Author's notes:
Lea: Welcome back! We really missed you... *rejoices* ^_^ You can have the Kiefer now--I think he's recovered enough from me ;-) I don't know what Zeech looks like, but I keep picturing Natalie Portman whenever I write--a girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and a bright smile.
Jet: Thank you muchly!
Vera: Where have you been?!?!?!? I missed you too! :-D
Zeech: *grumble, poke poke* Where are you? *grumble*
---
Steve creeps around the corner, his eyes darting furtively as he wipes a sheen of sweat off his forehead. He breathes a sigh of relief as he sees nobody standing there, and chortles smugly to himself.
Don't get too excited, Steve. I'm still here--just not where you can see me.
He slips the quarter into the slot and punches in the number, preening and smoothing back his gleaming blond hair as he waits. "Hi, Laura, sweetheart!" he smiles, his voice dripping with sugary-sweet syrup. "What's up, baby?"
"The name's Simone!" a woman's voice, with a heavy accent, snaps sharply back at him. "I can't believe it... I thought he was kidding... how many others are there? Four? Maybe five?"
"What?" Steve is baffled, his jaw hanging open. "I--I--Simone, I didn't-- it's not--"
"Go to hell, you bastard!" Steve stares in bewilderment at the receiver as it clicks, the dial tone droning in his ears.
Watching from my window, I chuckle very quietly. I've installed a device on the phone that will allow me to reroute the call to any phone line I want-- no matter whose number he dials.
Simone was astonished when I told her about Steve earlier, babbling incoherently, bursting into tears, and then shrieking with rage. It was almost effortless on my part. Michelle stammered and stuttered until Julia shouted angrily at her from the other end; both girls ended up crying, and I ended up with the worst headache I'd had in a long time. Why the hell did every girl of his I phoned feel the need to weep and wail and moan when they found out?
Steve's now answering his cell. That's Julia, I know it is; I told her when he'd be available to talk--just after he called his other 'best girl', Laura. He's pleading, begging, his voice squeaking nervously as he tries to explain himself.
It doesn't work. I can see him fling his cell phone down and hold his head in both hands, groaning and grumbling. Maybe it's time to place another call.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Steve," I purr softly, menacingly. "Having fun yet? I don't think Carrie knows anything yet, why don't you try calling her?"
"Who are you?"
"You don't remember?" My finger slips over the trigger, the barrel of the rifle tapping lightly against the windowsill. "Come on, Steve, think back... I'm sure you can remember..."
Steve spits, his face contorting in rage. "You miserable fuck, you set this up! You planned this!"
"This was just a warning," I growl, my voice rigid with fury. "Believe me, I can do much worse."
Steve seethes through his teeth, clenching his jaw. "You want money, right? You think I'm going to pay you or something?"
"No." I cock the rifle and his breath catches, his face freezing with fear. "You're going to tell me exactly where Kate is and what you did to her, or I will shoot you."
He starts to tremble, shivering violently as tears well up in his eyes. "Don't shoot..." he says meekly, his voice wobbling and weak. What a coward. "Don't shoot, please... we were just having fun... I followed her back to the shelter, I called up some of my friends..."
"What did you do to her?" I roar hoarsely. Something is clutching at my heart, seizing it tightly in a shaking grip.
"My guys grabbed her, put her in the back of our car..." Steve is mumbling miserably, his lower lip quivering. "We drugged her and had some fun. That's all."
And suddenly everything is crystal clear and cold, like an icy winter day. Without feeling any trace of emotion, I flip back the safety switch. "And where is she now?"
"I don't know," Steve sobs. "I don't know. We dumped her somewhere in an alley. I can't remember. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
"You will be." I hang up and wait.
Steve stares at the phone in his hand, then slowly replaces it and shuffles out. He takes two steps before slumping over into a crumpled heap on the ground, a thin line of blood dribbling from the crimson hole in his forehead. I hear a bunch of female voices screaming hysterically, see blurry figures running across the street to the booth.
I slide the rifle back into its leather case calmly, the coldness seeping through my skull. Eventually the hookers will hush their noisy sobs and retreat back inside, clinging to each other for support. The shocked people passing by will hurry on home, shaking their heads. Everybody will recover and go on with their normal lives.
Everybody except me.
---
Lea: Welcome back! We really missed you... *rejoices* ^_^ You can have the Kiefer now--I think he's recovered enough from me ;-) I don't know what Zeech looks like, but I keep picturing Natalie Portman whenever I write--a girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and a bright smile.
Jet: Thank you muchly!
Vera: Where have you been?!?!?!? I missed you too! :-D
Zeech: *grumble, poke poke* Where are you? *grumble*
---
Steve creeps around the corner, his eyes darting furtively as he wipes a sheen of sweat off his forehead. He breathes a sigh of relief as he sees nobody standing there, and chortles smugly to himself.
Don't get too excited, Steve. I'm still here--just not where you can see me.
He slips the quarter into the slot and punches in the number, preening and smoothing back his gleaming blond hair as he waits. "Hi, Laura, sweetheart!" he smiles, his voice dripping with sugary-sweet syrup. "What's up, baby?"
"The name's Simone!" a woman's voice, with a heavy accent, snaps sharply back at him. "I can't believe it... I thought he was kidding... how many others are there? Four? Maybe five?"
"What?" Steve is baffled, his jaw hanging open. "I--I--Simone, I didn't-- it's not--"
"Go to hell, you bastard!" Steve stares in bewilderment at the receiver as it clicks, the dial tone droning in his ears.
Watching from my window, I chuckle very quietly. I've installed a device on the phone that will allow me to reroute the call to any phone line I want-- no matter whose number he dials.
Simone was astonished when I told her about Steve earlier, babbling incoherently, bursting into tears, and then shrieking with rage. It was almost effortless on my part. Michelle stammered and stuttered until Julia shouted angrily at her from the other end; both girls ended up crying, and I ended up with the worst headache I'd had in a long time. Why the hell did every girl of his I phoned feel the need to weep and wail and moan when they found out?
Steve's now answering his cell. That's Julia, I know it is; I told her when he'd be available to talk--just after he called his other 'best girl', Laura. He's pleading, begging, his voice squeaking nervously as he tries to explain himself.
It doesn't work. I can see him fling his cell phone down and hold his head in both hands, groaning and grumbling. Maybe it's time to place another call.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Steve," I purr softly, menacingly. "Having fun yet? I don't think Carrie knows anything yet, why don't you try calling her?"
"Who are you?"
"You don't remember?" My finger slips over the trigger, the barrel of the rifle tapping lightly against the windowsill. "Come on, Steve, think back... I'm sure you can remember..."
Steve spits, his face contorting in rage. "You miserable fuck, you set this up! You planned this!"
"This was just a warning," I growl, my voice rigid with fury. "Believe me, I can do much worse."
Steve seethes through his teeth, clenching his jaw. "You want money, right? You think I'm going to pay you or something?"
"No." I cock the rifle and his breath catches, his face freezing with fear. "You're going to tell me exactly where Kate is and what you did to her, or I will shoot you."
He starts to tremble, shivering violently as tears well up in his eyes. "Don't shoot..." he says meekly, his voice wobbling and weak. What a coward. "Don't shoot, please... we were just having fun... I followed her back to the shelter, I called up some of my friends..."
"What did you do to her?" I roar hoarsely. Something is clutching at my heart, seizing it tightly in a shaking grip.
"My guys grabbed her, put her in the back of our car..." Steve is mumbling miserably, his lower lip quivering. "We drugged her and had some fun. That's all."
And suddenly everything is crystal clear and cold, like an icy winter day. Without feeling any trace of emotion, I flip back the safety switch. "And where is she now?"
"I don't know," Steve sobs. "I don't know. We dumped her somewhere in an alley. I can't remember. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
"You will be." I hang up and wait.
Steve stares at the phone in his hand, then slowly replaces it and shuffles out. He takes two steps before slumping over into a crumpled heap on the ground, a thin line of blood dribbling from the crimson hole in his forehead. I hear a bunch of female voices screaming hysterically, see blurry figures running across the street to the booth.
I slide the rifle back into its leather case calmly, the coldness seeping through my skull. Eventually the hookers will hush their noisy sobs and retreat back inside, clinging to each other for support. The shocked people passing by will hurry on home, shaking their heads. Everybody will recover and go on with their normal lives.
Everybody except me.
---
