There was a woman sleeping at the base of the door frame to her girlfriend’s apartment. Why in the world would she be there? Lucy had come to see Andy, and as soon as she turned the corner into the apartment complex she had noticed something off. It was like listening to music through her earbuds and suddenly getting electrical interference. Who was this? She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Andy was calling her.
“Lucy, you finally picked up!” Andy’s voice was flush with joy, “you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Lucy felt a pleasant calm overtake her, “why wouldn’t I be?”
“I called you like a hundred times!” She was exasperated.
“Oh. huh?”
That didn’t seem right. As far as she could tell, this was the first time Andy had tried to contact her since yesterday. Of course, she never knew Andy to lie to her. Checking her voicemail, there were about 80 missed calls. Weird. She had thought it strange that she hadn’t heard from Andy all day but, in fairness, she had been pretty preoccupied. Something she had eaten had made her feel deathly ill and she had been in and out of consciousness all day. Lucy was definitely never returning to last night’s bar. Every waking minute her body was burning and she felt an irrepressible need to vomit, yet after the first few volley’s nothing but water came up. When drifted back into sleep, she had terrible fever dreams. Women whose faces were half-blank cut up her body and extracted hot chunks of meat and bubbling fat that left her an incomplete cadaver floating in an endless lake of blood. Then, when she woke up at sunset, she just felt better. Fully rejuvenated. Her first thought was to go to her girlfriend and, with no memorable interval between that thought surfacing and her arriving, she was there.
“I’m sorry baby, I was feeling really sick, I just wanted to come see you,” Lucy turned her head back to the unknown woman, “who is this girl curled up in front of your door? She looks like a stray cat.”
“She’s been there since last night. Her name’s Olivia, we’ve smoked together a couple times. When I came home last night she was trying to… seduce me, I guess? And then she attacked me! She can’t come in without my permission, but that’s not gonna protect you. You gotta get out of here and find help, Lucy, she isn’t normal!”
What? This skinny little girl threatened Andy? Clearly she must’ve been joking about the ‘seduction,’ because this girl couldn’t seduce a rottweiler. What with her greasy black hair full of tangled knots, her smudged saucers for glasses, her pale, lanky limbs and loose fitting clothes. She thought she was fit to take Andy from her? Somebody needed to teach her a lesson.
“I’ll take care of her for you,” Lucy’s tone was placid.
“No- Babe, please listen to me! She shrugged off a fucking taser! She nearly broke my door in half! She-”
“Hey, no worries, I’ve got it handled.” She hung up the call.
She wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that. The last time she had been in a fight had been in middle school, and she hadn’t fared all that well there. That said, she really wasn’t scared of this Olivia. Not enough to dissuade her anger, at least. Her poor girl was quaking with fear, forced to hole up in her apartment all day. It didn’t matter what she could do, this stupid cunt wouldn’t make her flinch. Lucy was never ordinally quick to anger, let alone violence, but too many lines had been crossed. Whatever it took, she had to know that Andy was off limits. Andy was hers! No one had the right to steal her away!
Lucy strode forward into the hallway, the steps of her sandaled feet muffled by the carpeting. Perhaps it would’ve been better to have come in closed toe footwear, but she had no reason to suspect this situation when she dressed herself. Whatever. She was gonna make this sting regardless. Her phone sprung to life once more, probably against her next course of action, and it seemed like the light buzzing of the agitation in her pocket was enough to cause Olivia to stir. A light sleeper, huh? Not willing to give her an inch, Lucy hopped over the rest of the distance, landing on her right foot and using the remaining momentum to kick Olivia deep in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes flew open as she slammed into the door so hard as to cause the lights hanging above them to rock and squeal against their rusty fasteners.
“Ungh!” Olivia spat the air out of her lungs.
“Stay down.” Lucy kicked her again when Olivia tried to rise to her feet.
Before Lucy could get in a third kick for good measure, Olivia brought herself up on her hands and knees and then clung onto Lucy’s thighs. The wiry woman felt surprisingly dense, and Lucy found herself losing her footing as Olivia bowled into her, knocking her down hard on her ass. Seizing the moment, Olivia clamored on top of Lucy and pinned her. It felt like she had been stapled to the floor as the smaller woman loomed over her, her eyes wild and dilated. She opened her mouth wide, a string of viscous spittle connecting her fangs to her tongue like a viper rearing back to strike. Her breath still smelled faintly of cannabis.
“What the hell! Unf- You assshole!” Olivia hissed at her, flecks of spit flying into Lucy’s face.
In her frontal cortex, the rational part of her brain, Lucy knew that she should have been panicking. Andy was right to warn her—this girl was dangerous. She should have been pissing herself at the prospect that this feral dork was going to tear out her throat. However, her basal ganglia was not reacting as if she were being cornered by a large and lethal predator. Rather, just as when she had made her decision to kick her, she could only manage to register Olivia as a rival. A rival who had yet to realize that she had already lost. Then her cerebellum lit up. Lucy brought her arms up and clawed into Olivia’s shoulders. It seemed that she had been expecting Lucy to just cower in fear, letting her guard down due to new found overconfidence. That was enough time for Lucy to leverage her superior body weight and topple Olivia over. Rolling with her, Lucy had reversed their positions. Now she was the one on top.
“You’re a creep! A fucking stalker!” Lucy spat it at her matter-of-factly, “cornering a woman on her way home? No wonder Andy’s terrified! You were gonna-”
She knew in her bones just what this little shit had wanted to do to Andy, even if she didn’t have the words to express it. What was important was that Olivia wanted Andy for herself, and she barely knew her. She could never understand what Lucy and Andy had been through together. This freaky cis girl just wouldn’t understand. So what if she found Andy hot? Of course she did. But she’d never spend months with Andy trying to help her overcome her bulimia. She never stayed up late on the phone while they both cried to each other, unsure of what either of them might do if the other hung up. She saw the results of Andy’s hard work, but she couldn’t understand what it took to rise to the surface. What it took to stay afloat. How many times she had almost drowned.
Olivia shivered within Lucy’s grasp. She looked to her like a mouse caught within the looming shadow of a house cat. Honestly, removing the insults and attempted injury from the equation, there was something a bit cute about her in this position. Obviously she needed to clean herself up a bit, but Lucy had seen drastic transformations from far worse starting material. She could see Andy maybe trying something with her one time. A mistake, certainly, considering how Olivia had taken it. Lucy felt a modicum of sympathy towards her. She didn’t understand her real strengths. It didn’t make any difference how strong or fast she got, this woman was meant to be small. Meant to submit. Meant to be beneath her.
“You-You’re her girlfriend? You’re…” Olivia stammered, “Oh my god, poor Andy, she-”
“Shut up!” Lucy growled at her as she dug her nails deeper into Olivia’s shirt, “get her name out of your mouth.”
“Ach!” Olivia yelped.
Lucy felt indomitable. If she wanted to, she could’ve knocked Olivia out with a punch. Maybe. But she wanted to savor this. God, it felt good to put her in her proper place. She wanted to make this little whore beg for forgiveness. She felt-
She felt an explosion in her kidney that sent her flying into the wall at her back.
There was barely any sting. Lucy must have really been hopped up on adrenaline, because she only felt that the wind had been knocked out of her. Bits of plaster rained around her, and she wondered how much of a crack the impact had made. If someone hadn’t heard them before, they certainly must have now. It was a little too late now to take it outside. Olivia climbed back up to her feet, disheveled and punch drunk with holes about the shoulders of her shirt. She stared daggers into Lucy.
“You think she wants you like this?” Olivia glowered, “do you even realize what you’re doing right now? You think she’ll be happy?”
“You don’t get to act like you know her, bitch!”
It pissed her off that she thought she could chide her. The muscles in her right arm tensed up, clenching and burning under her skin in a perfect physical manifestation of her rage. She pounced forward and snatched Olivia by the throat, pushing her up and against the opposite wall. There was enough force behind her fury to press Olivia into the wall, creating a rough indent that showered them both in dust. Determined to keep Olivia quiet before she could speak another venomous syllable, she lunged her upper torso forward and clamped her teeth on the spot where Olivia’s collar bone met her neck.
“Oooh!” Olivia let out a gasp before Lucy clenched her windpipe harder.
Her teeth pierced through the girl’s flesh and she drank her greedily. Too lost in a haze to question what she was doing, she could only be awestruck at how good it tasted. It was a rich strawberry jam, the kind eaten with shortcake and whipped cream. Mmm, she already had the little mouse in her claws, so why not pair her with a little cream? Sure, Olivia had tried to act tough, but she had practically offered herself up with a big red bow. Andy would’ve loved it, putting this girl in her rightful place. Maybe she’d save some for-
“L-lucy?!” Andy’s soft voice pierced Lucy’s mind, prompting her to remove her teeth from the now unconscious Olivia, taking a moment to appreciate the adorable mark she had left on her.
“Hey babycakes!” Lucy freed Olivia’s neck from her hand and allowed her to slump down to the floor before turning around to face Andy with a broad smile.
“Did-did you kill her?”
“Nah, I just-”
When Lucy opened her eyes, she was met with the sobering sight of her shaking girlfriend. Her blonde hair was electrified, splintering off in wild directions that made her look like a half-inverted broom. There were bags under her eyes, indicating a severe lack of sleep. She wore a pair of light purple pajama pants that sat askew on her hips, one plain and one polka-dot ankle sock, and a thin white shirt with spaghetti straps. Her nipples were preening through the fabric. She held out the taser that Lucy had told her to buy, and she eyed her girlfriend with utter terror. Why would she look at her like that? Oh. As if a titanic soap bubble had finally reached the limit of surface tension and popped, Lucy gained sudden terrible awareness of her own actions. She had just pushed a girl into a wall and thought about fucking her, and now she was caked in her blood. It had felt like the natural response. At least she knew the girl wasn’t dead or dying, somehow. Her knees buckled under her.
“Andy, I-I don’t know what came over me,” her eyes were deadlocked on the taser, “please don’t point that at me, baby, you know what I would never hurt you.”
“Prove to me that you’re really her. What did we do on our first date?”
“We, uh, we tried out this cheap sashimi place for your birthday and went to a double feature of The Shining and… um… Dr. Strangelove! You ended up throwing up on the back of the seat in front of you when the dog guy was giving the old guy fellatio. I had to take you to the ER to see if you needed your stomach pumped. I ended up falling asleep in the lobby when they decided you were fine.”
“Oh, Lucy, I-” the taser wavered in Andy’s hands, tears staining her pretty face, “I knew it was you, but can I actually trust you? Can you trust yourself? You could snap me in half without even thinking.”
“No, Andy, please! I can control myself! I was just mad about her scaring you, that she was trying to take you away from me. I know I went overboard, but I would never ever raise a hand to you!
“Please, please!” Lucy clasped her hands together to keep them from quivering, “I love you Andy! You’re the most kind, intelligent, beautiful woman that I’ve ever known! Please believe me!”
“I can’t, I-” Andy lowered the taser, “there’s no way to be sure… that I’m safe with you. I know you love me, and I love you too, but Olivia thought she loved me and used that to justify attacking me. But… but if it happened to both of you, then nothing can assure me that I’ll be safe. I’d rather be scared for my life with the most important woman in the world than all by myself.”
Andy let the taser drop to her side and fell to her knees in front of Lucy. She caught her in a tight embrace. At first, Andy locked up, but soon she melted into the touch of her girlfriend and held her too. Lucy was able to smell her. The warm, aromatic fragrance of her blood. Andy laid her head on Lucy’s shoulder, sobbing into her while leaving her neck unprotected. Perhaps it was just because she had already eaten, or because love had truly conquered her new nature, but the tug she felt towards Andy’s skin was weak. Not gone, but more like the idle desire to bite her nails than a real sense of hunger. She turned her head away and ground her teeth to keep from thinking about it. There was no doubt in her mind that Andy could feel her erection on her thigh. But they both did their best to ignore that. The important thing was that she had proved herself tonight in at least one regard.
Janet never realized just how much she hated being out on a summer night until she was forced into it every evening. The mosquitoes buzzing about that never landed on her but still hovered over her head. The muggy heat that mussed up her hair. How the horny cicadas deprived the world of even a passing silence. Her only comfort was her last remaining cigarette, which was now halfway to the filter between her lips. Right after Steve had elected to have his first taste of ‘fun,’ she’d been elected to spend the next 10 hours babysitting her waitress Cynthia and a customer she came to learn of by the name Jane. None of them had any clue what was going on. They had simply found themselves a bunch of unknown extras in a scene from a splatter film. Cynthia is a single mom with a kid at home, and she had panicked at the prospect of not being home when her son woke up. He wasn’t old enough to get to the bus stop on his own. Jane was still in college and was missing classes, but more than anything she just wanted to be with her boyfriend Ed. Despite how badly all three wanted to escape, none of them were able to muster any strength to prop open the bathroom door. Through some bizarre mama bear power, Cynthia had managed to tear one of the toilets up from the floor, but as soon as she tried to launch in at the door it slipped through her fingers. The bathroom flooded from the uprooted pipe. They sat around miserable and damp, both Janet and Cynthia stuck in their wet and bloodied blue uniforms. Jane fell asleep in the stall. They all remained there, in that linoleum hellscape, until the pathetic fuck decided to let them out.
He took a liking to Janet. So while he let everyone else go home he ordered her to ride shotgun in his truck. She had wanted to claw his godless eyes out, but she couldn’t manage to disobey. For a whole night they had just been driving around the state in his hideous, bulky teal Ford, knowing that they had to get somewhere but no concept of their actual destination. Steve was an idiot and got too frustrated trying to tie his shoelaces to provide any comprehensible explanation. Thus, in between the regular stops at gas pumps, she kept her mind sharp with plans to kill him. So far, the most viable options were either: (1) find someone else to kill him for her, or (2) trick him into staying out past dawn. She knew that the sun would do him in, since he had been so insistent upon them pulling onto a back road before the cock could crow. They had slept under a tarp in the back cabby in case any stray rays might have slipped through the forest canopy. Packed head to foot like sardines, she managed to keep his hands off her by snarling at him. She felt like a pet mutt. But at least she knew that certain orders would not work on her, either because of her willpower or’ cause he was too inept to command her to fall in love with him. She kept a running list in her head of everything that did work on her:
Based on these items, she tried her best to formulate a plan. She was gonna wait until he left the keys in the ignition to go and take a piss (he insisted on buying a six pack every time he ran out), then she would drive as far away from him as possible. She really hoped he couldn’t just think commands at her to get her to drive back, but she figured she’d rather learn that the hard way than just accept her situation.
Janet could see the bastard standing at the door of the shell station, the first fillup they would have that night. It was still fresh after sunset, almost 10pm, and the lecherous old creep was talking to a high school student. The girl wore her dusty hair up in a bob and had on stockings, a long red skirt, and an oversized sweatshirt. Janet wondered if she could tell that Steve hadn’t changed clothes for days, still wearing his navy security guard shirt. If she got close enough, would she notice the smell of blood on his breath? Or was it too muddled with cheap hamburgers and beer for her to tell? It didn’t matter how much he stuffed his maw, Janet knew the scent of her own blood everytime he pursed his thin, chapped lips. She wished her instincts as a waitress hadn’t outweighed her instincts as a woman. She made the mistake of being pleasant to him. It might not have saved her from being killed, but at least she could hide away in her own little cockroach hole.
Steve exitted from the store and waved back at the girl with a single meaty claw. He strolled back to the truck, took the nozzle up from the pump and unscrewed the gas cap. He whistled the melody of Dust in The Wind as the numbers slowly ticked up.
“What were you two chattin’ about?” She gave him the evil eye.
“Huh? Oh, her.” Stephen shrugged his shoulders, “mistook me for her dad, ‘parently he’s got the same Reds ball cap. Big baseball fan, I hear, kid said she use to play softball too.”
“Mhm,” she took a drag off her Marlboro, “you seemed to like her, why not take her along?”
“Jesus Jan!” He exclaimed before quieting himself down to a hissing whisper, “she’s just a kid, don’t joke about that!”
“And why not?! You two’d probably get along better. I could hitchhike back to my own life while y’all talk RBIs.”
“You don’t get it…” He grumbled dismissively.
“What? You got some kinda ‘code’ now, asshat? What’s the age limit for assaulting and kidnapping women, Stevie? That girl Jane had only been a year or two older and you had no problems with wringing her neck in front of her boyfriend! Hell, Cynthia’s got a much younger kid at home and you sure didn’t take a moment to consider any moral questions when you busted her up! You know the truth is that the only reason you’re leaving that girl alone,” she was pointing her smoldering cigarette as an accusatory finger, “was just ‘cause you ain’t in the mood. You ain’t fucking Friar Tuck.”
“Yeah?!” He reared up, his eyes brighter than the cigarette’s embers, “if I’m such a prick then why don’t I take your fucking advice? Go on then, Jan, tear into that girl and get out all the pent up aggression and shit you wish you could do to me!”
“No…” Janet’s voice and lungs deflated.
Her legs wobbled as she felt the urge to sprint over to the doors of the gas station. NO! Her knees spasmed violently as she felt her mind split in two. He was using her ever-simmering rage against her, and now it was taking his side. That part of her wanted to go and mutilate the girl. In her mind’s eye she could imagine the catharsis of pulling the girl’s jaw apart, breaking her spinal column, gouging out her eyes. The only thing holding her in her place was the other half of her, her soul, telling her that the girl didn’t deserve to suffer. Those pains were meant for her maker. She was a lion on a thin leash, and she had no clue how she could keep it from snapping. The only recourse she could think of was to beg.
“P-please.” Janet strained her plea through clenched teeth, “Don’t. Make. Me. Do. This.”
“Fine, I won’t.” Steve’s eyes returned to their usual blue as he mocked her with a smirk, “Maybe this’ll give you some incentive to be a bit nicer to me, Jan. I’d love to see that sweetheart smile of yours.”
Janet panted hard, air stinging her throat, as he put up the nozzle and tore off the receipt. He motioned for her to get into the cab as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Janet lingered for a few moments to take a final puff. She fantasized about the cleansing fire she might find if she just set the gas fumes alight.
Half-priced fresh asparagus. Microwave mash potatoes. Frozen corn. Homemade meatloaf with a ketchup glaze. All of it piled on a ceramic plate. Saran wrapping. Irene set this side, potentially for the refrigerator. Irene’s husband was coming home late once again. Past dinner. It was her job to look after the kids while school was out. She didn’t feel well today, so none of the laundry got done. It must have been a stomach bug going around. Still, she managed to make a decent, home cooked meal. And he wasn’t here. Once again, it was just her and her children.
It wasn’t like he was a bad dad. She didn’t like to complain either. But… as she often told her daughter, Rebecca, Gloria Steinem hadn’t exactly done her any favors. She didn’t feel liberated. Irene was just saddled with two full-time jobs: sixth grade math teacher and mother. She kept her family afloat. A little more appreciation would be nice. But she wasn’t a bellyacher. Becky had at least been nice enough to set the table that night. It seemed she was aiming to be ungrounded. Irene placed the white serving dish in the middle of the daisy yellow table cloth that was only slightly askew. It wasn’t a terribly large dining table, but they had some extenders for entertaining company. The dining room was pleasant seafoam green, and beneath their family pictures was a hutch that held the dining ware given to Irene for her wedding. She, Becky, and her son James jr. quietly said grace just as quickly as they brushed their teeth each night before they dug in.
“Thanks for dinner, mom,” Becky took a clump of mashed potatoes into her mouth.
“You’re welcome.”
“Yeah, thank you mom,” James picked at his corn.
“You can thank me by eating all your asparagus, young man.”
“‘Kay.”
“Dad gonna be home soon?” Becky stuck a stem with her black plastic fork.
“We’ll just have to see. He said sometime like nine.”
“Hmm, sounds good.”
Usually Irene liked meatloaf, and she’d really done an excellent job with draining the fat and mixing in the right amount of breadcrumbs. In fact, she had been a little tempted to try the raw beef, as if she were baking with cookie dough. But now she just didn’t feel all that hungry. Maybe the recipe was missing something? She considered what might round it out when she noticed her daughter staring at an object in her lap. Her phone, Irene was certain. She stared at Becky—who was still in her wool pajama pants and a black turtleneck—until she noticed her gaze.
“Who are you texting?”
“No one,” Rebecca averted her eyes.
“Don’t lie to me, Rebecca,” Irene dropped her fork, which clattered against the plate, “you’re texting that girl, aren’t you?”
“It is her, but…”
“No buts, I told you last night that I don’t want you speaking to her anymore.” Irene put her foot down, “if I catch you texting her again, you’re gonna be stuck inside for two months.”
Rebecca huffed and puffed, folding her arms together in dissatisfaction as she abstained from eating. Last night, James sr. had been out drinking with an old college pal, so he had no clue what his daughter had been up to. Frankly, though she was seventeen, Irene had never known Becky to act out so much. She was usually an angel. Yet she had started hanging out late at night with a senior girl that Irene had never heard her talk about before. She was clearly a bad influence. As could be evidenced by the icy glare and no doubt hateful thoughts her daughter was thinking at her.
“I can talk to her if I want to,” Rebecca spoke with all the authority she could muster.
Irene reared back, offended but not particularly shocked by Becky’s conduct. She seemed to think that she could order her own mother around. This kind of obstinance was not so easily solved with the multi-purpose punishment of grounding. She had to reestablish her position at the head of the table. Otherwise, who knows how many more contests of strength she’d be subjected to.
“Ooh, the golden child’s finally in trouble~” James jr. wiggled a piece of asparagus at his sister.
Both of them shot him a look.
Her son slumped back in his chair and passively chewed on the green as Irene rose up, scooting her chair back from the table. She brought her socked foot up in a wide arc before placing it on the table next to her food and empty glass. She then straightened out her knee to bring the rest of herself up, almost scraping the ceiling, and then planting her remaining foot on the other side of the plate. Nothing shook or rattled as she moved with fluid ease. Both her children looked up at her in awe. She strode forward across the culinary landscape, stepping around the meatloaf over the plastic rose arrangement until she stood before her daughter, slipping her toe beneath the lip of her plate and kicking it into the wall. Shards of ceramic littered the carpet, while white potato mush, ketchup, and grease painted the wall paper. Irene squatted deep on her knees in front of Becky, her mouth a tight, steady slit and her eyes bulging.
“Mom…” Rebecca shrunk.
“Look at me,” Irene grasped her daughter’s chin, firm but not crushing, and tilted it up for the optimal angle, “I don’t care what you think you owe her, I am your mother. My word is law. Do you understand?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Good.” Irene let go of her chin and stood up, though her eyes remained locked with her daughter’s, “I love you, Rebecca.”
“I love you too, mom.”
She made her way back to the other side of the table, slipping off the edge onto the floor without any shift in weight. Her body might have been a thin membrane around a few dozen feathers. Pulling her chair back to its former position beneath her, she spun around and smiled. First turning her sight to James jr. who promptly resumed shoveling food into his mouth.
“Remember to chew, baby.”
“Uh-huh,” he nodded profusely.
“Now, Rebecca, make sure to clean up that mess if you want any dessert.”
Irene resumed her meal, which seemed so much more savory to her. Sure, the mashed potatoes were a bit too dry and only seasoned with salt and pepper rather than gravy, but there was still a pleasant, buttery quality to it. The corn, which was typically a bit too sweet for her liking, seemed in harmonious matrimony with the earthy, fibrous crunch of the asparagus. Finally, the acidity of the ketchup glaze provided a beautiful tanginess to the juicy, yielding meat. If only she had a drink to compliment it. Watching as her daughter collected jagged pieces and scrubbed off the hardening scraps, she heard the familiar sound of a car pulling up into a driveway. A few seconds later, the tumblers of their front door clicked into place.
“Welcome home, honey.”