Tonight, It’s My Turn

This is from my first attempt at self publishing. It’s from a collection of my college short stories, a book I called Horror Stories to Titalate the Senses. The funny part is that not all the stories are horror, and I drew the cover myself. It looks very ameturish, but it’s my first attempt and I think it has heart. Maybe one day, I’ll fix it. There is a blog post coming about that.

Katerine watched through her peephole as Allison Birche walked down the brightly lit hall with her head low. Her brown hair cascaded over her swollen bovine face. That fucking face held buggy ox eyes that romanced the love of Katherine’s life Mark Bishop. Allison Birche lived in the nicer apartment on this floor with someone that was meant to be Katherine’s. The apartment had new carpets that were stain proof, which she’d put to the test before the night was over. A bathroom that had a toilet with heated seats, and a bath big enough for at least four. Katherine was convinced that Allison hosted orgies in that tub to please Mark. There was no way that Allison Birche would feasibly be able to hold his interest. Kat had seen through her peephole, all the people that come and go through that apartment. Allison Birche was a whore who didn’t deserve the man of Kat’s dreams.

Mark Bishop. He and Kat had been childhood friends. They weren’t close, but there was something about him that captivated her. It could have been his shaggy hair that had been fashionable in the 90’s, or his lanky form that towered over her. She remembered the exact moment she fell and cracked her head open with love. It had been a hot afternoon, and she had been kicked out of the house for fighting her father. The fight didn’t matter because she had won, and he ended up with a bloody nose. Her anger and heavy steps stopped when she walked through the alley. He sat there, his usual beauty blinded her, but that day was different because in his hands he held a bloody mess. Some creature he had ripped apart beyond recognition, and from that point he held her heart.

Katherine made it her life’s mission to get his attention. Even if that meant giving up her dream of being a romance novelist, and not going to the school she wanted. She followed him to his school of choice (his university didn’t match his level of attractiveness), took classes that bored her, made friends with people in his circle, all to be closer to him. She was close, just one conversation away from earning his heart. Until she showed up, Allision Birche, the fresh-faced freshman who shone with trust. Allison planned to major in Humanities and had this vulnerability about her, and Mark was all over ir. Katherine didn’t stop her pursuit of Mark. He had to lose interest soon. However, that wasn’t the case, and Kat continued to follow. She had been fortunate enough to get an apartment on the same floor as the couple. Let’s just say it wasn’t hard to persuade the previous owner to not renew their lease.

Katherine waited until Allison had passed by her door before she followed. Allison Birche was getting the mail, a task that should be simple, but it wasn’t for her. Allison was an idiot. Vindictive green eyes watched from around the corner as Allison dropped the paper. The brunette’s hands shook, and she tumbled into the wall. Katherine bit back a laugh as Allison struggled to stand. Her efforts caused her baggy sweater to rise to reveal greasy skin blotched with a rainbow of bruises.

“Are you alright?” Katherine asked as she emerged from behind the corner.

“Yes,” Allison kept her eyes downcast as she smoothed down her sweater. She bent down to pick up the papers. Katherine reached to give the illusion of help, but she pushed the mail further down the hall.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” Katherine said with a flat voice.

“It’s fine,” Allison said as she gathered all the paper. Katherine noted that Allison’s spine protruded more than usual, someone’s been misbehaving. She knew because she heard it last night. The only nice thing about Allison was her screams, begging at night to be left alone, trying to call for help before there was the usual thump. Katherine bet that Mark had a mean right hook, but if she was in Allison’s place he wouldn’t need to hit her.

“Hey, I was baking, but I realize that I don’t have enough sugar,” Katherine said as she received her mail, she ended her statement with a sigh. Allison ignored her and continued to chase down her papers. Katherine waited a few seconds before sighing again, “I mean I could go to the store, but it’s raining and it’s cold.”

“I mean I think I have sugar,” Allison said, and their eyes connected, it took all of Katherine’s tattered self-control not to strangle the other woman, “I could bring it over, you live in 204, right?”

“Yep, I’m your humble neighbor,” Katherine said with a slithery smile. There was a look on Allison’s face, that made her smile shake.

“Yeah, I’ll go get it,” Allison said before she walked off.

“Great,” Katherine nodded her head before she followed Allison. She originally didn’t intend to go into that whore’s apartment, there was such a loud call right now for Ms. Birche’s murder.

Allison Birche invited her in. Katherine's feet sank into the soft carpet. The apartment wasn’t as grand as Katherine thought, but it was bigger than hers. The furniture was all upturned. Couches had ripped upholstery, shards of broken glass caught in the dim light, and to Katherine’s disappointment someone had already tested how stain proof the plush carpet was. Speckles of brown littered the space in front of the torn couch. On the wall were pristinely straight framed pictures. Most were of Mark’s handsome face, ordered from childhood to his most recent college graduation a few years prior. Allison Birche looked around the kitchen for sugar, while Katherine continued to search the apartment. In the corner there was a desk pushed in the corner. She paused, there were more framed pictures, but there was one that caught her attention. Well, two. One was the picture she immediately hated the most. It was one of Allison and Mark, and they looked happy. Katherine felt an intense urge to flip the picture, but then she saw that Mark had a picture of Katherine on his desk. Her face was immortalized with a delightful laugh, this was last year on the 4th of July. But she didn’t remember him taking a picture that day.

“Hey I found the sugar,” Allison said from the kitchen.

Katherine continued to stare at her picture. She looked so happy. He had her picture. She looked so happy.

“Are you alright?” Katherine’s head snapped to attention. Allison Birche held out a container of sugar, as if the white powder can bring her happiness, as if the sugar can undo all the wrongs she’s done to Katherine.

“Hey, is something wrong?” Allison asked as she walked closer. She yelped as Katherine pushed her. “Hey,” she tried to protest, but was silenced by a harsh slap. The container fell out of her hands, sugar spilled across the carpet. If Allison Birche had any more complaints they didn’t reach Katherine’s ears, not that she wanted them to.

Katherine tackled the thin woman to the floor; her fists pounded her face. Each blow made Allison more attractive, with a concaved face she was more bearable to look at, but Katherine didn’t stop. Even as the skin of her knuckles tore, even as her hand began to cramp, even as Allison gargled her last breath through blood that clogged her throat. Katherine continued to hit until she ran out of steam. Until she felt like the picture, until she felt as happy as she looked, that would only be possible if Allison Birche wasn’t alive anymore. Katherine wasn’t sure how long she had been at it, her arms felt like lead and the body below her was cooling.

The smell of iron hung in the air. Katherine looked at her hands, her blood caked hands. Her chest didn’t feel elated, it was hard to breathe. She put her hand over her mouth as she began to hyperventilate. She didn’t mean…what would Mark think? He was going to be home any minute, and she couldn’t leave. If the police were called she’d be arrested immediately. She didn’t know how to dispose of a body. She didn’t want to go to jail, she’d be made someone’s whore and then rot there for her actions. She wrung her hands together, with shaky legs she got off the body to go sit on the couch. Her head hung low, hands clasped in her lap, she’d wait for Mark to get home.

She didn’t have to sit there long, the door opened and the lanky form of the man she had killed for walked in. His brown eyes looked around the apartment, their eyes met for a moment before Katherine let her gaze drop once more. She heard him walk around the apartment, he dropped his briefcase on the kitchen counter. Water began to run from the faucet in the kitchen, and he walked around his steps muffled by the plush carpet. He came back, and she saw his feet as he stood near the body.

“Katherine,” his voice melted into her ears and made her look up. She saw his handsome face for a moment before her face snapped to the side. Her cheek burned with his handprint, “Do you understand why I did that?” She tried to look at him, but his hand roughly loved her cheek once more.

“I killed,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I must clean this,” he grabbed her chin and made her look at her handy work, “I can understand passion, but this was excessive. But I’m not that upset, I was curious when you’d finally snap.” He smacked her across the face again. Kathrine smiled at him.

“That’s all I wanted,” she said to the wall that had his pictures hanging from it.

“I know,” he turned her to look at him, in his eyes swam the darkness that aroused her dreams for so long, “I was going to get rid of her soon anyway. I was getting sick of waiting.”