Taboo Unchained

by C. M. Stunich

  I growl into the phone, embracing the new animalistic sense of emotion that I'm being forced to feel. I don't know how long, or even if, it will last, so I let it happen.

  “By the way, thanks for kicking me out of your car like a dime store hooker last night. What the hell was that about anyway?” I don't answer, letting my eyelids close against the orange light clawing at my curtained windows. A few shafts have managed to pierce the darkness, cutting through my room like lasers.

  I refuse to speak about the bright blue eyes that caught and held my gaze when I stepped from the vehicle, the way chocolate hair swirled around a beautiful face as Robbie spun away and disappeared inside her house. Eventually, Audra picks up on the fact that I'm not going to talk and decides to pick up the slack. It's awfully childish of me, I know, but I'm not exactly in the chatting mood.

  “Call Mrs. Braxton and have her meet us downtown, in the parking lot of Wild Tuna.”

  “Wild Tuna?” I ask incredulously. “Isn't that a new age health food store?”

  “It was, but now it's a strip club run under the same name.”

  “You're kidding me.”

  “I wish I were,” she says, shuffling around on the other end of the line. “Have her meet us there at six o'clock.” I narrow my eyes and sit up, tossing the covers back and staring down at my meticulously maintained hardwood floor. There isn't a speck of dust, not a single scratch nor discarded piece of dirty laundry. It pleases my demons, but at the same time, I suddenly wish I had a dog. A big one. One that slobbered and drooled and went on hikes. Hikes. Me, Lucas Carter, on a hike? I can hardly imagine.

  “Now why on earth would I do that?” I ask, standing up and taking a deep breath. I postponed dealing with the Clarice Braxton issue until this morning, but now that I'm limited to six measly hours, I sincerely hope Audra Holiday has a real plan in mind.

  “I have an idea that'll get me what I want, what you want, and what Clarice wants simultaneously.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, I was thinking, if my fucking father was still alive, I'd kill him. I'd waste that bag of useless meat and bones into scrap because it would make me feel better, it would stop those voices inside my head.”

  “They have pills for that, you know,” I say, but not at all seriously. Audra knows I understand. She and I, we're not crazy, we were not born this way. We are fucked. That's it. It's a fairly simple concept to understand. You have nothing worth living for until you have it. You are nothing until you are something. And then, when that thing that's worth breathing for, worth fighting tooth and nail to keep, that special something, is taken away, you become us. So I understand, and I get it. If there was only one person on this earth that I could make suffer, it would be Aliyah Owens' half-brother, Lloyd. I wave my hand around, even though Audra isn't standing there to see the gesture. “So what does that golden nugget of information have to do with Mrs. Braxton?”

  “She's the same as us, right? I mean, in that she has something totally and completely fucked up inside of her. Plus, she's killed before. She wants you and your approval, and you want her to stop threatening you.” I start to see where this is going and scowl. Crafty, crafty little bitch. “I want to … figure out how you do what you do without getting caught, and you need a release. I could feel it in your touch last night. You're pent up.” I can almost hear Audra smile. “Not just sexually, but in that other way … the same blackness that took over me when I woke up after killing Mark, it's there.”

  “I'm perfectly aware of where I stand in that department, my dear. The taboo is my specialty after all. Now, where do you get off telling me what to do?”

  “I'm not telling, Lucas. I'm making a suggestion. If you don't like it, don't do it. I'm just trying to help. Make Clarice a murderer, make her pull the trigger, wield the knife, whatever. If you have shit on her, she has nothing on you. I doubt a princess like that would be keen on losing her lifestyle, no matter how batshit crazy she really is.”

  “I'll think about it,” I tell Audra and then I hang up, my heart pumping furiously inside my chest. Yes, the monsters whisper, cooing and biting and snapping at my heels, you should do this. It only makes sense. It's the only way.

  I toss my cell onto my bed and run my hands over my head, fingers getting caught in the few snarls that have developed overnight. Disgusting.

  I get up and decide to shower, trying my best to think over this plan as I do. Even as my hand drops to my cock and wraps around the shaft, I'm imagining the best possible scenario. Take Clarice and Audra to this dump, find our prey, hunt him like a pack of wolves. The idea, the very thought of blood, gets me so excited that I loose my load almost immediately, coming on the tiled wall of my shower like a teenage boy in heat.

  It all makes sense. Except for the inclusion of Audra. There's honestly no reason for her to be there at all. Clarice is much more likely to go along with the scenario if she's not in the picture. Somehow, though, it doesn't sound like as much fun.

  “Fuck.” I climb out of the shower and dry off. My cock is already back to a raging hard-on that aches and cuts into my slacks. It doesn't help that as I'm buttoning up my shirt, I approach the window and see Robbie standing in her front yard. Her father is on the driveway, his car door wide open, and the two of them are yelling at one another. I sincerely hope this has nothing to do with me. She is beautiful though, isn't she? My hand drops down, unconsciously cupping the bulge in my pants.

  Robbie's beautiful lips open and close as she says something I'm not privy to and retreats back inside her house. Almost as if he can sense me looking at his daughter, Mr. Carrell stops midway into the front seat of his car and climbs out. When I see he's coming straight for me, I curse and retreat back to my room for my suit jacket and tie. If I've learned anything in life, it's that it's a hell of a lot more difficult to argue with a man in a well-pressed suit.

  Before Mr. Carrell even has a chance to knock, I'm opening the door and peering out at him.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Help me?” he asks, voice getting squeaky with barely suppressed violence. His blue eyes flicker every which way, and he won't stop running his hairy hand over his head. “You sure didn't give a shit about helping me yesterday morning when I thought my daughter was out there somewhere raped and murdered.”

  “I was only trying to keep Robbie out of trouble,” I say a few seconds before his fist flies out. I snatch it up with my right hand and push him back, so that we're both standing on the front porch. “Mr. Carrell, I don't particularly enjoy engaging in fistfights on my own front porch. If you'd kindly leave,” I force myself not to grit my teeth on the word, “I'd much appreciate it.”

  “You fucked my daughter,” he says, and the words surprise me. I am getting sick and fucking tired of being surprised. “You fucked my baby girl.” The words spewing from his lips send me into a sky high rage, one where I'm seeing swirls of red and violet that block off my true view of the world.

  “She's hardly a baby,” I snap when all I should be doing is denying the accusations. “Legally, she's an adult.”

  “Like hell she is,” Mr. Carrell screams, charging at my midsection. I manage to push him back, letting him fall to his ass without harming him in any way. I have to keep this tame for everyone's sake – especially Robbie's.

  “And I didn't 'fuck' her,” I say, making quotes with my fingers. “All I did was keep her here until the drunk wore off.”

  “She says she's in love with you,” Mr. Carrell snarls, wiping at his suddenly sweaty face. When he looks up at me, all I see is hate burning bright, the same hatred that spurs me to find men like my father, like Audra's father, like Mark and blight them from this earth. “In love. My baby. With a grown ass man. What is wrong with you?” His words cut me, even though I pretend they don't, that I don't care, that it really is possible to be a teenager again. As if I really could start over and have a fucking life.

  “Dad!” It's Robbie this time, running up the steps with a red fa
ce and eyes blazing with shame. I know she didn't tell him explicitly what might've happened between us, but she did admit her feelings and that was enough for him to put two and two together. Love? She can't possibly feel that way about me. We may have lived next door to one another for years, but we weren't that close. Only recently have we even spent more than a few minutes together. It's not possible, not for her, not for me, and I feel sick to my stomach for even hoping deep down that it could be true, someday at least if not today. “What are you doing over here? I told you, he didn't lay a finger on me. I just like Luke, okay?”

  “Baby, you don't know what you're saying.” Mr. Carrell stands up and turns his back on me, pleading with his daughter in a strained voice. He must sense the darkness inside of me. Most people can. It's what makes them squirm when we're alone in an elevator together. They can't know that I'm one of only a few like this that won't hurt them, not unless they pay for the privilege or they've done something to deserve it. “You've been brainwashed.”

  “Dad, stop! Leave it alone and go home. I can't even believe you came over here.”

  “Robbie,” I say, trying to cut through the tension on the porch. When she turns to look at me, her hair billows across her face, breaking up the brilliant blue sheen of her eyes, the determined set of her mouth. My erection only gets worse, and when he turns around, Mr. Carrell seems almost as aware of it as I am.

  “I should have you arrested,” he snarls, nearly foaming at the mouth. I try to keep my calm, but when Robbie's around, I can't seem to do it. That sharp spike of fear cuts into my heart again, and I have to wonder if that's really a good thing. Why should I want to be afraid? So I can be broken again? So I can suffer the way I did when Aliyah was killed? I stare at Robbie, and I try to make her not matter, to relegate her back to the generic neighbor that she was before. I can't do it.

  I squeeze my fists at my sides.

  “Not something you're capable of,” I snap back. “Considering I haven't done anything illegal.”

  “Except lie to the cops,” Mr. Carrell – whose first name I can't remember for the life of me – snaps back. I keep my eyes on Robbie, her hair flickering around her face, hands shaking at her sides.

  “And so essentially none of your damn business,” I bark back, knowing now that I have to take Audra up on her suggestion. I'm too angry, too riled up, and if I don't want to explode and tear Mr. Carrell's face off, I have to promise the demons blood. “Now get off my porch and go home before it becomes my turn to call the police.”

  “You are fucking sick, do you hear me? And whether or not you've done anything illegal doesn't matter. As soon as this neighborhood finds out what you've done, you're gone. We won't stand for having a predator at our backs waiting to prey on young girls.”

  “That's enough!” Robbie screeches, clenching her fists tight and moving up the steps to stand next to me. “Dad, Luke saved me. I was drunk off my ass, and Jules was trying to have sex with me, even though I said no. He was halfway done unbuckling his jeans when Luke showed up.”

  Her dad's face registers absolutely zero belief in this statement.

  “You're right, Robbie. That is enough. Let's go.”

  “I want to talk to Luke for a second.”

  “Like hell you will.” Mr. Carrell grabs his daughter's wrist a split second before I grab his and pry it off, shoving him back to stumble against the ivy covered trellis I love so Goddamn much. What the fuck are you doing, you idiot? This won't end well for any of you. Swallow your pride, say goodbye to Robbie, and move on.

  “If she wants to speak with me, I'm inclined to listen.”

  Mr. Carrell goes white as a sheet, raising his hands as if in surrender. But I can see the expression on his face. It's anything but. The word war trumpets in the set of his lips, the pinch of his brows, the flicker of rage in his eyes.

  “You know what, Roberta, you are eighteen and technically, you are an adult. Here's what I'm going to do. You talk to Mr. Carter all you want, and when you're done, you make a decision.”

  “Dad … ”

  “Him or me. That's it, the real world, princess. I've tried to shield you from it, but if you insist on ignoring me, on doing … whatever it is you're doing with this guy then so be it.” He pauses and some of the anger leaves his face, leaving room for a gentle softness I never saw in my father. My fists unclench and I step back into the house, making myself invisible behind the curtains of the front window. In my heart of hearts, I want Robbie to pick her father. In the selfish inner depths where the demon resides, I want Robbie to pick me. Logically, I know there is no picking me, that I can't be a … boyfriend or whatever else Robbie wants or needs me to be. And I won't separate a family. It would be against the very nature of my darkness.

  “Honey,” I hear Mr. Carrell begin. I can imagine him putting his hands on Robbie's shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. “I love you, and I try to do right by you, but I can't sit by and watch you ruin your life.” He pauses and I hear Robbie begin to speak. “No. Listen to me. Don't feed me lies. You've been acting different this past week and trust me, I know you weren't up in your room all day yesterday. I get it, baby. Lucas is tall, he's handsome, he's well-spoken, but that's not what's important in life. Find someone your own age to fall in and out of love with, not someone like this. He's had his chance at life, Robbie. It's time for you to have yours.”

  My entire body goes stiff at his words, memories assaulting me like pellets, bleeding me dry onto the floor of my perfectly normal little suburban house, the same type of house I'd have probably owned if I'd married Aliyah, if we'd had kids, if I'd worked a nine to five. Would I have been happy like that? I don't know. There's absolutely no way for me to know because now I'm twisted, and there is no coming undone, not entirely. As much as I wish I were a teenager again, that I could somehow go back, that I could taste a snippet of what that life might've been like with Robbie, it's all a delusion. None of it is real. None of it.

  “Find someone my own age? Like Jules? Somebody who doesn't care about anything but themselves, who kisses like a Saint Bernard? I'm not just looking to fall in love, Dad. I'm not just experimenting. I don't know why everybody has such a hard time understanding this. I. Just. Like. Luke.”

  My heart speeds up so fast I feel dizzy, my cock hurts, my demons are screaming. Before Robbie can make whatever decision she's planning on making, I move over to the door, and I slam it shut.

  The Wild Tuna was previously famous for its special hemp T-shirts (handmade locally, of course), chia seed cakes, and vegan chocolate chip cookies. Nowadays it's known for girls, girls, girls, as the sign out front proclaims. Never having been a fan of hemp clothing or chia seeds, I hadn't noticed the decline of the grocery store. Admittedly the name seems to fit the establishment much better now.

  I frown at the scent of cigarette smoke that clings to the air here alongside desperation and heartache. This place is twice as pathetic as the one Mark was frequenting on the day he died, and ten times as packed. I lift my face up to the night sky and wonder how the stars, in their infinite beauty, can bother to be seen around such a place.

  “Hi Lucas.” The wheedling voice behind me doesn't draw my attention. I let Mrs. Braxton know how little she means to me by standing stone still as she walks up to me and puts her mouth on my throat. Once she's finished sucking at me, with no discernible reaction, she starts to get huffy and I finally glance over at her.

  “You're late.”

  “Only by twenty minutes,” she whines, as I look over her outfit. Same bleach blonde hair, terrible orange tan, and watery blue eyes. Same cheap orange dress with sparkles and white high heels, in patent leather. Clarice looks like she works here, not as the exclusive whore for some middle-aged white guy with a billion bucks in the bank. “Why did I have to park so far away, anyhow? I hate walking in heels.” I ignore the simpering and the idiocy and glance around for Audra Holiday. Clarice doesn't know she's here, but then, that doesn't really matter. She's here now, and I k
now she won't leave, not until she's had a taste of me. Unfortunately for her, that's not coming, but she doesn't need to know that.

  I spot Audra standing near the door in another black dress, one that's even shorter than the last – if that's even possible. Men swarm around her, but she doesn't look worried. Instead, she catches me staring and smiles, holding up a beer in salute.

  “What the fuck is she doing here?” Clarice asks, grappling onto my arm like some sort of undersea creature, a trophy wife crab with claws clinging to me in desperation. “This is supposed to be us, Lucas. I didn't invite her.”

  “You'll invite whoever I say you'll invite, Clarice, and you'll do whatever I ask. That's how it's always been, and that's how it's going to remain, despite the fact that you're blackmailing me. I am still in charge here.” I grab her roughly around the waist and put my mouth close to her ear. “You like blood, don't you, Clarice? And pain? You like to quiet the darkness, for just a moment, even a second. No matter what you have to do, it's worth it, isn't it?”

  “Yes,” she squeaks, reaching down to cup my crotch through my pants. I let her fondle my flaccid dick for a few moments before I pull away and start across the street with Clarice tottering behind me. “Lucas!” she babbles as she struggles to catch up.

  “You're look stunning, as per usual,” I tell Audra, catching sight of the engagement ring still gleaming on her finger. After the fiasco with Robbie and her father, I wanted to see Audra more than ever. She's like the friend I never had, the one I could confess my darkness to. As soon as she smiles at me, I kiss her mouth hard, pushing back the sounds of Robbie pounding on my doors and windows, the gentle whisper of her sobs when I walked outside and pushed her away.

  I can't have her. Not even if I want to. I have to face reality.