STALK HER: A DARK DELIGHTS TITLE

by Dukey, Ker

  Erik. Eight years old.

  Mama opens the front door and her boyfriend of the month walks in.

  He’s the worst one yet.

  She doesn’t lock me in the cupboard when he’s here like she does with the others, instead she pushes a needle into my arm and the darkness of the cupboard comes to me, pulling me down into nothingness.

  My body always feels broken and sore when I eventually find the light and wake up.

  I know she leaves me alone with him.

  That he’s a bad man who likes to hurt kids.

  When you grow up with a mother like ours, you learn about all the bad things in the world much sooner than you should.

  You learn that they don’t stay outside your home, not when you have a mother like ours who lets them inside with you.

  Last time he was here I couldn’t walk for a week and missed baseball practice .

  It’s the only thing I enjoy, and I won’t let him take that away from me again.

  Before mama can put the needle to my arm I snatch it from her and plunge it into her neck.

  She gasps and stumbles backwards, pulling it from her throat and dropping it to the floor.

  I know she’s going to be mad when she comes back from the darkness where the needle will take her, but I can handle her beatings, it’s her boyfriends touch I can’t recover from.

  I take off running past the bad man and up the stairs.

  My heartbeat pounding in my chest. Sweat drips over my forehead as my hands shake knowing he’s coming for me.

  I hear him give chase, his voice growling, and heavy feet sounding on the stairs as he seeks me out.

  I wait, breathing as silently as possible so he doesn’t know where I am hiding.

  Da dum…da dum…da dum…

  When I see the tip of his shoe hit the last step I swallow my fear and swing out with all my might from behind the corridor wall, my miniature bat colliding with his face.

  He falls backwards, hands reaching out to grip the wall, but he can’t, and it’s too late. He’s falling.

  Da dum…da dum…da dum…

  The thud as he hits each step makes my heart jump and my stomach dance with butterflies.

  A weird crunch sounds as he lands at the bottom. His neck is at an odd angle, eyes frozen open, looking up at me.

  He won’t be hurting me anymore.

  “Ewick?” Ebony’s little voice calls to me from her doorway.

  Dropping the bat I go scoop her up and take her back to bed, slipping in with her and singing her a lullaby.

  Present.

  “So I said it’s too soon, but …” she’s still waffling on when I come back to the present.

  It’s amazing how little authorities give a shit when a drug addict calls to say she passed out and woke up to her boyfriend having fallen down the stairs.

  Ruled accidental death.

  No one gives a fuck about the shit stains of our society dying.

  “Maggie, did you want something? I’m a busy man.” I grunt, placing the stress ball down and picking up a piece of blank paper, pretending to read it.

  “Well, we have lunch with our friends Abigail and Rodney. They want to discuss wedding plans as they don’t want to clash with ours.”

  I fucking hate those stuck up cunts, and we have no date set for a wedding, she just thinks she can force one out of me if company is there.

  They were her friends, not mine.

  I didn’t have friends. Including Lee who kept offering to buy me out of the business I started.

  “I can’t today. I need to go check on my sister, she’s had an argument with Richard again.”

  My sister was a sucker for pain; she married an abusive piece of shit that likes to think that since the ring was put on her finger two years ago, he can put his hands on her in any form that takes his fancy.

  Our mother’s abuse had two very different effects on our psyches.

  Ebony is the tormented, where I’m more the tormenter.

  “She can’t just call you every time things don’t go her way,” Maggie scoffs, planting her skinny ass in the seat opposite my desk.

  Her shiny, blonde hair is straightened to perfection, resting over the tits I bought her for her birthday.

  Manicured nails stroke non-existent lint from her skirt as she attempts to cross her legs in a skirt so tight it’s like an extra layer of skin.

  Unlike Helen’s, it’s designed to fit that way.

  Maggie likes to be looked at, admired, desired.

  It’s part of why I chose her for the role of girlfriend.

  She’s so self absorbed and in love with herself she doesn’t need love from me.

  I only keep her around because it’s nice to have the illusion of normality.

  “I know, she knew what he was like when she married him, right?” I state, pushing the button on the intercom.

  “Janet, you can take the rest of the afternoon off,” I tell my secretary.

  “Oh, are you sure, Mr. Ross?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she replies with a confused murmur.

  I watch through the glass panel as she grabs her purse and hurries from her office that’s more a foyer for mine than an actual office.

  It’s the only two rooms on this floor, and I hate knowing the rat-faced woman is out there looking in at me with puppy dog eyes every chance she gets.

  Why did these women have to be attracted to me? It would be much more fun if they weren’t.

  I’m told that my height and athletic build, mixed with dark hair and almost black, penetrating eyes, give me an alluring, exotic look that women fall over themselves for.

  It makes the hunt almost pointless, if they saw me they would come to me.

  Maggie is watching me, trying to determine if I was being sarcastic about the sister comment.

  She has never figured me out.

  Four years of dating... She’s the cliché of an airhead entitled rich girl if there ever was one.

  “So, are you going to come to lunch with me like you said you were going to?” Maggie asks, licking her lips to entice me.

  Poor performance.

  She forgets I’ve suffered through her blowjobs before.

  Thanks to her Hollywood smile and the tiny girth of her mouth, she nearly scarred my poor cock with her over polished veneers.

  “No. I’m going to see my sister.”

  The tension thickens, but she won’t fight me on my decision, sadly.

  “Fine,” she rolls her eyes and gets to her feet, sashaying across my office and disappearing into the bathroom.

  This office was built by the best of the best, but there’s one flaw.

  Getting to my feet, I walk over to the office door and open it.

  It opens against the bathroom door, the handles touching just below where the bathroom handle needs to drop to open.

  I know it jams, and you can’t get out from inside.

  Enjoy your lunch break, Maggie.

  Grinning to myself, I grab my jacket and leave. Like I said, small pleasures.

  Two

  Chapter

  ERIK

  No one is here when I arrive at the small building my sister acquired for her charity work.

  The silence is deafening, and my hands ball into fists when it cloaks around me, threatening to catapult me into the past.

  “Please let me out, it’s too dark. Mama, please.”

  Taking out my cell phone I hit the playlist, and my pulse calms at the soft, low sound of Imagine Dragons.

  The two tables usually housing my sister’s helpers are vacant, and the lights are off.

  I know she’s in here though because her car is parked outside.

  “Eb, you in here?” I call out, venturing further inside. Silence apart from the soft music emitting from my phone.

  There’s no way she’s not here, she lives and breathes this place.

  My sister is the definition of kind hearted.

  Eve
rything she does is for others.

  When she asked me to invest in her project here I didn’t think it would amount to anything, but turns out there are a lot of fucked up people out there, fucking up other people.

  ‘Anonymous’ is an outreach center where people can call or email, join chats and forums to air their troubles.

  They can be anonymous, or if they are seeking help, leave their contact details for Ebony’s team to follow up with them and offer them resources.

  It’s pathetic how needy people can be, needing guidance and acceptance from others because they’re failing at life.

  “The door is open,” I try calling.

  That’s when I hear a loud sob from the back room where Ebony’s office is located.

  I’d know her cry anywhere, her sorrow is what pulled me from my own all those years ago.

  Pushing through the door to enter her small space, she turns her back to me and tries to act like she didn’t hear me come in.

  “Erik, oh, erm… I thought we were having dinner, not lunch.”

  “Look at me, Ebony,” I demand.

  She stills, her frame rattling like it’s made of vibrating properties.

  “I’m going to leave him this time, I promise.”

  “Look at me.”

  Turning to face me, she dips her head and looks at the floor, urging me to go to her.

  Grasping her under the chin, I raise her face to look up at mine.

  Blue and purple shadows paint her cheek, rising into a lump under her eye the perfect size of a fist.

  “I made him mad, it was my fault. I know how he gets when he’s been drinking.”

  She defends him yet again, and I shake my head, pulling her into me for a hug.

  I spent my whole childhood craving Ebony’s tears, her screams, her terror.

  It’s what rescued me from my own, and in a fucked up way is the reason I need a woman’s fear now.

  She manifested this need inside me. I know a therapist would have a field day with that.

  They would make some stupid observation and insinuate that I want to fuck my sister.

  I don’t. It’s not as easy as that.

  The worm is buried much deeper.

  Mommy issues. Daddy issues.

  Locked in the dark for fucking days issues.

  Getting beaten by whatever new boyfriend our mother brought home with her that week fucking issues.

  Pick one, pick ten.

  “Erik, are you listening to me?” Eb penetrates the fog I’ve slipped into.

  “You don’t need to protect me. I can deal with him.”

  Sure you can, that’s why you have a black eye.

  Her cries kept me company in the dark, and I became obsessed with her terror to dilute my own, but we’re not in the darkness anymore.

  It’s ok, Eb’s, your brother has got you. You will be safe.

  “You work at a resource center, yet can’t save yourself,” I scoff, making her tense in my hold and then sniffle.

  “Go clean yourself up, then I’ll take you for some lunch,” I tell her, guiding her towards her bathroom.

  Nodding her head, she shuffles inside and closes the door.

  Mess is everywhere in this office.

  Growing up with nothing has made my sister a collector of useless crap.

  Dusting off her chair, I plant my ass at her desk and shift some of her paperwork that’s spread all over the fucking place, so I can rest my feet.

  The music still hums from my pocket, keeping me company, and I open a tab on the computer to check my emails.

  I’m waiting for a new car to come in, I get bored easily.

  A picture of my sister in her wedding dress gazing up at the Prince Charming she thought she was marrying catches my eye from the corner of her desk.

  How can women not see the beasts lying dormant within us? I bet Richard was all roses and missionary when they first met.

  Now he hates his job, working nightshifts doing road work for the state.

  Hates that he chose a good girl to marry and never gets his dick sucked.

  Hates that he drinks to get over the depression that is his life.

  What a loser you are, Rich. Ebony deserves so much better.

  The screen flashes, drawing my attention back to the task at hand.

  Before I can click to enter my email and password, the computer screen pings with an incoming email for Anonymous.

  Drumming my fingers on the wooden desk, I stare at the inbox of my sister’s company.

  There are thousands of email logs in here.

  How can there be that many fucked up people out there, clawing at a computer screen for help?

  How can my sister read this shit all the time and not see herself as a hypocrite?

  My eyes dart to the bathroom door my sister still hides behind, and curiosity gets the better of me.

  I know I shouldn’t open it, yet my finger hovers over the pad anyway.

  With another quick glimpse to the door where I can hear my sister running water, I click open.

  Du dum…du dum…du dum...

  Dear Anonymous,

  Why do our peers fuel the deterioration of one’s soul?

  How did I become this?

  How did it become my fault?

  How did I become so weak?

  How did I end up the broken one?

  The victim The whore?

  Sender

  AliceYoung@yourmail.com

  My heart races in my chest.

  Alice Young.

  What a broken little bird you are.

  I read and re-read her email, stroking my fingers over the words displayed on the screen.

  Her words, like blood from her veins.

  She’s slashing at her wrists and letting the pain bleed out on the screen.

  She left her email address, does this mean she’s seeking guidance… help… a reply?

  What burdens your soul, sweet little Alice?

  I forward the email to myself then delete it from Ebony’s computer just as she opens the door to the bathroom and joins me.

  “I’m going to leave him, Erik. I mean it.”

  Of course you do.

  Three

  Chapter

  ERIK

  When the elevator pings open I hear a banging and then Maggie’s voice screeching.

  “Hello? Oh God, is someone there? Hello?”

  Gentle sobs hum through the wood panels.

  My dick thickens at her distress.

  “Please someone help me.”

  She’s pathetic, I’ve only been gone three hours, and that bathroom is luxury.

  It’s not like she’s been trapped in a public hellhole.

  Sitting through lunch with my sister was hell.

  All I wanted to do was get back here, so I could search the wonderful web for Alice Young.

  “Maggie?” I call out, keeping the amusement from my tone.

  “Oh, God, Erik? I’m stuck,” she cries.

  Closing the office door, I take the bathroom door handle and jiggle it, opening the door and faking a shocked expression as she tumbles out into my arms.

  “Where did you go?” she sobs, black streaks tracking down her cheeks like oil stains on a well used road.

  “To lunch, I thought you left,” I lie.

  Her tears soak into my shirt, and I pull her back to look at her blotchy face and panicked eyes. She’s never looked as pretty as she does right now.

  I place a hand over her heart, and my blood surges, rushing through my veins where it beats wildly beneath my palm.

  “I left my bag,” she points, hiccupping on the word bag. “To use the restroom”

  “I’m so sorry, you look terrified,” I comfort her.

  She sniffles and nods her head.

  Maggie is never this undone, and after the discovery of Alice, my high is still vibrating through me.

  I push her back into the glass wall and stare at the tears cascading down her cheeks, my palm stayi
ng over her heart.

  I drop my lips to hers and suck the salty water from her mouth.

  Tiny palms push against me, her body squirming like a trapped rat.

  “Erik, no, I’m upset. God, are you seriously trying to seduce me right now?” she scorns.

  “No, I was trying to fuck you, but if you don’t want to then I have work to catch up on.” I tell her, turning away from her and striding to my desk.

  I can hear her erratic breathing hitch then her shoe hits my back with a thud.

  “You pig. How dare you treat me this way?” she’s becoming irate, and I don’t have time for this.

  I much preferred her when she was a frightened mess.

  Holding my hands up in surrender I offer her a tight smile. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Let me call Abigail and ask her to come collect you.”

  Her face reddens further, and her eyes narrow.

  “Don’t bother. And I will be spending the night at my parent’s house, so when you’re ready to act like a real fiancé you can find me there.”

  She hobbles towards the chair with one shoe on and snaps her purse up before limping to me and grabbing up her other shoe, slipping it on and straightening her blouse.

  My eyes don’t stay to watch her sauntering out the same way she came in.

  Sitting at my desk, I boot the computer up and drum my fingers anxiously against the keys until the screen lights up.

  I bring Google search up and type in Alice Young.

  About 500,000,000 results.

  Fuck!

  Who are you, Alice?

  Four

  Chapter

  ALICE

  The hum of student chatter through the corridor weighs me down with paranoia, thanks to Reese Winters who spread vicious rumors about me around the school, making my last term here a nightmare.

  I’ve out grown these people, I’m nineteen for Christ sake! Having to repeat a year has been a drag.