Lost Boys belongs to Warner Bros. and their affiliates, Janice Fischer, James Jeremias, Jeffrey Boam, and Joel Schumacher. I make no money or other forms of profit from this endeavor. As for any original content: Any likeness, similarities, and resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), places, and events are unintentional and purely coincidental.
This fic is unbeta'd. If anyone would like to volunteer to beta this fic, feel free to contact me via PM on ff . net
Warning!: This chapter contains delicate subject matter such as rape. If you or anyone you know is a victim of rape, get help. For further information please go to RAINN . org If you are uncomfortable with such issues I suggest skipping this chapter and perhaps the story altogether. It also contains violence and murder.
The group clumsily made their way through the boardwalk, Val getting more intoxicated and obnoxious. Delilah tried to relax but she couldn't get the feeling of something bad was going to happen off her mind. She felt twitchy and that eyes were watching her. She looked about and other than the Guido hanging off her, no one was paying attention to them.
Delilah really had no idea what Val saw in them and no idea why she was going along with it. She knew she ought to speak up but something stopped her. Delilah knew that Val would throw a fit, especially in her friend's drunk state. She thought it was better to just take the guys pawing and wait till Val got tired of them.
Delilah looked over to they guy she was with. He was tall, tan, and well muscled. He was no where nearly as good looking as the guy on the carousal. The unknown male on the ride was more of a classic handsome and this guy was the white trash version. He had on what Delilah could tell was fake gold chains. The tell tale green marks along their necks were very obvious. As was the gaudy matching earrings both males had. Those might have been real because there no was indication that they were fake. Delilah wouldn't doubt they'd waste a lot of money on something so tacky.
The two males had led them to a deserted alley way between the games and an out of business restaurant. Dirty garbage, broken bottles, and wooden crates littered the area.
"Wow. Trés romantique guys." Delilah said sarcastically. Val was too busy sucking face with her guy to notice. The guy hanging off Delilah, she had no idea what his name was, was too shitfaced to notice the tone she used. Overall this was turning out to be a pretty shitty 17th birthday.
The empty feeling was returning and Delilah didn't think any amount of booze or weed was going to make it go away this time. Her buzz was gone and all that was left was the creepy crawly feeling that someone was watching her. The four teenagers were alone in the alley way and she couldn't see anyone else. She didn't know why she was so paranoid but her instinct told her she was not in a good situation. It was still better than the one she was in on the carousel but she still couldn't shake off the feeling something was wrong.
She didn't know what was wrong with her or how to make herself happy. Drugs and alcohol always wore off and she was not interested in the guy next to her no matter how much attention he was showering upon her.
She was in a bitter mood and her companion didn't seem notice as he was constantly trying to paw at her.
She was about to let him know exactly how unwelcome his advances were but it seemed that Val was in the same predicament.
"Hey, now come on. Stop it."
Val slurred her words at the meathead that had pushed her against the brick wall. He got more aggressive in his actions as his hands went up her thighs and it was clear that while she was drunk she was not receptive to his advances. She kept saying "no" and pushing him away with what little strength she had.
Delilah went to help her friend but meathead number two was not about to let her "cockblock" his friend or take no for an answer. He roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her back from helping Val. The sharp pain in her arm told her that she was going to be bruised the next day. It was cleared from her mind when she saw exactly how far the aggressive male was willing to go to get what he wanted from Val.
He had placed his hand over Val's mouth to drown out her screams. His other hand easily tore off her underwear and Delilah's heart stopped. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her best friend was about to be raped and she struggled against the male holding her back. Fear pounded through her as the second male had something similar in mind. She had suddenly lost her voice and didn't know what to do.
School had always warned them to stay away from boys like them but never told them what to do in case the boys came to them.
"Come on sweetheart, don't be a tease."
Meathead #2 was still holding her tightly and his breath upon her face made her want to vomit. He smelled of cheap whiskey and death, as if he'd never brushed his teeth in his life. The putrid smell made her gag and even if she had been shitfaced she would never think of ever kissing such a man.
While she didn't have the wits to scream for help, Delilah ran on pure instinct. She fought her assailant with everything she had. She wasn't as strong as him but she had the advantage of being more sober. The drunk male was not coordinated at all and he overcompensated for his lack of perception. He threw her down to the ground and stumbled to attack her again. This gave Delilah the advantage as she was no longer held captive. She quickly looked around and found loose wood board from one of the crates.
The wood felt heavy in her hands and as she lifted the plank, she put all her weight into swinging it towards the meathead's thick skull. The lumber made a definitive "thwack!" as it made contact and the male dropped to his knees dazed. In the midst of all her fear she became angry; angry that this male dared to touch her without her consent. That he had planned vile things for her and he thought he had every right to. She was angry at her parents because it was her birthday. She should have been with them celebrating her birth with cake and presents. Instead she was out hanging with hoods and it led to this situation. Her anger became a living breathing entity; it wanted to lash out and hurt someone. Meathead number two would do nicely.
Her fury was let out every time she swung down the timber upon the male's head. Blood started to spray out from his wounds and it egged her on further.
She liked the sight of his blood. The feel of it on her hands, its copper scent invading her nose. It meant that she was winning this fight and he was hurt. Only when the male laid still and his head looking like pulp had she finally stopped. Her breathing was ragged and her eyes dilated. Not from the drugs but the sheer adrenaline rush that came with violence.
Laughter erupted from her chest and she reveled in the bloodshed. This was more alive than she had ever felt in her life. She won a fight. The feeling of accomplishment washed over her and she couldn't help but feel pride at being able to defend herself.
But the fight was not over.
Meathead #1 had managed in his drunken stupor to undo his pants and he was violently thrusting into Val.
Delilah saw that her friend was in pain and the tears running down Val's eyes riled Delilah all over again. She had thrown down her piece of wood and picked up the first empty glass bottle she found on the ground by its neck. Turns out that one person's trash was another person's shank. She quickly broke the bottle against the brick wall and what she had left was a very sharp and deadly weapon.
She wanted to see more blood.
The disgusting male was grunting against her friend like an animal, thrusting into her without any consideration to Val. Delilah was livid that the asshat thought he could do as he please without consequence. She was so angry that it pounded through her ears. She could not hear the commotion of the boardwalk. Her vision tunneled so that all she could see was the meathead violating her friend. She gripped the broken bottle so hard she was surprised it didn't break. It felt light and natural in her hand. She knew exactly what she was going to do with it. The male was distracted with his rutting that he didn't hear the commotion of Delilah beating his friend to death nor the breaking glass. If he had he might have been able to defend himself against Delilah's onslaught. Even if he did, with how angry Delilah felt she was sure that nothing could save him from her.
She went right for his neck and his precious blood squirted out of him like a hose under pressure. The mix of alcohol and exertion had the meathead's blood pumping quickly and it escaped its host vigorously. It was nothing like the movies. Blood was much darker and watery.
The male had immediately stopped his attack on Val and stumbled back from the wound. Val had quickly crumpled to the ground as her legs would not support her. She curled up into a ball and cried She looked on in horror to see her attacker wounded as such; her best friend wild eyed and covered with blood.
Delilah was not satisfied though. She threw herself onto him and stabbed the meathead over and over again, just like with the other male. She didn't want to stop; she wanted all of his blood on the ground. Delilah couldn't help herself and she pierced the male's throat and chest in random places. She wanted him to bleed. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted to make sure he knew what he did was wrong and that he'd never do it again.
It would be a lesson he would remember for the rest of his life…which would only be for a few more moments.
Delilah couldn't believe the rush she was having. This was better than any booze or weed she'd ever had. The kill was glorious. Not only the high of shedding the bastard's blood; but the feeling of vindication she felt. This male deserved what she was giving him. He was a bad man and bad things happened to bad people. She was making sure of that. Every stroke of her shank cut into the male's flesh, easily parting the delicate skin. Delilah was amazed at how flimsy the human body was; how easy it was to cut open. Her hands were starting to lose its grip on the glass bottle due to all the blood. Her energy was dropping and strain was starting to settle in. She didn't let it stop her though; she wanted to hack the asshole till there was nothing left but battered meat. In her haze she didn't notice that the male had long been dead but it didn't matter to her. She wanted him very dead. She was angry at a lot of things. Brutalizing the male, made all the shitty things in her life go by the wayside.
Val had a new nightmare she was living. Moments ago she was being taken against her will by some scumbag she had picked up. She knew he seemed shady but she never thought he would go that far. It wasn't like she was even that unwilling to fuck him, just not in a public place like an ally way. She did have some standards. But he wouldn't take "no" for an answer and took what he wanted. It was the single worst experience of her life. She wasn't ready for him and his member tearing through her dry womanhood felt like losing her virginity all over again. She tried to scream but his hands covered her mouth, silencing her. She saw that Delilah was about to be in the same predicament and shame bloomed inside her as she knew it was her fault. She had picked up the guys and Delilah just wanted to hang.
Val had resigned herself to her fate and couldn't fight the male off anymore. She had stilled, closed her eyes, and prayed it would all be over soon. She couldn't help the groans of pain as he thrust violently into her or the tears that escaped her eyes but she did her best to shut it all away.
The next thing she knew, the male had removed himself from her and when she opened her eyes, she saw a big gaping slash where his throat should be. Blood splattered all over her and she let out a scream. She pulled her legs into herself, wanting to be as small as possible. To be away from the nightmare she found herself in as possible.
"This can't be happening. This is a nightmare or a seriously bad trip. But it can't be happening." Val told herself over and over again.
But every time she closed her eyes, hoping that she'd wake up she would open them to find she was in the same place; a dirty ally way and her best friend straddling the body of her former attacker. Viciously assaulting the male with, what Val could make out was a broken bottle, over and over again. This was not what frightened Val. A part of her was glad that the asshole was getting what he deserved. No, what frightened her was Delilah. She had never seen her friend, or anyone, look so wild and animalistic. The usually demure girl was all aggression and violence as she kept hacking at the dead body. Meathead number one, Val vaguely remembers his name being Johnny, long laid lifeless and bled out but Delilah didn't seem to notice. Her best friend was totally engrossed in what she was doing. Not only absorbed in the kill but enjoying it. She had never seen such a scene. She had never seen her friend enjoy something so much. Delight was practically radiating off Delilah.
"Dee…Dee…DEE!" Val stuttered out before yelling. She didn't move from her spot, still crawled up into herself, afraid of the world around her.
Val yelling for her got Delilah out of her blood lust. She turned to her best friend and saw that Val was very frightened. She was confused for a moment because she had gotten rid of the threat. He lied beneath her in a pool of his own blood; his front body cut up to smithereens. She looked down at herself and Delilah saw that her entire front was covered with blood and viscera.
Delilah was morbidly fascinated with the scene. Meathead was more or less reduced to thick spaghetti in a really runny sauce. Her heart was running a mile a minute and her body was flooded with adrenaline. This was the biggest rush she had ever experienced and it was killing someone. In the back of her mind she knew she ought to be horrified but she was too enthralled with her "artwork." She had never killed something before. She had eaten meat but never had to kill her dinner. Meat had always come in neat little packages in the grocery store, devoid of most of its blood. But here and now she was witnessing slaughter firsthand; by her hand. She ran her hands through the quickly cooling gore and idled in its touch. It was no different than any of the meat she had prepared for dinner. This was also not dinner. Killing him had been easy. There was no horror. There was no guilt. She felt…she wasn't sure what she felt. Good was a vast understatement but it wasn't the kind of good she was used to. It was beyond drugs and alcohol. All the anger and emptiness she had felt was gone. She felt at…peace. What she had done, it had felt…natural. She slowly began to realize the feelings she was having. Her God given right to defend herself and she'd do it all over again.
In the midst of all the blood, his gold earring shinned under the alley's dim lights. She wasn't sure why but she had the urge to take the earring. She felt that it now undeniably hers. She had earned it. So without another thought and a quick tug, she ripped out the earring. She got up and went to the first male and tore out his earring. They wouldn't need them anymore.
Covered in the blood of her fallen attackers, she had never seen more beautiful jewelry. In her hands they no longer looked gaudy but like the greatest treasure she had ever seen.
She looked back to Val and pocketed the earrings. Her friend was still terrified. Seeing Val's wide eyes, filled with new tears and her mouth agape in horror finally got through to Delilah. She was coming down from her high and the situation she was in was finally hitting her.
She just killed someone. Two someones. This was bad. This was very bad. Panic started to settle in.
Delilah didn't feel bad about killing two losers who probably wouldn't be missed anyway but she realized that she murdered someone in the murder capital of the world.
"OK, no need to panic. Just need to get Val and walk away." She thought to herself, getting her grip back on reality. The situation was something she could handle and she would.
"Val…can you walk?" she questioned her friend who seemed to have spaced out.
It took a couple more prods but Val finally nodded her head. Delilah took her friend as gently as she could, a stark contrast to her earlier brutality. Val seemed hesitant as she got closer to the body but urgency struck Delilah. Staying in one place with dead bodies would not bode well for them and Delilah did not want to be caught.
She listened for any commotion or indication that someone had seen or heard them. All Delilah could hear was the crashing of the waves and the roar of the roller coaster. The world was acting as if nothing just happened. Everyone was still having a good time on the boardwalk. Delilah felt like she had entered some kind of alien world. Everything looked completely normal but there was definitely a fundamental difference that she could sense. Everything was different now. She had no idea what the difference meant. She didn't have time to think about it because she had two dead bodies on her hands and she was covered in blood.
"Nothing happened." Delilah told herself strongly. As long as they walked away then everything would be fine. She could walk away from this and no one would be the wise. Santa Carla was a seedy place and everyone in Buena Flores knew it. She had always been warned to stay away from the boardwalk. It was full of degenerates and it was no place for a young girl. No one would suspect them of anything, Delilah told herself. A lingering doubt poisoned her mind and made her hesitate. How many stories had she heard of girls claiming rape and no one believing them? Especially with the way Val was dressed; Delilah knew accusations of Val "asking for it" would come up. What if they did a drug test? They would find the weed and booze in their system. What if she was accused of having a really bad trip? and that's what made her tear into the guys. The males were torn to shreds, would they believe she was defending herself? She took a quick look at the eviscerated male and she had to admit to herself that it looked more like an animal torn into him than self-defense. She could hear her own father's voice accusing them of such acts.
"Your honor, Delilah is nothing but a drug fiend murderer! She killed these two men under the influence of drugs!"
Over and over again she heard the million and one ways a prosecutor would paint her. She had seen enough trials in her lifetime, with her dad, where the prosecution cooked up any number of stories. They're job was to make the accused looked guilty and Delilah made up her mind. They couldn't stay there and call the police. Part of her guilty mind knew she wouldn't get off scott free. Fear of having to justify her actions to a jury and them seeing through her. This was more than just defending herself. She knew that she could have defended herself without killing two men that night. She could have just knocked them out and ran. No, she knew that she killed them partly because she wanted to; not only did she want to but she enjoyed it. She could distinctively recall the rush it gave her. She didn't want to try to lie in front of a jury and them seeing right through her. She wasn't willing to go to jail and face the firing squad for two worthless rapists. She knew what she had to do.
"Come one Val, we need to get out of here."
Delilah quickly grabbed her somewhat shell shocked friend, threw the broken bottle at the brick wall so it shattered into a million pieces, and ditched out the ally way. They took the long way behind all the shops, carnival games, and restaurants. The less they were seen the better. Delilah was running on pure adrenaline. Not really thinking of where she was going but using her instinct to avoid people. She felt a lot better in the shadows, away from sight. The feeling of someone watching was blessedly gone. She had no idea if there were ever eyes on her; she hoped to God there wasn't. She couldn't go through all this trouble just to be snitched on later. She shook those thoughts from her head. She was determined to get home unseen and wash away all the evidence. Out of sight, out of mind. Try as she might she could not stop the paranoia of being discovered.
Fear pulsed through Delilah now as she was terrified of being caught. She was sure her pupils were blown from the drugs and the thrill of the kill. She also looked like she just murdered someone. She had no idea how she'd explain why she was covered with blood and bits of pieces of a former person.
"Maybe I can say it's a slushie. Cops would believe that right? Teenagers throwing slushies at each other cause we're young and crazy? That's it, I'll tell them I'm covered in thick cherry slushie that dries brown and has a distinctive copper scent. "
Delilah's mind worked overtime trying to come up with something that didn't sound so ridiculous but she was coming up blank. She looked like she was covered in blood and she highly doubted anyone would believe otherwise. She quickened her steps and pulled Val with her. She wasn't going to get caught. She couldn't get caught.
Val remained silent the entire way, looking impassively to the ground as Delilah wove their way from eyesight to her car. After what seemed a lifetime and miles upon miles, they finally got to Delilah's red convertible Mustang. She sent up a silent prayer thanking her dad for getting her a car that was easy to get into. Delilah put Val in the car as gently as she could; she knew her friend was traumatized from the attack. Never did she think that her friend was afraid of her. She stealthily put up the top, scared that being too exposed with the top dropped. Any passing cop car could easily seen Delilah's blood stained clothing. It was late and she hoped that the Delilah let out a sigh of relief as they drove away from the boardwalk and into the dark silent night.
"It's going to be ok." She said to Val, not liking the uncomfortable silence. "We're going to get cleaned up and act like nothing happened. It's going to be ok."
Delilah was more or less trying to convince herself. Scary thoughts of going to prison and being someone's bitch were brought to mind. A dark wave rippled through her, telling "You won't be anyone's bitch. If someone tries to mess with you, they'll end up like those two surf Nazis."
A small smile crept onto her face as she remembered all the blood and exactly how dead she made those two assholes. She forgot her fear as she relived each blessed stroke that ended two men's lives. A thrill shot through her at remembering all the blood. The meathead's earrings felt heavy in her pocket. Nice little trophies to always remind her exactly what she was capable of doing. She was confident no one would be able to touch her ever again. Still, prison was not sounding like a good option so she kept her head on straight and thought of ways to make this all go away.
Val only stared into nothing.
Delilah ignored her friend's catatonic state. She was convinced that all she needed to do was get Val to her house, clean her up, and things would look better in the morning.
Again she repeated, "It's going to be fine. No one saw us. It's going to be fine."
Delilah was wrong though. Someone did see them.