Disenchanted

by Raven, C L

  "Well that's not very clever." I stuffed wads of cash into my bag. My mind tortured me with an image of the judge rolling round on his cash wearing nothing but his tighty whiteys. I left the Premium Bonds then found a case at the bottom. I lifted it out. It was a rare coin collection. "Holy crap." I slipped it into my bag and closed the safe. The front door opened. I inwardly swore, replaced the floorboard and scurried under the bed like a social phobic boogeyman.

  "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't send you to prison," the Judge boomed.

  "Please sir, I'll do anything." It was the same guy from before. Oh god. That's another five years in therapy. I'd get less for murder. I switched my phone to video, angling it perfectly.

  The Judge's clothes hit the floor. I cringed. He was Homer Simpson with more hair. He dropped his y-fronts then stood proudly like a fat, hairy sex machine, his lever ready to be pulled. He squeezed a tube. Chocolate squelched out. Oh god! I clamped my hand over my eyes. No wonder the guy charged a grand – memory erasers aren't cheap.

  "There's chocolate on me. Clean it off."

  "I'll fetch a cloth, sir."

  "Use your tongue."

  I blocked my ears against the Judge's moans.

  "Did I do a good job, sir?"

  "No. Bend over. Bad boys must be punished."

  I took myself to a happy place. Frankly, the way the Judge was groaning, I thought the guy deserved a medal, not a spanking. I waited until I heard guttural snoring then crawled out of the bedroom.

  "You must get a thrill out of getting caught. Either that or you enjoy what goes on in his bedroom."

  I cursed. "I'm buying a Men in Black memory zapper when I get home. It's an initiation. I gotta take three things from three separate occasions. I've filmed both times and if I'm arrested, I'll make the footage public. D'you want everyone knowing what he does to you?"

  "Steal everything, I don't care. The guy's a pervert. He chose me 'cos I look young enough to be illegal. Three months I've been coming here and the only role play he likes is 'pervy Judge and naughty offender'. I bet when he sentences boys in court he's pleasuring himself under his robes."

  I shuddered. "At least he's not dressed as an adult baby."

  He looked like he was about to vomit. "So you're coming back?"

  "Next Wednesday."

  "I'll keep him busy."

  I punched his fist then escaped onto the roof.

  The guys were thrilled when I revealed my stash.

  "I can't take witnessing the Judge's sex life again," I groaned. "That poor guy deserves an Oscar for his convincing portrayal of ecstasy."

  "I'll take your mind off it." Georgie slipped her hands into my back pockets.

  Suddenly I forgot about the Judge. "Later guys." I picked her up and carried her into my bedroom.

  ***

  Either the Judge was too stupid to realise he'd been robbed two weeks' running or he figured his prostitute did it and preferred to punish him personally. Again, the apartment was empty when I broke in. I avoided his bedroom. There was no way I was listening to his grunts again. I'd rather marry Justin Bieber.

  Hanging above his desk in the study was a guitar. I shone my torch on it. It was signed by The Rolling Stones. I lifted it down and strode to the front door. It opened. I ducked back against the wall. The Judge entered alone. I cursed. There was no way his prostitute would get the night off for good behaviour - he was aiding and abetting a handsome criminal. He should be spanked into contrition. The Judge clattered around in the kitchen. My heart was thrashing. He headed towards me. I dived back into the study. His bedroom door closed. I darted out and hurried towards the front door. The guitar slipped from my sweaty hands. I caught it, the strings strumming loudly.

  "Hey!"

  I ran.

  Footsteps stalked me as I bolted for the door to the roof. I flung it open and tore up the steps. I slung the guitar around my neck and clipped myself to the grappling hook. The Judge lumbered across the roof, red in the face and wheezing, his belly jiggling. There's no way I was getting caught - my arse couldn't withstand a spanking.

  I pushed off, scaling down stomach-lurchingly fast. I hit the ground and released the grappling hook. The Judge lunged for it. I yanked it. He overbalanced. I froze. The grappling hook slithered down the wall. The Judge fell in its wake, his wide terrified eyes begging for help. There was a thud as he hit the ground. Blood pooled around his fractured head.

  "Shit!" I touched trembling fingers to his neck, even though the lifeless eyes told me what I didn't want to know. "Shit." I ran my hand over my hair.

  I scrambled over the fence and sprinted to my bike. I leapt on and gunned the engine, the bike fishtailing as I escaped.

  I stopped at the top of a cliff and paced the edge, feeling sick. I closed my eyes and saw his. Lifeless. I heard the sickening crack as his skull shattered on the ground. Humpty Dumpty in human form.

  The guitar strap strangled me. I yanked it off to throw it into the sea. I stopped. It might wash to shore, the glamorous CSIs would find a miniscule piece of evidence in an obscure place that would be unique to me and I'd rot in jail for the rest of my life. They wouldn't take into account the torment I'd endured under the bed.

  I slung the strap over my neck and returned to my bike. I rode back to the hideout and tried to sneak in.

  "Did you get the final piece?" Neon asked. I relinquished the guitar. "Guess you can keep your crown, oh revered leader."

  "I'm going to bed."

  "Just you now, Goldilocks."

  "No." I stopped. "She's part of this gang. I'm not having her break into the serial killer house. You don't have the balls to do it, so don't make her do it just 'cos you want to see inside."

  "I'm doing it, Jazz." She folded her arms.

  "No, you're not."

  "So it's fine for you to risk your neck to prove your loyalty, but not me? If you're pulling the 'you're a girl' crap, I'll kick your balls so high up inside you you'll be able to borrow my clothes."

  "He does anyway." Demon laughed.

  "Guys!" Razor called. "The Judge is on the news!"

  Any minute now, I'd regurgitate my chip supper. I trailed them to the TV, where a newsreader stood outside the Land of the Giants, gleefully reporting the Judge's death.

  "He was found by a security guard doing his rounds. A twenty one year old rent boy was arrested at the scene." I swore. "At this stage it's not clear whether it was suicide or something more sinister."

  "He fell. It was an accident!"

  Everyone stared at me.

  "Whoa! You killed the Judge? All hail Jazz the giant killer!" Neon knelt and worshipped me.

  I walked out. I sat on my bed, my head in my hands. Georgie joined me and rubbed my back.

  "It'll be ok."

  "No. It won't. An innocent guy's been arrested for something I did. That can never be ok."

  ***

  Jazz kept me up all night and not in a way I found enjoyable. He paced his bedroom, convinced every noise was the police. By the time morning dared show its face, I could've auditioned for lead zombie in a Romero film and would have got the job immediately. I didn't understand his guilt. The Judge was a pervy arsehole who deserved to plummet from the sky. If the police suspected a rent boy, they weren't looking for Jazz.

  I went into the kitchen, where Razor was making breakfast. Jazz walked in as he cracked two eggs. Jazz threw up.

  "Ew, gross." Razor's face contorted.

  Jazz unsheathed his knife and pinned Razor to the cooker. "He died right at my feet and you're doing sound effects?"

  "Leave him alone." I tugged Jazz's elbow.

  He lashed out, catching me in the face. "That's the exact sound his head made when it hit the ground." He grabbed an egg and threw it onto the worktop. It splattered, its insides spilling across the surface.

  "I'm not cleaning that up." I scowled.

  "Dude, it's just breakfast." Razor's eyes were wide.

  Jazz stormed out. Razor looked at me.<
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  I shrugged. "Time of the month."

  I left the hiding place and went for a walk in the woods. It was my turn to prove being worthy of a lifetime Jolly Rogers' membership pack. I hoped it came with a cuddly toy and window sticker.

  I walked to the serial killers' cabin. Rumours had circulated about this place for years since hikers were found butchered in these woods, their skinned bodies strung from trees like macabre candy canes. At first people thought it was the work of bears, because they didn't want to admit humans were capable of such atrocities. I knew it was serial killers. I didn't know any bear that excelled at the noose knot. Plus I couldn't imagine bears living in a cabin. What would they do all day? Eat porridge?

  I ducked behind a tree and watched the cabin. Jazz had taught me the benefits of surveillance. After an hour, I climbed into the tree, where they'd be less likely to see me. I imagined they'd resemble the standard thug photo you see gracing newspapers. What I wasn't expecting, was Miss Normality.

  She had long fair hair, which was tied back, and was wearing jeans and a fitted t-shirt. The door opened. Mr. Average walked towards her and pinched her backside.

  "How's my sexy Mama Bear?" He hugged her from behind and kissed her neck.

  She laughed. They joined hands and walked into the woods.

  My mobile rang.

  Swearing and hoping they weren't wondering what a squirrel was doing with a mobile, I answered it.

  "Hey Neon, I'm up a tree... spying on the cabin. I think it's the wrong one. They don't look like vicious murderers." I gave him the location. "They've gone out, so I'm going in. I'll text you if I find severed heads or tongues pickled in a jar."

  I dropped out of the tree, took a photo of me outside the cabin and texted it to Neon then I tried the door. It was unlocked.

  "That's trusting. Anyone could break in."

  I slipped inside. I was definitely in the right place. If a cabin could possess a soul, this one's was poisonous. It seeped into the walls like stale cigarette smoke. But this couldn't be eradicated with Febreeze. I crept into the kitchen. The table was laid for breakfast, like a creepier version of the Marie Celeste. I sat in a chair and photographed myself eating dry cereals from one of the bowls then drank from the other glass.

  I propped my phone on the coffee table in the living room and self-timed a photo of me lounging on the settee and then in an armchair. My heart was thumping. I'd burgled houses before - Jazz and I made a hell of a team, but this was different. I perched on a small stool and photographed myself reading Cosmopolitan. I didn't want to think of that creepy woman pleasing her serial killer boyfriend in the bedroom using their 100 Tips to Make Him Scream. The stool collapsed. I swore then kicked the pieces under the settee.

  "Serves me right for eating an entire jumbo Galaxy bar."

  I crept upstairs. Rooting through a chest in the master bedroom, I found their kinky drawer. I undressed and did raunchy poses like a sexy pro. It felt really naughty, increasing the thrill. I texted them to Jazz, to take his mind off the Judge. I dressed and pocketed my phone. Nothing screamed 'serial killer chic', but I sensed it. The kinky drawer meant nothing - most of suburbia probably had one. The other bedroom was set out like a classroom, complete with blackboard and a cane. I picked up the cane. The tip was stained scarlet.

  "That's weird." I glanced out the window.

  They were coming back.

  Swearing, I ran downstairs. I darted through a door off the kitchen and closed it as they entered the cabin. I tiptoed down wooden steps into the dark cellar, my footsteps ringing like ghostly screams. A spade caked with fresh mud leaned against the wall below a line of shackles on hooks. Only one hook was unused. I turned a corner and stopped dead. Lining the walls were cages.

  No, not cages.

  Prison cells.

  Gentle weeping echoed in the gloom. I edged forwards, my heart hammering. Cold sweat embraced me. My mouth felt like a Muppet had died in there. The cages reeked of stale sweat, urine and despair. If evil had a perfume range, this would be its signature scent. Meagre light from a lantern allowed the shadows to play their twisted games. A crimson trail bled from one of the cells. The cells either side were empty. I crept along the narrow passage, peering into every cell.

  Empty.

  Empty.

  Empty.

  Empty.

  Empty.

  Occupied.

  The teenager was curled up in the corner, grime staining her face apart from tracks her tears made. Chains clanked as she moved. She wore a schoolgirl outfit that would definitely not be accepted in normal schools. I had the same one.

  "What are you doing here?" I whispered.

  "I was meeting my boyfriend in the woods. I saw this couple then something hit the back of my head and I woke up here." She self-consciously tried covering her bra, which peeked out the unbuttoned shirt. "They make me wear this. She wears one too, when they take me upstairs. He forces me to," she choked on her tears, "do stuff...with her."

  I was never wearing mine again. "Is she his prisoner too?"

  She shook her head. "The schoolgirl thing was her idea. She loves it more than he does. She won't let him...play with me." I swore. "There was another girl. I haven't seen her for a few days. I heard her screaming. She never came back."

  The door opened.

  "Oh god! He's coming!"

  I frantically looked for somewhere to hide.

  "Don't leave me!"

  "Ssh! I'm not leaving."

  I spied a gap in the corner beside a cell, dropped to my knees and wriggled backwards into it. I held my breath. Footsteps reverberated through the cellar. The man stopped before the girl's cell.

  "Please!" She sobbed. "I want to go home."

  "Sweet Baby Bear." He crouched and stroked her hair. "Mama Bear says it's time for school. Today's lesson is dance."

  "No, please!"

  "You don't want to anger Papa Bear do you?" She shook her head, tears tumbling down her face. I felt sick. I wanted to save her but he'd be on me before I'd dragged my arse out of the hole. I told myself this would be her last time but I hated myself. Now I understood Jazz's guilt. He dried her tears. "The camera doesn't like to see tears. The camera likes to see you enjoying yourself."

  Shit. I hoped he meant a video camera. If it was a hidden one, they might already know I was here. This was one time I didn't want to be on film.

  "No!"

  He dragged her out, her sniffles fading. I crawled out of the hole and freed my phone. No service. I headed for the stairs. They'd be occupied for a while. My foot hit the step. I stopped. I couldn't leave her. I'm no angel, but if that was me, I'd want someone to save me. I crept to the kitchen. Downstairs was silent. I crossed to the knife rack and stole the biggest knife and a skewer. I checked my phone. Service. I rang Jazz. He blabbered about encrypting his footage and sending it to the cops so they'd think the Judge killed himself and the prostitute could go free.

  "Jazz, they've got a girl in a prison cell. They're keeping her as a sex slave...they're upstairs with her now...I don't care what they do to me, I'm not leaving her. She's only a kid. Get the police here now."

  I crept back to the cellar. For once in my life, I was going to do something good.

  ***

  The house was silent. The girl had cried herself to sleep in the dirt. I crawled out of the hole, rammed the skewer into the lock and jiggled it until the door popped open. She woke up.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Getting you out."

  "They'll kill you!"

  "I can look after myself." I used the skewer to pick her chains' locks. She rubbed her wrists. I removed my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She zipped it up, shivering. I took her hand and led her to the stairs. My senses screamed for light, for noise, anything except this never ending soundless darkness. I opened the cellar door. The kitchen was empty.

  I hurried into the living room then out into the hall. I fumbled with the locks on the front door.

&
nbsp; "What have we here?" The man came down the stairs.

  I got the front door open and pushed the girl out. He grabbed me.

  "Run!"

  "I can't leave you. You saved me."

  "Just go! My boyfriend will be here soon."

  She ran. I drove the knife back into the man's hip, hitting bone. He swore. I twisted and stabbed at him again but I didn't have the right angle to drive the knife in deep. He punched me in the face and flung me down on the stairs, shouting up to his girlfriend. I kicked him in the knee as he grabbed me.

  "Be a good girl and Papa Bear will reward you," he whispered, dragging me up.

  I kneed him hard in the balls. "Sorry Papa Bear but this Goldilocks is a very bad girl."

  I drove the knife into his stomach as he doubled over. He screamed in pain as his girlfriend thundered down the stairs. She wrenched my hair back, screeching at me. I turned and bit her hard on the wrist whilst pulling the knife free. I sliced her arm. She let go, cradling it and reached for me again. I ducked, grabbed her and threw her into the wall. She smacked her face and stumbled backwards. He collapsed, bleeding heavily. Jazz wrestled the door open, knife raised.

  "Georgie! Run!"

  The man grabbed my ankle. Jazz stamped on his wrist then plunged his knife into his heart.

  The girlfriend whimpered as she dropped to her knees beside her boyfriend, blocking the door.

  "You killed him!"

  "He's not dead yet," I retorted. "It'll take him a few minutes to bleed out."

  "You bitch!"

  She screamed and lunged for me. I rammed the knife into her stomach and twisted it before yanking it out. She dropped on top of her boyfriend, twitching and gasping as they died together.

  "They're like Romeo and Juliet," I said. "An obsessive love that results in the deaths of everyone around them."

  Jazz stared at the bodies. "Hardly a fairytale ending."