The Need

The Need

         In the darkest part of shadows where moisture clings to the asphalt, quietly I submerge into darkness. I am waiting, listening to my own breath and the inner echo of my heartbeat. My senses are elevated, like a caged animal with newly found freedom. The need has taken me.

         I remember all the cruelty from younger years, those high school days - and how I vowed to make each of them pay. Their constant laughter and taunting to inflate their own egos ruined any chance for me to shine. Between heartbeats I heard myself sigh out loud in the still night air. I had temporarily drifted into the pathetic past, and then gave myself a quick reality check. I remain un-noticed. Those school memories fade in and out of my mind uncontrollably. Nobody would give me a chance for love, for romance, for lust, to satisfy my adolescent desires. My adolescent...needs. They too would then face social rejection by association. The hallways were filled with snickering behind my back, distributing humiliating lies and exaggerations of a simple question taken beyond its realm. They were each so pretty, so rich and popular, and so conceited. This clique of divas cut me with their tongues. I wait now in silence, dressed in sleek dull fabrics, blending into the colors of this damp and unforgiving night. I promised myself to take them, one at a time, to satisfy the need, to feed the revenge, to silence those voices that haunt my past. The time is near.

         My latex fingertips temporarily leave ovular, wet stains on the weeping wall. They will dry print-less with the morning dew. Moving silently on smooth moccasins along the shadowed wall, my footprints are distorted by condensation. There is not a hint of air in the stillness of this parking lot. I hide tonight as I have many times, to know her routine, her voice, her smell, her vehicle. I hate her, just as I did years ago. Her cruel, cutting words lacerated my soul with public rejection. She laughed in my face in front of her friends when I asked her for a date. I had rehearsed the words so carefully, over and over in my room every night for a week, until my question would flow silky smooth. She would see I was cool, yet sincere. I worked up the courage and approached her in the crowded hall between classes. She humiliated me there for all to see.
         "Get away from me you little creep!" her words echoed loud for all to hear. "Who do you think you are?" She laughed arrogantly as she leaned her face toward me, "How dare you even think that I, would ever"....
         I fled in-mid sentence while everyone stared and laughed. That moment plagued me, followed me with mocking cruelty from her pretty friends, and the belligerent bullies, throughout my entire high school career. I hate her!

         The half-moon, draped by slow moving clouds, veils the rooftop above. In the distance I can hear the bold clicking of her high heels in a constant, confident strut, and a faint, one-sided conversation. I move slowly among the shadows on the wall, driven by the hunt, touching it only to maintain balance and carefully placing each footstep in my seclusion. Surrounded by a sea of expensive vehicles boasting un-earned class and wealth, glistening in the pale light, I watch in silent anticipation. Alone and vulnerable, she approaches her car as I slink into shadow, lurking in the darkness one car behind hers, peeking.

         Her body looks so delicious walking through the dimly lit corridor of parked cars. The front of her tight dress bouncing delicately with the click of each heel. Her hips undulate gently as she walks, talking seductively to her cell phone, while hugging her purse with a squeezing forearm against her ribs. Silently, swallowed by darkness, I can hear her voice speaking softly to her listener, sultry to criminal ears. I know she is unaware of my presence.

         I remember the beginning of this painful vigil and the satisfaction of my murderous fix. The gratification would last two or three months before the aching and the voices returned to haunt me. Now the need consumes me within two or three weeks. Barely enough time to accurately plan and prepare the hunt. The hunger builds into unbearable torment, with pounding headaches. The taunting steals huge chunks of time from my normal life, and my boring little job, and my pleasant disposition. It gradually takes over rational thought like a frothing rabid dog, and replaces reason with diseased vengeance and animal instinct.

         Peeking around the back bumper, I am unsure how much time just drifted away in past memory. She rested her rear against her car door, silhouetted in pale light, holding her cell phone with praying hands. I can hear her words, pleading, begging for the passage of time to her listener. With my shoulders pressed against the cold bumper, I closed my eyes. Listening, practicing patience, as my dad would say. Quietly waiting for the right moment.

         My mind slid back in time, to those schooldays when Carrie and Heather were inseparable mouths. They dominated the high school social scene, and constantly acted out that humiliating moment whenever they saw me. The drama queens, flirting preppies flooding precious peers with degrading comments about me, or anyone less fortunate or less beautiful... I took Heather last month.

         The lovely Heather, still conceited and stuck-up, just like she was in younger years, still a drama queen. She died without dignity. Crying, whining, begging, and crawling on her knees and handless wrists. Her blood spraying, pumping into her perfect hair. She was cold and heartless then. She is cold and heartless now. I giggled to myself as my latex-covered backhand wiped drool from the corner of my mouth. I turned to peek once more at Carrie...... the lovely Carrie.

         She was moving sporadically now, with the phone in one hand and talking with the other. She wandered to the rear of the car, twirling on one foot, she began walking to the front of her vehicle. With her back to me, moving cat-like in the night, I silently maneuvered to the passenger side of her car. There, I laid flat on the asphalt, parallel with her car, hiding. Peering underneath her car, watching her feet as she shuffles, pacing side to side; a dance without music, as if she needs to pee. I thought to myself how that would be the perfect time; believing that she was totally alone, actually would drop her drawers, squat and pee right here, right now. I wait, motionless, listening as wetness soaks through to my skin.

         Infected by the closeness of my prey, I lust for the feel of her dress and her penetrating soft heat. Her heels were facing me leaning against her door again. One shoe slipped from her foot and rested sideways on the ground; her bare foot rubbing an itch above the other ankle. I slithered upward brushing the paint and chrome with my chest to peek through the passenger side window. Her backless dress is pressed against the driver's door window. Her skin squashed warm and tight against the glass. I can hear my breathing and my heart pounding, vibrating in my head.
         "Who do you think you are!" she yelled as she slapped her phone closed and shoveled it into her purse on the hood. She bent over forward to fix her shoe...I raised upward to enjoy the view.

         Staring with demented passion, the need in me is swollen in anticipation. It had been so long, too long since I have felt blood on flesh, warm, running between my fingers. I long to see the fear in her eyes, to feel the power of the kill after the hunt, and the smell of fresh blood. My heart was racing, pounding, and my breath fogged the window. My fingertips were clutching the top of the metal door frame like claws, squeezing in frustration.

         She rose up suddenly as I stared through the car. She turned toward me to view her reflection in her window. I was frozen, exposed. Staring lustfully at her lovely face. She flicked a strand of hair away from her eyebrow. I watched her face change. The fear taking her as her gaze penetrated her own reflection. Her focus adjusted to my face through the windows. I smiled viciously as our eyes met. Her mouth opened and her jaw dropped.

         Catapulting across the hood of her car sent her purse airborne. I ended her scream with one quick swing across her shoulders.
         "Who do you think you are!" I mocked.
Her eyes, staring up from the asphalt, were still wide open in fear, dimming gradually. I caught her body underneath her flailing arms before it fell. I pressed her smooth body tight between me and her car door. The need was gradually releasing me with her blood flowing between my fingers. Her life draining, pumping hot against me. The wetness soaking through to my skin. My face rubbed her wet, bloody dress; the smell and color of fresh death consumed me. I was fulfilled, contented, one with my prey. I am the victor. I am the master.

         I will remain content for a few weeks before the aching begins; before the need returns. The frustration will build a few days later, near the end of the month. A torturous cycle I cannot break.