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Saturday, 23 October 2010

His No More

Here’s another one of my favourite nice and twisted, enjoy! (Warning: contains coarse language and actions).
How are your views on the people in this story and their behaviour? Who’s right, who’s wrong? Nothing wrong with a tiny bit of controversy on this blog, right?

His No More

“Hey, babe!” He says, all smug.
“Let go of me!”
“Now, now, baby, don’t be bitchy! Why don’t you be nice to me, huh?”
He pulls my jacket open and puts his hands all over places he has no right to touch. He pulls me against his body and whispers in my ear.
“Don’t worry, pumpkin, I’ll be good to you.”
I struggle, his hands are like screws around my arms. I can just get one hand free, I smack him across the face as hard as I can, there’s a loud bang, he lets go, puts his hand on the mark. It’s all red.
We stand, a few feet apart, panting, paralyzed. I look up at him. He clenches his jaw. Oh God, he’s angry.
I attempt to escape. If I could just get out of this alley, into the light! Those stupid heels! I spray my ankle, slightly, but it slows me down no less. I have to find someone, someone that can help, anyone... I limp on. In three big steps he’s caught up to me, pulls my hair, drags me back!
“Come here, you little bitch!”
“No!” I scream. My cries are smothered by his hand on my mouth. It bruises my lips. I dig my teeth into his fingers, he curses. I’m not quick enough. I need more time to get away, I...
His fist hits my cheek born hard. I squeal. Why doesn’t anyone come to save me?
I try to run, he grabs my clothes, I hear the tear.
“Shut up, slut! Who do you think you are, huh? Do you honestly think you can turn a guy on all night and just walk away? What, am I not good enough for you, you filthy little tramp? You better come through!”
His hands glide all over me. I don’t know if I should focus on keeping the remainder of my clothes together or let go to fight off those preposterous tentacles of his that are simply everywhere at once.
“Please, let me go!”
I hear him open his zipper. What a dreadful sound. It slits the night open, cuts through the silence like a knife.
His pants fall around his ankles. It’s now or never. I gather up all my courage, I’ll only be able to make one move, rip one of my arms loose and bury my elbow in his stomach. He yelps and stumbles back. A trashcan. A loud clash, as he trips over it backwards and lands on the ground amidst the garbage, where he belongs.
My eyes black contempt, I tower over him. My shadow rises up to cover him among the deeper shades of black. He fumbles about across the dirty ground, groping for his stuff, his pants, he’s trying to get back up, back to his feet, it will all start over!
I bend down on one knee aside him. I was surprised it was so easy, a short snap, a crack, a gasp, that’s it. I look around, there’s no one there. Like there was nobody for me, not a soul has come for him either. We were left to our own devices. No one will ever know.
“Good riddance!” I’ll dust off the memory at home and put in a frame.
I brush the filth off my clothes, put the collar of my jacket up and walk away.
My heels resonate in the darkness, and on the street behind me, his, no more.

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