A Perfect Violation

Lea of Mirkwood

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The phone kept ringing. Tricia reached for it desperately, her fingers twitching convulsively. Ring ring, Tricia. Ring ring. Finally, as though Tricia could hear the sound of the gun again, she lunged for the small cell and her fingers closed around its plastic case, snapping one of her nails off in the process. She flicked it open and pressed it to her ear, the sound of her own breathing echoing over her own phone and returning to her receiver.

"You shot me!" she cried, her tiny voice becoming thin and frightened. "God, you shot me!"

A low chuckle carried over the line, laughing dryly at her.

"I told you not to hang up, didn't I, Tricia?"

Tricia ignored the smooth voice whispering in her ear and turned to look down at her thigh. Her skirt had ripped apart and blood was beginning to seep through the tattered edge, red like her nail polish. She reached down and pressed her hand to the bloody spot, the hot, sticky fluid seeping through her fingers.

"That hurts!" she gasped, biting her lip. A soft purr sounded in the earpiece.

"My, my, little Tricia. What lovely red lips you have," observed the voice. Tricia let out a cry and looked down at the ground, the tip of her nose dragging in the grime and dirt and coloring it a sooty black.

"Don't look at me..." she sobbed, clenching her hand tighter around the wound on her thigh. "You already shot me, please don't...look..."

"I didn't shoot you, Tricia," said the voice, sounding mildly irritated. "I barely even grazed you. Stop crying."

"You shot me!" cried Tricia, her lips trembling and tears rolling down her cheeks, gathering on her glossed mouth and dropping to the ground.

"Come on, Tricia, stand up."

"I can't," Tricia MacNeill whimpered, tightening her grip on her cell phone. "You shot me."

"YES!" yelled the voice, the sound an explosion. "I SHOT YOU TRICIA! I fired a gun when it was aimed at that lovely, creamy thigh of yours. It hit you. You're bleeding. You're in pain. But you know what? I don't give a shit, so get up now."

Tricia stood up shakily, her knees knocking together and she leaned against the dirty wall for support.

"I'm up!" she sobbed. "What do you want?"

"I want your complete attention. Do I have that? Are you listening to me, Tricia?"

"Yes!" she cried, clenching a fist by the side of her head.

"Good," said the voice calmly. "I'm very glad to hear that. Now I want you to do something for me. I want you to call your boyfriend. Call Joe. You didn't do so well with that last time, so I think I'll give you another chance at it."

"You shot me!" gasped Tricia, wrinkling her dirty nose and trying to blink away tears. "Why should I?"

"Tricia," said the voice seriously, the tone completely flat and cold. "If I hear you say 'you shot me' one more time, I think I'll have to shoot you in the stomach. That way, your internal organs will be damaged beyond repair, and you'll lie on the ground slowly bleeding to death, in extreme pain. So be careful, darling."

Tricia let out a choked cry and pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling sobs behind scraped knuckles. "Okay! Just…please don't shoot me."

There was a pause, as if her tormentor was checking the time, or looking at his hands. "I believe they used to call a shot like that a maggot shot. Now call Joe. I want to listen."

"How?" asked Tricia, momentarily distracted. "You can't listen in on it if I'm on this phone, I have to hang up."

A soft breath into the phone, almost like a laughing caress. "I've bugged your phone, Tricia. I hear everything you say, and everything Joe says to you."

While Tricia was blankly processing this information, a click and whirr sounded in her ear and she heard her own voice, slightly scratchy, but definitely her soft, child's voice.

"Tricia!" sang her happy self of barely a half hour ago.

"Trish! It's Joe! Remember me? Your boyfriend?"

"Hi, sweetie!"

"So how are things in the corporate ladder?"

"Fucking,"

It clicked off, and she heard hoarse laughter in her ear again. "I like that, Tricia. Fucking. That's very appropriate. In fact, I think it's the only honest thing you've told little Joey in a few months, isn't it? Fucking. You've been fucking a lot of people, Tricia. I think it's time for you to come clean. Call Joe."

"No."

"No? No, Tricia? Do you remember what I told you about a maggot shot? Now you already know I can shoot. Don't make me do this to you again. Call Joe."

"What do I say?" asked Tricia blankly, as if she'd never made a phone call before in her life.

"How about this? Do you want to hear a sample script?" offered the caller cruelly. "'Hello, Joe. Are you feeling happy today?' 'Why yes, Tricia, I'm thrilled. See, I love you and just got back from Tibet, and I want to see you tonight.' 'Oh, thank you honey. That's so sweet of you. But you see, I've been cheating on you with about a dozen men in my company since you went to Tibet, and even before!'"

Tricia's jaw dropped and she stared fixedly at a point on the brick wall across from her. "That's not…"

"Oh, but Tricia," said the voice smoothly. "You know it's true. Hotels, desks, closets, copy rooms, their room, your room, bathroom stalls…you're quite the adaptive one, aren't you?"

"Leave me alone," mumbled Tricia petulantly.

"Leave you-" the caller barked out a quick laugh. "Leave you alone? But Tricia, you talked to me first!"

"I did not! I-"

"It wasn't a long conversation, but I'll remember it forever. But let's not talk about that now. Let's talk about Joe. I want you to dial his number. It's on auto nine. Funny, the last time I talked to someone like you, his wife was auto one. I guess Joe isn't that high on your list of priorities, is he?"

"Yes, he is, he-"

"Shut up and dial, Tricia."

Tricia clicked the off button, breaking off another nail in the process. Auto…nine. The phone rang. Ring ring.

"Hello? Tricia, is that you?"

"Hi, Joe," said Tricia shakily, a tremor in her soft voice.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, suddenly concerned. And Tricia felt a thrill of fear down her spine. She felt cold and abandoned. The horrible voice wasn't there. She didn't know what he was doing. He could be lining up her head…her belly…in the rifle sights. She didn't know. He wasn't talking. She didn't know what he was doing. A dark, twisting feeling started in the pit of her stomach. She needed the voice back.

"I'm…I'm a little scared, Joe," she whispered. Yes, scared. Scared of the rifleman with his tactical scope and bullets. Scared of Joe. Scared of the blood running down her leg and dripping into her shoe. But terrified and horrified with the need to hear the voice again, telling her what to do so he wouldn't kill her. One slip of the tongue in talking to Joe without the lifeline telling her the words to say, and she…would…die.

"Of what, baby?" asked Joe in concern. "Did you get mugged?"

"No, no…" she said faintly, "Not mugged. I'm just…"

"Tricia, I want you to talk to me. Talk to me now, all right, honey?"

Tricia froze.

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To be concluded…

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Kiera Kingsley, you rule! Thank you so much for the review, and telling me I was right on.

Cinesister, thank you for putting the phrase "sniper sex" into my head!

Nahana, Kadama, I'm sure I thanked you for the reviews in person.

Jet-1, I will certainly complete this. Don't worry, I've just been busy.

Jade, thank you immensely! That's such a compliment, I can't believe it's for me!

Zeech, as always. You always give me reviews that make my day. Thank you for driving me insane until I wrote this.