Christy sat behind the steeling wheel of her Ford as she drove down G Street. She didn’t really have a destination, she just wanted to drive. At home, in her small house, she was haunted by dark thoughts. She didn’t want to feel the pain of her youth at the moment so she drove.
She looked out her driver side window and smiled at the gloomy sky. It was going to rain tonight. She loved the rain because it seemed to make the world clean, something she would never be.
She was in the middle lane, and driving the speed limit. She looked in her rearview mirror and noticed a blue Honda quickly moving through the lanes. It weaved right, and then left as it cut cars off. It appeared to be in hurry to go nowhere.
She looked ahead. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the Honda was creeping up on the left side. It better not cut me off, she told herself as her eyes narrowed on the road. The car was driving very aggressively. Each move it did, irritated her. Idiot, she thought as she looked ahead.
The car ahead of her was a little more then a car length ahead of, it was an ideal amount of room for a car to move into. To her dismay, the Honda passed her and then cut her off. She tapped her brakes to keep from rear-ending him.
Rude, screamed in her mind. She painfully gripped her steeling wheel. There is no reason for anyone to drive that way. None!
Her eyes narrowed on its taillights as she decided to follow it through town to see exactly what was so important that they had to be a complete ass on the road, and almost cause an accident.
The driver of the Honda didn’t seem to notice her silver ford following them around town. Christy assumed they were too self absorbed to be bothered with such small tib-bits that could save their life.
He turned onto R Street then took a right onto Dusty Blvd. This was a poor neighborhood. He pulled to a curb in front of tan apartments. She pulled her own car behind ii and watched the driver get out. She was not surprise to see it was a guy. He had olive skin and dark hair.
She eyed her surroundings to see if there was anything going on that deserved the urgency of his driving. Nothing was what she found. As she watched him enter an apartment she threw her car into park and shut her car off. She would wait for him because she would find out what was so important that this moron had to drive like a madman. She was mad and she didn’t drive that way.
As ten minutes became thirty, and thirty drifted into an hour she came to the conclusion that this man had no real reason to drive that way. He was just rude, not worthy of the life he had.
Brandon left Marie’s apartment with a smile. If his girlfriend knew how to suck him the way Marie did, then he wouldn’t have to cheat on her with these little visits. He noticed the black hair chick standing by the back tire of his Honda. He smiled.
She wasn’t the normal type of girl he went for with her pale complexion, depressing cloths, and red cold lips. But there was something burning in her deep, brown eyes that sparked his interest. Both of her hands were behind her back, as if she had something for him bit he couldn’t see what it was.
“Yeah?” he asked, as he played with the keys in his hand. “Can I help you?”
She said nothing.
He looked to the car behind him. He eyed its tires; none were flat. “Are you having car problems? Some kind of engine trouble?”
Again she said nothing as she blankly stared at him.
He started to get irritated. Who is this woman and why isn’t she speaking? If she needed his help then she should say so. “Do I know you?” Stare. “Are you retarded,” he finally asked as he rolled his eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
He turned his back on her, not having time for this. She pulled the bat out from behind her back and hit him in the head with it. Since he hadn’t seen it coming he didn’t put up a fight. He fell back on the grass and put his arms up in a pathetic attempt to get her to stop. She didn’t. She beat him until he was unconscious. She was amazingly strong for only being 5’3.
Brandon woke up strapped on a wooden table. He was unable to lift his head because of the leather strap that was across his forehead. Adrenalin coursed through his veins as fear darkened his thoughts. Though the fog and throbbing that filled his mind, he remembered the raven hair woman and her baseball bat. Her hollow eyes had stared at him as she refused to answer his questions.
“That bitch!” He tried to struggle against the restrains on his wrists but couldn’t. He had awakened in a nightmare. “You fucking bitch!” His fear had given way to angry.
Once the panic had faded from him he was able to become aware of his surroundings. The room smelt of blood, dirt, and mold. He could see the walls were clear except for the dark splatters he assumed was blood. He froze when he finally saw her.
The muted, demon was perched on a crate he hoped was empty, but really doubted that it was. In her right hand she held a knife. It was a hunter’s knife, about a foot long. Tears filled his eyes. She coldly watched him as she rotated the tip of it between her fingers. She didn’t seem to notice as it scraped against her flesh.
“You did this to me. Look, I’m sorry I called you a retard,” he tried to amend. “I mean, just because you can’t talk doesn’t mean you’re a retard.” Her head slid to the side as if she was interested in his words. Hope bubbled in his chest. “I’m the retard. I’m dumb for saying what I said.”
“Enough,” she pointed the blade at him. She smoothly jumped from her perch and slowly approached him. “There’s only one thing I want to do with you.”
Soft sobs escaped him as his composure crumpled. He was going to die and he knew it. “Why me?” She was beside him now. “Answer me bitch, why am I here?” He pulled against his restrains again, still hoping to break free. She held the knife over him. “What are you going to do with that?”
Her merciless eyes slid to look at him. “Where did you go today,” she asked in a soft voice.
“What?” He didn’t understand her question. He had gone a lot of places.
Her face-hardened as she sliced into his side. He yelled as he tried to pull away. He could feel his blood running down his side. “Don’t toy with me,” she warned. “When you cut me off on G Street to rush off to that apartment; who were you going to see?”
“What?” He saw her raised the knife again. “Wait, wait, wait,” he begged. He didn’t want to die. “That was Marie’s place.”
She raised a brow. “Who’s Marie?”
“Just an whore. Ah,” he cried out as she cut into his thigh. “Fuck! Stop that!”
“You cut me off,” she told him. “I had to step on my brakes.” She looked at him as she confessed in a passionate voice; “I HATE stepping on my brakes.”
“What the fuck? You kidnapped me and dragged me into this pit of hell…”
“Chamber of Pain.” A dreamy smile touched her lips. “Its my personal palace of pleasure.”
“You crazy fuck, let me go!”
She met his angry eyes. “You’re boring me now.” She raised the knife.
“Nooo,” he hollered as he watched the blade get buried deep with his gut. Brandon passed out from the pain before Christy ended his life in her chamber of pain.
