The Goodbye Girl (Red Market Series Book 2)

by A. Giannoccaro

  All that has changed since her. I want her to die, but I also want to love her. She won’t ever love me like she loves Caesar. I saw it. I looked behind the smudged glass doors as he fucked her like the dirty whore she was born to be, covered in shit or not, she was still beautiful despite all her flaws. I studied her, in all of her marked, disgusting glory. Her messy, untamed ways make me nervous, but part of me finds myself wanting to pull her back to me.

  I’m lying to myself, but I worry if I expel the truth, she will destroy me. Her soft touch cuts me open like a million razorblades. Her quiet moans when her hands grazed my body set my demons free, but they were the only friends I have had. They were the only constant. How can I let those go? How can my dysfunctional disorder be reversed with the truth?

  I want to love her, but I want her to die.

  I smoke another cigarette and contemplate pouring a glass of brandy, but I don’t. I have never been closer to losing control, and I, myself, cannot be trusted. This stupid hole that I am in is making me sick, it's outdated and dirty quarters are anyone’s nightmare. I have to withhold the urge to clean and organize as my eyes study all the mess.

  I take another puff of my cigarette, treading into the kitchenette to gather advice from my little doll. Maybe if I hold her for a while, I will feel comforted by the fears of my past. I need to know that who I am will stay. I cannot go back to a love that will leave me. If I do, I am sure to go all sorts of crazy. I don’t trust myself.

  I open the freezer, and my heart immediately speeds up as I begin to sweat. I disregard my need for order as I toss my cig onto the floor when my eyes meet the glass jar with the faint color of brownish red inside of it. Soon I will have my little doll’s heart in my hands and the pieces that I have lost will come back together again, making me whole. Lettie tore me apart and my doll will put me back together.

  My shaking hands reach out, meeting the cold of the freezer as I grasp onto the chilly glass. I find myself wanting to smile and kiss her as my jagged edges slowly start to mend, but deep down I know this is only temporary. The insanity that devours me will always be present, and the only remedy that I have ever known is slowly dying on a bed beneath me.

  I want to love her, but I want her to die.

  I pull the glass jar from the freezer, quickly closing it, and hold it to my chest as my body descends to the ground like melting wax. The anxiety I once had is gone, floating away into nothingness as I hold my dolly’s heart near mine.

  “Hello, little dolly. Have you missed me?” I whisper, slowly rocking back and forth, hugging her like a child would hug a lost teddy bear.

  I close my eyes as the icy glass is hard-pressed to my chest, images of her slight body and whispering hair pulling me back to the past that is the only relief I have known. I loved this little dolly, and Caesar took her from me before I could show her. But it doesn’t matter now, because she can’t leave me. I imagine her tiny body and pale lips, motionless against mine; a flawless dream swinging about in my fucked up mind.

  “You can fix me, little dolly, because you won’t ever leave me like her. Right?” I plead, still trying to grasp onto this hopeless love as I clench my eyes together, swaying back and forth on top of the dirty ground.

  My ears whoosh, and for a moment I swear I can hear whispers from her, the lover that left me. The only one that I let love me.

  Save me, Mateo.

  My insanity is unstoppable. I can’t handle this disorder. I can’t take the chaos. I need death. I have to have it. With that, it means that I will never be left. People can’t make me feel like I am fucked up or not good enough. I shake my head as my eyes dart open, checking around me to ensure that I am alone.

  I love her, but I want her to die.

  I huddle into the fetal position on the ground, grasping the cool jar closer to my heart. I plant my lips on the top, kissing my little dolly who was epitome of perfection.

  “I love you, little dolly. We can be together forever,” I promise, trying to curl tighter in a ball. I am losing my mind further and further as time passes.

  I close my eyes again, trying to imagine better times without the threat of weaknesses and pandemonium, dead and motionless lovers beneath me; dry cunts and pale lips. My cock throbs as I think of my perfect dolly and I lie on my back and unzip my jeans, taking one hand to free my cock.

  “Oh, little dolly. You are so perfect,” I murmur, fisting myself as I try to convince myself that she is all that I need.

  My heart betrays me as I see a familiar shadow in the distance; her dark hair and eyes pulling me in, not giving me a choice. Lettie may have submitted to me, but my heart and soul submitted to her in every way. I can’t let go of it as much as I want to. Her naked body is covered with stories of her life, every scar representing ways she wanted to die, but she didn’t. She lived. What for? For me? Did she live for me? No, no! She will leave me!

  I want to love her, but I want her to die!

  I continue fisting myself until I explode in my hand, clutching the jar of my little dead dolly with my free hand. I need to rectify this situation the only way I know how. I have to go to Lettie, to kill her and then love her. Then, my life will go back to the way it was. Clean, straight lines without the confusion and risk of separation. There will not be questions if I am good enough to be loved, because my dead lovers have no choice or words to tell me so.

  I wipe my hand on my jeans and zip them up, kissing the jar that holds the heart of faultlessness and forever.

  “Goodbye, little dolly.”

  I put her back in the freezer and grab my picking set.

  As I head downstairs, I make sure that Hugo and Caesar aren’t around. The business that was once formed on loyalty and family is falling apart all because of her. I was given instructions from my abuela, but something about her demands tells me that she has other motives. She doesn’t have the ability to care for others. She is likely more fucked than any of us.

  My footsteps echo slightly, but my ears are on high-alert. I don’t hear anyone else around as I reach the door to where Lettie sleeps. I pull my picking set from my pocket. Caesar must have lost his mind if he didn’t think that I was capable of getting something that I want. I did, after all, grow up in Hunts Point, the place where the grime of the world is birthed and learned.

  The little pieces of metal click and pick the lock, and once I hear the ominous click of the door unlocking, my heart drums in my ears and I push it open without any regard.

  “No puedes estar aquí!” the short doctor says to me, quickly standing from his stool and setting the clipboard down.

  Smart man, knows I shouldn’t be in here…

  I smile at him, turning my head to the side as I grab the sharp pick from my pocket. He starts to walk towards me with furrowed brows. Stupid fucker thinks he holds some sort of seniority in this place. One of the biggest mistakes you can make while working for this family is thinking that you matter.

  I remain silent as a smile splays across my face. I want so badly to look over at Lettie, but I know she will pull me into a place that I won’t be able to return from. I need to get rid of this fucker first.

  “Fuera!” he yells, almost deafening me.

  I grab ahold of the metal in my pocket tighter, and as he reaches me, my other hand grabs him around the neck. His eyes bulge as his arms flail, begging for mercy while his breath fails to find his lungs. I smile wider. I take the pick from my pocket and stab it hard into his chest over his heart, watching and admiring as the blood and life leave his body. The thrashing of his arms dissipates and he goes limp. I let him fall to floor, and I wipe the blood on my jeans, immediately turning back to lock the door and put a metal chair under the handle so no one can enter.

  My heart, again, starts to speed up as the reunion that I have both wanted and despised is imminent. My eyes meet the light shining over her body, the wiring connected to her and the monitors are beeping in equal waves, easing my anxiety slightly. A stark white sheet is covering her
, blanketing her with a false sense of protection. My hand that holds the pick shakes as I confront what I want, the death of the only lover that loved me back. But she left me. That pain is far greater than anything else.

  I walk over to her, admiring the state she is in. Her battered lips are parted slightly. Her skin is pale and she is maimed, but that is what she is used to. I want to love her, but I also want her to die. I gently press my lips against hers as the pick meets her neck, the gentle pulsating from her vein is felt under my killing tool. I kiss her cold lips, sweeping my tongue against her unmoving one. My lips part from hers and I take another second to admire her beautiful face. I make the decision that has haunted me, splitting me apart since she has entered my world. God help me, what I am about to do is sure to destroy the man that I am.

  “Lettie Doll, why do you do this to me? I love you, but I want you to die.”

  Mateo

  Loving Death.

  There is so much I have lost in life, and I haven’t ever cared much. Not until now as my eyes dance over the destroyed princess beneath me. Her bruised and beaten skin makes me hard. It distracts me from what I am used to. The familiarity of death is no longer comforting. Instead, I am left confused as my killing tool lies hard-pressed against her petite throat. With every beat of her heart, I am reminded, once again, that she is fighting for something. My mind is playing against me while I think that I could be that reason.

  No.

  I am just a fucked up man who can be fulfilled by nothing more than death. Death equals love. I am rehearsed as I try to tell myself that over and over in my head. My heart speeds up in my chest as my hand weakens, my once strong fingers losing their grip on the sharp piece of metal as sweat accumulates on my palm. My vision is influenced by the girl below me. I want to look away, at something, anything, but my heart is submitting to her, even when she isn’t conscious. I am hers whether I like it or not.

  I just want to be loved.

  How is possible to feel so many things at the same time? Love and hatred? Life and death? I want her to live, but I want her to die. I want to fuck her, but I want to beat her.

  I drop the sharp metal pick and gently peel the sheet back, taking a second to admire her naked body. She has dozens of black and blue bruises dusted over most of her, pain will find her no matter where she goes. I am unstable. I cannot promise I will not hurt her, but I am far too selfish not to try. I need this moment; to feel her under me… almost lifeless. If she makes it through this, she may try to run.

  Run. They all love and run.

  Anxiety plagues me again and I feel my mind turning red as the thought of decency leaves me instantly, replacing it with anger. I was birthed into a world fueled by hatred and dysfunction, and here I am, feeling the desire to be fed by it.

  “You should have never loved me, Lettie Doll,” I whisper, gently stroking her cheek as her shallow respirations supply her body with a useless life.

  “I warned you, but you left me despite that. You left me, Lettie Doll, and now I am broken,” my words grow harder by the second as I grab onto her small breast, kneading it with care. Even I am surprised with my lenient actions.

  “I love you, Lettie Doll. Can you put my pieces back together?”

  My mouth bends down to her scarred nipple and I bite and suck like she would enjoy if she were awake. Images of her sprawled underneath me as her moans tap through my ears and play with the demons that threaten to take me away from what I want, what I think I don’t deserve or what I think I am not capable of.

  Love.

  I part my mouth from her defaced body, my eyes deceiving me again as I look at every mark on her skin.

  “I don’t think anyone can fix me, Lettie Doll. I think I can love you better if you were dead. Everyone’s lives would be easier, even yours. You wouldn’t have to fight anymore.”

  I stand, freeing myself from my shirt and jeans, releasing myself from the confines of my clothes as I prepare for the final reunion with my Lettie Doll. I am telling myself that this is how she would want to go out of this world, loved and appreciated. Not raped or beaten. I will give her the farewell that she has craved for so long. I will be her Goodbye Man, not him. I want to see her pretty brown eyes one last time.

  I walk over to the I.V. pole and turn off the outdated pump, taking a chance that will likely fuck me up more than I already am. I’ve seen the devil, hell, I’ve been raised by him, still I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my life. It’s one thing to take lives, but to suck away one that has done something for you like no one else has before, that is like poison and knives. I’d murder a million more before ever having to deal with this again.

  My rough fingers browse over her soft flesh, memories betraying me again. I scream out loud without any care. This tug-of-war between then and now, amongst what I want and what I have to do is too fucking much. I feel my ears pop and my heart break. My gentleness is no more. The monster that I truly am has come out and the love is gone, because it isn’t real. It never stays. It is nothing but a fairytale, one that is never truly experienced. It makes the crazy crazier and the lost ones hopeless. Death is the only cure for all.

  I rip her I.V. line from her arm, watching as a stream of red slowly runs from the bend of her elbow. My naked body descends down to the cold concrete floor as the realization I have been running from hits me like a freight train. I raise onto my knees as my lips meet her skin while the blood washes over my tongue, fulfilling what will soon be hungry again. The pain will never disappear. This is merely the remedy for her. For me, it is my downfall. This is the start of my personal hell. There will be no more whispers and false promises to dollies awaiting their departure as my tio accepts my fucked up nature.

  No.

  That man is gone. My heart will die with hers. My body may survive, but I will not exist in the same kind of world after I commit what I know I have to.

  I climb on top of her, pushing her knees apart as I wait for her to stir slightly. The medication that is usually used to keep the bodies asleep takes about fifteen minutes to wear off. Her chest continues to move up and down faintly, but that will end soon when I wrap my hand around her tiny neck. I just need her to know that I tried. I tried to love her like others would, but I am not normal. I am dangerous. I am unstable, and most of all, I am unlovable.

  I slide my hard cock inside of her cunt, which is dry. I am not delicate as I immediately thrust my hips inside of her. The rage and pain that I feel slowly leave me with each hard hilt of my cock inside of her. Warm liquid coats me, and I smile when I realize that I have made her bleed.

  “I tried, Lettie Doll,” I pant as my hand grazes over bruised flesh until it threatens to grasp her neck.

  I feel her body twitching under me and my eyes zero in on hers as they stir and try to open. With that understanding, I push myself deeper inside of her. I want to hurt her like she has hurt me. My hard cock digs deep into her womb as I, a monster myself, mark and mutilate her just as others have.

  “But I can’t love you like that. I can’t-,” I pant.

  I still inside of her as her mouth parts. A soft whimper escapes, making me remember times we shared before, whether I punished her or took her like she enjoyed. I don’t like these games. I can’t handle it. I am being splintered into a million tiny pieces. Pieces that Lettie shattered. I never dreamt that I would want life any other way, not until her. But the life I wished for is no longer valid.

  Lettie’s eyes lazily open as her arms make their way to my upper chest. She flails around like a drunken girl, a result for the benzos that were coursing through her veins.

  “Mat-,” she croaks.

  Her voice slices me apart further. Anger bathes me, and before I can understand what’s happening, my hand meets her face as the sound of skin on skin echoes heavily through the air. I see myself slapping her in the face over and over, yet she doesn’t fight. Even in such a state, she submits to me.

  I continue to fuck her cunt without reg
ard, trying to convince myself that she is nothing but a soon-to-be dead lover whose story will shortly end, but I would be lying to myself. Her eyes widen completely as she stares at me, taking it like the whore she was trained to be.

  “I love you, but you have to die, Lettie Doll.”

  I wrap my hand around her neck, spurting myself inside of her as her stare threatens to take me away from the cold world that has made me understand the harsh reality that I have denied. Her stare makes me weak. Her touch makes me human. And her love makes me whole.

  “Goodbye, Lettie Doll.”

  Svetlana

  I was born to die.

  I never would have admitted this before, well, before I thought about love, but as I lick death again, it’s at this moment in time when I come to the ultimate conclusion that this has been my only kind of peace. The nearness of paradise, lacking pain and punishment, threatens to greet me, awakening the grace that I never knew I could grasp onto, just as I am prepared to say goodbye. Those few moments that the tingling of death sinks itself into me are serene. The war of the world silences itself from my ears and my senses shut down as my body preps itself to die. My heart slows, thump, thump, thump, a melody that makes me understand life still hangs in the balance as the delightful blackness I have so long begged for hazes around my eyes, making me mute to the idea that life could be anything more than brutality and shame.

  The man sucking the life out of me from above promised me something once. He promised to love me if I never left him. He never asked what I wanted from life. Mateo never knew anything else other than the fact that I am damaged goods; useless, unlovable trash.