Copyright©2014 by Matt Shaw

Matt Shaw Publications

The moral right of Matt Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988. All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

She

Loves

Me

Not

M A T T    S H A W

For Corinna Hoover

Thank you for the support and love you give my work.

And a message from the man who commissioned this story:

"For my wife,

For the good, the bad, and putting up with all my bullshit.

                                                                                     -Z"

PRESENT DAY

Brief Introductions

Her friends call her Cori but her proper name is Corinna. I prefer her full name. It is unusual; not something you hear that often. I can’t foresee me calling her by the shortened version. I don’t know why but I just find it disrespectful. Her parents wanted her known as Corinna and so we should all respect their wishes.

She isn’t the tallest of women. If I had to guess I would say she is around the 5’ 4” mark but that’s fine with me. I’m not really one to talk about height either seeing as I’m only 5’ 9” myself. We’d look good together, walking around hand in hand.

Her hair is dark brown which isn’t what I usually go for. I much prefer blondes and so I was surprised that I felt the connection as I did. Maybe it’s her big smile which pulled me in or the endearing way in which she is so accident prone and clumsy. Or maybe it’s her nature in general? Like me - she is an animal lover and often she stops to stroke cats she sees walking along the same path as her. They do say that if you want to get to know the temperament of a person - you should see how they treat animals. If they’re kind to them, they’re more likely to be kind to people. If they treat them with an abusive air then they’re best avoided altogether.

I’ve only known Corinna for a short amount of time in the great scheme of things. I’m in my thirties and - if I had to guess (which I do at the moment) - I would say she is in her late twenties, maybe even mid. Yet despite the short time I’ve known her, I’ve come to grow attached to her. I long to hear that sexy Southern drawl she has going on, I long to see that smile of hers brighten up the darkest of rooms and I long to take her on the first of many dates, I yearn for the first of many kisses and I lust for the first time we fuck.

“I know who she is, you sick son of a bitch!”

And then of course we have her husband. A stick in the mud. A tiresome, irritating little turd of a man - or rather an excuse of a man. How this piece of shit got a woman as special as Corinna is beyond me. I should ask to see his bank statements. I have a feeling, if he were to show them to me, they’d tell the story of how their romance blossomed into a wedding. I reckon there’d be a few digits there for her to spend on a rainy day. No. Come now. She isn’t like that. She’s not that sort of woman. She’s not one of those girls. She’s a decent person. If she wants something, she’ll earn it herself through her teaching job. She’s a grafter, not a user. Looking at her husband - a man named Zak by all accounts - I can’t imagine how they ever met not that I really care. If I had to guess, though, I’d say Rohypnol played a part. Zak - I don’t like that name - is a software engineer; a boring job for a boring individual. I’m not entirely sure what it involves to be fair, I just sense it would be dull.

Calling me a ‘sick son of a bitch’ was just one of many insults this ‘man’ has thrown at me in the short time we have spent together. Among the other names were ‘fucking psycho’, ‘asshole’, ‘piece of shit’ and - rather bizarrely - ‘idiot’. I guess his stunted imagination struggled to pull any other names from the brain hat and he was forced to use names from his childhood. I can picture his mother and father calling him an idiot an awful lot of the time when he was growing up. I can even envision the family doctor also coining the same phrase whilst discussing his lacking IQ with the distraught mother and father. I don’t know whether he has brothers and sisters but - if he has - he would most definitely be the runt of the litter. If he is an only child then I guess his mother’s eggs were past their sell by date. Poor woman. I’ll wager she spent many a night standing over his crib with a pillow in her hands.

“I’m doing the world a favour,” she’d say to herself before talking herself out of killing him again for fear of doing time in prison.

Forgive me. Sometimes my over active imagination gets the better of me.

The names he called me, the insults he threw, are not entirely accurate. In fact I would go so far as to say there is no truth in them whatsoever. I didn’t correct him, as he hurled them in my direction. There is no need. Who I am is none of his business. He doesn’t need to know that I - like his wife - am an animal lover. He doesn’t need to know I consider myself to be a gentleman of fine upbringing nor is it his business that I take pride in my appearance and try and treat all those I meet with a certain level of respect. Treat others how you wish to be treated yourself is my motto. Strict parents drummed that into my head when I was growing up and I’m grateful to them for it. Thanks to their rules and regulations, I turned into the precise, intelligent, thoughtful man I am today but that is by the by. Zak - still hate that name - doesn't need to know any of that and nor does he need to know that my name is Victor. He doesn’t need to know any of it not that it would hurt if I were to tell him. I could tell him everything. I guess it would be polite to do so and I do take pride in my manners but it just all feels a little pointless. Why waste breath on a dying man?

I’m sorry. I’ve come to realise you have little to no idea as to what is going on. I’m talking about these people as though you know them. I’m talking about myself as though we’re already friends and yet - in truth - to you we are but friends yet to meet and if we were to part ways now we would neither remember each other’s names nor the roles we played. With that in mind I can’t help but feel it may be prudent for me to go back to where it all began and paint a fuller picture. After all, it’s not as though I do not have the time with which to do so.

It’s Zak who doesn’t have any time.

BEFORE

At First Sight

“Vic… I owe you one. Thank you.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“No. Seriously. I owe you. Thank you. And remember…”

“You don’t need to say it.”

“Well even so… Just between you and me, yeah?”

“My lips are sealed.”

I disconnected the call before my brother had a chance to take further advantage of my good nature. It wasn’t the first time he’d called me up asking - no, begging - me to collect his son, Danny, from the school. He was always too busy even though he knew it was his weekend to have him. Sometimes I wondered whether he really wanted to spend the time with his son or whether he took him just to annoy the mother who’d rather the boy had no contact with his dead-beat father. I could see her point. I loved my brother, of course I did, but he had a knack of pissing everyone off by just breathing. When he had Danny for the weekend, he spent two days feeding him junk food, letting him watch films he shouldn’t watch and then he’d send him off back to his mother wired. It was partly the mother’s fault. On the first weekend of ‘father and son’ she sent Danny round with a wad of notes of how he should be looked after as though my brother couldn’t cope without a set of instructions. One of the many listed items was to do with dietary requirements. I can’t quite recall what it said on the list, exactly, but I remember being with my brother when he screwed the piece of paper into a tight little ball and lobbed it across the room before taking his son for the biggest, fattest, greasiest burger he could find.

I dropped my cell down onto the passenger seat and took the next turning on my right. Before the call, I’d been heading off to town to run some errands. Guess they had to wait for another day now. Now it’s all about the school run and entertaining my nephew for a few hours before his dad finally decides to come and collect him from me. No doubt I’ll have to feed him too.

I sighed.

Children weren’t my strong point. Never have been and never will be. Just something about them that irritates me. Annoying questions, needy looks and a constant drain on your attention unless you set them in front of some technological device with which to rot their brains - such as televisions or game pads. Sadly I have neither. I have a couple of board games though. It’s been a little while since I’ve had to entertain the kid so hopefully he is still into those.

Danny’s school was a little over twenty minutes away from where I currently was. The school kicked out in ten minutes. So long as I get there before the concerned teachers call his mother, everything will be fine. I pressed my foot down a little harder on the accelerator. I know it’s not my problem - whether she finds out or not - but, even so, I can’t be bothered with the earache from my brother. I can hear him now.

“You said you were going to collect him! Where the hell were you?”

And, of course, I’d counter with, “Well perhaps if you gave me a little more notice I might have had more of a chance to get to him on time!”

“You realise she’s not going to let this drop, right?”

And, like a mug, I’d end up saying I was sorry. It was always me who’d end up apologising when my brother and I had an argument. Something about the way he spoke to me. He’d always manage to twist whatever it was we were in dispute over back to me. I never understood how he did it but it irritated the hell out of me.

Danny’s school was a private school. Goddard. God only knows what it cost my brother - and Danny’s mother - to send the kid there but I guess they were trying to give him a head start with regards to his education and who was I to say that was wrong? The school was located in the middle of a massive complex called ‘The Matrix’; a huge complex lifted up on about forty foot stilts. One of the craziest things I’d ever seen. It kind of looked as though it were some evil villain’s lair if I am going to be perfectly honest. On that strength alone, I would have sent my child to a different school. Not that I want children.

Like I said before, I have no interest in them. None whatsoever. A little issue which has cost me a fair few relationships in the past. So much so, in fact, that I’ve long since given up trying to find me a woman. There’s just no point. They all want kids in the end, even the ones who start off saying they’re fine without them. At some point, their clocks tick louder than ever and they suddenly become broody. It’s at that stage we have that conversation - the one which sees the relationship come to an end.

2.

I turned into the parking lot and abandoned the car between spaces. I couldn’t see Danny standing with the other children - not that there were many left behind - and feared the worst more or less straight away; his mother had been called to come and collect him.

I hurried through to where I could see the children standing and was stopped by a teacher who was clearly on patrol to stop random strangers coming up and stealing kids; a sign of the times we live in.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Uncle Victor!” a voice called out from a little way behind the lady. I smiled at the lady in the knowledge Danny’s voice had explained all that needed explaining. She smiled at me, a big beaming smile, and stepped to the side to let me pass. I turned my attention to my nephew as he ran towards me with his arms outstretched. What is this about? He wants a cuddle? Aren’t boys supposed to grow out of this stage? I felt my body stiffen up as I turned side-on, ready for the impact of a small child. Hopefully it’ll be quick and he’ll let me go again. He slammed into my side, knocking me back a little, in the process.

“Where’s dad?” he asked.

“Tied up at work I guess,” I said. The phone call from my brother had been quick. He asked me to do him a solid, in picking up Danny, and I had said yes. I didn’t ask why he couldn’t. I guess there was a part of me which already knew the answer. He had to work. “You’re stuck with me until a little later!” I said.

He pulled away from me and started towards the car park. As I followed, I couldn’t help but catch the eye of the teacher on patrol. She smiled at me. Such a pretty smile which seemed to illuminate the rest of her face. I felt my face redden as I walked past her, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume.

“Who’s the lady?” I asked Danny as I caught up with him before taking the lead towards where I’d parked the car.

“Who?”

I turned back to the teacher. Her attention had already turned back to the children under her care. Danny followed my gaze to see who I was talking about.

“That’s my teacher Mrs. Hoover,” Danny informed me.

“Mrs. Hoover? What’s her first name?” I asked.

Danny shrugged.

“She’s pretty,” I said, more to myself than to Danny. He heard and giggled. Once again, I felt my face redden. “Don’t tell your father I said that.”

3.

“Something you want to tell me?” my brother was standing in the doorway to his living room with his arms folded, one eye-brow raised. I had no idea what he was talking about. I was sitting on his leather sofa. The television flickered from picture to picture on the wall opposite where it had been mounted. Some dodgy children’s film I’d put on for Danny.

“Thank you, Victor. Thank you for bringing Danny round instead of making me come out and collect him. And thank you for picking him up from school and saving me from getting an ear ache from the ex-wife. And whilst we’re at it - thank you for getting him take away pizza so I didn’t have…”

“Okay, okay. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for collecting my son where I could not. I truly, truly…”

“Just stop.”

My brother walked into the room and sat next to me. He still had that one eyebrow raised in the air from where he’d questioned me from the doorway earlier.

“So,” he continued, “is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

One of my ultimate pet peeves is when people are vague. I’d sooner they just got to the point. It’s easier and quicker for everyone involved. The person - being spoken to - doesn’t need to guess what the one questioning them wants and the one asking the vague question gets the answer they're after without the unnecessary wait.

I looked at him and waited. Sooner or later he’ll get tired of waiting for me to guess what he was getting at and he’d simply say what was on his mind.

He continued, “Didn’t think you had it in you,” he said.

I bit. “What are you talking about?”

“Corinna?”

“Okay. Seriously. What are you going on about?”

“Mrs. Hoover?”

And it dawned on me. Danny must have told him what I had said back at the school when he went upstairs to check on him after instructing him to get ready for bed. Little sneak. My brother shook his head disapprovingly.

“What?”

“You! She’s my son’s teacher!”

“So?”

“So? It’s not right.”

“I only said she was pretty. Last I knew it wasn’t a crime to think someone was pretty,” I said. I couldn’t believe how he was reacting. So I found someone pretty. So what?  I could understand if I had said one of the children was pretty but - a teacher? And one who looked similar to my own age at that? He suddenly started to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m just teasing you. She’s okay - if you like that sort of thing…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. She’s just not my type. If you like that type… Yeah… She’s okay.” He paused a moment. “You should ask her out.”

“No.”

“Oh come on. You’ve got to put yourself out there. I understand you’ve been hurt in the past…”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

“I get it. I really do but…”

“I said we’re not talking about this.”

“Just ask her out. What have you got to lose? It would be good to see you settle down with someone. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you with someone you didn’t pay for.”

“It’s easier when you pay. You know what you’re getting.”

“I don’t get you, I really don’t. I could never pay for sex no matter how attractive the girl.”

“You’re currently in the middle of a messy divorce - not to mention an expensive one - and you can’t see why I’m happy to pay for sex instead of going out and getting what you call a real relationship? You do realise I’ve probably spent less on hookers than you’ve spent on getting that divorce finalised? The difference is I’m getting enjoyment out of the cash I spend.”

“Not all marriages end in divorce.”

“But a fair few do.”

My brother fell silent. He knew there was nothing he could say to make me change my mind. Sure - I agree - a real relationship would be nice but, with my track record, there’s little point. They always end the same way and it’s always because of the baby thing. I settled back in my chair and focused my attention back on the rubbish showing on the television screen. Still better than the conversation we’d just been having…

“Just one more thing,” he said destroying my hope for peace and quiet.

“What?”

“She’s a teacher.”

“So?”

“So she probably doesn’t want children either.”

“What? The woman is a teacher so that automatically means she doesn’t want kids?”

“Yep. Same thing with people working in the fast food industry. They don’t flip burgers all day and then go home and cook burgers for dinner. You know what I’m saying?”

“Strangely enough I think I do but I can’t say I necessarily agree with your logic.”

“She is with children all day. The last thing she’d want is to go home and look after more. I’m telling you she is definitely worth talking to. Jesus - listen to yourself - she might not even agree to a date and here you are worrying about the inevitable break-up God knows how many months down the line.”

“She might not want to go out with me? That supposed to make me feel better about asking her out?”

“She might not want to. But - you never know - she may well be mentally stunted in which case she’ll agree to a date. If she does turn you down…”

“I’ll be embarrassed.”

“… For a split second and then you’ll get over it. If she does turn you down, bounce right back and find someone else to ask out. If she doesn’t turn you down - you get a date out of it and, if you’re really lucky, a blow job.”

I cringed. Why did he have to be so crude about it?

“My point is you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

“I’m not sure…”

“You can’t keep living in the past.”

My mind drifted back to when I had come home from work early. The front door had been locked which surprised me as her car was parked in the driveway. Must have meant she had let herself in and then locked the door behind her - something she never usually did - or she had gone out for a walk… Something she also never usually did. I let myself in with my own front door key and closed the door behind me. I walked in and stopped dead. I remembered hearing the noise and wondering what it was at first. I felt even more stupid when I realised what it was that I was listening to; the bed squeaking from upstairs.

“Did you hear me?” my brother asked snapping me back to the present.

“I heard you.”

“So what are you going to do?”

I smiled at him. I knew what I was going to do; I was going to say my good nights and I was going to leave him to enjoy the company of his son. They don’t get long together and it would be selfish of me to ruin that time for him. I was going to get in my car, I was going to reach for my mobile and I was going to phone my favourite lady. A couple of hundred for one hour may seem excessive to some but the service she provides is second to none and - well - I’d sooner pay a little more and ensure I’m getting a good time than book in with someone a little cheaper and receive a service which leaves me wanting.

I stood up.

“I’m going to go home,” I told him as I reached down for my coat.

I patted him on the shoulder as I walked past. I knew he was looking out for me. He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to move on from that which had previously cut me so deeply but I didn’t need his help. Besides which his time would be better spent looking after his own life. Sure his job is high paying and he is doing well but his divorce is really dragging. And costing. You’d think he’d want to sort that out before worrying about what anyone else is doing in their lives. I know if the shoe were on the other foot - I’d be more concerned about stopping the financial leak in my life.

“Monday!” He called out to me as I put my hand on the front door. I sighed and turned to face him. “Monday you can take Danny to school.”

“I don’t want to take him to school. I have things to be doing.”

“You can drop him off. It won’t take long and you know it. Once there - head for his classroom. Ask for the teacher. Tell him that Danny hasn’t been feeling well and ask for her to keep an eye on him for you.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it opens the door to conversation. Can’t really walk in there and just ask her out in front of the class like some dire romantic film.”

“You do know how ridiculous you’re sounding right now?”

“Just come by in the morning, pick Danny up and take it from there.”

I smiled as a sudden realisation hit me.

“You have a meeting early Monday?” I asked him.

He laughed, “Is it that obvious?”

I shook my head, opened the door and stepped out into the evening beyond. My brother called out after me asking if that was a yes to taking his son to school for him. At this rate I should start charging him babysitting fees.

Haunted by the Past

Leaving my brother’s large home - the one he used to share with his family - I tried to phone my favourite lady, Abbey, but the phone rang through to answer phone suggesting she was tied up with another client. I could have tried it again in an hour - or two - but I didn’t like to. For two reasons; the first I didn’t want to be thinking about her other dates for the day - the ones who’d fucked her, kissed her and touched her before me - and the second reason was because I didn’t want to be seen hassling her. We have a good business relationship and seem to hit it off beautifully when we’re together (she either likes me as a person or is a good actress - I don’t mind which). I don’t want to ruin that by being over keen.

I ended up driving home for the evening and crashing on the sofa in my small but comfortable living room. My damned brother bringing up the past - it wasn’t long before it started going through my mind again; coming home and hearing the bed springs creaking, the sound of her upstairs, the moaning, the heavy breathing, the sighs, the loud instructions for him - whoever he was - to fuck her harder. I didn’t move from where I was standing in the hallway. I was just standing there. My arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably. I felt sick. I don’t remember when exactly - don’t recall how long I was standing there listening to them fuck - but I do remember sitting on the stairs for a moment in an effort to stop myself from passing out, or throwing up. When I stood up again I was in two minds with which direction I should take. Part of me wanted to go outside. Part of me wanted to get back in my car and drive off back to work. Come home at the time I was supposed to in the hope they’d be finished doing what they were doing and all cleaned up. Another part of me - what seemed to be a quiet little voice - told me to charge upstairs and kill whoever was up there with my woman.

That quiet voice. I’d heard it before. I’d ignored it before. It used to whisper to me when mum and dad shouted at me as a youngster. It told me to do bad things. I had always ignored it. Always. That day it had been louder.  Hissing in my ear that she (and he) needed to be taught a lesson. A lesson they wouldn’t forget just as I won’t forget the lesson they had taught me.

I stormed up the stairs with my teeth gritted to stop from screaming out, my fists clenched into tight balls ready to lash out. Upstairs and I ran across the hallway to the closed bedroom door. We had shared that bedroom for more than two years. I thought we were happy - not just in that bedroom but in all aspects. I thought she was the one. I twisted the door handle and kicked the door open. The occupants screamed and jumped up from the bed. Both of them naked. Her standing there, sweat glistening from the body I’d been so intimate with before now, nipples erect, hair messed up, make-up running down her once pretty face. Looking at her - in that instant - any beauty I had previously seen had instantly been lost. He was standing there with scratches on his chest, hair messed up, his cock hard - standing to attention pointing at me. No protection. No protection? We always used protection.

“What are you doing home?” she asked.

I’ll never forget the way she asked the question. There had been a tone in her voice which suggested I was in the wrong for being there; I was in the wrong for being in my own home. There should have been guilt in her voice; guilt at being caught in the act with..

“Who is this?” I asked her.

I don’t know why I asked who it was, this man standing before me. I should have just beaten him. Taken that smug look away once the initial shock of me bursting in had faded from his face.

Today - I still do not know who the man had been.

She asked me a few times, “What are you doing home?”

I didn’t mean to swear at her, that’s not really who I am, but I couldn’t help myself, “What the fuck is going on?”

“This is…”

She tried to introduce me. She tried to introduce us. For what purpose? What did she expect to get from introducing pair of us. Was I to join in - take her from behind whilst he filled her mouth? Was that the idea? Needless to say I wasn’t interested in hearing her introductions. I swore at her again much to my shame. I couldn’t help myself as I told her to fuck off. A slow rage building within me and that once quiet voice hissing at me to hurt them both.

“I think you need to leave.”

This man said that to me. Standing in my bedroom, naked and exposed, and yet he had the audacity to tell me I needed to leave. Leave my own home? I remember looking at her, an eyebrow raised, wondering which side of the fence she’d come down on. She took a step closer to him.

Present day - back in the now - and I realised the television was showing a repeat of an old documentary they used to show on a weekly basis; a favourite amongst broody housewives (and women in general for that matter) showing couples coming and going from a hospital maternity ward. Most of the couples left as a family. On rare occasions some left empty handed after a sad turn of events saw their baby failing to take its first breath. I flicked channels to something else.

She’d done what she had because of babies. She had wanted them, I didn’t. That’s why we used protection. The fact she went with that man… The fact he hadn’t worn a rubber. She wanted his baby. That’s why she had done it.

The next channel was a re-run of an old comedy programme. Friends. Rachel was having her and Ross’ baby. I turned the television off - a quick press of the red button on the controller - seems the damned thing wants to taunt me this evening. Not sure why I am being punished just because I do not wish to have children. Hardly seems fair.

My brother’s words echoed through my consciousness, “Just need to get back out there… Move on.”

It’s hard to explain it to others, or indeed move on, when you feel the world is conspiring against you. One of the worst feelings in the world is to be cheated on by someone you thought you loved; and someone you thought loved you. The way I live now, paying for company when I feel the need for intimacy has worked so far. Why could it not continue?

I reached for my cell phone, which I’d tossed onto the arm of the chair as I’d sat down, and touched the screen opening up the option to dial a number. I’d initially meant to re-try Abbey to see if she were available for an hour but before I knew what I was doing - my brother’s phone was ringing.

“Yep?” he answered the phone.

I hesitated a moment still surprised by the fact I’d chosen to call him instead of Abbey.

“You there? I can’t hear you…” he said, raising his voice on the off-chance it was a bad connection.

“I’m here.”

“What’s up?”

“If I were to go into the school with him and talk to her - don’t you think it would be weird me telling her he wasn’t very well and asking her to keep an eye on him? Surely if he weren’t well I’d just keep him at home?”

There was a slight pause.

“No. Just say that he had been ill during the night but he seemed to be better. And then you ask her to keep an eye on him just in case.” He hesitated a moment, “So you’ll take him?”

“If I didn’t how else would he get to school?”

“Taxi?”

“Future reference, maybe you should arrange business meetings for when you don’t have your son, or things to do with your son. It’s not as though you have him every weekend…”

“Holy shit. You’re sounding just like the bitch. You been talking to her?”

I sighed. My brother always had been good at giving out advice - whether it was wanted or not - but he was hopeless when it came to taking it for himself. There was little point in pursuing the conversation further with him.

“I’ll be at yours around half seven,” I told him.

“Are you going to do it? You asking her out?” he asked.

I repeated, “Half-seven,” as I put the phone down.

2.

“I noticed you around,” I said, “and I thought you looked nice. The type of girl that I’d like to get to know. Well I was wondering whether you’d like to come out with me sometime?”

I shook my head as I realised how pathetic I looked in my bedroom mirror’s reflection. Not just pathetic but - even when practising - there seems to be a desperation in my tone that I can’t seem to shake. I sound like an idiot.

“Hi. Danny’s uncle. Just wondered if you’d like to go and get a drink sometime?”

Too direct. Too impersonal. I sound almost too aggressive, even with that hint of desperation. I shook my head again. This shouldn’t be that hard. I know there are many men out there who have no issues with talking to women but it’s something I’ve always struggled with. If I do end up managing to get a conversation going, I tend to end up in the friend-zone fairly quickly. Something else that made my brother laugh.

“Hi. I’m Vic and…”

Vic? I hate that name. My name is Victor.

“I’m sorry if this seems inappropriate but I couldn't help but notice…”

No. When asking a woman out - any woman - you don’t start the sentence with an apology. It makes you sound like a loser. Maybe I should just phone my brother up and ask him what to say to her. He’s never had a problem getting a woman before now. He’s never had a problem getting one to agree to marry him either. He’s had issues keeping that marriage but - even so - he had gotten further than I had despite only being a year and a bit older than me.

I stared blankly at my reflection. The longer I looked the uglier I seemed to become. I mean I’m not the best looking guy in the first place. My skin isn’t as smooth as it could be. Acne when I was younger saw to that but… Even so… The longer I stare, the more I seem to become distorted. Is this how she will see me? God damn it, this is why I pay for Abbey. There’s no stress, no worry… It’s just a business meeting. I pay her, she pretends to love me. There’s no hidden thoughts, no complicated feelings… Just money and sex.

I paused a moment and looked at what I was wearing; dark hoodie top with tatty looking light blue jeans. My dark hair is a mess - not because it was styled in such a way but rather it was in need of a cut. I ran my skinny hand through it and wondered whether I should get it cut before Monday. I’m not sure if I want to ask the woman out but - if I do - it might be a good idea to smarten myself up a little. But then - it has to be said - I’m not one for regular haircuts. If I go to her looking smart, is there more potential for her to be disappointed further down the line? I stepped back from the mirror and turned to a side profile, my eyes fixed on my stomach. How can a thin person have a stomach that pokes out? It’s ridiculous. I look like one of those children on the adverts from overseas… Can you spare a pound to help this little child? Every day he has to carry a bucket of water three miles blah blah yadda yadda yadda. I can fix this by wearing a baggy shirt. Shame everything else - including my nerves – isn’t as easy to hide.

I sighed.

The fact I am standing here - like a moron - practising asking someone out on a date suggests there’s a part of me which wants to ask her out but I can’t help but feel stupid. I’m not sure whether it is because I am standing in front of a mirror, cringing at how I look, or because the whole thing just feels unnatural to me.

My mind flitted back to the time when I had been standing in the bedroom confronted by my ‘then’ girlfriend and whoever the man was. That voice was whispering to me to punch my fist through his face whilst making her watch. Take a hold of that erection and snap it upwards, smiling at the sound of his screams. And her. Kick her to the floor and stamp on her face until it is unrecognisable to her friends and family. Make sure no one else wants to be with her for the rest of her life. Let her die alone and in pain. I ignored the voice just as I had done so many times before. I ignored the voice and I walked from the room.

“That’s right walk away!” she called out after me. The tone in her voice - that bitchy little tone - made me want to turn around and follow through with the little voice’s orders but I managed to push it to the back of my mind once more. “You’re pathetic. You do realise that, don’t you?” she kept taunting me as I walked down the stairs towards the front door. When I got to the door I turned back, briefly, for one final look; she was standing at the top of the stairs leaning over the bannister. A venomous look on her face. A spiteful glint in her eyes telling me she was enjoying all of this. “You’re going to die alone. Sad and alone. No one will want you. You’re not a proper man. You’re a child stuck in a man’s body. Not that it’s much of a man’s body…”

I smiled at her as I continued to push that little voice into the back of my head. I turned back to the door, twisted the handle and walked out - fishing for my car keys from my back pocket. I climbed into the car and reversed down the drive. She was standing in the doorway still mouthing off. I couldn’t hear what she was saying anymore not that I wanted to. Her words were wasted and soon both my supposed girlfriend - and the house we shared - were a speck in the rearview mirror.

Standing in front of the mirror now, looking at my reflection, I couldn’t help but playback her words again and again; I was pathetic, not a real man, no one would want to be with me. She was right. Had I been a real man I would have fought for my woman. I would have killed that man caught with his dick inside her. I started to laugh at the thought. No I wouldn’t. A real man would have done exactly what I had done; he would have walked away and found someone worthy of his attention.

I breathed in my slight stomach so that it was completely flat and admired the new reflection.

Someone worthy of my attention. Someone such as Danny’s teacher. Corinna Hoover. Her big soulful eyes, her pretty smile… That smile… I can just imagine kissing it. Her. I can just imagine kissing her. Running a hand, my hand, through her dark hair. Stroking her cheek. I bet her skin is so soft - both to the touch and to be touched by. I started wondering what her touch felt like; I bet it’s soft. I bet it is tender. I closed my eyes as I ran my own hand gently down the side of my face pretending it was her touch. I can hear her breathing in my ear as my hand continued down the side of my neck. Such a gentle touch, it tickled. I ran my hand down my chest - not very impressive with regards to tone and definition but I doubt she’s the kind of woman to really care about that.

I’d love to pull her close to me as she strokes me. I’d love to caress her buttocks. I’d love to kiss her - not just on the mouth but her neck too. Gentle nibbles.

I slid my hand down under my jeans and into my shorts, wrapped my fingers around my hardening member as I continued to imagine my digits were hers. I continued to stroke myself as I heard her voice. She wasn’t asking what I was doing at the school this time, she was asking me to ejaculate for her. She was telling me she wanted me to cum for, or in, her. I kept my eyes closed to help imagine her standing here with me; behind me, reaching around with her firm grip on my cock, breathing seductively into my ear as I continued to feel the pleasure of the orgasm building within my body. I’d return the favour afterwards. Of course I would. I’d stand behind her, as she’d stand behind me for what I imagine her doing to me now. I would stand behind her with my erection pressed against her buttocks so she’d know I was turned on by her. I’d reach around and stroke her clitoris with my index finger. My other arm wrapped around her stopping her from getting away - not that she’d want to. And then I’d slide my index finger back - between the lips of what I imagine to be a perfect vagina. It would - of course - be wet already and my finger would slide in with ease. Her juices acting as a perfect, tasty lubricant as I’d start to push it deeper into her. She’d tilt her head back and I’d be able to lean forward enough to kiss her passionately. She’d reach back and stroke at my cock again before I’d withdraw my finger and she’d turn to face me within my arms. We’d continue kissing as I raised her up onto the bathroom counter; one arm underneath her leg in order to obtain easier access to her juicy cunt. Keeping my arm in position I’d go down on my knees and bury my face between her legs, getting her juices over my face. I can just imagine how’d she’d taste…

I shuddered as an orgasm hit me hard. I opened my eyes in time to see a sticky string of semen shoot from my penis and splatter the bathroom wall where I’d only just been imagining eating her out.  My leg buckled and I caught myself from falling by grabbing the counter (avoiding the mess). Breathless, I stumbled back and perched myself on the toilet.

Okay. I’ll ask her out. As my brother told me - I have nothing to lose and everything to gain and it would be nice to prove the ghost of my ex wrong. I am not worthless. I will not die alone. Someone will want me.

She will want me.

Corinna.

My sweet, sweet Corinna.

First Impressions

My brother was laughing at me which did nothing to help my confidence. Considering I hadn’t yet opened my mouth, other than to say hello when he opened the door to me, I’m guessing it had something to do with the clothes I was wearing.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asked, confirming my suspicions.

I told him to shut up and asked whether Danny was ready for his lift to school. I had planned what to wear yesterday - I opted for a black suit with a pink shirt - and it was not a decision I came to lightly. I am of a firm believer that first impressions count. I know - technically - this isn’t the first time we have met but to me it is. The real first time - Friday when I collected Danny for the first time - didn’t count because we didn’t actually stop for a proper conversation.

My brother called up to Danny, still laughing, before asking, “Why pink?”

“It shows I’m comfortable with my sexuality.”

“It shows you’re gay.”

“Pink shirts aren’t restricted to homosexuals.”

“Well I suppose you would know, being an expert on them.”

I smiled at him sarcastically, “My bank statement shows I clearly like women. Your bank statement, with the money going out left right and centre to pay for your divorce, clearly shows you dislike them. If anyone is potentially gay here - it’s you.”

My brother laughed again, “My secretary can confirm I like ladies just as much as your bank statement can do so for you. In fact - if you lean in real close and smell her breath… She might not have to even utter a word.”

“You’re disgusting. How are we even related?”

Danny appeared behind him, dressed for school. He seemed pretty excited to see me. I was feeling indifferent. My emotions were twisted and tangled in my gut at the thought of talking to his teacher.

“Be good for your uncle, kiddo.” I watched as my brother gave his son a high-five hand slap; first with one hand and then with the other. Danny smiled as he gave it his all to hit his father’s held up hand. “And don’t forget to be a tearaway for your mother!” He pushed Danny out of the door and turned his attention back to me, “So you’re doing it?” he asked.

I knew what he was referring to but I couldn’t answer him. I still didn’t know myself. For all I knew, I was going to get there, drop Danny off and leave again without so much as muttering a single word. I shrugged.

He laughed again, “Are you going to take flowers with you?”

Danny was hanging onto my arm so I couldn’t say what I really wanted to say to my brother. I hoped the look I gave him expressed my feelings clearly enough as I turned towards my car, gently shoving Danny towards the passenger side.

“Let me know how it goes!” my brother called out. I gave him a wave as I climbed into the car - still unsure of what I was going to be doing. My brother called out again, “Chocolates! Take chocolates! All women like chocolates!”

I looked at Danny as I made myself comfortable in the driver’s seat - he was waving at his dad - and I couldn’t help but wish he were a little older so I could at least swear in front of him. I dismissed the thought of hitting my brother with a barrage of bad language. No need for it. I’m better than that. Swearing is a sign of low intelligence. I am above that. I started the car and backed down the drive with another sudden burst of adrenaline rushing through me at the thought of asking Corinna out.

“Pathetic,” I muttered to myself. Or at least I thought I muttered it.

“What’s pathetic?” asked Danny.

“Nothing.”

I leaned forward and switched the radio on - turning the volume up to blast out whatever song was playing on the morning chat show - to avoid the question. When I had muttered the word pathetic I was referring to myself; I was pathetic. The fact I was getting myself in a mess at the thought of talking to the woman was a joke. One I don’t ever laugh at. I need to talk to her. I need to ask her out. I need to do this so I can move on and make some progress with my life.

I looked across to Danny as we headed off down the road. He was looking out of the window watching the world go on by. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d be just as embarrassed as I would be when I spoke to his teacher. Not sure how old he is - maybe five? Do five year olds get embarrassed? Not sure. I don’t remember getting embarrassed at that age. I only remember getting shouted at. A lot.

2.

By the time I turned into the parking lot I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I kept looking over to Danny wondering whether he’d have the common sense to lean over and take a hold of the wheel and steer us away from danger if I were to suddenly slump forward. He was still staring out of the window; no doubt looking for his friends going into the school. Best not have a heart attack just yet.

I pulled the car into the first empty bay and switched the engine off before pulling the key from the ignition. Danny thanked me for the lift as he took his seat-belt off. I hadn’t even moved - too scared - before he opened the car door and started to run across the lot towards his usual entrance. As I sat there I could hear him calling out to one of his friends, not that I caught the actual name.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. I looked as though I hadn’t slept for at least a week. I looked tired with black bags under my brown eyes. Jesus - I actually look ill. I sighed heavily as my mind still flitted between the two options presented to me; fire the engine up and leave or go and talk to Corinna.

“Stop being an idiot,” I told my reflection. “Just go and talk to her. You don’t even have to ask her out. Just talk to her at least.”

I started to wonder whether she was even as pretty as I had first imagined. Maybe when I see her this time I won’t fancy her? Maybe I won’t even want to ask her out? There is always that possibility. I’ve been so wrapped up with wondering whether she’d give me a yes or a no answer that I didn’t even think about the possibility of not wanting to date her after all. Another flutter of panic from my heart and another shake of my head at how pathetic I was being. She’s just a woman. Nothing more and nothing less. They’re not all like the previous girls in my life. I’m sure some of them will be nice. I’m sure Corinna will be nice whether I fancy her or not.

“You’ve got this,” I reassured my reflection with a wink. That was the first time I’d ever winked at myself (and quite possibly the last) and I’m not entirely sure where it came from. Just made me feel that little bit stupider. “You’re an idiot!” I told myself.

I took a deep breath and opened the car door. This is it. I’ve got this.

3.

Jelly legs as I walked across the parking lot towards the entrance Danny had used - the same one I’d collected him from on the Friday. My heart beating so hard that it was actually uncomfortable as I ran through what I was going to say in my mind, despite the little voice hissing to me at the same time.

“If she makes you look stupid,” it whispered, “you can just bash her brains in. Right there and then in front of everyone - just bash her brains right the fuck in.” I heard the words but paid them little attention. I wasn’t going to hurt her, especially not in front of a room full of children.

Mentally I wanted to turn back to the car and disappear before anyone had seen me but my body had different ideas as my feet continued to carry me up to the school building and through the door. I spotted Danny amongst a sea of children of mixed ages. He was walking with his friend and the two of them disappeared into a classroom. The laughter, general chit chat and raised voices from beyond the door he went through suggested the teacher wasn’t in attendance yet. Not a problem. I don’t have anything else planned today other than finishing a few reports for work. I can wait and I’m sure she won’t be that long anyway. It’s not as though Danny and I got here really early.

I didn’t go into the classroom. I stood in the corridor and patiently waited. If I am to crash and burn I would rather do so in relative privacy than in front of a class of laughing children; especially seeing as Danny is one of them.

I ran through what I was going to say in my mind once more. I decided I was going to go with my brother’s suggestion of pretending Danny had been ill the previous night. I’d say he seemed better now but would follow it up by asking her to keep a close eye on him. I’d tell her that his father is tied up for the day in meetings and that, if there is a problem, she could call me and I’d come and collect him. And then I’d casually…

Hit her on the head and pull her into one of the many side rooms in the building. Hitch her skirt up - or rip it off if necessary - and pull her dainty panties to one side, exposing her succulent cunt to the still air before sticking my tongue into it to taste her juices. Nibble her lips whilst rubbing myself hard in preparation for pushing it deep into her and fucking her for all she is worth.

… Ignore that voice.

And then I’d casually ask her out. Maybe to a bar for a drink? No not a bar. She doesn't look as though she is that sort of girl. She’s a lady. A real woman. I’d take her to a restaurant. Not just any restaurant either but the finest one I can find. Cost of the food be damned, there is no such thing as ‘too expensive’ when you’re looking after a woman whom you love.

Love? You’re getting carried away with yourself again. Remember you’ve only seen her once and even that wasn’t for a proper conversation and neither was it for any substantial time. My memory might have been tainted by the desire to fancy someone.

“Can I help you?”

The voice of an Angel.

I span round on the spot and was instantly struck by her beauty.

I stuttered my words before managing to get a grip, “I’m sorry to bother you. I don’t know if you remember me…”

She looked at me blankly. Not the best of starts.

“I’m Danny’s uncle.”

“Victor?”

“Yes.”

I wondered if she noticed my face light up when she said my name.

“Yes, sorry - took me a while, what can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to give you this,” I said reaching into my pocket and pulling out a business card with my name and number on it. It didn’t show what I actually did for a living; just my name and number for occasions such as this. In my line of work, sometimes I’ve found it is actually better to remain quiet or else you always get people knocking on your door. She took the card but looked puzzled.

“Erm - thank you?”

“Sorry. Being an idiot,” I tried to laugh it off. “Danny was unwell during the night. He seemed okay this morning hence we’re here but I was wondering whether you could keep an eye on him for me?”

She smiled (such a pretty smile) and reassured me that, “I keep an eye on all of the children.”

“Well - yes - I’m sure you do. Not saying you don’t but,” I felt my face redden, “I was hoping you could give me a ring if he suddenly gets ill again. His father is tied up with business meetings today and we’re not sure what his mother is doing so - yeah - any problems, give me a ring and I’ll come on by.”

She slid the business card into the side compartment of a small bag hanging over her shoulder, “Of course.”

“Thank you.” I hesitated a moment. “Well…” Damn it. “… Have a good day.”

I smiled and about turned before walking back towards the door I’d come in from.

That nagging voice in my head asking if I wanted to taste her moist pussy as she squatted over my face with my cock in her mouth. I wanted to blurt out - in response - that it wasn’t about that; my desire to go out with her. I didn’t just want a sex toy. If that were the case I’d continue my arrangements with Abbey. I wanted something more than that. I wanted something deeper. Fuck that voice. I span around again. She was still staring at me, watching me leave.

“Would you like to go for a meal sometime?” I asked - almost to the point of blurting it out.

She immediately looked shocked and now it was her turn to go red in the face. I hated the fact I’d embarrassed her. I hated myself for the way I had asked too. There was being direct and then there was that… So stupid.

“Oh - erm -  thank you. I’m flattered…”

I already knew what was coming.

“… And under different circumstances I would but I’m married.”

Quick as a flash my mind was cast back to when Danny had told me her name - Mrs. Hoover - and even my own brother used the term ‘Mrs’. Of course she was married. Why wouldn’t she be? A woman that radiant - that beautiful - why wouldn’t she already have a man in her life? My face also went a nice shade of red as I felt my skin burn.

“Of course you are,” I said. “I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

I quickly turned around and started back towards the door. I wanted to run but knew that would only make me look more of an idiot. This quick pace is enough. She called out ‘sorry’ again before I disappeared through the door and around the corner.

Well that could have gone better.

4.

I was sitting in the car with the cruel words my ex spat at me bouncing around my head as the little voice also continued telling me I should just go in there and take what I want. My face still felt as though it were burning up from the embarrassment. of course she was married. There’s no reason a woman like that wouldn’t be married already - or at the very least - seeing someone. No way would she be single.

I started to hit the side of my head repeatedly. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So stupid. I leaned forward to turn the engine over. I just want to get out of here. Just want to go home and lock myself away. Maybe see Abbey for an hour. Can’t do any harm. Especially if I explain what happened today. She’ll give me a decent appointment; a real girlfriend experience to rebuild my dented confidence. I leaned back having failed to switch the engine on. My mind was more concerned with arranging an appointment for later this afternoon, after work. I reached into my pocket and withdrew my cell. I’ll phone her now.

My fingers didn’t move over the keypad though, nor did they pull up the contacts screen in order to scroll to her name and number. I was just sitting there. Wondering.

What kind of man is lucky enough to get a girl as beautiful as that? I can but only imagine the good looks and amazing personality a man must possess in order to attract such a female. I’m envious of such people. The ones who’re significantly higher up the food chain than people such as me.

So, so stupid.

What was I thinking?

I threw the phone onto the passenger seat next to me. Didn’t even realise that’s what I was doing until the phone landed on the seat before bouncing off and into the footwell. Doesn’t matter. It can stay down there for now. Don’t need it now.

I’m curious to know what kind of person could attract such a woman. I’m curious to know exactly how far down the pecking order I am.

“You could follow her.”

The little voice in my head was the loudest it had ever been. Follow her? It wasn’t a bad plan. Nothing else to do tonight apart from work and that’s just a question of driving around with one eye open on my surroundings. Be interesting to see the type of person she chose to go out with. She could have the pick of anyone she wanted. Definitely be interesting to see what she had opted for.

PRESENT DAY

Brief Introductions Part 2

Zak started to laugh. I have to confess, his laughter took me by surprise. A man in his unfortunate position - you’d think he wouldn’t find much to laugh about.

“What’s so funny?” I asked him.

“Your low self-confidence!” Zak stuttered. “You want low self-confidence, try growing up with a stutter. Try growing up with an abusive father who liked nothing more than to hit his children. Son of a bitch is probably why I have a fucking stutter in the first place. Why do you even have low self-confidence? What? Some woman cheated on you? Big deal. Happens to loads of people throughout their lives and they get over it. So why don’t you? Just get over it and fuck off.”

I’ll be honest - his sudden outburst did catch me by surprise. There was a hostility there that I wasn’t expecting. I mean sure he’d been calling me names since I’d taken him but… This was something altogether.

“So your skin isn’t perfect? So a woman cheated on you? Poor you. What a hard life you’ve lived. You’re pathetic…”

The final part of his sentence hit a nerve, “Be careful.”

“Or what? What the fuck are you going to do?”

Don’t kill him. Murder is wrong. You don’t want him dead and you don’t want his death on your conscience. But it would be nice to bring him down a peg or two.  Let him live in a world where he feels bottom of the food chain. Let him feel worthless everywhere he goes.

The little voice in the back of my head.

But - by the sounds of it - he already feels like that. Or at least felt like it when he was younger. Before he learned to get over the stutter and make something of himself.

“Well?” he started to verbally push me, “What are you going to do? You can’t keep me here forever.”

I smiled at him. My plan had seemed so simple when I had started to put it in motion. Now - though - I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t expect this much resistance from him. I definitely thought things were going to go smoother.

“We knew you were following us,” Zak stuttered.

“No you didn’t.”

“We did. We clocked you early on.”

“Nope.”

“Not just that but we got the registration plate.”

“Oh really?”

Zak nodded.

“We knew you were following us,” he repeated. “We reported you to…”

“The police? Which department? Who did you talk to? What was their badge number? What was the crime reference number?”

Zak didn’t say anything. I think he knew that what he was saying was retarded, especially given the circumstances. It’s funny how our brains work when we’re in trouble. It’s funny how we try and dig ourselves out from tricky situations when we’re panicking. The rubbish which flows freely from our mouths. I have to say though I expected more from Zak. I definitely expected more from him.

I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Zak asked.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter,” I said.

It’s funny how I expected more from him now just as I had when I first saw him. It feels as though we have gone full circle. I wonder if - after agreeing to go out with him - Corinna was left expecting more? I wonder if she was disappointed when the time came for their first date. She went with a high expectation and was met with a stuttering fool. I’ll wager she was disappointed.

“How did you meet her?” I asked.

It must have been a good line to snare a beauty as such as her. It must have been a good lie. Maybe if I know how he convinced her for a date then it will help me get a date with her too? Maybe it could kick-start our relationship? God only knows I need all the help I can get what with the usual first impressions I tend to present potential partners with. I sat opposite the chair Zak was handcuffed to.

“I’m not telling you a damned thing,” Zak hissed.

So much anger. So much hostility. It’s for show. It has to be. Acting the big man so that I let him go. But I can’t. We’ve gone too far for me to release him. If he were to get out - my career would be over. Not only that but I’d lose the freedom I’m used to. I’d lose everything. He spat at me. I can’t believe Corinna would be attracted to someone as repugnant. He can’t usually be like this. He can’t be. I bet - in the real world away from all of this - he is a gentleman. A buffoon for definite but still polite.

I asked again, “How did you meet her?”

He shook his head as though to further emphasise the fact he wasn’t going to tell. I sighed and took a hold of my handgun. I placed the barrel against his temple.

“You won’t do it. The neighbours will hear,” he said. Even if he did believe that - his eyes are still wide with fear. He was right though. The neighbours will hear the gunshot. I reached for a cushion on the sofa and put the cushion against his face pressing the muzzle into it, pointing at his head. I pulled the hammer back on the handgun and prepared myself to pull the trigger.

“Speech and debate class!” he shouted - his voice muffled.

“What?”

I pulled the cushion away.

“We met at speech and debate class.”

“You went to speech and debate class? Why? Was it a dare? Did someone put you up to it?”

Zak continued, “She thought I was special needs due to my stutter.” He laughed as he played back the memory in his head. At least I presumed that’s why he laughed. “She followed me around. I think she decided to make me her project. She wanted to coach me through the class. I used to get texts at, like, 2am… Actually worried me for a second or two. They just said they had a present for me but I didn’t recognise the number!”

“From her?”

Zak nodded.

“What was the present?”

“She’d baked me some cookies.”

“She can bake?”

Zak nodded. I didn’t say anything immediately. I pictured how the two of them met. I pictured the text messages they shared, the laughter. I felt envious. I wanted that. I wanted what they had. The voice whispered in my head that I could have exactly what they had once he was gone. I just needed to kill him. I just needed to remove him from her life. I felt my fist clench in anticipation of slamming it into the side of his head; the little voice getting more and more tempting to listen to. Before I had a chance to act upon the words being whispered by a darker part of me Zak started to weep. I understood why. Of course I did. He knew what was coming. He knew where this was headed. There was a good chance he’d even seen my first clench into a tight ball of anger and envy. No way for him to defend himself in his current position.

Watching the tears fall from his face, I couldn’t help but think how pathetic he looked once more. I expected more.

BEFORE

Less than Perfect

I thought I’d wasted my time, waiting in the school’s parking lot. The children had left for home ages ago - along with a few adults who must have been working within the building - and yet I hadn’t seen any sign of Danny’s teacher, Corinna. I do like that name. I was starting to wonder whether there was another way out of the building - a back way perhaps? Or maybe this was the back way and she’d gone out via the front exit. I had no idea what’s what. I had been ready to leave when I saw her exit the building from the same door Danny had used earlier in the day. She had the bag over her shoulder that she’d slipped my business card into when I spoke to her in the corridor. I ducked down so as to avoid being seen even though I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have seen me anyway.

She crossed the parking lot to what must have been her car. It was a Subaru Forester. Not exactly my choice of an automobile but I guess it gets her from point A to point B albeit with higher fuel costs than strictly necessarily. She opened the back door and tossed her bag onto the back seat before slamming the door shut and climbing up into the front. She looked tiny in the driver’s seat and I stifled a laugh.

I couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing but it wasn’t long before I heard her engine kick into life. I could hear the power of the engine from here, across the parking lot. It wasn’t long before her car pulled from the space and headed out onto the main road. I waited a moment before engaging first gear and following at a sensible distance. This wasn’t the first time I’d followed someone although the circumstances were new. Even as I drove I couldn’t believe I was doing it. I kept thinking I should back off, turn around even, but that nagging voice told me I needed to know what kind of man a woman like that would go for. Maybe it was a person who had a certain style in the way they dressed? Something like that? Something I could emulate for myself? Help me meet that special person by copying them?

She took a right turn. Not long after I too took the turn. Part of my mind screaming that this was crazy. Another part of my mind wondering what sort of home she lived in. I had a feeling it would be a large place, a nice place in a good area. Not where I live. Can’t afford much more than my small apartment on the wages I earn. Should have stayed in my old house and kicked the woman out but it didn’t seem right to me; kicking a female out onto the street even if that was where she belonged. Wonder if that man I caught her with moved in to help pay the rent. What am I doing? Don’t think about it. Focus on the task at hand. Don’t lose sight of what I’m doing. More to the point; don’t let that poisonous bitch back into my head.

Back?

She never left. She’s always been in there.

She wouldn’t be if you killed her. Should have finished her off and buried her in the back garden. Punched her in the stomach, winding her and sending her crashing to the floor and then stamped on her face until it was completely flat. Should have done that. She wouldn’t be in your mind now… That damned voice in my head going on at me. Clearly it doesn’t know me very well. Had I done what it told me - she’d be in my mind now but accompanied with feelings of guilt. No matter how dark the thoughts sometimes, no matter how evil the whisperings in the back of my brain - I’m yet to become a murderer. One thing to think about it and quite another to commit to it and live with the feelings too. Not sure how I would cope in those circumstances.

I guess it would have to be for a really worthwhile cause or really good reason and - my ex - she was neither. Watching the car in front and listening to the thoughts plaguing my mind, the time flew by and before I knew it we were turning down Birch Drive. I purposefully pulled up at the side of the road and turned my engine off - aware that I’d gotten pretty close to the person I’d been tailing. Stupid. A rookie mistake. Her own vehicle turned up onto a driveway and parked next to a BMW 3-Series. At a guess, I’d say that he was his car - whoever he was. Clearly there’s money there then. Figures.

I held my breath as I watched her climb from her transport. I worried momentarily whether she’d turn her attention towards my car - whether she was aware I’d been following her all this way - but soon breathed a sigh of relief when she headed straight for the front door.

It really is a nice house.

Before she managed to get to the door, it opened and a man of similar age came out. Might be a relative. As they neared each other, they stopped long enough for a quick kiss and cuddle before letting each other go. She went into the house and he ran to the BMW, opened the door, and fetched what appeared to be a folder of some description. He pressed a fob, which happened to be in his hand, and hurried back to the house - closing the front door behind him.

Was that really her partner? With how she looks - I don’t know - I kind of expected more.

I got out of the car and stretched the knots from my back whilst watching the house. I took a couple of steps towards it. The temptation is strong to go and knock. Don’t be stupid. You can’t do that. If I were to - what would I say?

Wouldn’t need to say anything.  Kill him and fuck her.

Ignore the voice.

A text alert rang out from my cell phone, still in the footwell of my car. I took a couple of steps backwards, back towards the open door, before turning to investigate who’d got in touch. Accidentally hitting the screen with my finger, as I reached down for the phone, it illuminated showing a text message from my brother. I swiped the screen and went to the relevant area to see what he’d said. He was asking whether I’d scored a date yet. I didn’t answer him. A second text message soon came through - also from my brother. He was inviting me round for a drink.

I text him back and kept it short and sweet: Can’t. Got work.

2.

I was sitting in my squad car with my partner, Officer Jim Reeves. We were three and a half hours into our shift; cruising the streets, making our presence known to the people around and answering any calls in our patrol route. He’d been blabbing on most of the night, talking about this and that. I nodded occasionally in an effort to prove I was still listening to him but I wasn’t. I had zoned out hours ago. My own mind still on Danny’s teacher. I was trying to understand what she saw in that man. He didn’t look as though he were anything special. In fact - to me - he looked a like a fool. But then - maybe that is it - they say opposites attract; she is something special and he is… Lacking.

“You alright?”

I snapped to. Jim was looking at me, keeping one eye on the road he was heading down. I nodded and smiled at him.

“Sure? Because I’ve been talking for hours and it hardly feels like you’ve said a word.”

“Just the nightshift. First one after a few days off. I always find it hard getting back into the swing of it.”

“I hear that. You know what we need?”

“Better hours?”

“We both know that isn’t going to happen.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Coffee.”

“What?”

“We need coffee. Black, no milk, lots of sugar. Biggest cup we can find and - you know what else?”

“What?”

“I know just the place.”

I settled back in the seat and made myself comfortable. I knew where he was thinking of getting it from too and - unless we’re disturbed by a call across the radio - we’re about twenty minutes away.

“You don’t usually struggle on the nightshifts,” Jim observed.

“I don’t usually get asked by my brother to take his kid to school because he’s too busy to do it himself.”

“Early morning school run?”

“Been up ever since.”

“Harsh.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I would have had an afternoon nap. Did you have an afternoon nap?”

“Errands to run.”

“Like that?”

Oh - you know - following people. Contemplating the abduction and rape of an innocent woman; that sort of thing. Ignore the voice. Ignore the voice.

“This and that,” I told him.

We’d been partners for three years. We were work colleagues. We got on well in the car. We weren’t friends. He had a wife and children and spent his free time with them. He had no idea what I did with my free time. I’m not sure why but our private lives weren’t something we tended to discuss. We came to work, we patrolled the streets, we passed the time talking rubbish and generally having a laugh. At least - that’s what he did. I tended to just listen and smile in the right places.

I should have been Detective by now.

“You’ll never make it. You don’t have it in you. People walk all over you,” my ex’s words bounced through my mind. I pushed them to the back and swallowed them down hard.

I will make it.

In time.

“I would have told him no,” Jim said.

I snapped back to our conversation, a little lost as to where we’d got up to.

“Who?”

“Your brother. I would have said no. We need to be alert for this job. He should know that.”

“He thought he was doing me a favour as much as I was doing him a favour,” I said. I’m not sure why I even said that much. Seemed my brain wanted me to talk about what’d happened today. I suppose Jim was a good a person as any to talk to.

“How is getting up stupidly early - on a day where you have your first nightshift - doing you a favour.”

I laughed, I already felt embarrassed, and confessed, “I told his son I thought his teacher was pretty and he told my brother. Before I know it my brother is questioning me about it and urging me to ask her out.”

“Wait - you don’t have a girlfriend? I thought you had a girlfriend.”

And there - if you needed it - was the proof that my partner and I rarely spoke about our private lives.

“It didn’t work out.”

“Damn, man, I’m sorry about that. When did you split up?”

“Two years ago.”

“Fuck. Really? You never said anything.”

I shrugged.

“He thought I could take Danny to school and - whilst there - ask his teacher out on a date.”

“Your girlfriend really left you two years ago? And you never said anything? I thought we were friends, man? We talk about things.”

He talks. I listen. I should cut his tongue out. Ignore the voice.

“Didn’t seem important.”

Jim took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at me. I could tell he was trying to see if I was being serious or not. He turned his attention back to the road.

“Did you ask her out?”

“I did.”

“Date?”

“Married.”

“Harsh.”

We drove in near-silence for a couple of minutes. Only the sound of the engine and the faint murmur of despatch talking on the car radio keeping it from being complete silence. I looked out of the passenger window into the grimy night beyond. When my girlfriend had first left me - the most recent one at least - I found myself preferring the nights. Everything was dark, everything was as black as my moods. But that wasn’t the only reason I preferred them. They hid everything. All the grime, all the filth and scum… All consumed in the blackness. Nowadays though I don’t get that feeling when I look out into the blackness. I don’t think of it as swallowing the harsh realities of the world we live in. I just feel lonely.

“I can fit you up with Fiona’s sister,” Jim said breaking the blissful peace between us.

“Fiona’s sister?”

“Carrying a few pounds and not the prettiest by any stretch of the imagination but that has to work in your favour.”

“It does?”

“Desperate. Probably a first date kind of woman if you know what I mean.”

Do it. Take the date. Fuck that girl good.

“Not really my kind of thing,” I said.

“Two years and no sex. Man - I couldn’t imagine it.”

My partner and I don’t talk. We don’t share secrets. I don’t share stories of whores I have encountered and slept with, in exchange for not busting them. I don’t tell him about my favourite girl - Abbey - a lady I met once when cruising the streets in a one person patrol car. There has been sex in the last two years, there have been cuddles. There have been numerous business arrangements along with a few free appointments to keep ‘The Law’ on side. And I’ve enjoyed them all.

“Well if it makes you feel any better,” he continued, “they say that when you’re not looking for love… That’s when you find it. All the time you’re looking, you’ll never stumble into it.”

“Who is they?” I asked.

“Fuck knows. Just a saying, I guess, but one which basically says - you’ll find what you’re looking for one day.”

But what if I had found it already and she was with the wrong man? What if Corinna was to be my one true love? The woman I was supposed to live with for the rest of my life until the day I died? What if she’d just married the wrong man? It happens. My mum and dad clearly weren’t right for one another. My brother and his wife were also not right for one another. What about Corinna and the idiot? What if they’re trapped in a loveless relationship?

3.

After a long night patrolling the - thankfully quiet - streets, I wanted nothing more than to go home and crash in my bed until late afternoon and yet I found myself driving back to Birch Drive in the hope of catching a glimpse of Corinna. I couldn’t tell you why - it just felt as though it were something that I needed to do.

I parked up in the same spot I’d killed the engine at the day before when I had followed her home. The BMW was missing from the drive but her SUV was still sitting there. The sun wasn’t up completely and I could see the bedroom light was clearly illuminating the upstairs room. Unless of course it was the hallway light up there. Either way - she was still home or else they’d have turned the light off before leaving. Unless of course they do not care about saving electricity.

I sat there, in the car, watching the house like a hawk. For some reason adrenaline was rushing through my veins as my heart beat hard and fast within my chest.

Most of the street is still sleeping. Could always break in, grab her and take her away back to your uncle’s cabin out in the woods. Fuck her good and hard. Make her your bitch and then throttle her to death. Toss her aside like a broken rag doll before hacking her up into tiny pieces or setting her alight? Ignore the voice.

I opened the door and stepped from the vehicle. It didn’t matter if anyone saw me. I was still in uniform. Not often people complain about seeing cops on their road. A quick look around and it was evident no one was around anyway. Most either in their homes preparing for a day at work or already in their place of business - whatever it may be. I walked towards the house with my hand resting on the gun sitting in the holster attached to my belt. I wasn’t about to draw the weapon. It was mainly a comfort thing. I walked up to her SUV and looked in through the side window. Clean inside. A woman who takes pride in her own vehicle takes pride in herself. That bodes well.

Break in. Climb into the back and hide there until she gets in. Then - when she is driving - sit up behind her and… Ignore the voice.

I continued walking towards the house. Went right up to the front door and looked through one of the small windows in the hope of catching a glimpse of her. Dressed like this it doesn’t matter if she sees me - and I make her jump - as I can always make an excuse up of chasing a perp over this way. Pretend I’m looking for signs of a break-in, or something. I could even pretend not to recognise her; say something, only if she does first. Regardless - I couldn’t see her in there anyway.

Ring the doorbell. Ignore the voice.

It’s funny but - given the cars and the way she looked - I kind of expected more from her home and her partner. All of this has so far been less than perfect. I raised my knuckle to the door, ready to give it a knock and froze. What am I doing? I can’t do this? At least - not without a valid reason…

I hurried back to my car before she saw me despite a feeling of bitter disappointment that I hadn't caught sight of her. Maybe later.

4.

I was sitting in my living room. The silence in the house was deafening. I had only just realised that - on similar days - I’d often talk to myself as a way of breaking the silence and solitude. I don’t mean that I’d talk to myself in a way a crazy man would and I appreciate the fact you most likely believe this not to be the case considering the voice I sometimes hear; the one telling me to do the bad things. I’m not a crazy person though. If anything I’m one of the world’s heroes. I’m the one who stops the crazy people from hurting you. I’m the one who keeps the streets clean from the crazies whether they be dangerous or not. You may well still not believe me but listen to your own thoughts the next time you’re in silence. Just listen. Everyone has that little voice in their head. The one which goes against everything you believe. The one who urges you to do the bad things too. Of course - like me - you’ll ignore it. You’ll ignore it because you’re not crazy. You’ll ignore it because you know the difference between what is right and what is wrong.

When I’m in my house and I want to break the silence I tend to speak my actions out-loud. That’s how I talk to myself.

“Right time for dinner.”

“I wonder what is on the television.”

“I mustn’t forget to do…” and the sentence finishes with whatever I must not forget.

You see - not the out-loud speakings of a crazy man. Just someone desperate to break the silence. Today was different. Today I didn’t want the silence broken. I just sat there, in near blackness where I’d not even turned the light on, imagining Corinna’s voice breaking the silence. It was no longer my own voice talking to me, bad thoughts or not, but rather her voice instead. Imagining her voice asking what I would like for dinner, what I’d like to watch on the television, asking whether I’d like to accompany her up the stairs towards the bedroom.

In the darkness I moved my hand down towards the belt around my work pants.

In the darkness…

In the silence…

I touched myself.

Imagined her.

PRESENT DAY

Brief Introductions Part 3

“You’re a disgrace to the badge,” Zak stuttered.

“Am I?”

“You know you are.”

He was struggling against the cuffs around his wrists. Not sure why. His wrists will break before the cuffs. He isn’t going anywhere unless I want him to. His previous fear seemed to have turned to hostility. Maybe - now that he was staring at his own impending death - he had finally grown a pair of balls? His wife would be proud, not that she’ll get to experience his sudden burst of testosterone.

Give him a hand job. Catch the semen in a jar and post it to her. One final taste before he is out of her life once and for all. Ignore the voice.

“Do you know how many scumbags I have kept from the streets? I make it so you and your wife can live a happy life. I make it safe for you.”

“And how many people have you kidnapped before me? How many people have you threatened to kill?”

Look at him getting cocky. Do you think he will be cocky when you cut out his tongue? Ignore the voice.

I decided it prudent to calm the situation down again. Don’t want any shouting. Don’t want the neighbours hearing anything they shouldn’t.

“Tell me more about your relationship with Corinna.”

“I’m not telling you anything else.”

I sighed. “Then I guess we’re done.”

I lifted the cushion back to his face and - just as I figured - he started to sing like a canary.

“We’ve been together for eight years,” he said, “and married for three. We met in class in college - as previously mentioned - and our first kiss was during a college version of spin the bottle. When we met… She was working at an adult novelty store…”

“Really?”

“She sold sex toys, pornographic magazines, edible massage pudding stuff…”

I couldn’t help but laugh, “Dirty girl. And now she is a school teacher? Impressive career change.”

“I…I… I love my wife.”

“I don’t blame you. She’s a special kind of lady.”

“You don’t understand. I love my wife…”

I smiled, “Makes two of us.”

“… And I would very much like to see her again.”

I hesitated a moment before reaching for the wallet that I’d earlier taken from his pocket after first cuffing him to the chair. I opened it up.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

His wallet was filled with various credit cards. A few dollar bills in the back compartment. None of that was of interest to me though. I mean - sure - in the long run I’d no doubt spend the cash there but not yet. In the right hand of the wallet was the item I was looking for (and hoping for). A small photograph of his wife. I pulled it from the leather wallet and placed it on the table to the side of where Zak was seated. He looked at it and at me - confusion in his eyes.

“Knock yourself out.” I nodded to the picture, “See your wife.”

“Fuck you! That’s not what I meant. Fuck you!”

I shook my head, disappointed in his outburst.

“Swearing is a sign of low intelligence. I know you’re not a man of low intelligence. I know you can’t be. Only a man of great intelligence would be of equal footing to someone such as your beautiful wife.”

“Fuck you,” he hissed again.

“Tut. I am disappointed in you. I know I keep saying it but - I’ll say it again - I was expecting more.”

“We knew you were following us.”

“Yes, you said earlier. You tried this already.”

“We reported you to the police. Your superior in fact.”

“Oh really? Interesting. And yet - before I hit the road for my shift tonight - my superior called into his office and gave me a head’s up about a new Detective position opening up in a few weeks. Urged me to apply. It’s strange because he didn’t sound as though he were concerned with my recent activities. If anything he seemed rather complimentary about me. Even went so far as to say he’d give me his backing the entire way.”

“We did it. We reported you.”

It’s funny the lies people spout in order to save themselves. I hear them now. I have heard them in the job having run criminals down; they say what they think you want to hear (or need to hear) in order to get themselves off the hook. The years in my job has taught me how to hear the lies and how to recognise the truth. There was no truth in what Zak was saying. They didn’t know I was following. They didn’t know I was there. They never knew. The first Zak knew of me was when I pulled him over earlier this evening. Taking the scum off the street again.

“Tell me then,” I said playing along, “if you knew I had been following you both… Did you also know I have been in your home?”

His eyes went wide. He didn’t know.

BEFORE

No Way In

I woke up at half past two in the afternoon after a pleasant dream where Corinna and I were joined in Holy Matrimony, living together in our own blissful Happy Ever After. One of those dreams I couldn’t help but wish were real when I woke up and realised nothing had changed in my life. I was alone. I was without her by my side. I tried to go back to sleep as quickly as I possibly could. I tried to continue living the dream but it was no use. I was awake and my brain refused to let go of reality’s solitude.

I sat up. The thick curtains across my bedroom window shut out the lives beyond the apartment. The double-glazing dulled the noise. I sat there a moment wondering if life would always be like this or whether they’d ever be more to it than this.

A quick check on my cell phone - residing on the bedside cabinet - revealed no calls nor texts. It wasn’t a surprise to me. I rarely heard from people. My brother - for example - only ever called me if he needed his son to be collected from school, or if he needed help with something else just as trivial. It was a rare occurrence for him to phone just to see how I was.

“Morning,” I said despite being alone and despite it being afternoon.

Remember that part where I spoke about talking to myself to break the silence. This was just that. Breaking the silence.

Corinna was the last thing I’d thought about before going to sleep and the first thing in my mind when I woke up. How is it possible to be so infatuated with someone I had barely met? It can’t be healthy but then they do say - the good things we enjoy in life rarely are.

I threw the thin duvet back and climbed from the bed. I stretched my back which gave a satisfying click. The noises my joints make, after prolonged spells in one position, surely cannot be healthy. My only hope is that - by the time I am older and having difficulties with movement - I have someone with me. Someone who loves me and someone who cares for me.

It is not fair that some people have this whilst others do not.

Everyone should experience love if only but once. And I do not mean ‘love’ like the kind I supposedly had from my ex but rather the love of a beautiful, honest woman such as Corinna. I wonder whether she would have said yes to me had she been single? I wonder then whether I would have had a chance? I doubt it but - at the same time - I like to think so. I did a double take at the time. Half past two? Still have time to do a drive-by to her home. I’d be interested to see what sort of living standards a woman such as that has. After all - if I am to get a lady like Corinna - I’d want to keep her.

I scoured the floor for where I had thrown my clothes the previous night after getting home from work. Jeans and tee shirt sprawled across the room. My uniform was hanging at work, in the locker where I usually left it. I would wear it for a couple of days and then bring it home to wash it before giving it another run for a couple more days. Unless - of course - I had a heavy shift in which case I’d just wear it straight home and wash it as soon as I got in. Some shifts are definitely harder than others and you can get covered in all sorts of rubbish; your own sweat, blood, spit, general waste. I’ve even been known to wear the odd hot drink down my top before now but that doesn’t happen often. In fact if memory serves correctly it was just the one time; we had stopped for coffee and my partner took a call. Before I had a chance to put the coffee into the cup-holder, he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and - well - you know the rest.

It didn’t take long to throw the clothes on and quickly flatten my bed-head hairstyle.  Checking the bedroom mirror hanging on the wall next to the door I didn’t look great but I didn’t look bad considering how tired I still felt. It didn’t matter though. Wasn’t exactly going round for a cup of coffee. Wasn’t planning on seeing - or speaking to - anyone.

I hurried from my apartment down to where I’d parked my car - having swapped vehicles at the end of my last shift.

2.

By the time I got to Corinna’s home a half hour had gone by. Another hour - or so - and I would be starting my shift but until then my time was my own to do with as I pleased. And I wanted to take a look around her home. Just as I had every other time I had been there, I parked outside someone else’s house and turned the engine off. Her drive was empty of vehicles. Her partner - whatever he did for a living - was out. She was still at school not that she would be for much longer. If I was going to do this, I would have to be quick.

Not necessarily. You could call in sick. Let yourself into the house and hide in one of the bedroom cupboards. You could sit and wait for her to come home. Watch her change through a gap in the door. You could watch as she steps from her dirty underwear revealing her gorgeous naked body. The sweat glistening off her skin after a hard day teaching. Any luck - might even see her sexually please her husband. Sit there - watching - pretending it is you as you stroke your own cock hard. Maybe take a pair of her panties before you hide away? Maybe wrap them around your penis as you stroke yourself through the silky material. Wrap them around the head as you ejaculate whilst watching her husband ejaculate into her mouth. Her eyes staring up into his as she swallows his load. Pretend it is your eyes she is looking into…

I ignored the voice but clearly my erect penis hadn’t. I have to confess - the voice was getting more and more tempting to listen to. The pictures it painted within my mind sounded blissful. It was definitely getting hard to resist it. I shook the vivid images from my mind and got out of the car. A quick look around to check whether anyone was watching me - as I was watching the house - fortunately there was no one about. I hurried towards the side of the house and down the alleyway towards the back. If I’m going in - I’m going in via the back. In front of me was a gate but as I reached for the handle I stopped at the sound of a dog barking. I quickly snatched my hand back. I couldn’t see over the tall gate to see what the breed was and - even if I could see - I still wouldn’t have known. I hate dogs and I don’t know breeds. All I know is they have teeth and they bite.

Sadly people seem to love them as pets. The amount of homes I have gone to - because of my job - suggests as much. When I go to those homes I never know who to pay more attention to; the person who called 911 or the frantic dog barking at us from the other room. Regardless - I can’t go in with the dog there.

Unless you open the door and kill it with a swift kick. Ignore the voice.

I might hate dogs but I’m not an animal killer. I can’t picture myself ever doing so either, no matter how desperate I am to get in there for a look around Corinna’s private life.

3.

“Really?”

Jim’s eyes followed my carrier bag from the front seat to the back as I passed it over, drawn by the large piece of steak in there.

“What?” I asked.

“Never knew you were on the take, that’s all.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The steak! I’ve never seen a steak so big. Looks like a whole side of a cow.”

I had asked him to stop off at the store so I could grab a piece of steak having given him a story of needing to purchase some for dinner at the end of the shift. The way he was acting - it was as though he’d never seen a piece of steak before.

“What can I say? I like steak.”

“Can tell you don’t have a family,” he said as he started the engine of our squad car.

“How so?”

“I can’t remember the last time I had steak. And when I did - it wasn’t like that.”

“As I said, I like steak.”

“I’m lucky to get beef burgers. Usually it’s chicken nuggets. You know how sick I am of chicken nuggets? I’ll tell you: Very. Very sick of them. Kids. They love them though.”

He sighed heavily. I was just sitting there staring at him. It was hard to say what I was feeling but I believe it was disbelief in the whole conversation we were having and - given the fact we’ve had some random chats in this car before now - that was saying something. The way he was acting towards the steak - I was nearly tempted to take it home and cook it just as I had lied. I can’t though. If I’m going to get into the house - I need this. The plan was simple; go back to the house the following day - with the piece of meat - and throw it over the gate having loaded it up with a number of sleeping pills prescribed by my doctor a year ago when I went to him about my insomnia. I had seen it in the films numerous times and I couldn’t see how it would fail. Slip the dog the meat, wait for him to eat it and then fall asleep. Hours later he’ll wake up, possibly with a headache, and I’d be long gone but with a good idea of what Corinna needs in her life to keep her happy.

Or…

Eat the steak. Kill the dog. Ignore the voice.

And then rape her. Ignore the voice.

A call came through on the radio. Domestic disturbance. First call of the night. Here’s hoping for a busy night; the busier they are, the quicker they fly by and the sooner I’m back at Corinna’s home.

“Ready for this?” Jim asked.

“Let’s do this.”

I lit the lights up on top of the squad car as Jim performed a neat U-Turn, dodging the oncoming traffic. Usually my mind was on the job and what we were driving to but - tonight - my mind was still on Corinna. What is it with this woman? Put a spell on me.

4.

I was sitting in the squad car. A man was sitting in the back with his hands cuffed behind his back. I had moved the steak to the boot to stop him seeing it or touching it. He was staring at me via the rear-view mirror of the car. Jim was in the house consoling the man’s wife. Hard to say whether she was pretty given the state of her face; black, blue and swollen here and there after an attack by her husband. He tried to deny it when we had forced entry and wrestled him to the floor but the blood was still on his hands albeit a little dried now. She had managed to call us after taking a beating. He was completely unaware and - when we kicked the door in - he was sitting in front of the ball game with a beer in his hand; a stereotypical wife-beater. Pathetic. They get drunk, they intimidate their wives and then they beat down upon them. And now he is here trying to intimidate me; staring at me with hate in his eyes. Not sure what he is hoping to achieve with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” I told him - breaking the silence between us. “Once upon a time that woman probably loved you. She probably would have done anything for you.”

He didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at me. Such anger. I hated people like this. To me they were the lowest of the low. Lower than the many drug addicted thieves we saw. Although they’re breaking the law I can at least understand why they’re doing it; they need to feed their addictions. But to beat up on the woman who loves you because your team isn’t winning it’s game? It’s sick.

“She looked pretty, judging by the photos - before you hit her - so maybe when she meets a new man… Maybe he will look after her properly. I mean - however he treats her - it will be better than the way you did.”

He started to laugh. He turned and looked out of the window, back towards his house.

“What’s so funny?” I asked him. “From where I am sitting there isn’t that much to laugh about. Not for you anyway. I mean - I have reason to laugh. Another douche taken off the streets and locked up in a cell where he belongs.”

He turned his gaze back to looking at me via the rear-view mirror, “You think I’m going to jail? She won’t press charges. She never does. I’ll be home by morning. Where will you be in the morning? At home. Alone? I’m guessing - the way you try and preach - you don’t have anyone waiting for you.  And - looking at you - I can understand why… You think of us as the asshole but we all know it’s you guys who are the assholes.”

The little voice whispered in my ear. Just shoot him in the face. Undo the cuffs afterwards and pretend he was attacking you and one thing lead to another. You have a good reputation. They’ll give you some leave, whilst the dust settles, but then you’ll be back on duties…

Without a second thought I pulled the gun from my holster and turned myself around in the passenger seat. I pointed the gun in the man’s face, less than an inch away.

“Do you want to die?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer me. Just locked eyes with me.

“I could squeeze the trigger and blow your brains right out the back of your skull. I’m guessing there won’t be much mess given your obvious low intellect. And you know what - if I did do it - people wouldn’t care. I doubt people would even come to your funeral. You’d just be tossed in a box and dropped in a hole. No fanfare and certainly no one to remember you. You touch her again - if she doesn’t press charges and, trust me, I hope she does - I will kill you.”

The adrenaline pumping through my veins felt amazing. For the first time in as long as I could remember I actually felt alive. This is living. This is being in the moment. The little voice telling me to pull the trigger and really feel something special. I had listened to the voice only so far - to pull the gun out - but I was never going to pull the trigger. Remember - right and wrong.

The man turned his head to the right - back towards the house. He smiled. I followed his gaze to see what he was looking at and noticed Jim was standing in the doorway staring right back at us; an obvious look of shock on his face no doubt due to the fact I had a gun in the perp’s face. I didn’t move. I just stayed there, gun aimed high, staring right back at Jim. A second or two later and I snapped back to my senses and blinked a few times.

I lowered my side-arm back to my holster.

The man laughed as he looked back at me - once again via the rear-view mirror. He looked smug. He knew that I was not only going to get in trouble but he was going to be free from it come morning. The one thing bugging me more than anything else though was that Corinna would have been so disappointed in me. The driver’s door opened and Jim climbed into his seat. He looked at me but didn’t say anything. He looked back at the guy in the back who glared back.

“It never happened,” Jim said to the man.

The man didn’t answer him with anything but a smirk. Both Jim and I knew there was a good chance he’d tell the guys back at the station what happened the moment we processed him. What Jim had said though suggested he would deny it ever occurred if the man did say anything. Jim faced forward and slid the key into the ignition. He gave it a twist and the engine started. Without a further word, he put the car into reverse and backed away from the space he’d previously abandoned it. He wasn’t saying anything - no one was - but I knew it wouldn’t be the end of it.

5.

“Something you want to talk about?” Jim waited until we were the only ones in the locker room. I was standing by my locker, hanging my uniform up. I had spent the last five minutes changing. It had been a long, quiet shift with neither one of us really talking having dropped the man back at the station for processing. He didn’t say anything and Jim didn’t have to lie for me but I knew he wasn’t happy.

“Not really.”

I closed my locker and locked it. I then slid the small silver key into the top pocket of my shirt and turned to face Jim wondering if that was the end of the conversation. I could tell by his face that it wasn’t.

“You put a gun in the man’s face.”

“He asked for it.”

“He asked you to put a gun in his face? I somehow doubt that.”

Silence again.

“What happened? I’ve never seen you act like that. Even when someone has been getting in your face and threatening you - I have never seen you pull your gun and point it at them. Not unless you felt your life was in danger.”

“My life was in danger,” I blurted out.

“Don’t lie to me. The man wasn’t saying or doing shit. His hands were cuffed. You were in no danger from him. Not even at the point of arrest. Hell, he was more concerned with finishing his beer and the score of the game than to even argue about being cuffed.”

Silence.

“Come on. We’re partners. Talk to me. What the fuck happened?” he hit the side of the locker out of frustration.

“That hurt?”

“Little bit.”

“Need anything?”

“I’m fine.”

Jim sat on one of the benches that lined the gangway between a wall of lockers. I didn’t sit next to him. He rubbed his hand. I just waited for him to carry on.

“We’re partners. If you have anything you need to talk about I’m here for you. I realise we don’t often discuss our personal matters but - you know - if it is coming to work with you; maybe we need to? And if you’re not comfortable talking to me, maybe you’ll be happy talking to the office counsellor.”

“I’m fine.”

“You put your gun in a captive man’s face. You’re not fine. You have some issues. And I am telling you we can talk them through. It might help…”

I took a deep breath before sighing, “I snapped.”

“No shit. Care to elaborate?”

“He was laughing. He was saying he wasn’t going to get done for beating his wife because she wouldn’t press charges. Apparently she never does. He goes to a cell for the night and the next day - he is released to go back to his life to beat her again when the mood suits. I snapped. I’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”

Jim sighed again. “Look I understand how frustrating this job can be. I get it. I really do. The amount of times I’ve gone home in a bad mood because - once again - the bad guy has got away with it but… We can’t behave like that. We’re better than that. We’re the ones who people need to trust and… What if his wife had seen you put a gun in his face? If she has never pressed charges before she obviously loves him as fucked up as that sounds. You think she wouldn’t report you for what you did? You want to stake your badge on it because - if I were in your shoes - I wouldn’t.”

“I know. I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. Like I said - I just snapped. Seeing what people like that do to their women… It gets to me.”

“And I understand but we need to be smarter than that.” He paused a moment, “I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s our secret but if you feel the need to snap again - talk to me because I can’t cover for you if you keep doing it.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Now go home and enjoy your steak. Put your feet up. Watch a film. Whack off. Do whatever it is you do to relax and then tomorrow - we’ll say no more about it. We’ll bury it. Okay? Sound fair?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now get out of here.”

I nodded again and walked towards the exit.

Jim called out to me, “Hey…”

I about turned, “What is it?”

“What do you do to relax?”

6.

I listened as the dog munched upon the prime piece of steak I’d thrown over the gate. I was actually envious of it. I had had nothing but coffee and Twinkies all night and yet here was the dog feasting upon the best meat money could buy.

The house had been empty for about half an hour. Corinna’s husband was the first to leave with Corinna out soon after him. I waited for a while to be sure they weren’t coming back before venturing back down the alleyway towards the back garden. The dog started barking immediately but soon stopped when I threw the meat over. I guess we are friends now not that I’m willing to test that theory. I don’t go over the gate until that dog is snoring soundly.

I turned my back to the gate and leaned back on it, sliding down to the floor. I’ll just wait here until I hear the dog breathing heavily.

Should just kill the fucking thing. Ignore the voice.

My imagination started picturing the inside of her house. I’ll wager she has chosen all of the furniture. No doubt the husband is too busy to do such things. Even if he isn’t too busy I reckon she’d still do all of the nesting herself. She looks as though she takes pride in herself which means she’d be the type of woman to take pride in her home too. I’m picturing large canvas pieces of artwork hanging on the walls, I’m picturing a few family pictures on the sides - maybe just them as a couple, maybe pictures of other family members too? A flutter of anticipation buzzed through me at the thought of getting into the home. Not long now I’m sure. I paused a moment as I realised I couldn’t hear the dog through the gate. Quietly I got up and tip-toed to look over the gate. There was the little beast. Some kind of mix-breed. Maybe a terrier? I said, I’m not very good at dog breeds. The dog was lying on its side panting heavily.

Put it out of its misery. Ignore the voice.

The gate was shut so I yanked myself over the top of it. I landed in the garden and immediately checked on the dog. I think it is asleep. I think. I’m not a vet and have not had much experience with animals but I don’t think it is dying. I hope not anyway. Like I said, I don’t want to hurt an animal.

Satisfied the dog was breathing at least (albeit harder than I guess it usually would) I made my way to the back door. I pulled two bobby pins from my pants. This is where the police training comes in handy. A couple of twists, a couple of turns and the lock clicked back. I stepped into Corinna’s home - immediately my mind drifted to whether we’d both live here when we get together or whether she’d move out and come into my apartment with me. I’m getting ahead of myself. She’s married. I don’t know whether she is happily married but - regardless - she is with someone. Before we can even think of moving in with each other, we need to fix that.

As I looked around the modestly sized house one thing was apparent. She didn’t have massively expensive tastes. Sure there were some nice things in the various rooms but nothing I wouldn’t be able to provide on my wages. I have to say - I was surprised. I thought she’d have a lot more expensive furniture, maybe even some fancy artwork hanging on the walls. Looking around the rooms, the house, it gives me hope. We really could work well together. We really could be a perfect couple.

If she were single.

All you need to do is hide in the house and wait for them to come home. Wait for them to climb into their bed and then sneak in. Watch her sleep for a while and then cut his throat quietly. Hopefully she will be a heavy sleeper and she won’t wake. Drag him out of the bed and climb in in his place. Ignore the voice. There’ll be other ways of separating them. I do not need to resort to murder. I don’t need to kill anyone. That is not who I am. I am the good guy. I’m just looking to take what I am owed. I’m not looking to hurt anyone…

I suddenly became very uncomfortable at being in their home and quickly left the way I had entered before they came home and caught me in there.

PRESENT DAY

Brief Introductions Part 4

“I don’t believe you,” said Zak.

“You don’t?”

He shook his head. “You’re just trying to unnerve me. You’re just trying to get me to do what you want. Well it’s not happening. I’m not leaving her. You haven’t been in our home. I’m not leaving her…”

“You sure about that? What if I were to say Birch Drive?”

“Of course you know the address. You pulled me over. Probably ran a check on my vehicle when you did so and got the address that way.”

I smiled at him. So cock-sure. So foolish.

“What if I told you I actually followed your wife home before I pulled you over and that’s how I got to know the address?”

“I’d say you’re lying. I don’t know how you think you’re going to get away with any of this. If you kill me then you will be discovered. You’re the law. You know how hard it is to get away with murder.”

“I know the signs officers look for when they go to a crime scene. I know the pit-falls to avoid.”

“And what - you think Corinna will want to go out with you because I am dead or missing? She will wait for confirmation I’m dead before doing anything else and - even then - she won’t want to move on. Not immediately. Maybe at some point but not immediately.”

“I don’t expect her to move on straight away. That wouldn’t be right. But - you know - I’ll be there for her. I’ll be by her side. I’ll be the one being kind to her in her hour of need and then, when she is ready, I’ll be the one she will want to be with.”

“You’re crazy. You know that, right?”

“No! I’m not. I just want what everyone else has. I want the happy ever after. I want the family. I want the kids. I want the happiness people feel when they’re part of a family unit. A close family unit. Not like the hopeless family I grew up in. Why should I not be allowed that?”

“Why should you be allowed to steal it from someone else? You think that’s okay to do?”

“Because what choice do I have? Who’d want me?”

I realised I had let slip a major flaw in my character; the low self-confidence. A clever person might be able to use that against me should they spot the opportunity. Just kill him before he gets the chance. Ignore the voice.

I quickly changed the subject back to what we were initially talking about.

“And as for your house… What’s with all the animals?”

“What?”

“The dog.”

“That doesn’t prove you’ve been in the house.”

“And who keeps a dog and a cat? I thought they were supposed to fight like… Well… Cats and dogs. If they don’t then where did the saying come from?”

“It doesn’t prove a thing.”

“Sugar gliders too. I’ve heard about those. Apparently they can be quite noisy. And then of course there is the toad. A toad? I mean - your gecko - I can understand but a toad? That is weird too. But let us not forget the rabbit.”

He didn’t say anything. He looked as though he still needed convincing so I continued.

“You live in a two story house. There are three bedrooms, two bathrooms and one hell of a creepy basement. Seriously - you guys need to finish that room. It’s like something out of a horror film. In fact I couldn’t help but wonder whether we would find bodies under the floor if I were to get a warrant for the property.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he said, “I’m not leaving her. And even if I did - she’s stubborn - she would want to fight for our relationship. She wouldn’t just roll over and take it. She would fight and she would try and make it work. You understand that, right? That’s what people do when they’re in love.”

I slid the gun into my holster.

“So you’ll let me go now? Come on. I won’t tell anyone. If you’re that good an officer - no one would believe me anyway, right? Come on. I just want to go home to my wife. I don’t want any trouble.”

He stuttered worse when he was nervous. Earlier - when he was angry - he hardly stuttered at all. Strange.

“Wait here,” I told him before heading off out of the door.

“Wait - where are you going? Where are you going?! Please. Let me go!”

I walked through to a utility cupboard where my tools were stashed. I opened the door and reached in for the equipment before pulling it out. With the bag in hand I walked back through to the living room where Zak continued to squirm against the handcuffs. I noticed his wrists were bleeding now. Idiot. That’s entirely his fault. Nothing to do with me. I set the bag on the floor next to him before sitting opposite him once more.

“What is that?”

“Just my tools.”

“Tools?”

I nodded and reached down to the bag, undoing the zip to expose the contents. On top of the various tools was a large hack-saw. I purchased it over a year ago and, you know, I don’t think it has ever been used.

Zak nervously laughed, “What’s the matter? You don’t have the keys?”

“What?”

Oh, I get it. He thinks I’ve got the bag out for the saw. He thinks I am going to cut the cuffs from his wrist. Well - sorry - but that’s not the idea. That’s not what the voice in my head told me to fetch the bag for.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” he repeated.

“This was supposed to be really simple,” I told him. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. In fact you’re making it as hard as pulling teeth…”

“I can’t do what you’re asking me to do.”

I reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of pliers.

“What are you doing?” he asked. Panic in his voice.

The voice had told me to fetch the bag from the other room. The voice had explained it wanted us to find out where the saying came from. The saying which made you believe teeth were hard to pull. Seemed like a good idea.

I held the pliers up to the light.

“Aren’t you curious?” I asked him.

“What? Curious about what?”

“Curious as to how hard teeth really are to yank from a skull.”

I leaned forward and grabbed his head with my spare hand before holding his mouth open. I lifted the pliers and attached them to either side of his front tooth. He wriggled around to try and get away from me but I refused to let go. Tears in his eyes. The little voice in the back of my head laughing and cheering.

“We’ve come a long way since we first met, haven’t we?” I laughed.

BEFORE

Love Rivals

I wasn’t upset when the Captain told me Jim wouldn’t be riding with me for my shift. After our last shift - and what happened - I dreaded facing him today. I couldn’t face more questions about my behaviour last night. It was a simple misunderstanding, a slip-up. There was nothing else to it. I didn’t like the fact the man thought it was okay to kick women around. I hated the fact he thought he’d always get away with it. Any real man - any gentleman - would snap given the situation and the smug look of the fool. I just acted as any normal person would.

Should have shot him. Painted the back of the squad car with brain tissue and gore. Ignore the voice. Besides it’s too late now. He’s probably locked up in a cell still or even tucked up in his bed at home sleeping off a hangover having had his brainwashed wife release him.

I’m not sure why Jim didn’t come in. Captain said he was throwing up everywhere and it was too short notice to get me a riding partner. I was fine with that. For once I welcomed a little alone time.

I was parked up in a quiet parking lot. I’d turned the radio off, preventing despatch from getting hold of me. I didn’t want to hear from them. I didn’t want to go to any more houses where women were getting beaten. I didn’t want to hear it, I didn’t want to see it. I can’t. Not with the voice getting louder in my head. I just need a bit of time to turn off from everything. Even if I had had the radio on - my mind wouldn’t be on the job anyway. I can’t help but think what a perfect match I am with Corinna. Seeing more of her personality through the various ornaments and objects in her home I can tell we’re well suited.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. My brother phoning me. Can’t be to pick Danny up from school. Not at this time of night. I answered it.

“Hello?”

“Okay so she might not be the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen but…”

I interrupted him, “I’m at work - what do you want?”

“There’s this girl I work with. She saw a picture of you in my office.”

“You have a picture of me?”

“It’s an old family picture of me and Danny - back when I had a wife - you’re in the background of the shot. So anyway this woman… She was looking at the picture and she saw you… She liked you… I said you were single… She asked if I would talk to you and see if…”

“You’re trying to set me up on a date?”

“I mean her personality is amazing.”

“I’m good.”

“What do you mean you’re good? Come on - I’m doing you a favour. And you’ll be doing me a favour. See… Her sister. I said I’d set you two up and she said, in return, she’d set me up with her sister.”

“Ah, there you have it, looking out for yourself again.”

“Come on I hardly ever ask you for…”

I stopped him dead, “Don’t even go there. Don’t you say it. You’re like dad. You’re out for yourself… Besides - I’m seeing someone.”

“What?”

“I said I’m seeing someone.”

“Who? Wait. The teacher?”

“Yes. It’s early days but…”

“Why am I just finding this out now?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Come on then - give me the details.”

“I said I’m at work. Was there anything else?”

“Yeah.”

“Make it quick.”

“I need you to take this girl out for me so I can get with…”

I hung the phone up and tossed it to the side. It landed on the passenger seat. I know it wasn’t the truth - what I told my brother - but it felt good saying it out loud. It felt good pretending we were a couple. More than good. It felt amazing. Whilst I was talking to him I had all of these mental images flashing through my mind of Corinna and I living as a couple and places we could have visited together had we been a real couple; trips to the beach, romantic getaways to posh hotels, holidays abroad soaking up the rays and exploring. It was a nice fantasy.

Kill him. Take her. The voice in my head. Ignore it.

What if I could make him vanish though?

2.

I spent the next few hours driving around with the radio off. I know I’m in a world of trouble when I do return the car but I don’t care. I’ll think of something to help dig me out of that hole when the time comes. Why I have switched off from work in such dramatic style I couldn’t tell you. I’m not sure whether it’s the fault of the little voice barking at the back of my brain or the fact I’ve just had enough of trying to help people when there is no one helping me and - when I try and think about it - my brain just switches back to Corinna. Not the perfect image of her that I’d like to see though. In my mind - I always see her with her husband now. She’s always standing by his side with her arm around him. He too has his arm around her; an image which annoys me more than I would have expected - especially considering it’s a picture fabricated by my own warped imagination.

I lost track of the amount of times my mind drifted back to making her husband disappear. I couldn’t help but wonder whether she would go out with me if she were single. It’s not exactly the sort of question you can ask someone without raising suspicions so I’d just have to use my imagination once more and - again - my imagination painted a pleasant picture of the two of us living together in perfect bliss.

Just need to get rid of him and the sooner the better.

The little voice whispered into my ear and I couldn’t help but to smile. I had ignored it for so long, so many years, and yet recently - these past few days - it had spoken more and more sense than ever before. I couldn’t help but wonder whether - had I listened to it earlier - would my life have been better? When it told me to stand up to my abusive father - would things have turned out differently? Years of torment avoided as opposed to years of torment tolerated until I got into the Force to help stop people like my deadbeat father. I’ll never know yet I couldn’t help but wonder.

Are we better off listening to those ill-mannered voices whispering the dark things we should be doing to further our lives? It might not be sociably acceptable to do half of what these voices suggest but - in this day and age - does it matter? Is it not better to simply look out for number one instead?

Regardless of where you stand on the idea of listening. On this occasion I’m listening to it. It’s a good plan and one which could see me in the arms of the most beautiful woman in the world or - at the very least - the most beautiful woman in my world.

I spun the car around and headed for the bad part of the town. I have a few hours left before I am supposed to return the car back to the garage and clock out. If I am quick - if there is a Higher being and he is on my side - then I should be able to do all that is needed. I pressed my foot down on the gas until the pedal was resting upon the hard floor. Higher-being or not, no harm in adding a little speed. Perks of being an officer of the law; no one to pull you over.

Thankfully the journey wasn’t long. I parked the squad car up around the corner from where I needed to be and jumped out. I took my uniform shirt off and hung it over the seat before locking the car up. In this part of town, unless with a partner, you don’t really want to advertise the fact you’re an officer of the law. Even the nicer people around here - not that there are many - don’t hold much respect for lawmakers in these parts and even then, putting that to one side, I don’t want to scare away the sole reason I’d driven over here.

I headed through one of the gangways between the two large concrete tower blocks and walked towards the basketball courts. One hand firmly resting on top of my where my gun was holstered to my hip for two reasons; one being that it helped to hide the fact I had a piece there and the second being - if push came to shove - I was fairly quick on the draw.

In the distance I could see youths mucking around on the courts despite the late hour. Music blasted from a stereo on the ground by their feet. One youth had a ball but it was clear they weren’t there to shoot hoops. Fair enough they might have taken a few shots at it, I’ll give them that, but it wasn’t the reason they’d stayed up for the night. They were there to ply their wares to those desperate enough to come and seek them despite the hour.  There were - unfortunately - many customers.

The general horseplay and tomfoolery ceased as I approached. All eyes fixed upon me - all eyes watching me with suspicious gazes. The black polished shoes and the black pants, the tell-tale bucket of the black leather belt - I knew I wasn’t going to get close enough to talk to them before they sussed I was cop and made a run for it or - worst case scenario - stood their ground with whatever concealed fire-arms they had on them. As quickly as I could I pulled my piece and pointed at them. They all jumped back with their hands in the air - all asking ‘what the fuck was this’ along with who the fuck I was. One soul even asking if I was crazy.

Shoot him dead. Splatter the group with pieces of the ignorant. Ignore the voice.

“I’m not going to shoot any of you,” I said quickly. “I need you to listen.” They all fell silent. I’m not sure whether this was because they believed me or because I had the gun pointed at their heads. To be honest I didn’t care. I just want to get this over with. “I am an Officer of the Law,” I told them. “I am not here on police business but I know you’d have spotted me as cop before I managed to speak to you.”

“Then what the fuck do you want here?” one of the older youths asked. At a guess I’d say he was the leader of the group; if such a group even had a solitary person in charge. Groups like these, youths like these, they’re like a wild pack of hyenas each out for what they could get for themselves.

“I’m here on personal business,” I said. I tried to stay calm. I tried to sound cool but - I won’t lie - I was nervous. Definitely scared for my safety.

Shoot them all before they shoot you. When they’re dead you step in and take what you need. Ignore the voice.

“Man we don’t have personal business to conduct with someone like you.”

“Oh but you do and you help me out here, I won’t come back tomorrow with several other cars and a van with me. And I won’t come back the day after that, and the day after that and every other day until each and every one of you is either dead or locked up for possession with intent to supply.”

“You’re a crazy motherfucker!” the one out front stated.

“Yes. I’ve been getting that feeling a lot recently,” I couldn’t help but laugh.

Prove the point he made. Shoot him in the face. Ignore the voice.

“I have money,” I continued. With my spare hand I reached into my pocket and pulled out my leather wallet. I held it up so they could see the cash within. I’m not sure how much exactly I had in there but I knew it was more than enough to purchase what I needed from them. I tossed the wallet to the leader who pulled the cash out. “Can I have the wallet back?” I asked.

He tossed it back and I dropped it back into my pocket. He reached into his pocket. I pointed the gun specifically at him and told him to go slow. He pulled out what appeared to be a small baggy of something white. At a guess - coke. He threw it over to me and I caught it.

“This good?” I asked.

“Good enough to get you high as a motherfucker. Hardly cut at all.”

It didn’t matter if it were cut or not. The purity wasn’t a concern. No one was going to be using these narcotics. They were just a means to an end. I put the bag into the same pocket my wallet was dropped into and started to back up. The group edged forward a little as I did so. I raised the gun back at them.

“Let’s not be stupid. We’ve had a good business transaction. You’ve helped me out, I’ve paid you and I’ll also do you another favour…”

Shoot them all. That would be a favour. Put them down. They’re going to die young anyway most likely in some gang related incident like a turf war. Just put them down and be done with it. Make it quick. Ignore the voice.

“How you going to do us a favour?”

“I’m going to turn a blind eye to what goes on here. You keep your business within these courts and I’ll keep protecting the streets out there. Our paths need not cross again. That seem fair.”

The leader of the group nodded, “But you come back here… And you point a piece at us again you’d best be ready to squeeze the trigger because shots are going to get fired. You hear what I am saying?”

I nodded, “Fair enough.”

I slipped the gun back into the holster as I continued taking backward steps away from them. A few more paces and they stopped following. I turned and hurried back to the squad car - unsure of whether I was about to get hit in the back by a well placed bullet.

No bullet came.

By the time I got back to the car I was more worried about how hard my heart was beating than any bullets being fired at me. I couldn’t open the door fast enough. Once inside, I switched on the interior light and inspected the bag of narcotics. God only knows what the going rate is for a bag like this. I wonder if I paid a good price or whether the joke was on me? Who cares? It’s a means to an end. A means to an end. I tossed it onto the passenger seat and noticed my cell phone had a missed call from work. No doubt they’re trying to find me. It was only a matter of time. No doubt they had tried me on the radio and failed to get me so - next step - called the cell. So long as they don’t send out a search party.

Not yet.

3.

The sun was coming up to another beautiful day. It’s funny. It has been a long night - stressful even - and yet today I feel optimistic as I sit here at the end of Birch Drive watching the world around me slowly come to life. Birds singing, people starting to leave their homes, more and more cars on the roads as people start the morning commute to their places of work.

It won’t be long now. Soon they’ll be getting up, if they’re not already. And - soon after that - they’ll be leaving the house. She’ll be in her SUV and he’ll be in his BMW. I wonder if he even realises just how much of a bad day he’s about to have?

I slipped my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and buttoned it back up before tucking it into my pants. Need to look the part if this is going to work and rocking up behind him, without a proper uniform on, isn’t exactly the best way of making this happen. The adrenaline had calmed down soon after leaving the bad part of the town where I’d scored the necessary narcotics but now it was getting close to putting the next stage of the plan in motion - I could feel it starting to surge through me again. I’m actually starting to get used to the feeling; even enjoying it a little. Is that normal? Of course it is. I’m just turning into an adrenaline junky. There are millions of people out there who get off on this feeling. It’s perfectly normal. I tried to calm myself down a little so - when the time came - I didn’t look too wired. I let my mind drift to thoughts of Corinna and I. I wonder if she’d want to remarry after this current marriage fails or whether she’d be happy to stay as live-in boyfriend and girlfriend? I guess I wouldn’t mind the marriage. I wouldn’t mind it being official. I know some people say a marriage is nothing more than a piece of paper and an excuse for relatives to get drunk for free but - I don’t know - I still think I’d like a wedding. It wouldn’t have to be massive though. Not with my family. I don’t see mum anymore and I haven’t spoken to dad for years and years and don’t plan to anytime soon. If he were to die tomorrow, I’d laugh down the phone at whoever had the misfortune to call it through to me.

“Good.”

Without realising I had said my reaction to dad’s death out loud. Force of habit at breaking the silence which usually filled my life. Just think, it won’t be long before there isn’t much silence in my life. It won’t be long before I have someone to keep me from living with the quiet. It took me a couple of seconds before I realised I was grinning like an idiot. Feels good. Can’t remember the last time I grinned.

I know I don’t know much about Corinna yet but this much is obviously clear; she’s good for me. She’s just what I need in my life. I hope I make her feel just as happy to have me in her life too.

Show time.

The sight of a BMW pulling out of Birch Drive snapped my mind back to the task at hand. I waited a moment, engine running, as the car continued down the street. A few more seconds and I started to follow. I let him turn a few more corners to ensure we were away from his house before I put the lights on and accelerated up behind him. Like a good citizen - as soon as he saw me there - he pulled to the side of the road. I waited in the car a moment and ran his plates through the onboard computer. Within seconds I had his name, address and previous convictions (not that there was anything worth reading there). I grabbed the bag of narcotics from the passenger seat and slid them into my pocket. I opened the car door and approached his vehicle.

His car door opened as I neared and he stepped out.

“Is there a problem, officer?” he asked - a stutter in his voice. I wondered whether it was an actual stutter or whether he was nervous about something.

“You know why I was following you?” I asked him.

He shook his head, “Can’t say I do. I know I wasn’t speeding.”

“Sir can you step to the back of the vehicle please?”

“Why?”

“I won’t ask you again.”

He walked to the back of the car as I continued onto the front. I leaned in and turned the engine off. Whilst in there - and out of his sight - I pulled the bag of narcotics from my pocket and gripped it in my hand. When I leaned back out of the car I held the bag up high.

“Can you explain this?”

“What? That’s not mine.”

“You are driving the vehicle, there is no one else in the vehicle and therefore you are responsible for what is inside.”

“I’m telling you that’s not mine. You planted it there.”

“That’s a serious allegation, sir.”

“What’s the matter? Need to raise a little extra funds for the Christmas Party this year?”

“Sir, I’m going to ask you to put your hands on the hood of your car.”

I walked over to him, putting the drugs back into my pocket, and stepped up behind him. I kicked his legs apart before giving him a pat down.

“Do you have anything in your pockets that could hurt me?” I asked.

“No. This is ridiculous. I’m on my way to work.”

“At this present moment in time I am arresting you for possession…”

“What… This is bullshit…” he blurted out.

“You have the right to remain silent. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say may be used against you in the court of law.”

He continued to protest his innocence as I finished reading him his rights and slapped the cuffs on his wrists.

“Can I at least make a call?” he asked.

I led him towards the back of the squad car and helped him in, “You can make a call from the station, yes.” I slammed the door trying hard to hide the fact I was smiling. He wasn’t going to the station. Neither of us were.

4.

It wasn’t long before panic started to set in. I didn’t think that through. The station was in the complete opposite direction to my apartment and he soon figured we weren’t headed back to base. I continued to drive, eyes fixed firmly on the road, ignoring his demands to stop the ‘fucking’ car and let him out. For a moment he even asked if this were a prank - whether one of his colleagues had set him up. Of course I didn’t say anything. I remained silent just as I wished he would too.

“Okay - very good - you got me. Well done. I fell for it. Now if you could just turn around and take me back we will say no more about it, yeah?” He laughed, “What was even in the bag anyway? Flour? It was flour, wasn’t it?” He paused a moment, “So how much does a prank like this cost to set up because - Jesus - this car looks authentic.”

“It’s not a prank.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. A quick look in the rear-view mirror - at his reflection - and I could see his face was pulling various expressions as he tried to contemplate what was going on and - if it weren’t a prank - why I had framed him.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

I shook my head, “No.”

“How do you know me?”

“I know your wife,” I said.

“Cori?”

Cori? An abbreviation of Corinna? I don’t like it. It’s cheap. To me there is nothing more insulting than having someone abbreviate your name. It is a sign of disrespect - like they can’t be bothered to use all of the syllables, or something. It reminded me of the many times my brother called me Vic - just to get a rise out of me because he knew I hated it.

“Corinna,” I corrected him.

“How do you know my wife?”

“She’s too good for you,” I said.

“What? You don’t even know me. You said so yourself. How can you tell me whether she is too good for me, or not?”

“You need to leave her.”

“What?”

In my head the series of events was fairly straight forward. I would tell him to leave her and - for fear of being hounded by the police for the rest of his days - he would do as he was told. Chances are he would need some convincing but I’d stress about the actual ins and outs of it later. Then - newly single - I would happen by the school to collect Danny again and would probably find Corinna all heartbroken there, maybe even crying. Being a gentleman I’d ask if everything was okay. The next bit could go either way; she could say ‘yes’ because she doesn’t want to discuss her private life or she could spill everything that happened about her husband leaving her. Either way, I would step in and ask if she’d want a drink to talk about it. I could assure her I was a good shoulder to cry on, a good listener. She would be so taken aback by how kind I was that she’d come out with me and then - just like that - we’re on a date.

Or you could shoot him and hide the body somewhere and then go and claim your prize. Ignore the voice. Easy to ignore it when it is disrespectful about the woman I love.

I know I didn’t have all the details of how this would work between her and I but - to be honest - with a husband on the scene there’d be nothing to work out anyway. I’d stress about the finer details of getting her to go out with me after he’d agreed to leave her for fear of whatever I need to do to get him to go…

5.

We were in my living room. Space was an issue in my cramped apartment and so - although it was a living room - I had a small dining room table in the corner of the room. I was sitting down on one of the wooden chairs next to the table. He was on the other. I was pointing the gun directly at him. I had been doing so since we left my squad car. I’d parked as close to the apartment’s entrance as possible and walked him in - casually - with the pistol digging into his ribs; a threat, issued by the little voice, that if he tried anything I’d pull the trigger and let a single bullet rip up his insides. Needless to say there were no issues.

I tossed him the handcuff keys.

“Undo the restraints,” I told him, “and then cuff yourself to the chair. I know I don’t need to say it but - regardless - you try anything… I’ll shoot.”

“What is this about? I don’t understand.”

“Cuffs.”

I waited patiently as he did as instructed.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” I said when he was settled, “I mean you look a bit of a state. Your hair is messy. You need a shave. Your clothes - hoodie and tatty trainers - they’re not the nicest… Yet you still managed to make a woman such as Corinna love you. Which means there is a good chance you can do it again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“As I touched upon in the car - I’m going to need you to leave your wife.”

He just looked at me blankly.

“You planted the drugs.”

“I needed you to come with me. Easiest way to get you in the car with minimal fuss.”

“This is a prank, isn’t it? One of my friends put you up to this.”

“Do I look like I am joking.”

“I’m going to have your badge for this.”

I shook my head, “No - you won’t.”

“You’re holding me against my will.”

“And as soon as you agree to leave your wife I’ll let you go.”

“Okay - fine - I’ll leave her.”

I sighed and reached into my pocket for my cell. I pulled it out and brought up the keypad on the touchscreen, “What’s your wife’s number?”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to talk to her.”

“You do realise I can tell her what you want me to and then explain to her why I said whatever it is you want me to say.”

He started to laugh.

“You really haven’t thought this through, have you?”

I looked down at the gun.

“You’re the one who hasn’t thought things through.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“If you’re not going to play ball, what choice do I have but to kill you.”

“Kill me? You’re going to kill me so you can get to my wife?”

I nodded.

“Afraid so.”

“You’re insane. You know that, right?”

I couldn’t deny my morals had slightly gone off track recently but I couldn’t help but feel calling me ‘insane’ was a little strong. I raised the gun up to his head and shrugged.

“I just want what I believe I am owed.”

“Owed? How are you owed my wife?”

“Everyone deserves to be loved. I saw her, I want her.”

“You can’t do this. Think about it.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but thinking of it. I’ve been planning our life, picturing holidays… I’ve had it all going through my head. Even how we’d make love. And we would make love. It wouldn’t just be sex. I’ve been picturing it all and it is going to be absolutely perfect.”

“You’re bat shit crazy.”

“Is that a step-up from insane or a step down?”

“You can’t kill me.”

I put the gun against his head and gave him a wink, just as the little voice had told me to.

“Yes, I really can.”

PRESENT DAY

Brief Introductions Part 5

He screamed as I applied pressure to his front tooth with a slight twist in my wrist (if only for a second). I released my grip and the pliers dropped to the floor where they bounced upon the soft carpet. I looked at Zak; tears streaming down his face and a little blood along the gum at the top of the tooth.

I had brought him to my apartment and pulled him in quickly. With his hands cuffed behind his back and my handgun digging into his ribs it was easy enough to get him in without anyone being alerted. Lady Luck was on my side for a change. Today really was going to be a good day - or so I thought. Once inside I dragged him through to the living room and forced him down onto the chair he was on now. With the gun aimed at him I undid the cuffs and made him remove them only to make him cuff himself to the chair. With the barrel of a 9mm pointed at him, he didn’t put up any resistance and, the way he followed instructions, I thought it was going to be a quick conversation. I’d tell him he needs to leave Corinna and that I would step in to look after her and if he didn’t do it, I would make his life a living misery with the help of my colleagues. I threatened him with being pulled over daily, a criminal record thanks to a large stash of well placed narcotics… I threatened him with the works and yet he refused to leave her. Said I’d have to do better than that.

So I put my gun on the table and said I was going to shoot him.

When that didn’t work I threatened torture and that’s where we are now; me at a loss as to where to go from here and him with a bleeding gum and tears streaming down his face.

I wasn’t expecting this.

I wasn’t expecting my conscience. I took hold of the gun once more and pressed it against his forehead hard enough to leave a little indentation. I can’t very well let him go. I can’t. My life would be over. I’d be arrested and tossed inside along with the felons I had put there throughout the years. I can’t end up like that. I’m not the bad guy. I’m not. I’m one of the good guys.

“You can’t do this,” he said. Desperation back in his tone. “People will know you killed me. Even if you manage to hide the body away someone will know.”

“They won’t.”

“They will.”

“How?”

My head was pounding as I struggled to regain the control I stupidly believed I once had. I hadn’t been in control for a couple of days now. I know that now. I haven’t been myself - blinded by a foolish mirage of a perfect life.

“Someone would have seen you put me in your car. Someone passing when you pulled me over. Maybe someone on their way to work. Someone would have seen it. I’ll be reported as a missing person and my picture will be on the News. You know Cori will report me missing. You know she will. And then - when my picture is on all of the channels and in all of the papers - someone will step forward and point out they saw us. They might not know your name - fair enough - but they’ll be able to give a description. Failing that I’m sure it won’t take much to narrow it down as to the officer who took me given the location we were at. I’m sure not every cop car goes down that route. I’ll be dead but you’ll be inside. Cori will love neither one of us. She won’t ever love you for killing me. She won’t. You will be just as dead to her as I would be. The only difference is I won’t be around to see the look in her face. The look of hatred because that’s what it will be. Hatred. She would hate you for tearing her family apart. Not love. Hate.”

I lowered the gun. He was right. This was no way to get my happy ending. No matter how perfect I believed my initial plan to be - there was no way this was going to work out. Not the way I had hoped. I can’t kill him.

You can. Kill him. Ignore the voice.

I had listened to the little voice in the back of my head long enough to get him into the building but now we were here and he wasn’t playing ball, I didn’t want to listen to it anymore. I didn’t want to do what it was demanding of me. I kept thinking of Corinna but - in my mind - she was getting further and further away from me. It was as though I were on a train pulling away from the platform she stood upon.

I slumped back down onto the chair opposite him.

“It’s not fair,” I said. “I’m a good guy. I know you might not believe me but I am. I pay my taxes, I work hard protecting people such as yourself. I’m kind hearted. Yet - no matter how nice I am to people - I’m the one who always appears to be finishing in last position. I just wanted what you had. I wanted a beautiful woman like your wife. I saw her and thought she was the one. Even asked her out but she turned me down because she was married. I thought - if I got rid of you - she’d want to be with me. I thought she could be the one.”

He was frowning at me as though he didn’t believe a word I was saying. Was it really that hard to believe? Did it really sound as though it were some kind of pathetic joke. I paused a moment as I reflected upon it. I guess - in a way - it does. I don’t even know the girl yet I can’t get her out of my head. What kind of woman can do that to a man? What kind of man could let a woman do it to them?

My ex’s voice shouted in my head once more that I was pathetic; reminding me that no one would want me. I felt my bottom lip quiver a moment before my eyes started to fill. As I broke down into tears, I realised Zak was just staring at me as though I had lost the plot. Maybe I had lost the plot? No. There was no maybe about it. I had lost it. But now I was starting to get a grip on it again. I looked at the man held captive before me and apologised to him. He raised an eyebrow. I could tell he didn’t believe me.

“I just wanted to be loved.”

I guess I didn’t realise how lonely I was. Paying for the women - the girls like Abbey - kept the solitude at bay. Or at least I thought it had but I guess it was always there consuming me. The cruel words of my ex - and the few girls before her who’d left me - playing on my mind that I was a waste of space and would never amount to anything nor find the girl I so longed for. Harsh words that I foolishly believed causing me to push those around me further away so as not to get hurt again. All this because some woman cheated on me? I felt stupid as I struggled to control my tears. Years of emotion, buried within, flooding through me uncontrollably. Some poor sap, handcuffed opposite me, being made to witness it all as even the guilt of what I’d put him through started to eat away at me.

Was there ever a point where I really could have killed him?

The thought scared me as I believed I could have. I’d been listening to that little voice for so long despite thinking I was ignoring it but these past few days - the stress of everything and the fear of being alone - I had been listening to it more than I care to think about. I picked the gun up and slid it into the holster attached to my leg before reached for the handcuff keys that had earlier been placed upon the table. I couldn’t kill Zak because it would hurt Corinna. I love her. I know it sounds crazy but that is how I feel. I couldn’t hurt her. If she is happy, it’s because she deserves to be. Who am I to disrupt that? I apologised to Zak again as I undid the cuffs. They fell to the floor as he rubbed his sore wrists.

“I just wanted to be loved,” I said once more.

To my surprise he didn’t make a sudden lunge for me. He just sat there clearly unsure of what to do next for the best. I took the opportunity to apologise again and even offered him a glass of water.

“Yes please.”

I nodded. I’ll be right back. I walked through to the kitchen - down the hallway - and took a glass from the cupboard above the sink. I turned the cold tap on and let it run for a moment before filling the glass to the brim. I caught a sight of my reflection in the mirror facing the back of the property. I look like hell. In fact I don’t even look like me. I look broken. But then I feel it. Is it the job that’s driven me to this? The solitude of home life? What? I tried to dismiss the thought for a moment whilst I cleaned up this mess first. Fix this and then worry about myself. There’s still a chance - albeit a long shot - to put things right. I walked back through to the living room.

“Here…”

I stopped mid sentence. The room was empty. He was gone. I didn’t try and chase after him. I didn’t run for the front door. I did nothing but stand there. The little voice in my head was silent.

My apartment was silent.

I walked across to the seat next to the table and slumped down into it. I pulled the gun from my holster and looked at it. It won’t be long before my colleagues come for me. I’m sure he’d be looking for the first opportunity to call them. If I were him, I would. I listened for the voice in the back of my head - the one who’d brought me down this road. I half expected it to tell me to pick the handgun up and place it against my temple. I half expected it to tell me to apply enough pressure to the trigger to fire the weapon, sending a bullet spinning through my forehead, my brain, and out the back of my skull spraying the wall with mess for the forensics team to clean up.

The little voice was quiet.

Complete silence.

I set the gun down onto the table and sat back in the chair. The sirens will break the silence. The shouts for me to get on the floor with my hands behind my back will keep the quiet at bay. The taunting calls from my fellow inmates will keep me company during the night. I’m not sure what is wrong with me but maybe this has played out for the best.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. Just sitting here, enjoying the last of the silence I’m likely to hear. At least - inside - I won’t ever truly be alone.

- T H E    E N D