by Jeff Strand
Only it wasn’t him.
He peered closer, finally seeing what so many others had seen in his mirror image.
He had smooth features and smoother skin that was flushed in the cheeks from where the blood had sprayed. His good looks were only slightly spoiled by the crazed and frantic look in his eyes, one of which had a small bruise from where she’d hit him. His lips were fuller and his hair wasn’t just longer, it was still growing.
He gasped and dropped the blade, turning to his bigger reflection in the windshield of the car. Breasts and curves greeted him with effeminate menace. For a moment he’d been so focused on his body that he hadn’t looked at his face as much. On top of being beautiful, his new face was all too familiar. He could place it now.
He stumbled backward in crazed shock and stumbled over the hitchhiker’s body.
It was now his own.
His old male face stared up at him, into him, through him.
•
The road was what he stuck to, having no other destination.
His clothes were lighter now but the desert heat was wicked. That was one of the reasons he was sweating rain barrels. The other reason was the terror that boiled in his veins, for he was throttled now in the unrelenting stranglehold of insanity.
He walked on, trying not to look up at the engravings in the nearby rocks. The petroglyphs were no longer just morbid depictions of ancient bloodshed. They were fresher now, updated. Each of his own murders was depicted in stunning detail, the gruesome slayings illustrated with macabre artistry upon the crimson walls of the devil’s canyon. He avoided them as if they were mirrors and waited for the stolen Dodge to appear on the horizon. When it did, he waved it down, wondering how he was going to approach things from this end.
The car slowed to a stop and he leaned down to see the driver, knowing who it would be, wishing there was some other way out.
“Get in good lookin’,” his old self said, and she did.
WHAT YOU WISH FOR
BY LILITH MORGAN
_____
Someone had once called New York a city of strangers. Perhaps many people had. But it was true, and every one of those people … it was impossible to know for sure what was going on in any of their minds. Matt liked to think about what was on the minds of strangers. It was part of his work, in advertising. He wanted to predict where any set of eyes would land, and what they would want to see there. He wanted to know what people wanted. To start, there was the girl eye-fucking him on the train.
Well, eye-fucking might be a little strong. Matt had caught the girl staring at him three times on the subway ride. Every time he met her eyes she quickly blushed and looked away. He was surprised. She was gorgeous. She didn’t seem like the type to be shy. She seemed more like the kind of girl who would walk over and give him her number if that was what she wanted, but then if his career had taught him anything it was that sometimes appearances could be deceiving. He could tell that she was giving him that bedroom gaze, though. She just was. She wanted him, and he wanted her too, but it was clear that nothing would happen. As much as he desired her, there was no way he could approach her without seeming like a creep, and her shyness was not encouraging. It was going to be a frustrating train ride. Suddenly, the train stopped. The passengers froze, and Matt was left in utter silence.
“Do you want her?” Matt whirled around. Sitting to his left was a man who hadn’t been there before. He was dressed in a slick suit and tie, hair slicked back. He looked like he belonged in some noir film. His smile was almost too white.
“Who are you?” Matt asked. “What’s going on?”
The man leaned back and nodded toward the woman across the aisle.
“Her name is Emily,” he said. “Do you want her?”
“How do you know her name?” His mind was scrambling for answers. It was as if time had frozen around him, and now some mysterious figure was offering this strange woman to him. “What do you mean ‘do I want her’?”
The strange man got to his feet and walked across the train to sit next to the girl he called Emily.
“She wants you too,” he said, smiling. “She wants you, but she’s worried about the consequences. She has a fantasy she’s cycling in her head right now. She’ll be running through it all night.” The stranger pointed to her. Her face was flushed and one hand was pinned tightly between her knees. “See?”
There was a long moment, as Matt tried to understand what was happening.
“What are you offering me?” he asked finally.
The stranger smiled.
“I’m offering you the chance to live her sexual fantasy,” he said, “consequence free.”
“Consequence free,” Matt repeated.
The stranger nodded. “For both of you,” he said. “You’d do it outside of time. When you’re done, and only then mind you, you’ll both slip back into the time it was when I stopped it. Like it never happened. Are you interested?”
There was a long moment as Matt thought it over. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch. But then again … this was an extraordinary situation.
“You never have to see her again,” the stranger crooned. “Or you can, but you’ll have to hurry. The stop after next is hers.”
“Alright,” Matt said. If it was true, why not? Clearly something was going on.
Time had literally stopped all around him. If the supernatural wanted him to fuck this girl, then he might as well do so. He had no reason to believe it wouldn’t be consequence free. “I’ll do it.”
The stranger smiled. In an instant, the train was empty except for Matt, Emily, and the stranger. Emily blinked.
“Who …” she gasped. “What’s going on?”
“Good afternoon, Emily,” said the stranger. “Matt here has offered to let you live your greatest sexual fantasy.” Her eyes widened, but she did not look happy, she looked frightened. “Consequence free.”
“What do you mean by that?” she gasped. She turned to Matt. “Did he tell you—”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” the stranger cooed. He put an arm around Emily and a hand in his pocket. “That’s your job. That’s part of it, isn’t it? Telling him?”
Matt was watching this exchange in confusion. Why was she so upset? If she really did have a fantasy that she was dwelling on so steadfastly, why wouldn’t she jump at the opportunity to play it out? But it seemed as if she weren’t jumping. She seemed terrified.
“What if I say no?” she said softly.
The stranger smiled. “As I already told him, I’ll only put you back into time once you two are done,” he said softly. “You can take as long as you want, but you have to do it, or stay here indefinitely.”
Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“What’s wrong?” Matt asked. Emily looked at him, seemingly unable to speak.
“Here’s something for you,” the stranger said smoothly, handing her a small box. “And I’ll leave you two alone.”
His last word was still ringing when he was gone, and Matt was left with only Emily and the little box on her lap. She looked close to tears.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Matt said softly. She looked up and met his eyes. “You don’t have to worry. Consequence free, remember? We can go back to reality and pretend it never happened.”
“I don’t want—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the strain of anxiety. A tear trailed down her cheek.
“You don’t like me,” he said, more a statement than a question. He knew there had to be some catch to the offer. That was it. Good for him, bad for her.
“No!” Emily gasped. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re perfect, I just …” She stopped, chose her words carefully. “You won’t like it very much.”
Matt arched an eyebrow. “Won’t I?” he asked, trying his best to appear politely flirtatious. “I’m the one who asked for it, didn’t I?”
Emily nodded, a wry smile touching her face. “You didn’t know what you were ask
ing for,” she said.
Matt got to his feet and walked to the other side of the train. Sitting next to her, he spoke calmly. “Whatever you’re worried about, don’t,” he said. “I won’t judge you, whatever your fantasy is. Trust me, I’m pretty open-minded.”
Emily looked at him. Her face was serious, intense, a little frighteningly so. “There’s something wrong,” she said. “Something got fucked up in my wiring, Matt. I don’t have regular sexual fantasies.” Matt shook his head.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked. “You can tell me, it’s okay.” She moved down the bench away from him, then opened the box and placed its contents on the seat between them. Two zip ties and a scalpel. Matt just stared.
“I wasn’t thinking about sex,” she said. “When I looked at you, I thought about murder.”
“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” Matt said, getting up. “Hold the fucking phone. Do you mean to tell me you kill people?”
Emily’s head snapped up. “No! Never!” she gasped. “Never, I just … think about it. I never killed anyone. I never will.” A guilty look. “I never would have.”
Matt’s mind was racing. He had royally fucked up. Why hadn’t he thought to ask the stranger what her fantasy was? Because she was a slender, pretty girl. Girls weren’t supposed to be homicidal. They weren’t even supposed to be aggressive! But obviously, this one was. There it was. Appearances could be deceiving.
“So you think,” he began. “That cutting people is sexy?”
Emily nodded, face red with embarrassment. “I hate it,” she said. “I wish I wasn’t that way, but I am. I deal with it. I watch horror movies. I look at people with beautiful bodies in public places.” She shook her head. “I hate it when they look back. I feel like shit.” Matt was shaking his head.
“You can’t do this,” he said.
Emily was calming down, but still visibly upset. “I think I have to,” she said. “If we ever want to leave this train.”
There was a long silence then, stretching on for several minutes. The girl was right. Matt had set himself up for this. But consequence free, for both of them. So he would survive his murder. But still, he had to be murdered. He sat down on the opposite bench again, running his fingers through his hair. Emily was sitting quietly, staring at her knees. This slender, delicate thing had been sitting across from him on the train, thinking about cutting him.
“How?” he said softly. “How do you want to do it?”
Emily looked up. “I, uh,” she began. Her face was a deep crimson. Was it embarrassment only? Or … “I was thinking about how you have a perfect … stomach …” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Matt swallowed hard.
“You want to cut my stomach?” he asked.
“I don’t want you to suffer,” she said.
“But you think cutting me open is sexy,” he retorted.
Emily nodded, beginning to sob again. “I don’t want to hurt you!” she cried. “I don’t. I swear to God I don’t, but I think … if I did … it would …” She trailed off.
Matt finally understood. “It would turn you on anyway?” he asked. Emily slowly nodded. “That’s fucked.”
“I know,” she said. “I hate myself a lot of the time.”
Matt took a deep breath. He was going to be murdered. He was going to be murdered, but then wake up as if it never happened. He was going to suffer, but at the same time he would fulfill this woman’s impossible sexual fantasy. He slowly nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Emily looked at him in shock. “What?” she asked.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Kill me.”
Emily was squirming in her chair. This time, though, there was something in her eyes other than discomfort. “Are you sure?” she asked him. He nodded.
“It’s not gonna count in the real world, right?” he asked. “And it’s the only way we ever get out of this train car.”
There was a moment of pause, then Emily spoke. “It’s going to hurt,” she said. “A lot.”
Matt felt a knot of fear forming in his chest. He nodded again. “I know,” he replied, voice shaking. “I did a stupid thing, made a stupid wish, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it.” Emily’s knuckles were white, fists clenched in her lap. Matt’s heart was pounding. It was the only way they could get out of the train car, it was true, but still it terrified him. She was right, it would hurt. A lot. But he had to endure it, or be trapped there indefinitely.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, to himself as much as to her. “It’ll be over, and then it’ll be like it never happened.” He forced a smile. “Consequence free.” Her eyes were wide and her breathing was quick. It was clear that she was intensely excited, and that left Matt simultaneously aroused and terrified. She was going to cut him, kill him, and that knowledge turned her on. She got shakily to her feet and walked over to him, sitting beside him, the scalpel and plastic ties left behind. Her hands remained awkwardly on her knees.
“Can I …” she began, then faltered. “Is it alright if I touch you?”
“I’m all yours,” he said.
Emily took a deep breath, then reached out toward him. She gently touched his chest with her fragile fingers, tracing lines from his chest to his stomach. His breathing was quick, nervous. Her fingers hovered at the top button of his shirt. “Is it okay?”
He nodded, and she began to unbutton his shirt, exposing his bare torso to the empty subway. Matt closed his eyes and let himself feel the gentle touch of her fingertips as she explored him. She spent a lot of time touching and caressing his stomach. The places she would cut. His eyes opened with a gasp and she drew back. “I’m sorry,” she said, almost an automatic response. Matt was shaking his head. He was terrified, but it was necessary.
“Maybe …” He swallowed hard. “I don’t think I can do this, Emily. Maybe you better tie me up.”
“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
With a sudden and unfathomable need to comfort, Matt reached out and touched her face.
She turned aside, biting her lip. “You can if you want. It’s only fair.”
Matt drew back. “What are you talking about?”
Emily was having trouble meeting his eyes. “If you want to fuck me, you can,” she said. “Before I tie you up.”
Matt stared at her in surprise. Since the revelation of her actual fantasy, he had been too anxious to give sex a second thought. Did he want her still, even knowing what she really wanted from him? His body gave him a resounding affirmative answer to that question. He nodded.
“Okay,” she said softly. Her hands were moving slightly, as if unsure of where to settle themselves. There was a long pause. “Tell me what to do.”
“What?” Matt asked, startled by her soft plea.
Emily couldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I’ve never … you know.”
“You’re a virgin?” he asked, trying not to let too much of the shock he was feeling bleed into his voice.
Emily stared intently at her knees. “I was never really interested in sex,” she said. “Per se.”
Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. To this girl, death was sex. Intercourse had never mattered to her. Sex was not a turn on at all. He entertained a thought of guilt, but then he realized the other half of the circumstance. Murder was not a turn on for him, it was the worst thing that he could imagine. It was only fair.
“Take your clothes off,” he said softly. Shaking, Emily got to her feet and began to undress. She was beautiful, her plain undergarments adding to her overall innocent charm. She hesitated briefly before unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor, followed by her underpants. There she stood, naked, in all her perfection. This was what he had wanted. He got to his feet and removed his jacket, spreading it out on the floor. Then, he simply pointed. Emily’s teeth were chattering, with some combination of cold and nerves. She settled on her back o
n his jacket, hands folded self-consciously over her stomach. Matt got onto his knees, reached out, and gently parted her legs.
“Do I have to look?” Emily asked, her voice weak.
Matt thought for a moment, then shook his head. “You don’t have to look if you don’t want to,” he said.
Emily closed her eyes and bit her lip, clearly trying to relax and failing utterly. Matt was struggling with his empathic instincts. He wanted her so badly, but he didn’t want her scared. As much as it suited his sense of justice, or fairness or whatever he chose to call it, to just fuck her, there was no chance that he could do so unless she was in the state where he wanted her. That state was one of pleasure. Her fear did nothing for him. Matt breathed deeply and began to caress her legs gently. Emily’s hands were balled into tight fists and pressed into her stomach.
“I’m going to make it nice,” he attempted, then shook his head. The phrase was lame at best.
“You don’t have to make it nice.” Her response was immediate, and not what he had been expecting. Matt moved closer to her and took her hands from her stomach, unfolding them carefully.
“I want to,” he said. He traced his fingers over her arms gently. Her breathing was growing deeper, but her eyes remained shut.
“Why do you want that?” she asked. “I can’t do you the same favor.”
Matt felt a chill at that remark, but didn’t let it show. He stopped what he was doing and took her hands. “Look at me.” She slowly opened her eyes. They were a stunning shade of green. “I know you want me to hurt you so you’ll feel better about yourself or whatever, but I’m not like you. I can’t get it up unless you’re enjoying yourself.” Emily’s mouth opened in shock, her face turning bright red again. “So let me make it nice.” She closed her mouth, lip trembling. “It’s what I want. Then you can do what you want.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily whispered. Matt shook his head and moved his hand from hers, placing it instead on her stomach, pressing gently with his fingertips. She closed her eyes again. Carefully, he leaned over her, kissing her neck. That got a moan out of her. He moved in a little harder, nibbling a little, licking a little, until he found something he thought she liked. Then, he raised his head slightly and spoke into her ear.
