Chapter 7

One in the morning struck with a horrible lightning bolt of pain through her skull. She sat up with a sharp cry, pressing the heels of her palms against her temples. "Oh God,"she muttered after a moment.

Still half asleep, Dutch had rolled over and mumbled something she couldn't really understand.

"Migraine," she said, assuming he had asked what was wrong. "The Ibuprofen is behind the mirror, right?"

He nodded vaguely and mumbled something again before vanishing back into sleep.

Throwing back the covers, Chris stumbled to her feet and fumbled her way to the door, then down the hall and to the bathroom. She pushed open the door and flicked on the light, which aggravated her headache all the more and painfully blinded her for a moment.

When her vision had cleared, Chris went to the mirror and pulled it open. She reached for the bottle of Ibuprofen and pulled it down, along with a cascade of other items such as disposable razors and toothpaste. They all crashed down into the sink, causing Chris to startle back a few steps.

Taking a deep breath as she realized that she had just knocked some things from the shelf, she stepped forward to replace them, her head aching more than ever.

As she lifted the toothpaste back to its shelf, she saw an off-white object in the back corner of the shelf, clashing with the sterile white color of the shelf itself. It took a moment for it to dawn on her what this object was, but from the instant she saw it she knew that it didn't belong.

Reaching forward, she took the small, slightly oval-shaped object down and turned it over in her hand. She slipped her fingers up inside the sockets, holding it up before her, little fangs still intact.

A cat skull.

What the Hell? She thought as she lowered it, her eyes still scanning the relatively smooth surface of the forehead and the top of the head, back to the rounded temples near the base. The eye sockets were huge, bigger than she would have imagined. The underside was a rougher landscape, from the opening tot he spinal cord at the base of the skull to two small bulges just below it, and further down to the roof of the mouth where the teeth arched from just under each eye socket, each one intact.

She lifted her eyes and looked out the door of the bathroom, migraine forgotten. She had almost expected him to be standing there, watching her, dark clouds shadowing his eyes. But the doorway was empty.

It's still early enough to escape unscathed, Chris thought, a thousand scenarios running through her head. She had stumbled upon a man who, at first glance, seemed kind and dutiful, but who kept bizarre treasures stashed around the house. Treasures like animal parts.

Kicking herself, she wrapped her fingers over the small skull and gently squeezed it. Why did I even get involved with him? She thought, silently cursing herself. He put your baby brother in jail to be raped! He was responsible for your brother's suicide!

Taking a deep breath, she walked at quietly as she could from the bathroom and towards the bedroom. She wasn't just going to leave. No, unfortunately there was still a corner of her mind whispering: It's not that big of a deal. Just ask him what the Hell is up, talk about it. He's a good guy. What happened with your brother...well, he was just doing his job.

Pushing open the door, Chris reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

Dutch winced slightly and pulled the covers over his face and turned away from her, like a child.

"Wake up, Dutch," she said a commanding voice, masking the nagging little fears that he was truly a psychotic in the making.

"What?" he mumbled, not moving.

"Please," she said quietly. "Wake up."

"What is it?" He asked irritably, sitting up, squinting through the light at her.

Holding up the skull, she tried not to take her eyes off his face. "What is this?" She asked. "Why was it in your bathroom?"

Now she had his attention. He saw the skull and sat up straighter as Claudy wound her way between Chris's legs and into the bedroom.

"Well?" She persisted.

He opened his mouth, but frowned, and tilted his head a little. "Wait," he said, "why were you snooping around in my bathroom?"

"I was looking for some fucking medicine for my head!" Chris shouted. "Just now, I woke up and asked you if it was in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and you said yes. So I went to get it and I found this. What is it?"

He hesitated before carefully saying, "A cat skull."

Closing her eyes, Chris shook her head irritably. "No, I mean - I know that. Why was it in your bathroom?"

Once against he paused to think, but came up with nothing.

"Where did you get it, then?" She asked.

Sighing a little, he leaned back against the headboard. "I killed the last cat I had," he said bluntly.

"Why?"

"I-" He stopped, again. "I don't know."

"Bullshit."

This seemed to ignite something in him. He sat up straight again, got to his feet, his eyes darkened. He took several steps forward, nearly stepping on Claudy as she passed. "You wouldn't understand."

"How are you so sure?" Chris asked, becoming increasingly nervous.

"Have you ever killed anything? Not bugs - ants, spiders, everyone has done that."

"I hit a dog on the head with a brick," she said, her voice revealing her fear. "It tried to attack my brother."

"When you struck the dog," he said, coming closer, so close she could feel his breath on her face. "How did you feel?"

"I was scared," she said, the words so quiet they were barley audible.

"I heard once that the moment before death, animals have the most...compassionate look in their eyes," he said, his hands coming up a little, clenching into fists. "Pleading not to be pushed all the way into death. That is bullshit."

Chris had lowered the skull to her side, and it began to slip from her fingers. It fell, and hit the floor with a dull bump and bounced once to the side, hitting the wall.

"What you see," he held his hand up, his fingers clenched and curled like claws. "What you see is the strangest, cruelest thing. All the fear in the world. Hate for what you're doing. Love for your mercy..." His hand was shaking, he was even closer than he had been moments before.

"Dutch," she whispered, backing up and striking the doorframe. She couldn't move back any further without twisting around the frame, and that motion would have brought her closer to him before it put distance between them. "You're scaring me."

The darkness in his eyes faded suddenly, and sorrow touched his features. He took a step back, and ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "Shit," he mumbled with a laugh that was half apologetic and half nervous. "God, I'm sorry...Please, please don't be scared - I didn't mean to-"

"I've read enough psyche books to know that serial killers always start with animals," she said dumbly, her eyes glancing down at the cat skull on the floor.

"Fuck!" Dutch said, taking another step forward. "I'm not a fucking serial killer! They do that when they're kids! I killed the fucking cat to test what I was told."

"Why was that necessary?" Chris asked, edging around the door frame. "There's something wrong with you, Dutch. You need help-"

"I'm not a chapter in one of your fucking psychology books," Dutch growled, taking yet another step forward. Then he stopped, mortified. "Christ."

The Cuddler Rapist. That was what he had said to Dutch during an interrogation. There is something wrong me, isn't there?

"Oh my God," he whispered again, feeling slightly weak, feeling a little sick. "I am so sorry." He looked down at his feet, running his fingers through his hair again. When he lifted his eyes, Chris was about to run down the hallway. "Wait! No!"

She jerked to a stop, tears gathering in her eyes. Why hadn't she just left? Why had she been so goddamn stupid!

"I am so sorry, Chris," Dutch whispered, walking forward and reaching out. He took her hand and pulled her back around. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Please, don't be scared of me...I would never hurt you."

As she lifted her eyes she saw that in his eyes there were tears to. What had just happened?

"Please trust me."

"I'm not sure that I can," Chris said weakly, backing away from his touch, turning and walking down the hall.

Behind her she heard a dull but heavy thud, the sound of a man falling to his knees. "I'm not a bad person!" Dutch shouted down the hall, his voice sounding so much different than it had just minutes ago. "I would never hurt you! I've known you for a month and I think I love you!"

Chris all but fell over her own two feet. She caught herself, throwing her hands out to brace herself on the walls. She looked down at her feet, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

"Please, Crystal," Dutch said weakly, "don't leave."

A fucking cat skull, Chris told herself. A fucking cat skull! But no, her fear didn't so much stem from the cat skull as it did from what he said and the way he had said it, the brief insanity that had flickered in the depths of his dilated pupils, the way his eyes had grown dark and something had seemed to light up inside of him like a fire. What she had felt before, seeing the cat skull, was it really fear of him or fear of getting hurt? Fear of getting too committed and being torn in half?

Shit. What am I supposed to do?

She lifted her head and tilted her face back to look at the plain white ceiling, blinking back more tears.

"Please," he whispered behind her.

Turning slowly, Chris looked back at him, on his knees, looking so helpless. How had he been brought down like this? Where had the pain etched in his face come from? Chris knew that she wasn't all of it. She wasn't that good. She was surprised he had ever wanted to get to know her in the first place.

But the way he looked at her, pleading silently for her to come back...

Chris found her feet moving below her, carrying her down the hall and through the bedroom door till she stood in front of Dutch. She ran her finger's through her hair as he leaned his head forward against her thighs, his hands going up around her waist. She took his hands from her waist and pulled him up.

For a moment he looked down into her face, bewildered that she had returned, not complete understanding what had just happened and not really wanting to.

He touched her face, pulled her gently closer and bent down, pressing his lips to hers. She tilted her head up to meet his lips, her parting as they touched, wanting the kiss. Longing for the touch of his soft, moist lips on hers.

She found herself pulling closer to him, her arms wrapping around him, her fingers trailing up and down the line of his back. She was leaning against him, he was holding her up now. And he stepped back, carrying her along with him.

The moment was shattered slightly as Dutch stumbled on something and fell back onto the bed, bringing Chris with her. They both looked down in time to Claudy running from the room, deeply insulted at having been stepped on.

They both laughed lightly, recovering quickly from the embarrassing moment.

Dutch lay his head back on the mattress, and Chris pulled herself over him, pressing her lips to his, straddling his waist. His hands slid up the curve of her waist and over her ribs under her shirt, pushing it up over her shoulders. She lifted her arms, allowing him to pull it completely free of her body.

A stray smile touched her lips at the complete absurdity of all this. She couldn't quite understand what had happened here to bring them together like this, and she could see by the way he returned her smile that he didn't either.

His hands moved over her shoulders as she bent down to kiss him again. She kissed his lips, then his cheeks, his neck, and his chest. His hands moved over her shoulder blades, releasing her bra, his fingers impatient.

Turning her face away shyly, she pulled the bra straps over her arms and tossed it aside. She sensed a soft smile on Dutch's face as he sat up, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She let her hands trail down his sides to his sweat pants, where they lingered for a moment.

Lifting her to the side, Dutch pulled his sweat pants from his body as Chris undid her pants and pulled them down along with her underwear, kicking them aside, cursing the ridiculous clothes.

She had barely lifted her eyes when Dutch pulled her back to him, and nervously she slid her legs over his hips, feeling the sudden pressure of his erection underneath her. She caught her breath from a moment, not seeing much as he pulled close to him, leaning her chin over his shoulder.

She wasn't a virgin, just inexperienced. Dutch realized this instantly when she caught her breath, as if she were frightened.

His hand ran down to the small of her back, pulling her closer, pressing deep inside her. He moaned as she bit her lip to restrain hers. He pressed her back, down onto the mattress as he moved inside her.

Laying beneath him as his body moved rhythmically against hers, she felt her tense body relax a little as he pulled him closer, kissing him, and soon she found her body moving with his.

Finally a moan escaped through her lips as her hands fell to her sides, her fingers taking up handfuls of the sheets and squeezing as hard as she could as a strange, unfamiliar feels shot through her. "Oh God," she murmured as Dutch kissed her breast bone, his hands moving over her body, fondling her breasts and trailing over her scarred arms. "Dutch," she gasped, arching her back a little as the feeling spread shockingly. "Dutch!"

He kissed her cheeks and her lips, murmuring something in her ear. But she couldn't seem to understand. A moment later he gasped, taking hold of her hands, wrapping his fingers over them protectively and squeezing lightly.

Chris felt something happen inside her as the feeling of complete ecstasy begin to slowly fade away.