killed me."
Scarlett said nothing in response, but still watched him as she moved into the bathroom. She washed her hands thoroughly, and continued to watch him through the open door the entire time.
"Help me, damn you!"
The girl walked back around the bed and looked at John, her expression cold. Then her gaze fell on the blood-covered pushdagger on the floor and she stopped.
After several seconds of hesitation, she remembered to breathe and knelt down carefully. As she did that, she glanced at the man, then back at the weapon. Her expression as she watched the knife was both fascinated and terrified. What did that thing do to me? Who were those men?
"Dammit, girl, I'm going to bleed to death if you don't help me!" He coughed again. "It hurts all inside me. Help me!"
Scarlett glanced sideways at the man, then looked back down at the pushdagger. She slowly reached out and touched the handle for a brief moment, then drew her hand back. After she cleared her throat, she swallowed and her bottom lip shook.
She touched it again; the metal was already cooling off and the blood was starting to dry on it as well. Then she grabbed it, stood up and stared at John for several seconds.
He saw the weapon in her hand and whimpered. "Don't...don't...please don't."
The girl snorted in disgust and walked back into the bathroom. She washed the man's blood off the pushdagger and carefully dried it off with the spare crop top.
As she started to throw away the wet garment, she saw her bra laying on top of the wadded up tissues and paper towels. She pulled it out, then removed the crop top she had on. She saw several blood smears on the material and gasped. Then she looked in the mirror at her chest and belly. John had apparently bled a lot, for it had gotten on her arms, chest and belly. There was even a smear of blood on her left cheek near her lips.
She looked down at her jeans and buttoned them. From what she could tell, she hadn't gotten any blood on them. She walked to the doorway and stared at John, who laid still on the bedspread.
Then the girl washed herself more thoroughly; not only did she clean her face, she wet her hair down, scrubbed her arms and chest, then removed her jeans to make totally sure that she didn't get blood on them.
oooooooooo
It was nearly fifteen minutes before Scarlett returned to the bed where John still laid. She now had back on her jeans, which had been washed near the left hip and a small section on the right thigh. She also wore her bra and T-shirt again.
He was still alive, and looked at the girl weakly. "You're just going to let me lay here and bleed to death?" he asked and coughed. The cough sounded as if he had congestion.
I must have punched a hole in his lung, she thought.
"Where is my ankh?" she asked, her expression still cold.
"You got me in this state!" he responded. "Help me!"
"Why should I?" she asked then.
"I...I saved your life and protected you."
She blinked and exhaled loudly. "You drugged me, molested me, repeatedly kissed me against my will, made it very plain that you intended to screw me whether I wanted it or not and then you tried to rape me!" She spat on his face and he gasped in surprise. "YOU BASTARD! I OWE YOU NOTHING!"
"Please, help me," he then said, his voice pleading. "I'm begging you!" He coughed again. "I won't hurt you or do anything to you. I promise."
Scarlett snorted, positioned the pushdagger in her right hand and held it up for him to see. Then she asked again, "Where is my ankh?"
John closed his eyes briefly and slowly shook his head. "Why should I tell you? You're just going to kill me anyway."
A small smile formed on her face and she looked down at him. "Yes, I am going to kill you. But you're still going to answer my question."
His eyes bulged out and he said, "My right front pocket! It's in there! Just don't kill me, please!"
The girl looked down at the man, and shook her head. "You know, John, if you had played your cards right with me and treated me like a friend and not a sex toy, I probably would have...responded to you." She shook her head again. "I would have comforted you for your loss. But, you blew it. You really blew it badly."
She moved to his right side and shoved her left hand down his pants pocket. After a couple of seconds, she grimaced and said, "Ew, gross. You keep your hanky there."
"That's not..." he started to say as she pulled out a pair of her white panties..
The girl stared at the garment in her hand for several seconds and sighed loudly. "Tell me, John, does stealing some of my underwear do something for you? I understand why you took my ankh. After all, it does mean something to me." She held up the panties in her hand. "This is simply clothing." She then shook her head. "I will never understand the male mind."
Scarlett dug back into the man's pocket and sighed in relief as she pulled out the ankh. Quietly, she put the necklace back on and looked down at him. "I have another question for you," she said. "How did such a decent, God-fearing woman like Lisa get stuck with a sick, depraved freak like you?"
When John simply coughed and didn't answer her, she continued, "I mean, I'd watch her on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights when she went to church. You never went with her, because apparently, you'd rather watch me and lust after me than to strengthen your marriage to a very nice and beautiful woman."
"Please, Scarlett, help me."
The girl crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "I'm sorry, John, but no. If I did and you got better, you'd make my life a living hell. I don't want to spend the last days of my life being raped, beaten, and tortured."
"I wouldn't..." he started to say and coughed again. This time the cough sounded very congested.
"You told that one boy that he had no right to touch me - right before you killed him." She sighed and shook her head again. "You had no right either, but you did it anyway. You're older than my dad, yet you kissed on me, felt me up and laid on top of me!" She shuddered in disgust. "I take back what I said. I wouldn't have comforted you. Ew!"
"I would have treated you like a rare treasure," he said, his voice nearly a gasp. "A goddess, even!"
"Bullshit!" She moved her hand to his left side. "You don't rape a goddess, idiot!" She reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He blinked as she removed the money from it and shoved it in her left hip pocket. "This is payback for the groping you did," she said. She then removed the two sets of keys he had as well. "The car is for putting me to sleep and kissing on me."
"You stabbed me!"
"Yeah, I know, but you tried to rape me and I had to do something to protect myself."
"Scarlett, I would have loved you."
The teen pulled one of the kitchen chairs nearer to the bed and sat down. "Love and rape are mutually exclusive, John," she said and smiled slightly. "I wrote that in an essay once."
"What are you..." He coughed hard, then groaned. "What are you doing?"
"I'm waiting," she said, "for you to die."
The man looked at her and shivered, then coughed again. "Would you...would you cover me up, please?" he asked. "It's so cold in here."
Scarlett found the temperature to be slightly warm and stuffy, but she could also smell the coppery odor of John's blood. She grabbed a crocheted cover from off a chair, unfolded it and laid it over the man.
When she sat back down and watched him, he blinked, coughed several times and said, "You are one cold-blooded bitch."
She said nothing and watched him.
oooooooooo
Sometime later, John Fleming lost consciousness and his head turned to the right. Scarlett stood up, looked at the man, then touched his neck to feel for a pulse. She found nothing and pulled the covers up over his head.
Without a word, she grabbed the box of MREs and took them out to the car. Then she returned to the RV and carried out the rest of the food.
Last of all, she put the pushdagger back into its holder and stuck it in her back pocket. Then she walked to the bed.
"Goodbye, John," she said and looked down at his body. "Too bad it ended the way it did." She sighed and shook her head. "We could have been friends."
With that said, she walked out of the RV and shut the door.
(To be continued...)
