Darkness Within

by Isabel Lucero

The night goes on, and I do my best to ignore Miguel and his loud fucking mouth. He acts like he’s better than everyone. He’s constantly talking about how some other place would’ve been better. He complains about the music that’s being played, and is generally a miserable piece of shit. Everybody else has started to ignore him too, which makes him stomp away like a child to go talk to his friend, or maybe to go cry in the fucking bathroom.

  Me and Analeigh have made eye contact a few times, and she’ll smile or wink at me while making drinks for other customers. Nick begs me to get a dance, telling me it’s not right to come to a strip club and not get a lap dance, so I do.

  The girl smells like cotton candy, and her body sparkles with multi-colored specks of glitter. She kisses my cheek afterwards, thanking me like I danced for her.

  As it nears two o’clock, I offer to arrange a cab to pick up the guys, because they’ve all been drinking way more than I have. Plus, I have plans to wait for Analeigh.

  The guys pile into the cab outside the club, and I watch as they drive away, feeling sorry for the cab driver for having to deal with their loud drunk asses.

  I sit in my truck, waiting for closing time and choosing to not text Analeigh. Not for the sake of surprise, but I’m not so willing to give out my number just yet.

  At two, everybody begins getting into their cars or cabs, or even just walking down the street, looking for another place that’s still open. When most everyone is gone, I get out of the truck and lean against the side, waiting for her to appear.

  I notice that my black shirt and jeans are decorated with a few specks of glitter from the lap dance. Fuck.

  When I hear a female voice say goodbye to someone, I look up to see her making her way to her car on the opposite side of the parking lot. I whistle, grabbing her attention. I don’t even think about the fact that I’m shrouded in darkness and she may not know who I am.

  She looks over her shoulder at me, but doesn’t make a move to come over. Her head tilts, and I lift my hand to wave and push away from the truck. She finally turns her body completely and takes a step in my direction.

  “Donovan?”

  “The one and only.”

  I see her shoulders drop in relief. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry about that,” I say, as we make our way to each other.

  “It’s all right. Sometimes you get some drunk assholes out here. Thought maybe you were one of them.”

  “Well, I’m not drunk.”

  “But you’re an asshole?” she asks with a laugh.

  “Depends on who you ask, I guess,” I say with a shrug.

  She laughs again. “Where are your friends?”

  “They’re the drunk assholes and they took a cab home.”

  Her eyes peer up at me through thick lashes. She’s petite, probably close to a full foot shorter than me, putting her around five foot two. Her denim shorts are frayed at the bottom, giving away the fact that she cut them herself. The tight, white t-shirt she wears shows off her slim waist and flat stomach. The more I look at her, the more I want to fuck her.

  I shake myself out of my trance as I realize she was talking to me. “Sorry, what?”

  She giggles. “So, you waited for me?”

  “Looks like it,” I say with a smirk.

  “Well, what do you want to do, Donovan?” she questions, biting her bottom lip.

  I eye her lips before meeting her gaze again, and place my hands in my back pockets. “You tell me.”

  “You live around here?”

  With a shake of my head, I say, “No. I live about a half hour away.”

  She scrunches up her nose. “Wanna come by my place? It’s only about ten minutes from here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Follow me?”

  “Sure.”

  And that’s how casual it is to set up a one-night stand. Well, I guess it’s called casual sex for a reason, but you’d think a young, cute girl would be wary of inviting strange, tattooed guys over to her house at two-thirty in the morning.

  She’s right. Just under ten minutes later and we’re turning into a place called Vista View Apartments. She pulls into a parking space in front of an apartment and sticks her arm out the window and gestures for me to park next to her.

  When I get out, she’s throwing stuff in her purse. “My roommate usually parks there, but she’s staying at her boyfriend’s tonight.”

  I nod in response and follow her up the pathway until we reach her door. The place is dark and quiet, which isn’t surprising considering the time. When she opens the door, she flips on a light, and the small apartment is illuminated with a dim, yellow color.

  “It’s not much to look at, but it’s close to work,” she says, dropping her purse on the small breakfast bar that’s to the right of us when we come in.

  “It’s fine,” I say, looking around.

  The kitchen is small, but big enough for two people to be in there comfortably. Both the kitchen and living room floors have old tiled flooring, but her and her roommate did enough decorating to make it look homey.

  A modest space next to the kitchen holds a small dining room table, and the living room is long and narrow, allowing for a couch, loveseat, and small TV stand.

  “Drink?” she asks, going into the kitchen.

  “I’m good.”

  She grabs a bottle of water for herself, taking a few swigs before putting it back. “I’m gonna freshen up real quick,” she states. “You can wait for me in here.” She gestures to the room she’s walking into, which I’m assuming is her bedroom.

  I wait in the room but don’t bother sitting down. She comes out pretty fast anyway, and crawls onto her bed with a smirk on her face.

  “You gonna join me?”

  I walk over, wanting to rip the clothes from her body, but I control myself. “I don’t do the boyfriend thing,” I tell her honestly, wanting her to know not to expect anything more than this.

  Her chuckle surprises me. “You don’t look like a boyfriend type, and don’t worry, I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

  I nod and she lays back, seducing me with her eyes as she pulls the shirt over her head. I do the same, ridding myself of my clothes, and pulling out the condom from my wallet to place on the bed.

  Analeigh inspects me as I undress, a tiny grin playing on her plump lips. I reach for her shorts, and she lifts up, allowing me to pull the scrap of denim material down her legs. I pull the black underwear down next, revealing her pussy to me.

  Completely naked, she crooks her finger, calling me toward her. “Come on, big man. Show me what you got.”

  I give her a crooked grin and pull her legs, dragging her closer to me. After sheathing myself with the condom, I lean over her and plunge deep inside. No foreplay necessary, because she’s already wet for me.

  “Ah!” she moans.

  Propped up on my right elbow, I take her breast in my other hand and suck on her perky, pink nipple. I feel her hands go into my hair, her fingers becoming entwine in the long strands. I thrust harder and faster, spurred on by her moans and string of cuss words.

  “Fuck! God, Donovan,” she pants.

  I grunt, enjoying the warmth of her cunt wrapped around my cock. Pulling out, I flip her over, and after a squeal of surprise, she gets up on her hands and knees. With one hand on her waist, I use the other to guide my cock back inside.

  If she wanted soft and romantic, gentle and loving, she’s probably disappointed. Based on the noises she’s making, I doubt that’s the case though. I reach forward and grab her hair in my hand, pulling her head back, and I continue to pound into her hard from behind.

  “Oh my god,” she cries.

  “Mmm,” I moan, loving the way she responds.

  Releasing her hair, I take my hand and reach around to rub on her clit. After a minute or so, she begins tightening up and I know her orgasm’s about to hit. I quicken my hand, and deepen my thrusts.

  “Yes. Oh, yes. Yes, yes,” she chants over and over.r />
  Right as she begins to come, I stop my hand from rubbing circles on her clit and give her pussy a semi-hard smack. My fingers hit right on her clit and she screams out.

  “Fuck!”

  Her body begins to crumble beneath me as the orgasm hits, draining her of her energy. With one more flip, I put on her on her back and bring my hand to her throat.

  I watch as her eyes widen slightly before she places her hand on mine, so I squeeze a little harder. Pain and pleasure go hand in hand for me and I feel a jolt of excitement run through me. I always risk unleashing the monster within me when I do anything that hints at violence.

  Over the years, I’ve learned to keep him at bay, letting him loose only when necessary. Necessary for me, anyway. Though I’m not angry now, the feeling of control over someone by having my hand wrapped around their throat, is an exhilarating one. I could squeeze harder and harder, and that’s it. Lights out. It’s all up to me.

  He wants me to do it.

  He doesn’t have a list.

  He doesn’t care who dies.

  And I’m afraid he and I are becoming a lot alike.

  I begin to release her throat, but she holds my hand there, staring into my eyes, urging me to continue. She doesn’t know what she’s asking for.

  My hand squeezes even harder, and I see her seeking breath more frantically. My cock swells even more, thrusting into her soaking wet cunt harder and harder. I look into her wide eyes and feel nothing but excitement. I wonder what she sees looking back at me. Nothing? Darkness?

  My orgasm hits hard, and I release her throat at the same time I let out a guttural growl into the room. I can faintly hear her sucking in air like she’s just come up from being held underwater.

  When I pull out, I look into her eyes, almost sure that I’ll see fear in them. Once again, she surprises me.

  “Well,” she says, her hand on her throat. “That was fun.”

  I give her an amused smirk as I remove the condom. “I thought so, too.”

  She doesn’t move to get dressed, instead she simply grabs a folded up quilt at the end of the bed and wraps it around her. I don’t apologize for choking her. For one, it seems she liked it. For two, if we get together again, that’s what she should expect.

  I spot a trashcan near her nightstand and toss the condom in there before putting my clothes back on.

  “Well, Donovan,” she says, sitting next to me on the bed as I put my shoes on, “You have my number if you ever want to get together again.”

  I look over and smile. “I do.”

  Standing up, I make sure I have everything and then she leads me to her front door. This isn’t as awkward as you’d think.

  Opening the door, I turn to look at her once more and she just smiles.

  “Drive safe. Talk to you . . . whenever.”

  I let out a chuckle. “Okay.”

  And then I’m gone, back in my truck and making my way home.

  THE WEEK FOLLOWING Nick’s birthday celebration went by and I never bothered texting or calling Analeigh. I’m too busy working, and when I come home, I spend time doing research on the remaining people on my list.

  Doug Phillips

  Steve Baker

  Susan Lannister

  Michael Jenson

  Ned Ortega

  Kathy Weber

  Doug wasn’t one of my foster parents. No, he was a cop who didn’t do his fucking job. I went to him after he was called to the house when I was living with Steve and Susan. I remember making what I thought would be an anonymous call from a payphone, telling the cops about some of the things Steve had done to me.

  Sure, social services and police came by, but like I said before, Susan lied to them. It wasn’t hard for them to believe the happy couple who took in foster kids that needed homes. They’re the good ones. The ones trying to help kids who live in the system their whole lives. The kids they know don’t have a hope in the world to have a good life.

  I remember running after Officer Phillips when he left, pleading with him to take me with him. I begged for another family. I even said I’d stay in the jail. He rolled his eyes, saying, “Look here, kid. These are good people. You know how many kids they’ve taken in? You’re not the only one to come up with wild allegations just because you aren’t happy with their rules. What? They make you go to bed early? They make you do homework? Too bad. Stop trying to ruin people’s lives with lies.”

  He escorted me back to the house and told them what I had done. I knew then that I was in for it once he left. Not only did he not listen to or help me, but he made it worse for me. I wasn’t allowed to use the phones again after that. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house, except to go to school. It was awful, and it was all thanks to that fat fucking asshole cop.

  So, he was the first to go.

  He lived the farthest away, having moved up to northern California, so it took more time and planning, but I eventually made it out there and made it to where nobody would ever find him.

  After what he did to me all those years ago, making my life just that much worse, I felt like I was drowning. Drowning in an ocean full of waves, each one coming down on me with astronomical force. I couldn’t get my head above water for long before being pulled under again. I felt hopeless. If a cop won’t help you, who will? I lost faith that day.

  Doug found out how I had felt back then, because the night he died, he drowned in his own pool. It was slow and drawn out. I gave him hope, allowing him to come up for air, just to be shoved back under the water. That continued for a while, and my monster reveled in the revenge.

  Poor old Doug didn’t see me coming. He “ran into me” at a bar that night, and we talked and laughed and he told me about his life. My normal person mask was on that night, and he had no idea who I was. Doug drank and drank, bragging about his young fiancée that he had left his wife for. I had a whole story made up for myself, and Doug believed he had found a new friend that night.

  He invited his murderer to his home, and he found out when it was too late who I truly was. It was a great night.

  Two more names remain on my list. Ned Ortega and Kathy Weber. Ned was a caretaker at a group home I was placed in when I got a little older. As luck would have it, I was placed in a level fourteen home, meaning I was with the kids that were labeled as emotionally disturbed, and ones who were prone to violence. I wasn’t either of those things when I got there, but I definitely became them.

  That place did nothing to help any of the kids there. You’d think they would, but they don’t even require the workers to have any sort of education related to dealing with kids who may have been abused and/or neglected before. They can’t help what they don’t understand. Group homes were no better than foster homes. Neglect still happened, and kids were able to be away from the home for days at a time without so much as someone blinking an eye.

  Ned was just another asshole who didn’t give a shit about helping kids. He abused a lot of us, both verbally and physically. He withheld medicine from some of the kids that needed it. I know I wasn’t the only one he fucked with, but the reason he has to go is because he made the mistake of fucking with me in the first place. I’m sure he didn’t think I’d ever come back for him, so he’ll be in for quite the surprise.

  As I’m about to head out and find his home, needing to track his schedule for the weekends, my phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, man,” Nick says.

  “Hey. What’s goin’ on?” I ask, noting the weird tone in Nick’s voice.

  Nick exhales loudly. “Nothing. Just . . .” another sigh, “my fucking dad.”

  “What’d he do?” I question, knowing his dad used to beat on him, and still comes around from time to time to ask for money.

  “Ah. It’s nothing. I was just wondering if you wanted to get some drinks or something.” After a minor pause, he adds, “Just us. Miguel won’t be coming,” he says with a small chuckle.

  “Uh, yeah. Sure. Where?”

 
; “Ye Olde Lamplighter. Is that cool?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll leave now and be there in about twenty-five minutes.”

  “Thanks, dude.”

  “Yeah. See you soon.”

  Since I was about to leave, I’m already dressed in dark blue jeans, combat boots, and a black t-shirt. I throw on a light jacket over the shirt since tonight’s a bit cool, and head out to my truck. I can push my stalking plans to a later time.

  Nearly a half hour later I arrive at the Lamplighter, a very unassuming kind of place. It looks like a house plucked right out of the sixties, but it has great food and strong drinks. I spot Nick walking towards me, already having gotten here. He looks exhausted as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair.

  “Sup, man,” I say as I climb out of the truck. “You look like shit.”

  He laughs a humorless laugh. “Yeah, thanks. Same ol’ shit. You know?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go get a drink,” I respond, jerking my head towards the door.

  When we get inside, we head straight to the bar and order our drinks. The room is dim, and the tables are covered in red cloths, matching the red walls. The pictures that decorate the place look like they belong in your grandmother’s house.

  Neither one of us speaks until after we take our first drink, and it’s Nick that starts.

  “Fucking family, man. You know?” he says with a sigh.

  “Don’t know much about that,” I reply with another sip of my beer.

  “Sorry, man. I forgot.”

  “Don’t be. It’s fine. What happened with your dad?”

  “Fucking asshole. He’s been calling me for the past week, but I haven’t answered his calls, because I know all he wants is money. He’s a fucking alcoholic, and I’m the only one he knows who has money.” He pauses to take a drink. “Anyway, he showed up to my house tonight, went through the rooms like he was the cops with a warrant. My place is all fucked up, turned upside down and inside out. I told him I don’t hide money in my house like that, but he doesn’t listen.”

  “So he just left?”

  “Nah. We got into a little scuffle because he wanted to go through my pockets. He thinks I owe him something, but I guess he forgot that he was a worthless piece of shit while I was growing up. Still is.”