The Goodbye Girl (Red Market Series Book 2)

by A. Giannoccaro

  “Can you stick me back together, little dolly? Like glue.” I ask her while my fingers comb through her hair.

  “I have lost my Lettie Doll and I don’t know how to survive without her. Put the pieces together for me.

  “I have fallen apart.” I rest my head on the bed next to hers and try to find some peace, just enough to sleep for a while.

  I drape her little arm over my shoulders and snuggle my head into her neck. Her sterile smell soothes me into a light doze, I need more. I need more of them I need to fill this place with beautiful girls like her. Not gutter rats and whores - perfect little dolls. I want to line them up in straight rows and love them to death. I dream of a place filled with hundreds of silent lovers for me to have.

  When I wake from my short lived slumber, the temptation is too much. She is too small so I start to look around the room to find the older girl that came in with her. She will do for what I need right now.

  “Mateo,” I hear Hugo call before I get to the girl I want to fuck.

  “What?” I yell back at him, frustrated at the intrusion into my world.

  “We need to talk. The team wants to start harvesting tomorrow . I have recipients arriving for direct transplants in the afternoon.” He is close to me now, here between my girls.

  “No. We aren’t ready yet,” I answer him. The panic of losing another one is making me uneasy. I start grinding my teeth and I feel my eye twitching at the corner.

  “Mateo, it wasn’t a question. The plans are all in place. You need to get yourself together.” In that one second I would like nothing more than to kill him and fuck his corpse. Then I would need to do all the dirty work and I have never been one to do more than I need to. Hugo is irreplaceable, because no one really knows what he does.

  “Lettie is gone. Let’s just focus on work.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me - nothing can comfort what’s inside me.

  “Fine. Do whatever, but fill those beds fast. We need more. We need more of them, as many as you can get. Not whores, ones like the two we got today.” I shake my head towards the little blond doll that is mine.

  “You know those are the expensive kind?” He looks confused.

  “Are we short of money, Hugo? If not, I don’t want cheap bodies in these beds.” I walk past him back to my newest lover and sit beside her. She is so beautiful my porcelain doll, just like the one my abuela would never let me touch.

  My hand is in my pants before long as I relieve my tension and kiss her sweet mouth. The guilt consumes me almost right away. I miss my Lettie. I miss her kissing me back, but I love the dead kisses of them too. I am being slowly torn into two halves, like a paper pulled apart I can hear my sanity as it is ripped down the middle. I leave my little porcelain doll and go to the office to start working on business.

  There is a note on my desk again, this one is a little different. There is a picture clipped to it.

  I have your little spy. You better tell Caesar someone is looking for him.

  I know what you do in there.

  My doll is breaking again; I can see it in her eyes as they stare into his camera, hollow and lost. Lettie is dead inside. I want her back. She is mine. His notes torment me and keep me from moving on. Our lives were fine before Lettie. I should be fine without her, but I’m not and that makes me angry and bitter. I shove the note in a drawer with all the others and start to schedule harvests and transplants. I am not running after her, she left me. Dead girls cannot leave so I’ll love them now, I have no love left for living things. Even fucking Caesar left me, he just left! I am always left behind.

  I want more, more bodies to love, more of them to be mine. I want the ones that cannot leave me behind unless I say goodbye. I want to be in control, I need to find the order in this chaos. Lettie has gone and life needs to go back to the way it was before. She has ruined everything.

  There is music playing in the office, something that would have sent Caesar straight off the edge of sanity and got someone killed. I like it, the soft tones soothe the anxiety and make me calmer. I look around the untidy space and for one minute I miss Juan until I remember his betrayal. This is his fault too, this is all because Caesar wanted to save the gnat. He wanted to keep him alive. I should have put him in the furnace myself. He was a disaster; him and Lettie have ruined us. Ruined me. Destroyed everything, now I’m stuck in this shit hole place worse than even Hunts Point and I am going mad. I start to tidy the office. The uncontrolled need for order overtakes me and I get lost in the monotony of the menial tasks. I feel the sickness that resides in me start to scratch and try to find a way out. I need to go and find something to stop it, I need to exorcise it from me again. I need to go play.

  My phone stops me halfway to the solace I seek.

  “Hola, this is Mateo.” The answer is like sweet music to my ears when I hear his voice, I am not alone, he is out there. He is coming back. He is angry, he wants her back, but I think we are going to be happier without her, we were all happy before her.

  I celebrate my joy at the news of his return with a sweet lover in the waiting room. She will die soon and I had chance to enjoy her for the last time.

  Svetlana

  The Devil peeled back the memories in an ill attempt to fracture the little lamb,

  but she couldn’t be broken. She was built to live in the fire.

  My head aches and my arm has stopped bleeding. The shackles that kept me bound to the brick wall have been freed as the cold metal is absent from my skin. Pain has become a friend to me as the man who has held me captive wants answers that I don’t have. Conclusions that I don’t want to face greet me; the man that loved me like no one has before left. Forbidden love was felt, but vanished. I suppose it is better to love and be loved than to never have felt it before. My life could be worse. I’d like to think that Mateo is searching for me in a frenzied state, but he isn’t capable of feeling, not even when he was with me.

  I knew my words would ignite something inside of the devil-man who tried to convince me he wanted to save me. I’ve heard those words before and seen the look previously, the same one he wears. Pavel used to gaze at me like that, like he was merely tolerating me and keeping me alive for his benefit. That is what I am to this man. A benefit for information on the whereabouts of Caesar, but I don’t know where he is. I only wore the crown of a princess for a brief amount of time before I was stripped of it and thrown to the ghastly elements that I am accustomed to.

  I let a loud laugh escape me as Arturo straddles my dwindling body, the dirt beneath me turning into mud as I urinate on myself from the inability to hold it in any longer. The thick stench of shit and piss makes me cackle further as I understand I am right where I was destined to be; hell on Earth.

  My words were not spoken for the devil-man. No. They rolled off my tongue in an effort to let my body drive itself to fight through this disgusting fire. My energy is depleting with each passing second and all I have to rely on is the crazy that I have come to admire. My unstable ways are what will keep me alive. Soon, I will embrace them. I will fight. I will become victorious, despite the hurt that will soon ensue. I feel it deep down in my bones, my tiny little bones that are being crushed by the weight of the man that sits on top of me, pushing the deadly blade to my pulsating vein. Silly man. I know he can kill me. He thinks that this is a gesture of control. Little does this fucker understand is I have been through much worse.

  I was forced to go through unthinkable sex acts at a young age, raped by my father, well… step-father, and let’s not forget the times I had two dicks shoved in my cunt and ass at once. I was only fourteen when that happened. I thought I would die as I laid there bleeding in an abandoned building, being serenaded by the dripping pipes as I drifted off to sleep. But that fucked up lullaby wouldn’t last. I would wake up to another nightmare, and relive it over and over again.

  “You part of them?” Arturo shouts, pushing the blade harder onto my throat.

  I laugh louder as my finger
s dig themselves into the dirt of the dilapidated shit-hole that I have been kept in. I stare into the dark eyes that wish to kill me. A glint of something unfamiliar dashes across them and I decide to push him further. My chin dips down slightly as I feel the blade slice my skin just enough to make the surface bleed. Arturo immediately withdrawals the knife, slapping me across the face with his free hand.

  “Stupid, perra! Speak! Tell me where they at!” he boasts, his voice echoing throughout the tiny room, leaving my ears ringing.

  I don’t offer him a return, because the answer is simple. I don’t know. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell him. My recklessness is the only thing that gives me strength to live. Though if I do make it out of here alive, I have no idea what my plans will be. I only know I will die trying to find the only cause I was given…

  “I always say I would skin Caesar’s kids alive if he have any. Guess I know now, sick perra.”

  It’s ironic to reach a moment of such tranquility now, but my pain subsides, both physical and mental as I hear him mutter his name. I want to tell him that his Mexican accent isn’t articulating it properly, but I bite my tongue and prepare myself for the aching that is inevitable. My skin was born thick. My heart was born broken, and my body was created to be mutilated.

  Arturo’s free hand grasps my cheeks, his body not able to take the rage that he feels. I see the intensity burning deep under his pools, the same kind I have seen in the monsters and lovers I have taken and been subjected to. His face is shaking from the madness that is encasing him. He has a story, just as we all do, and I am at the mercy of its end.

  “I will make you sorry to be alive today, puta.”

  My head is yanked up by force as I continue to remain unaffected by the torment that is soon to sink its claws into me, threatening to suffocate me with death. The sharpness of the knife is pushed to my sternum, slicing my shirt off my body, leaving me fully exposed and at his mercy. I was clothed in nothing more than a shirt, and couldn’t recall what happened to my pants. Underwear was always a luxury, and though Mateo provided me with a drawer full, I never put them on.

  I’m in between the vicious balance of reality and numbness, both of which I don’t wish for. I only hope that I can find the only decency that I was shown, despite its dysfunctional ways. It was mine and I am not ready to let it go. I need the power to find me, to fill me up with madness and courage and fight.

  Fight. I was born to fight.

  The cold blade meets my skin once more, the bitter metal dancing across my bruised and broken body speaking a deadly language of its own. Arturo forces my legs open, my cunt holds the cruel reminders of what I have lived through. His hellacious grin pulls me in, giving me no other choice but to watch him stare at me. The gold teeth that fill his mouth shine, showing me a false illusion of what he is capable of. He is the weapon and I am the wound.

  The sharp edge meets my pussy and my womb constricts. I am a creature that was put in this world to be stabbed and fucked by the bad guys. I am proof that hell on Earth does exist, because I have lived through it. I bear the scars of the monsters that are filled with fury and hate. Disdain and murderous ways.

  Apparently, this is another test to see how strong I am.

  I look over to his forearm and my heart swells with pride as my gaze memorizes my crooked bite mark that is still oozing blood. I allow a small grin to appear on the edges of my lips. I let myself laugh again as I am pushed off the edge of balancing. I let my lunacy take over as I enjoy the fall.

  Arturo breaks. He pushes my legs further apart, letting the blade graze over my pussy lips, threatening to make small cuts enough to make me cry out for him to stop. Pain rises to the surface, my old constant friend is the only one who has always been there. I let it reassure me as the blade taps over my old scars, remembrances flooding my mind of burnt skin and loving touches. Torture overcomes my brain as Arturo takes my lip in between his two fingers, pinching hard until I cry out further as terror fills me up enough for me to burst. He takes his knife and puts it to my skin again, this time laughing wildly and chanting aloud in Spanish. I wait as time stands still. Wait for the mutilation that has been part of my life for as long as I can remember, but it doesn’t come. Fucking coward. My tears stain my face as I stare up at the dirty concrete ceiling. The humming of the taxis and people shouting outside are calming the horror that surrounds me along with the pain that is destined to prowl its way up my body, threatening to consume me fully, taking me away from what I want to fight for.

  “You ready to talk yet, puta?” Arturo whispers, letting my pussy lip free.

  I briefly look at him as he gives my stomach a gentle kiss. Bile begins to burn my throat, and while I am usually good at controlling my bodily functions, my systems are sluggish and I can’t help it. I let the vomit escape my mouth. I cough and spit the puke free, the taste repulsive and vile. I attempt to look at him again, telling myself that this will give me strength to fight, but I fear that will only be a lie. His face makes its way between my legs, and for a second, his face looks like he is admiring me. But he is a creature of torment and dread.

  His look is instantly replaced with hate. He spits on my cunt, then takes a closed fist and beats me violently between my thighs. The air in my lungs leaves me winded as I attempt to catch my breath, but it’s useless as his meanness devours us both. The blackness that wants to siphon my bout tickles my heart, telling me it’s okay to give up. I’m just a fruitless little flea in the grand scheme of things; the little one will never be good enough in a world of demons.

  With another blow, I heave again and choke. My vision grows cloudy, but something is pulling me back. It’s like déjà vu all over again. I swear I can feel cockroaches swimming under me with heat between my legs as Pavel condemns me for existing, but I move my hands with much effort and all I can sense is the dirt and mud. I try one last time to take a deep breath, telling myself that I will return to the dark legends who my heart belongs to, but I fear that they, too, may be too lost to fix.

  Perhaps we are all too far gone. Maybe we are facing the fall of our dysfunctional empire.

  “Beating your filthy cunt won’t work. That’s what whores like you made of.”

  Arturo flips me onto my stomach, which surprisingly allows the wind to enter my lungs easier. More vomit leaves me as I cough, blowing chunks out of my nose and mouth. He raises my hips into the air, my throbbing pussy staring him in the face and at his pity for more abuse that he thinks I deserve.

  “If you not such a dirty, scarred up skank, you’d be pretty.”

  My naked body is a canvas for the wickedness that he is soon to paint with blood and gore. Sharp, shooting hurt starts at the base of my neck and my body goes limp as my eyes stay awake, staring at the disgusting mud made by my fluids. If I didn’t know better, before Caesar and Mateo, this would be my normal and only version of life. I wouldn’t know how else to be treated. At least I was given glimpses of dignity and shards of love.

  I consider that while thinking about how easy it would be to give up and allow the end to hug me. That would be the road without twists and turns, one that starts with an open door as Arturo holds the key. But I don’t do easy. My strong heart has fought since I was birthed into this world that has given me every reason to die. Instead, I choose the door that is locked. I have to search for the key as my body is subjected to more lewd acts and awful exploitation.

  Fighting is what I was made for, not mutilation. I was made for their love, and I will be damned if I let that slip through the cracks of my dying heart.

  The knife threatens to tear into the skin of my back again, and I try to scream out, but the aching is too great from his repeated punches, and my cry is silent. Tears are inevitable as they stain my dirty face. Arturo laughs as the blade taps over my marred body, again frightening me as he mocks me, letting me know he can carve along my back at any moment.

  The agony of death is disbarred from me as I hear the clink of metal being tossed across the cel
l and a twinkle shines in the corner of the room as his shouts become a distance reminder of that hate that has been shown to me. My eyes continue to study the blade that is covered in the most beautiful shade of red. My life clings onto the deadly vane as I hang in the balance too, willing myself to battle just a little longer until I understand how to get out of here and past this terrible man. The puncture wound in my arm no longer hurts and I’m calm. It becomes easy as I face peace once again, but it’s a game of manipulation, and one I am not ready to lose.

  I hear Arturo’s zipper unfasten and his touch on my back. I want to float on to another time when my barred lover took me gently, sweetly like no one has ever loved me before, but I worry that even those times were nothing but dreams.

  Arturo spits on me again, slapping my bare ass. The pain that I used to hold on to is gone, wrestling along between then and now, just as I am.

  “Speak now, and I may let you live, little one.”

  His cock prods my entrance and I shut my eyes for a moment, thinking back to the first time Mateo took me and the innocence he had in his eyes. He gave me something he never had given someone before. His heart. His love. His soul. I have to have that again, but I am not sure how. The craziness I wish for is sluggishly leaving me.

  The once awe-consuming discomfort is dissipating like a steady wave in the ocean, soothing me with the certainty of death. I open my eyes as Arturo rams his dick inside of my abused cunt.

  “Love does not deceive…” my words trail off into whispers, and for a second, I swear I can see Caesar sitting in the corner with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.