The Halloween Girl

by O'Brien, Jeff

  “Hi,” he said to Cassie as he passed her stoop.

  “Hi,” she said back, barely audibly. She hadn’t realized just how choked up she had gotten until she tried to speak. This often happened when she saw Tommy.

  She knew that he had a little-boy-crush on her. And some part of her that she wasn’t quite comfortable with wished he were older. He already had a few very important things down that Cassie believed every man should. For starters, the kid was always wearing a heavy metal t-shirt. For a ten year old boy, that was pretty impressive. And she also heard him blasting Metallica and Iron Maiden from his bedroom sometimes. But more importantly, she just somehow knew that the kid was pure of heart and had not an evil intention anywhere within him.

  Growing up the way she had, Cassie had seen abusive, alcoholic parents turn both of her brothers into mean spirited criminals and drug addicts. Sometimes Cassie even found herself struggling not to let her past get the best of her in that way. But in little Tommy Sullivan, there just wasn’t even a hint of anything malevolent going on behind those eyes.

  She knew she would be thinking of him a lot that day. And as she watched him walk up the street, his backpack getting smaller and smaller like the tail lights on a car, decided she would do whatever she could to save the boy.

  ***

  “Okay, Sammie. Tell me what you think?”

  Cassie stepped out of her bathroom and into the kitchen, doing her best impression of a runway model.

  “Shit, Cass!” Sammie said, truly impressed. “Maybe it’s just the booze but you look like you just stepped out of an Anne Rice novel…that she wrote while very horny.”

  “Isn’t that how she writes all her books? And I’d say that was probably the exact compliment I was fishing for, Sam,” Cassie said between giggles as she spun, making her dress twirl around her.

  She turned back around and admired herself in the bathroom mirror again. In her eyes were solid white contact lenses, giving her the real genuine undead feel. The makeup around her eyes was done with painstaking precision. Heavy black eye shadow adorned her eyelids and spread out beyond to her forehead, thinner and thinner the further up it went until a light shade of gray blended into the pale white skin of her forehead. Attached to her canines were two prosthetic fangs made from a shiny plastic that had the perfect tone of Hollywood-quality props. Fake blood dripped from the fangs and rested in drops along her chin and neck. And to finish the ensemble, a gorgeously designed black dress with a tight corset top and a ruffly, long and flowing bottom hung off her slim body.

  “Now that’s a vampire I’d let crawl into bed with me on Halloween night,” Sammie said and took another sip of vodka.

  “Slow your role, honey,” Cassie jokingly chided. “I may be single now but I’m not looking to get into your pants. I’m holding out hope that there might be at least one decent male in the club tonight.”

  “I’ll drink to that, Cass,” Sammie agreed and poured them both a shot of booze.

  “To my freedom!” Cassie bellowed as she grabbed for the shot glass. “To my emancipation from that scumbag. And lastly, to all the fucking fun us two girls are going to have tonight!”

  The two friends toasted and downed their shots in one rapid gulp, then cringed at the burning aftertaste.

  “Let’s do something other than vodka next time, okay?” Sammie suggested.

  “It was your selection, booze bag,” Cassie reminded her. “You know I’m a whiskey girl.”

  “Whatever, pal. I better get ready so we can get our asses out of here and tear up the dance floor.”

  “Good plan, Sam. I’ll call the cab while you’re in there getting sexy….but one more shot first.”

  After the next shot, Cassie went and looked up cab numbers in the phone book while Sammie readied herself for their night out. She had been feeling so great all day and started to really enjoy the peace of mind she finally had after being a punching bag for so long. The warm, alcoholic fuzz that coated her brain helped her ease into these pleasant feelings.

  But, Cassie felt apprehension lingering among the good vibes. And her hesitance to embrace such peace was not without reason, as a violent stream of ever so predictable cursing erupted once again from the house next door. And as usual, little Tommy Sullivan was the recipient.

  Mister Sullivan must have really tied one on during the day, because he had reached a level ─both in volume and vitriol─ of anger that Cassie had not heard before.

  “What the hell is going on over there,” Sammie asked as she stepped out from the bathroom into the kitchen.

  “That’s the Sullivan family,” Cassie replied. “Mr. Sullivan is a drunken invalid. And his poor son, who you can now hear being screamed at and degraded, is his verbal punching bag.”

  “Oh! That guy who helped save you that night?”

  “Yup.”

  “Should we call the cops,” Sammie asked.

  “No point,” Cassie said, turning her lips into a frown. “As luck would have it, he was given an honorary badge for that night he and his fellow sud-guzzlers saved me from Brent. He’s in tight with the pigs, and most of them in this town are just as mucha’ assholes as he is.”

  “Poor kid,” Sammie stated.

  “Poor kid, indeed.”

  Like nosy old women, they both peered out the window and gazed at the house next door. Once again Cassie marveled as she saw little Tommy strutting down his front stairs looking unshaken.

  “Oh my god, he is adorable!” Sammie shrieked when she saw the boy whose face was painted up like Gene Simmons from KISS.

  “He sure is,” Cassie laughed.

  “You were looking for a decent male, Cass. Well there you go.”

  “He may be the only one, but I think I’d probably shoot for a little older than ten.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers, Cass.”

  “Very true. And there is something odd about that kid.”

  “Like what? His obsession with Gene Simmons?”

  “Oh, no. Far beyond that. We always lock into these stares with each other when he walks by and I’m smoking on the porch.”

  “A little boy stares at a cute girl,” Sammie said. “There’s nothing weird about that. Well, maybe the fact that you stare back is a little weird, you pedophile.”

  “Pedophile?” Cassie laughed. “You’re the one who was just suggesting I date the kid. Anyways, no. What I’m saying is I just have this weird feeling of connection to the kid. Like, I realize I’m locked into a stare with him but I don’t know how we ended up staring at each other.”

  “Honey,” Sammie interrupted her, “you’re talking ragtime now. Either you need another shot or you’ve had too much already. And we ain’t leaving for another hour thanks to Leedham’s wonderful cab service. So maybe you oughta’ slow down or something.”

  “Yeah, Sam. Good idea. I’d say it’s time for another shot.”

  Cassie and Sammie found themselves drinking more and turning the music up louder to drown out the noises around them. The growling and cursing continued next door, and the drunks up on the third floor were starting to have a go at it too.

  “How about a little metal to set the right frame of mind here?” Sammie asked while looking through the rack of cassette tapes in Cassie’s living room.

  Cassie stood, admiring her costume in the mirror some more while sipping on a vodka and soda water.

  “I’m kind of digging the vibe we’ve got going with Bauhaus,” Cassie replied, as she watched her reflection dancing seductively to the slow, hypnotic music.

  “Yeah, well, Cass,” Sammie huffed, “the honeymooners next door aren’t adding much to the party vibe. How’s this album here?”

  Cassie turned to look at the cassette Sammie had pulled off the rack.

  “White Zombie?” she said, squinting to see if she recognized the right tape.

  “Yeah,” Sammie confirmed. “Make Them Die Slowly?” she said, reading off the name of the album.

  “Yeah, that oughta’
drown out the noise,” Cassie said. “Throw it in.”

  Sammie removed the Bauhaus tape and replaced it with White Zombie and cranked the volume up high. The booming drums and crunchy guitar that cranked out from the speakers were exactly what she had been hoping for.

  “I wish they’d play more shit like this at the club!” Sammie yelped out over the music, throwing her limbs around awkwardly at first but soon after finding the right dance moves to fit the tune. “Come on, Cass. Dance with me, will ya?”

  Sammie inched closer and closer to Cassie, reaching out to caress her while she gyrated her hips.

  Cassie stood still at first, laughing at her friend, but admiring her ability to combine sexiness and dancing. Putting her drink down, she began following Sammie’s dance moves.

  “There you go,” Sammie laughed. “Don’t be such a stiff.”

  “You really are trying to get in my panties, aren’t you, Sam?”

  “Maybe,” Sammie said with a hint of coyness and got a little closer to Cassie, switching her soft caresses to gropes.

  “Didn’t I tell you I’m not getting into any lesbo stuff, Sam?” Cassie scolded, but showed no sign of deflecting Sammie’s advances, whether they be playful of not.

  “You sure, Cass?” Sammie now had both arms around Cassie with her hands planted right above her bottom. “You ever wonder why you never had much luck in the relationship department?”

  Cassie laughed and did not answer.

  “Don’t you like me, Cassandra?” Sammie asked while making a sad pouty face.

  “You’re drunk, Sam.”

  “Not as drunk as you, Cass.”

  Cassie felt somewhat conflicted, but was leaning more in the direction of abiding. The warm buzz that put her mind at ease was pulling her right in that direction.

  Instead of answering Sammie’s question, she leaned forward pressing her lips again hers. The kiss was somewhat awkward at first, but within moments their tongues extended and met, and the kiss found its rhythm.

  “Come with me,” Sammie said softly into Cassie’s ear.

  Cassie’s entire body shivered as the warm air of Sammie’s breath blew against her neck. Blindly and blissfully she let Sammie take her by the hand and led her into the bedroom.

  Sammie unzipped the back of her dress and let it fall to the floor.

  “We’re gonna mess up our costumes,” Cassie whined.

  “Who gives a fuck, Cass? It’s Halloween.”

  Cassie went from timid to aggressive and tackled her lingerie-clad friend right onto her own bed and began pouncing.

  While the music blared and the two good friends momentarily became lovers, while the drunken couple next door fought and screamed, while the drug dealer upstairs traded a line of cocaine to a very underage girl for a blowjob, while the trashy couple on the third floor made love and ignored the crying of their baby, the pounding and breaking down of Cassie’s front door went entirely unheard.

  ***

  Cassie awoke in her bed the next morning. Where just over twelve hours ago this bed was a frenzy of unrestrained pleasure and soothed curiosity, it now served as a mere resting place for a bruised and, in some places, still bleeding girl. Little bits and pieces of things the police had said to her last night flew around inside her head.

  Lawyer. Technicality. Released from jail.

  It all meant nothing now, as all protective measures had failed her yet again.

  Realizing that despite her dry mouth and extreme dehydration she had to pee, she carefully lifted her almost broken body out of bed and got to her feet. Every step, every movement was torture.

  Sure did a good job on me this time, Brent.

  After painfully getting her business in the bathroom over with, she forced herself to brew a pot of coffee and walked to the front door to get the newspaper.

  Before she opened the door she looked at the new bolt lock the police had placed on the door last night. She could only laugh. The five heavy-duty locks she had had installed on the door after Brent’s last visit hadn’t saved her. And now there was one new one. What was the point?

  Bravely she opened the door. This hadn’t always been an easy thing for her to do. Maybe Brent would be waiting there for her yet again. And why not? Nothing seemed to be able to stop the bastard. Maybe that would be a good thing? Maybe he should just come and kill her and finally get it over with. But in the meantime, she wasn’t going to be afraid.

  Her knees cracked and the cut up skin that covered them stretched and stung as she crouched down to pick up the paper.

  Hobbling back to the kitchen, she threw the paper down on the table and poured herself some coffee.

  Getting herself seated on the kitchen chair proved to be the most painful thing she had done yet, so she figured that’s where she’d be staying for a while. Usually not one to even read the paper, she looked over the front page when she saw that Leedham was in the news.

  LEEDHAM MAN FOUND MURDERED IN HOME

  “Wow,” she muttered and read the article.

  Andrew O’Neil, 42, of 12 Norwood Street was found dead in his living room last night at 9pm. Susan O’Neil, his wife, was arrested on the scene and charged with his murder. Though claiming her innocence, she was the only person in the house with her husband at the time of death. Her lawyers are already claiming her unfit to stand trial, as the accused claims adamantly that the murder was committed by “a red-eyed man”…

  The victim held a lengthy criminal record that included multiple counts of domestic violence and rape, his wife the victim in each and every count.

  “I can help you,” a deep and guttural voice said from the corner of Cassie’s kitchen, shocking Cassie out of her reading and causing her to emit a scream that tore at her sore vocal chords.

  Looking up at the speaker, she saw the figure of a man completely hidden in black shadows. From the darkness where his face should be, she saw two bright red orbs that stared inside her.

  TODAY

  After a long night of restless sleep and troubled dreams, Cassie awoke to the sound of ducks quacking. Rolling over to reach for her cell phone she pressed her finger against the screen and tapped the section of it that served as a snooze button.

  Instead of getting right up out of bed to ensure not falling back to sleep and being late for her shift at the diner, she kicked her irresponsibility up a couple of notches and lit up a clove right there in bed. This was common practice for Cassie, but knowing she now ran the risk of both being late and burning down the apartment building she lived in was enough to keep her awake until the ducks started quacking in her phone again.

  The dreams that kept her awake through most of the night were far from typical nightmares. She struggled to remember even the slightest details but only came up with an ominous sense of dread.

  There was that woman in white who had visited her dreams many years ago, back in Leedham where she made that terrible deal.

  There’s no getting out of what you must do come tomorrow, Cassie. But remember that I’ll be back for you.

  Frustrated at being able to remember words spoken by a strange woman in a dream twenty-four years ago, but not even anything about a dream mere hours ago, Cassie sat up on the edge of the bed and sucked her clove down to the filter.

  After stubbing her smoke out in the ashtray on her bedside table, she got to her feet and stumbled through her dark bedroom to retrieve a pair of panties and a bra from her dresser drawer.

  I have a feeling today is not going to be like any other day.

  Cassie knew that something in her troubled dreams last night was indicative of the fears that had plagued her for the last twenty-four years coming to find her again. Ever since she left that three-decker house back in Leedham, leaving death in her wake, she knew they would eventually.

  But maybe there’d be a bright side to such a happenstance, she thought. Tommy. Whatever happened to that poor kid?

  What a bond she had shared with that little boy. They barely ever spoke a word
to each other, but she felt it. And she knew he felt it too. And in her heart, she knew he had seen the note she left behind for him.

  Look into the shadows, Tommy. I’ll be there.

  Looking down into the sea of bras and underwear that crowded her top dresser drawer, she focused her thoughts back on the here and now. It wasn’t hard to coordinate her undergarments as they were all black, and all of a sexy nature.

  Not that it matters. Might as well be wearing Hanes Her Ways.

  It had been quite some time since a man had shared a bed with her or even seen her in less than her waitress uniform. One or two had come and gone since her relocation down to Providence but never stuck around long. It was also a daily occurrence that some pervert at the diner would try to slip his phone number to her along with his payment. For forty-four years old, Cassie had aged unbelievably well and easily passed for a woman in her mid twenties. But when it came to men, her mind was forever stuck on little Tommy Sullivan.

  Here I am, naked and dreaming about a ten-year-old boy in a dark bedroom that reeks of cigarette smoke. Real classy.

  Cassie still felt that bond to this day, and the sense of something from her past coming to find her only intensified the feelings inside her.

  Surely little Tommy had grown into a strong and handsome man. Such a tough little boy who had survived as long as he did in that house of horrors couldn’t grow up to be anything but that, Cassie thought.

  If he did survive it

  She had seen enough of the supernatural in her life to know that believing in the unbelievable was not foolish or absurd, so she felt that having feelings of love and even elusive lust for someone she had last seen as a ten-year-old could somehow be justified.

  She realized she had once again gotten lost in her past and shook herself out of it, back to the here and now. Grabbing blindly at the first pair of underwear that met her hand, she turned toward the doorway of her bedroom. Her heart jumped in her chest at the sight that stood in the darkness of her living room beyond the doorway.