I remember it all like it was yesterday. I had just gotten back to my shared rental house after a horrific afternoon of lecture hall after lecture hall and my roommate was carrying on about a murder down the street.
“It was awful! I can’t believe they left it so open to the public eye for anyone like me to walk by and see such a heinous scene. Literally, man, blood. Everywhere.”
“That’s crazy,” I say half-heartedly because I was well immersed in making my pot of ramen to shove into my grumbling belly. And, well, Roger is a bit of an exaggerative sort.
“Oh, look! It’s already on the news!” He shouts from the living room.
I look at the water in the pot calculating how many moments left before the boil and decided I could go take a peak.
To say I wasn’t even remotely prepared for the scene is a stark understatement. There on the screen was an entire front yard of a house not two blocks away covered with maimed bodies scattered everywhere. Blood spray was all over the white picket fence with a body slumped over into the row of rose bushes. And, is that an arm hanging out of the pot of geraniums? Good lord.
“What the hell are you idiots gawking at...whoa...dude...what the fuck!? Can they even show this shit on tv? Hey, isn’t that the house with the hot blonde that always sunbathes out in the driveway?”
“Yep,” I managed to gulp out barely registering he’d come in the front door.
The three of us just stare. I’m not even hearing anything the reporter is saying because I can’t take my eyes off the gory mess.
“Dude, is something burning?” Roger says off-handedly, his own eyes still fixated on the screen.
“Shit!” I shout and run into the kitchen. All the water boiled away in the pot while I was caught in my stupor leaving the noodles to sizzle burning at the bottom of the pot. I yank it from the heat and turn off the stove leaving the mess behind to go back to the living room. I’m not even remotely hungry anymore anyway.
****
Several hours pass and our house has transitioned away from the television opting to sip some cold beers out on the front steps. The afternoon sun is about an hour from setting and the breeze keeps kicking up a calming, spring warmth. We can still hear the commotion of the television crews and cops down over on the other block.
Roger had moved on to yammering about how shitty his calculous professor is when we hear footsteps coming up our walk. My eyes lazily glance over with my bottle raised to my lips and I’m startled by who it is.
“It’s the hot blonde,” Pete whispers under his breath. The three of us don’t even move a muscle as she continues approaching the porch.
“Hell of a fuckin’ day, boys. You got another one of those somewhere?” She calls brushing her loose hair from her eyes. We still stare for a moment before Pete jumps up.
“Uh, yea. Sure thing!” The porch door creaks and slams as he runs in.
“Here, have a seat,” Roger says standing up to slide over the rusty old chair we have sitting next to the stoop.
“Oh, thank you!” She sighs and plops down into it without a thought.
The silence that followed seemed to last a decade before the front porch door screeches back open and Pete shouts, “Here you go, little lady!” handing her an ice cold High Life.
She rips the bottle from his hand and slams half of it in three seconds. “Woo…” she says wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “This is EXACTLY what I needed.”
The rest of the afternoon and evening go obscenely normal despite what we all know has happened at her house. None of us has the nerve to bring it up and she doesn’t either as we blather on about classes, shitty food in the student union, and the asshole down the street who tears around in his massive loud-ass truck. We eventually order pizza and spread out in the living room to watch some mundane shows on the television and continue on about normal college banter.
*****
I startle awake at 2:13am after hearing...what was that… a shout? I pause for a moment longer staring at the clock. Deciding it was just my imagination, I turn over in my bed.
A few minutes later, I hear my bedroom door opening and my eyes fly open.
“Heyyyyy….”
It’s the blonde. I’m now realizing at this point I don’t even know her name. In all that conversation, not once did we all stop to exchange basic introductions.
I sit up and turn my bedside light on squinting over to the doorway.
“Hey,” my voice rasps back. “What’s up?” As I ask this, I start to take in the sight of her. Her long blonde hair is a fucking mess and her eyes are intensely focused and eerily dark. She begins to approach and I leap out of bed to head towards the doorway. I’m not sure what the fuck is happening but I need to get out of this tiny-ass space right now.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Her arm whips out to wrap around my ribs. Jesus, where the hell did that strength come from!? She’s starting to squeeze even harder on me and I’m starting to lose air.
“What the hell?” I shout hoping it would snap her out of whatever the fuck this is as well as alert a roommate.
“Just giving you a hug….can’t I hug you?” She attempts for it to come out as a sexy purr but it’s drenched with venom. I somehow muster the ability to slam my elbow into her own ribs which loosens a little of her grip. I then swing my fist up hard connecting square into her jaw. She jumps back long enough for me to sprint out of my room and down the hallway.
I slam to a hault when I see Roger on the couch. He looks almost as if he’s sleeping except his eyes are open to slight slits, his arm hangs uncomfortably down to the floor, and a trail of blood is dripping down his chin flowing all the way to the carpet.
“Jesus christ,” I gasp before realizing she’s right behind me. I quickly look around the room for some kind of weapon and spot Pete’s stratocaster on the stand in the corner. I leap for it and swing it wildly just in time to connect with her head bludgeoning her left side.
“Oh shit….I’m sorry…” I stammer as she doubles over. But then she swings back up again with those maniacal eyes and I’m left with no other option but to take another swing.
And,another.
And, another.
Until she’s dead.
I stare down at her body draped on the floor with her sexy legs flailed out wearing Pete’s Pink Floyd shirt and panties while trying to catch my breath. I can’t believe what the fuck just happened. I fling my head over to Roger and then back to her and find myself sprinting out the front door into the cool night air.
I hunch over with my hands on my knees and begin to hork into our overgrown holly bushes in the front garden. I heave four more times before my breath finally calms down and then I stand up straight. My eyes are darting around looking for anyone who could have remotely witnessed what just happened. Barefoot and only wearing my boxers and an old marathon tee, I make my way back inside.
I look down at the floor and she’s still there in a mass with blood from her head slowing seeping into the carpet. Roger is still clearly dead on the couch. Where is Pete in all of this?
Fearing what I will find, I slowly make my way down the hall to Pete’s room, push open the door and flick on the light. Just as I thought, Pete is there in his bed. Only he’s naked. His eyes are still wide open. Bruises have formed in his skin around his ribs and belly area where she must have given him the death grip. But, the most god fucking awful thing about it is his dick has been ripped off and tossed to the floor.
I run to the bathroom to heave again.
****
The sun is rising and I’m back out on the front porch smoking Roger’s cigarettes and drinking cup after cup of coffee trying to assess last night, life, and whether or not I’ll ever sleep again. The front door to the house is wide open because I can’t bring myself to close it thinking about all that’s festering in there right now.
I take a deep inhale, cough a little since I never fucking smoke, and hastily blow it out. There is a soft little mew from the bushes I just horked in and I turn to see the stray cat that is always wandering around.
The orange fur is matted and filthy as it comes to rub up against my shins.
“Hey there… I’m not sure you want to be here right now, friend…” as I reach down to stroke it’s head. The mangey thing starts to purr so I keep petting because I have no idea what the fuck else to do in life right now.
A car drives by and I quickly look up assuming for some reason it’s a cop coming to haul me in but it’s just a random Suburban and they keep on going.
I glance back down at the cat at my fingertips and its now looking up at me with pitch black globus things where its eyes once were. The ears are ever so slightly back. Is it? Holy shit… it’s giving me that same fucking look the hot blonde had.
And, then the thing lunges for my neck wrapping its body around it squeezing my windpipe shut. The cigarette falls from my hand and the mug of coffee is punted off the porch causing me to faintly register scolding hot liquid on my bare foot as I work my hands at the cat trying to rip off me.
I pry and pry but it’s not budging and I’m not breathing. My eyes peg a solar light sticking out of the ground at the bottom step of the porch. Lunging myself with all my might to the ground, I rip it out of the dirt and stab the pointed end into the body of the cat. It was just enough to cause it to go slack a bit allowing me to pull it off and throw it to the ground. The body is still wriggling and its nasty eyes find me and begins to prep itself for another leap up. So, I take the light and stab it right in the head causing one of the black eyes to pop out onto the ground.
Realizing the little beast is dead, I flop down into the grass once again trying to catch my breath. The sky is stretching to a beautiful pink now.
When my heart rate slows, I pull myself up out of the grass and start walking down the street. As I walk, I notice brilliant colors everywhere. Wow...when did the neighbor’s blue truck get soooo bluuuue. Am I high? Is this what murder does to people?
As I continue my stroll, I spot an old man collecting his paper from the end of the driveway. He sees me and, noticing my state, hesitantly gives me a wave. I wave back and feel myself beaming a smile while walking towards him.
The world grows more and more magnified as every blade of grass stands out waving hello at me. The old man’s chest begins to glow a brilliant red where his heart is. As the red deepens to a vibrant crimson, the path of his veins color in as well. I make my way to the old man, reach out, and squeeze.
And, squeeze.
Every.
Last.
Breath.
