Darkness Within

by Isabel Lucero

  “Then, what?” he asks, finally looking in my direction as his voice shakes with nerves. “What’re you gonna do?” His eyes land on the rigger axe.

  I lift it up, showing it off to him. “Nice, huh? Is it an axe? Is it a hammer? It’s a little of both. I love this thing.”

  “Y. .you gonna use that on me?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?” I hop off the concrete slab and circle his chair.

  “Don’t. Please don’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you back then. For what I let happen to you. I’m sorry. Please.”

  “So you do remember?” I question, coming to a stop in front of him.

  “Yes, yes. I remember. Please don’t hurt me.”

  I raise my hand in the air. “That’s not the way this works.”

  “Help, help!” Ned screams, turning his head towards the door. My hand comes down in a swift motion, hitting him in the side of the head with the rigger axe, rendering him unconscious.

  “I told you not to scream.”

  With that one swing, I feel the darkness pour out of me. I’m free once again, letting the monster do what needs to be done. A maniacal smile forms across my lips as I beat the life from Ned. The axe keeps raining down on his body, and blood flies in the air, landing on me and the area nearby. I continue striking him with his blood painting my skin, and it isn’t until my arm starts to cramp that the darkness begins to climb back inside of me.

  He’s tamed.

  For now.

  ONE OF THE good things about living amongst the trees, deep in the forest, is there are plenty of places to hide a body where nobody would ever think to look. Ned Ortega will be reported missing eventually, if his girlfriend decides to give a shit enough to report it. But nobody will find him. His body will rest far from where I live, and nobody would think of coming out here to search for him. I don’t live anywhere near where my victims reside.

  When I get back from burying his bloodied and mangled corpse, I clean up the workshop and myself before climbing into bed. Before I can close my eyes, my phone goes off with the alert of an incoming text.

  Analeigh: Hey. You awake?

  I glance at the time on my phone. One-twenty in the morning. She must be wanting to get together tonight, but I’m too exhausted to move. I briefly think about ignoring the text, but this is the first time she’s texted me since I saw her on Wednesday, so at least she’s proven she isn’t too clingy.

  Me: I’m awake. What’s up?

  Analeigh: Creature of the night, I see. You at home?

  Me: Well, it is after one in the morning.

  Analeigh: Hey. No need for smartassness. I’m not at home, so there.

  Me: Where are you?

  Analeigh: Just out. Wanna meet up?

  I drop the phone and look up at the ceiling, trying to decide if I want to leave the house. I’m fucking tired, my arms are sore, and I don’t feel like driving a half hour or more to get to her. But something in me actually wants to see her, and I’m not really sure how to feel about that.

  Me: I’m pretty exhausted. Not sure how much fun I’d be.

  Analeigh: We don’t have to do anything. Just chill. I can come to you if you want.

  While not doing anything sounds great, because really, I’d just like to lay here and go to sleep, but not doing anything in the company of Analeigh sounds good, too. However, that begins crossing into relationship territory, and with that comes a lot more than I’m ready for. Can there be a relationship when one person keeps things about themselves from the other person? Even if it’s beneficial?

  Coming to my home is another big step. I’m not worried she’ll find anything incriminating here, but her being here means knowing where I live, and being able to pop up whenever she wants. I don’t like giving people the opportunity to do that.

  Analeigh: Okay, considering it’s taking you forever to respond, I’m sure you’re leaning more towards no. I get it. Can we text for a little bit then?

  Me: Yeah, that’s fine.

  I don’t bother explaining why I don’t want her to come here. It’s not even that I don’t want her here, it’s that I don’t know her well enough to know if she’d show up unannounced. What if I’m in the workshop when she shows up? What if I’m in the middle of moving someone to or from the workshop when she shows up? I can’t risk it.

  I know Nick well enough to know he wouldn’t drive his ass up here for anything unless he talked to me first. He knows me well enough to know better.

  With only one name left on the list, I know the workshop won’t be used much more. I shouldn’t need to use it more than once, and that’s only if I need to bring Kathy here. I should be done with my extracurricular activities after her, but something deep down tells me that’s not true. The darkness whispers, you’re not done and you know it. But after Kathy Weber, my list will be complete.

  You’ll never be a normal person. You need the darkness. You need me. You are me.

  Analeigh: So whatcha doin?

  I shake the thoughts from my head and focus on Analeigh.

  Me: I’m in the bed, actually. You?

  Analeigh: Ooh. ;) I’m not doing much. Bored. What did you do tonight? Anything fun?

  I smirk when I think about what I did do.

  Me: Not much. I’ve been home for a while. Boring, I know.

  Analeigh: Yeah, I’m falling asleep just reading about it. So, what has you all exhausted?

  Me: Ha. Sorry. Work’s just catching up to me, I guess.

  Analeigh: Soo . . . I’ve been thinking about you.

  Me: Oh? What about me?

  Something akin to happiness stirs when she admits she’s been thinking about me, but there’s also that feeling of worry. The two emotions battle, clashing against each other inside me, both of them trying to come out on top.

  Analeigh: Just you. Our times together. How you make me feel. Wanting to know you more. Everything. Is that scary?

  Me: Not scary, but surprising. So, how do I make you feel?

  I shift in the bed, moving to a sitting position, and lean against the headboard of my king size bed. I await her response, wondering how deep this is going to go. For someone who said she didn’t have time for a boyfriend, she’s starting to act like that’s what she wants me to be.

  Analeigh: Umm. That’s hard to explain, but I guess it’ll be easier to text than to say to your face. You make me feel . . . alive.

  I almost laugh. Alive is the last thing I thought she’d say.

  Me: Why can’t you say it to my face?

  Analeigh: You don’t really leave me much time to say a whole lot of anything.

  Her statement almost makes me feel bad. I’m sure I come off like I don’t care about anything she has to say, and that I just want her for her body, but I was as honest as I could be from the beginning. I thought she understood.

  Analeigh: But I get it. You told me you don’t do the boyfriend thing, and I get that this thing between us is just about sex, but . . . I like you.

  Me: I think you’re intrigued by me more than anything.

  I respond to her honestly. I don’t think she likes me, because she doesn’t know me well enough to make that decision. She likes my cock. She likes the way I fuck her. But she doesn’t like me as a person. She’s intrigued because I’m different and she can tell. I don’t spout off my whole life story in one conversation. If I did, she’d be bored of me by now.

  Analeigh: You’re right. I am. I want to know more about you.

  Me: You know what they say . . . be careful what you wish for.

  Analeigh: I don’t think you can tell me anything that would scare me away. Try me.

  I bang my head lightly on the headboard, staring straight ahead and wonder what I should start with.

  Me: I didn’t have a normal family growing up. Foster homes. Group homes. That was my life, and none of it was pleasant, to say the least.

  Analeigh: I wish I had a foster family. My dad’s a real asshole.

  M
e: You don’t want the foster families I had. Trust me.

  Analeigh: I take it you don’t have any siblings?

  Me: Not that I know of. My biological mom died while I was in a group home. I didn’t have much contact with her because she was a druggie who was in and out of rehab, or out on a binge for weeks at a time. If she had any other kids, I didn’t know about it.

  Analeigh: Sorry about your mom.

  Me: Don’t be.

  Analeigh: Your dad?

  Me: Never met him.

  Analeigh: I seem to be asking all the wrong questions. Do you have any pleasant memories?

  Me: No.

  Analeigh: That’s a lie. Our times together have been pleasant, if I do say so myself. ;)

  I laugh, glad to be off the subject of my past.

  Me: You’re right. Those are pleasant memories.

  Analeigh: Good. I think we should make another one soon.

  Me: How soon?

  Analeigh: Well, I wanted it to be tonight, but since someone’s all tired, then it’ll have to be tomorrow.

  Me: What if I have plans tomorrow?

  Analeigh: Do you?

  Me: Do you?

  Analeigh: Actually, I’m off tomorrow. So I’m all yours if you want me.

  Me: I do. I’ll text you directions to a place tomorrow.

  Analeigh: Great. Can’t wait.

  Me: Okay. Talk to you later.

  Analeigh: Good-night, Donovan.

  Me: Good-night, Analeigh.

  WE BOTH ARRIVE at the same time, her teal-colored Ford Escort stops directly in front of my truck. She smiles at me through the windshield before opening the door and climbing out.

  “Hey,” she greets, slipping her phone in the back pocket of her light-colored jeans.

  “Hey.”

  “This is a bit different than the last one,” she says, referring to the hotel we’re walking into.

  This one is a little nicer than the last one we met up in. Where the other one was seemingly made for one-night stands and quick hook-ups, this one is a little classier. It’s also closer to where I live, but I don’t bother mentioning that.

  “I suppose,” I answer with a shrug.

  She grins at me like she knows something I don’t, but I don’t question the look. Her black tank top is tight around her tits, which are pushed up and very visible from the view I have above her. Thank God for short girls and push-up bras.

  After we check in, we make our way to the second floor and find the room at the end of the hall. When I walk in, I quickly throw my wallet, phone, and pack of cigarettes on the dresser that rests underneath the mounted TV.

  “Two beds? We having company?” she jokes.

  “It’s all they had,” I answer. “Not a bad room, though.”

  “Not at all,” she replies, looking around. “Did you bring me here because you don’t want me to know where you live?” she asks as she sits on the bed, bouncing a little as if to check how soft it is.

  “Do you want to know where I live?” I ask.

  She shrugs, looking out the window. “Not necessarily, but I’m just wondering why you choose to pay for hotel rooms if you have a home.” She pauses. “Wait. Are you homeless?”

  I laugh, throwing my head back. “Do I look homeless?”

  “Well, no.”

  Still chuckling, I answer, “No, I’m not homeless.”

  “Are you worried I’ll be a stalker or something?” She grins. “I promise I won’t stalk you.”

  “Why does it matter? We’re still seeing each other.” Her only response is another shrug, so I leave that topic alone. “You hungry?”

  Her head snaps up. “You asking me on a date or somethin’?”

  I smile at her, leaning against the table. “I’m asking if you want room service.”

  “Ah. Thought you were breaking your own ‘no relationship’ rules.”

  “Eating together doesn’t constitute a relationship.”

  “I guess you’re right, but usually we don’t eat or do anything besides, you know, fuck.”

  “Well, we can get right to the fucking if you want,” I state, pulling my shirt over my head and getting out of my shoes.

  She bites her bottom lip, watching me with lust-filled eyes. “Wait, maybe . . .”

  “Nope. Too late now. You wanna fuck. We’re gonna fuck. Strip,” I command her, unbuttoning my jeans.

  “What if I want to eat?” she asks, her eyes roaming my body as I undress.

  “The only thing that’s going to be in your mouth right now is my cock. Strip.”

  Her eyes light up and she quickly removes her shirt and bra. She stands, stepping out of her flip-flops and pulls her pants and panties down at the same time.

  I grab the condom from my wallet and then walk towards her, pushing her just enough to get her to sit back down on the bed. I grab my cock, stroking it a couple times before placing the tip on her lips.

  “Open up.”

  She obeys, licking her lips before opening her mouth and licking the head of my cock. I toss the condom next to her and place my hand at the back of her head, guiding her head forward so she can take more of me into her mouth.

  Her small hands move to my thighs as I fuck her mouth. She moans around my dick, and I watch my shaft move in between her soft lips.

  “That’s it,” I say, my voice rough. “You like that cock in your mouth, hmm?”

  She answers with a mmhhmm, and then brings one of her hands up to grip my dick. Her hand strokes the length of me while her plump lips stay wrapped around the head, and her tongue swirls around me.

  My fist tightens around her hair, and my head goes back, eyes shut tight and a growl in the back of my throat. Her mouth works magic on my cock, making it throb with the need for release.

  I step back, leaving her sitting there with her mouth open as she looks up at me through long lashes, her lips red and swollen. Grabbing the condom from the bed, I rip it open with my teeth. “Lay back,” I command, spitting the piece of foil out beside me and pulling the condom from the wrapper.

  After covering myself, I crawl over her petite frame and run my fingers through her wetness. With my fingertips coated with her arousal, I rub circles over her clit, and she throws her head back in ecstasy. Her hands grip the covers, and her legs open wider for me.

  “Yes, Donovan,” she whispers.

  I plunge two fingers in and out of her, bringing her closer to orgasm before pulling them out. She whines in disappointment, but that won’t last long. Positioning myself between her legs, I thrust deep inside of her, causing her to gasp and bring her hands to my torso.

  Her pussy clenches around my cock as I drive into her with fervor. “Is this what you wanted?” I ask in a low growl. “You like how I fuck you?”

  “God, yes,” she moans, eyes shut tight.

  “Look at me.”

  Her green eyes open and pierce me with a look I don’t think I’ve seen before. She’s obeying my orders, but she’s sending me a message too. “I like everything you do to me, Donovan. Everything. Please,” she begs.

  A guttural noise rises from the back of my throat, and my lips clash against hers. I hear a small gasp of surprise before I feel her hands on the back of my head, bringing me closer to her. Our tongues swirl around each other with passion, and our teeth gnash together. There’s no restraint. We fight for control of the kiss, each one of us wanting more than the other is giving.

  I continue to thrust into her while I suck her tongue into my mouth. As soon as her tongue slips loose, her teeth gently sink into my bottom lip, and then our lips are crashing together once again.

  When I finally pull away, we’re both breathing heavily, and the skin around her mouth is red from my beard rubbing against her. My lip still tingles from the small bite she gave me, but it wasn’t enough to cause any pain. I grip her jaw and run my thumb across her bottom lip. The roughness of our kiss, and her bite, whether on accident or on purpose, stirs something in me.

  “You
like to bite, huh?” She doesn’t answer with words, she only groans and closes her eyes. “You better be careful,” I growl.

  “I don’t like careful,” she says between pants.

  “Is that right?” I ask, squeezing her jaw a little tighter, pulling her head down a bit more, waiting for her to open her eyes. I pause my movements and her eyes flicker open. “If you don’t like careful, that must mean you like wild. Is that what you’re looking for? You want to be reckless? You want me to fuck you without any regard for your safety? You better think about your answer, sweetheart, because if you think I’ve been rough with you so far, I’ve only scratched the surface.”

  She gulps, her eyes studying mine for several seconds. I think she’s realizing that maybe she got in over her head with me. She doesn’t answer my questions, so I give her a sinister smirk.

  “I knew you weren’t ready to get to know me.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, but I thrust into her, making her cry out instead. I sit up on my knees, moving my cock in and out of her at a slower pace, but using my thumb to rub circles on her clit.

  “Yes, yes,” she cries.

  I lift my hand up and bring it down with a slap on her inner thigh. She lets out a gasp followed by a blissful moan, and I growl in response. It wasn’t a hard slap. Not nearly as hard as I’d like for it to be, but I have to start somewhere.

  My fingers return to her clit as I continue to thrust into her. Her wetness coats the condom, letting me know just how turned on she is.

  “Do it again,” she breathes. “Hit me again,” she pleads, much to my surprise and pleasure.

  I don’t waste any time, bringing my hand in the air again, but letting it come down a little harder this time.

  “Ah! Yes!” she screams.

  “Mmm,” I moan.

  I do it again. And again. Never stopping my movements inside of her, and my skin prickles with excitement.

  “I’m gonna . . . oh my god, I’m about to . . .”

  She never gets to finish, because I slap her inner thigh one last time, and force my cock as deep inside as it can go, causing her to scream out as her orgasm hits.