Blood and Sugar
PART 3
Chapter XV: Tidal
The waves beat on the boat gently, creating a gentle rhythm. I looked out on the gray, hazy horizon. The air was warmer than it had been three months ago in that warehouse, but there was still a little chill in the April air. I sat there, in the old little rowboat, floating a few yards from the shore. Mitchell, my brother, used to take me out on this boat, and we would tell stories, and dream about the future of our lives. I was there on a mission. Many years ago, Mitch had lost a locket he had found in the water, and at the time was unable to swim to the bottom and get it. I was sure this was the spot. I peered over the side of the boat, peering into the gray water. It was glittering with the sunlight peering through the clouds.
I held my breath, and threw my self into the chilly water. I swam down, the salt stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. My hands grasped in the soft sand, until I touched something metal. I rose back to the surface, the air slapping me with cold. I held up the object to my eyes, watching it glitter in the sun. Indeed, it was the same necklace my brother had lost fifteen years ago. I couldn't believe my luck. I fastened the necklace around my neck. It was a simple silver chain, with a heart pendant. I stroked it, feeling the smooth metal in my fingers. Finally, I picked up the oars and began rowing back to shore.
I step onto the white, soft sand on the shore. I pulled the boat up onto the shore, and ran back up the hill towards my childhood home. It was a wooden two-story house, with chipping blue paint. The wooden steps on the porch creaked under my feet. Some would say that this house was in complete disrepair, but as far as I was concerned, it was perfect in every conceivable way. I stepped into the house, tracking sand onto the smooth wooden floors. I looked around the living room, it was dark, and silent. I was startled as I felt fur wrap around my legs. I looked down to see the little stray cat that Mihael and I had adopted. He just showed up one day, skinny and malnourished, and we had taken him in. We had named him Pierre. I knelt down started petting him for a few seconds. Then I got up and walked to the stairs, and started up them. Pierre trailed close behind me, pawing at my feet. I walked down the silent hallway, peeked through the door to the master bedroom, which was slightly ajar. Inside, I saw Miahel sprawled out on the bed, a book in one hand, and a half-eaten chocolate bar in the other.
Pierre sprung through the door, and lept up on the bed into Mihael's lap. Mihael put his book down, and started petting Pierre casually. I stepped into the room, walked over to the bed, and also started petting the little cat.
"Come swimming with me," I said.
"I dunno," he replied dully.
"Please?" I begged. "You never go outside."
"Fine," he said grudgingly. He set his chocolate down, and got out of bed. Pierre lept off the bed and rocketed out the door, and for the kitchen. Mihael reluctantly followed me down the hall, down the stairs, and out the door. The wind made my wet t-shirt and shorts stick to my body. Mihael stripped off his own shirt, tossing it onto the porch. I lightly grabbed his arm, coaxing him down the hill and down to the shore. I stepped in the water easily, but he put his feet in and immediately stopped.
"It's cold," he complained.
"It's fine," I said. "It's not so bad if you don't dilly dally around."
I tugged on his arm, and we waded out until we were chest deep in the water. I snuggled up close to him, and he latched on, more for the body heat rather than affection.
"I love this place," I said.
"It's nice," he agreed. "It's quiet."
"This is my own little corner," I said. "I threatened my dad that I would run away if he sold this place."
"Where are your parents?" he asked.
"Last I heard," I said thoughtfully. "Sweden. We don't really communicate much. My mom...well, she's crazy, and my dad hated the fact that I was with L and didn't pursue a big money career. We used to come here in the summer, but we stopped going when I was sixteen. My dad wanted to sell it. But I said that I would run away if he did, so he didn't. And then, when I turned eighteen, he gave it to me as a present. Although, I think he saw it as more getting rid of junk he didn't want."
"My parents, as far as I know, were alcoholics or drug addicts, or some stupid bullshit," he said. "My father knocked my mother up, they get married, and divorce a year later. The custody battle was so bad I ended up in foster care for a few years. Then, they decided I was gifted or something, and sent me straight to Whammy's House. Best thing that ever happened to me."
"What was it like to grow up a Whammy kid?" I asked. "I've only visited there."
"I got in trouble a lot," he explained. "Because of my ever so famous temper. But it was alright. I had a good childhood, I guess."
"Mine would have sucked if it hadn't been for Mitch," I said.
Later on, the sun was setting, red and orange rays peaked through the clouds. The first trace of stars twinkled in the darkening sky. We lay on the soft sand, taking in the sounds around us. The ocean lapping at the shore, the seagulls calling from a distance, the wind in our ears. I looked over at him, gazing deeply into the sky. I softly touched his face, and fiddled with his wet blonde hair in my fingers. He looked at me with his brown eyes, and lightly grasped my hand. I rolled over on top of him, and kissed him sweetly. He grasped my hair and kissed back tenderly, and wrapped his arms around me.
I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing the next morning. I rolled over and moaned, annoyed that my sleep was interrupted. Mihael was already out of bed. I reached down over the bed to my pants, and took my phone out.
"Hullo?" I answered drowsily.
"Morgan," came a very familiar voice.
"Near?" I said.
"Sorry to call so early," he said. "I tried last night but you didn't answer."
"What's up?" I asked.
"I need you to come to Los Angeles right away," he said. "It's a matter of your own safety."
"Oh really?" I questioned. "What's going on?"
"A serial killer had escaped from prison," he said. "L had captured him around eight years ago. Do you remember the serial killer that killed the little girl named Quarter Queen, and cut off her arm and leg?"
"Yes," I said. "But I fail to see what that has to do with me."
"He's killed six girls," he said. "But there's something about these killings...I can't explain over the phone. I have to show you."
"Can you at least tell me who this guy is?" I asked.
"He went under the guise of Rue Ryuzaki, but his real name is classified. He was from Whammy's house, and he had a very personal beef with L," he explained.
"Wow," I said. "That's interesting."
"I've sent a car to your house, it should be there in a couple of hours," he said.
"How do you know where I live?" I demanded.
"I have my ways," he said. "Does Mello live with you?"
"Yes," I said. "Do you have any objection to him coming with me?"
"No, actually," Near said. "Whether or not he comes, it's completely fine with me."
"I hope you like cats," I said.
"I hate cats," he said grudgingly. "And since when do you have a cat?"
"He came to us in his time of fuzzy need," I said. "I couldn't deny that little face."
"I bet Mello will kill it," he said meanly.
"Mello loves Pierre," I said defensively. "Pierre is a lot friendlier than you."
"Fine," Near said. "I'll make arrangements to accommodate your little hairball."
"Okay then," I said. "I will see you soon, I guess."
I hung up the phone, got dressed, and headed downstairs.
I saw Mihael sitting on the couch, Pierre curled up in his lap asleep. He had a chocolate bar in one hand, and a newspaper in the other.
"I need to talk to you," I said.
"Some crazy serial killer has escaped from prison," he said. "He's killed six girls."
"And that's what I need to talk to you about," I said. "Near has asked me to come to Los Angeles."
"What?" he said loudly. "Why?"
"He says those killings somehow come back to me," I explained. "But he said I would have to come see for myself to find out why."
"Fucking Near," he swore. "What a damn pain in the ass."
"He's already sent a car," I said. "He said it was okay to bring Pierre."
I sat anxiously on the couch in the hotel room. Mihael was seated on the armchair, and Pierre was pacing the room, looking for a house fly he had spotted earlier. At last, the door swung open. Near stepped into the room, Rester right behind him. Near held a key card in his hand, staring blankly and indifferently.
"Hello Morgan," he said. "Mello."
"Hi," I said plainly.
"Near," Mihael said meanly.
Pierre, utterly ecstatic to see a visitor, ran up to Near and started pawing playfully at his feet.
"AUUUGH!" he cried. "It's attacking me! Rester, help me!"
Rester frowned, with an I-don't-get-paid-enough-to-this look. He picked up the excited cat, and held him in his huge hands.
"Sorry," I said. "He's just a kitten. He loves visitors."
"It just mauled me!" he said. "You should have that thing put down."
"Fuck you, Near," Mihael said.
"Anyway," Near continued, composing himself. "Rester will be right next door, for security. But right now, we're going to the morgue. I need to show you the bodies in order for you to understand the caliber of the situation."
Mihael and I followed Near and Rester out to a black car. We sat in the back, all the way to the Los Angeles morgue. Upon arrival into the building, you could tell it was a morgue. The place was lined with metal panelling, and it was all lit with a dim florescent light that tinted everything slightly blue. There were no windows, and the floor was wet. Near led us to a part in the back of the building, and had Rester open six of the refrigerated drawers. We were given gloves, to avoid contaminations. But the sights were rather appalling.
The first girl, Victoria Johnston, was strangled with a dog collar. After her death, the killer had dyed her hair black, and curled it with a curling iron. The second, Marie Varetti, was also strangled, had her dyed black, but her hair was almost all burned off from what looked like hot rollers left it. The skin on the scalp was badly burned as well. The fourth, Alexz Best, was shot in the head; but her hair too was also dyed black. It was still left in rollers. The fifth, Darla Schwartz had been poisoned using a high dose of tetodotoxin. She was a woman of colour, so her body had been bleached, and her hair then dyed black like the others. He hair had traces of chemicals that were consistent of a perm kit. And the sixth had been drowned. Eva Rosenthal. She had a collar that looked like it was made just for her neck. Her hair was, like all the others, dyed black, but her hair was naturally curly.
"All the girls are around the same age, body type, and all were sexually assaulted after death," Near said. "But no traces of semen or DNA evidence have been found. Are you seeing the connection now, Morgan?"
"Yes," I said. "They all look like me. He's creating 'dolls' of me, it looks like."
"Exactly," Near said. "They are just toys to him. Imagine how excited he would be to get his hands on the real thing."
"Oh god," I lamented.
"So who is this sick freak?" Mihael demanded.
"It's B," Near said. "He was before our time, so we never met him."
"I heard about him once," Mihael said. "He was a sick fucker, from what I heard."
"He escaped from a maximum security prison about six weeks ago," Near explained. "He persuaded some guards to help him."
"Persuaded?" I said. "I don't think a prison guard is going to willingly let a convicted serial murder out."
"B is the kind of person who gets into your head," Near said.
"Just like someone I know," I shot at Near.
"So far, he's left no clues as to his whereabouts or anything," Near said. "But I'm sure, as he gets closer and closer to his real prey, some will start to surface."
"So, you want me to sit here, and be bait?" I asked.
"I don't like this," Mihael said. "We might as well serve her up a silver platter."
"Think about it," Near explained. "Have her under protection here, or back in that seaside house, unprotected, and cut off from the world? I've filled in the gaps, Mello. Nothing will happen to her. I would about die if anything did."
"Shut your mouth, Near," Mihael said. "You only care about your personal interests."
"Don't be so sure," Near said. I could tell Mihael was getting very angry.
"Maybe we should go," I suggested. "If you're done, Near."
"Okay," Near said. "Rester will take you back. I'll stay here and keep working. I'll let you know if I find anything."
Upon returning to the hotel, I could tell that Mihael was completely wound up. Whether it was anger at Near, or at B, or anything, he was very tense. I decided to try and ease his temper a little bit.
"I know just the thing to calm your nerves," I said playfully.
"Oh really," he said, his voice tensed with anger. "I don't think it's possible."
I grabbed his face and pulled him into a hungry kiss. I slowly massaged his shoulders, making him groan lightly against my lips. His hands moved to my back to take off my shirt, but I promptly shoved him, very hard, until he landed on the bed, his face in shock.
"Take it off," I ordered. "Take it all off."
"I just tried to but-" He whimpered.
"Not me," I said. "You. Take all your clothes off. You're my bitch tonight."
I stood there, smiling, trying not to laugh my ass off, as he stripped himself of his clothes. I only took off my underwear from under my skirt. I approached him and shoved him back onto the bed. I climbed on top of him, pinning down his legs with my body. I took his member into my hand, watching him almost tremble in anticipation.
"Beg for it," I commanded.
"Morgan," he whined.
"Fine," I said coldly. "If you don't want it."
"No!" he cried. "Please."
I started stroking him with my fingers, rolling my thumb over the tip of it. He whined and moaned, squirming and clenching his toes.
"Now the question is, blondey," I said meanly. "Is do you want me to fuck you?"
"Yes," he breathed.
"You sure?" I asked playfully.
"Yes," he yelled. "Stop teasing me, you bitch."
I straddled him, and placed my hands firmly on his shoulders. I started to ride him slowly, repressing my moans of pleasure to continue his torture. He bucked up against me, moaning and panting.
"You're powerless," I laughed. "Tell me that I wear the pants."
"Not yet," he said.
He grabbed me and shoved me down. He practically tore my clothes as he was pulling them off. He pushed himself into me, holding me down, moving fast and hard. I remained powerless under him...I didn't even hear the door opening.
"Now," he panted. "Tell...me...who...wears...the...pants...bitch..."
"Never!" I cried.
"Oh dear," came a voice from the doorway.
We both froze, and saw Near standing there, with a face of utter shock.
"It's not what it looks like!" he yelled. "She started it!"
"I was going to tell you something about the murders," Near said weakly. "But I think it could wait. I'm going to put a do not disturb sign on your door...although, I could say I'm pretty disturbed..."
"Will you get out of here?" Mihael yelled.
Near stalked out of the room, taking the do not disturb sign and placing it on the handle on the way out. I used Mihael's moment of weakness and threw him down onto the mattress. I grasped his hair and pinned him down, riding him hard.
"...gotcha," I panted.
"...damn you," he hissed.
He tried to push me off, but he was too weak from pleasure. He came inside of me, almost screaming, and struggling to breathe.
"Let's try for two," I smiled. I kept going, harder and faster. He shouted my name, sweat pouring down his face. I pushed myself harder, nearing my own climax, but I tried to hold it back. Finally, he screamed with his second orgasm, and I let my own overtake my body. I collapsed beside him, all the muscles in my body cramping. I was in serious pain, but I felt very gratified.
"Ow," I said. "My whole body hurts."
"I bet Near is writhing in jealousy," he said.
"I think he thought you were raping me," I joked.
"If anyone is the rapist here," he said. "It's you."
I got dressed and limped next door to where Rester was. I knocked on the door, and Near answered.
"Rester is downstairs right now," Near said. "But I'm here, so come in."
I stepped into the room, immediately seeing the contrast. It smelled faintly of lysol, and everything was neat and put away, as opposed to the sweaty, sexy chaos of my own room.
"Why did he go downstairs?" I asked.
"He was repulsed by the sounds of you and Mello having sex," he said plainly.
"Oh," I said, starting to feel embarrassed.
"So I see the fire is still alive between you two," he said.
"Yes," I said defensively.
Near reached in for a kiss. It was soft and simple, but still as chilling as always. But I pulled away from him.
"I told you, Near," I said. "It's over between us."
"Or so you think," he said teasingly.
He kissed me again, stroking my neck lightly, causing me to shiver a little bit.
"I just had sex with someone else," I said. "Very rough sex. I'm too sore."
"Considering that you love him," Near said. "You don't seem to have much problem cheating on Mello with me."
"I just told you no," I said.
"Did you even think about him," he said. "When we made love?"
"I've been trying to forget that," I said. "That was a mistake."
"Trying to forget someone you love is like trying to remember someone you've never met," he said.
"Save your cliches," I said. "I don't love you. I never will."
"Once again," he said. "Always trying to hurt me."
"I've spent the last three months trying to get you out of my head," I said weakly. "So just get out."
"If you can't get someone out of your head," he said. "Maybe they're supposed to be there."
Those chilling lips. They captured mine again, as though they were poisoning me. His hands rubbed my shoulders, as his tongue caressed mine. I broke this kiss suddenly, guilt overtaking me.
"I have to go," I said weakly.
"Guilt doesn't look good on you," he said.
"Leave me alone," I said.
I stormed out and back to my own room. I was thankful to see that Mihael was pretty much catatonic in bed, because I reeked of guilt. I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve anything. I had only now thought of what I had done was cheating.
Cheating. I was a dirty little cheater.
I was just a stupid slut.
I walked into the bathroom, and sat down on the toilet. And then I noticed it; Mihael's razor. I picked it up in my hand, holding it for a moment.
And I cut myself with it.
I made an long cut along my forearm. I watched the little droplets of blood form from the wound. I knew that doing this was stupid, asinine, and immature, but I had to punish myself. I wanted to feel pain that I could control.
I had fucked myself over really bad this time.