The Rabid: Fall

by J. V. Roberts

  “Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful!” I can’t help but think Lydia has seen this space before and that her theatrics are meant for my benefit. She twirls around the pre-furnished living area, arms out to her sides, her fingers brushing the fixtures and furniture. “Isn’t it perfect, Tim?”

  I nod. “Yeah, nothing to sneeze at.”

  “Maybe we should go check out the furniture in the bedroom.”

  Well, that didn’t take long.

  Lydia is standing at the bottom of the stairs, stroking the railing suggestively.

  “Well, uh, aren’t you a little hungry? Maybe we should eat some dinner first.”

  “I’m hungry, but it’s not for food. Now come on.” She holds out her hand, beckoning me with two fingers.

  I’ll walk slow, give myself time to think, figure a way out of this predicament.

  She pulls my hand, guiding me up the stairs. I try to resist a little, slowing my pace, but she just pulls harder and giggles louder, basking in the challenge. When we reach the bedroom, she kicks the door open. She whips around and grabs me by the collar of my button down and yanks me inside, turning at the last minute and shoving me backwards onto the bed.

  “You stay right there, husband of mine. I can’t get used to that word…husband!” She folds her hands over her heart and smiles so big I think her face might tear. “I’m going to change, don’t you go anywhere.” She kisses me and trots to the bathroom.

  I couldn’t go anywhere, even if I wanted to. Aside from the armed guards outside, I’ve got no idea where they’re holding Katia and Sonny. Lydia would put out the alarm and they’d be dead long before I reached them.

  Minutes pass.

  I don’t remove any of my clothes; I even leave my shoes on. The more she’s got to deal with, the better. Maybe she’ll grow frustrated and give up. My plan, at the moment, is to avoid outright conflict. Passive aggressive, it’s the only play I’ve got.

  The bathroom door slowly squeaks open, and Lydia emerges like a stripper from an eighties movie, one bare leg at a time; all she’s missing is the smoke machine and strobe lights. She’s wearing a lacy, pink thong and a matching sheer bra that gives full view of her nipples. She’s got thick hips and a tight waist; smooth curves and soft surfaces. She’s the opposite of Katia. Katia is all lean muscle and hard edges. Both of them are undeniably beautiful, but Lydia is missing that fire behind the eyes. It’s all black, a deep well of madness.

  If this was another time, if I was the excitable shut-in that I’d been before everything took a sharp, left turn for Shitsville, this would be a dream come true. A beautiful, half-dressed blonde, with big tits, and the scent of vanilla ice-cream wafting from her skin, are you kidding? I’d have finished as soon as the first naked leg popped out of the bathroom and would be sitting here soaking in my shame, crying and apologizing for the mess. But this isn’t then, this is now. And she’s not just some beautiful, half-dressed blonde, with big tits, and the scent of vanilla ice-cream wafting from her skin. She’s the devil.

  “Put your hands on me, Tim.” She’s standing over me, her stomach in my face.

  I don’t move.

  “Tim?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m nervous.”

  “It’s okay, me too. Stand up.”

  I do as instructed.

  “Why are you still wearing this thing?” She removes my jacket, kissing me. I kiss her back, barely puckering my lips. She doesn’t seem to mind, it doesn’t dissuade her prying tongue. With my jacket cast aside she begins working eagerly on my shirt. “Put your hands on me.”

  Think, Two-Step, think!

  I can’t do this. This is the bitch that took Katia from me. I won’t betray her like that.

  So think, you silly asshole!

  I place my hands on her waist, fingers barely touching her skin, like some pensive freshman at his first high-school dance.

  She pops the last two buttons on my shirt right off and tears it from my shoulders, sending it sailing in the same direction as my jacket. She departs from my lips and kisses down my neck, my chest, and my stomach. She gradually drops to her knees and begins working on my belt with one hand, using the other to leave claw marks across my torso.

  I can feel myself starting to react to her as she pulls my pants and underwear down around my ankles, despite my best efforts. Without thinking, without meaning to, I grab her hair and jerk her head back, stopping her just as she is getting ready to wrap her lips around me.

  “What?” she sounds confused.

  “I just—”

  “Am I doing something wrong?” Her hands are on my thighs. She looks hurt. This is sensitive ground; I know how quickly sadness can transform into anger.

  “Don’t you feel like we’re moving a little fast? Like…we barely just met, we got married, and now this. Don’t you want to, I dunno, talk a little? Get to know each other?”

  “You’re my husband, Tim! This is our wedding night! People have sex on their wedding night! It’s bad luck not to!”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  She stands in a huff. “Are you serious right now? I’m about to put your dick in my mouth, every guy’s fantasy, and you’re trying to stop me!”

  “I’m not tr—”

  “It’s about that bitch, isn’t it?” She puts her hands on her hips. “Katie?”

  “Katia. And no, it’s not about her at all.”

  “Then what is it, Tim? Do tell. Because never in the history of the world has a guy turned down a blowjob from a girl that looks like me.”

  “Where are you getting all of this information, did you take a poll or something?” I really need to shut the hell up.

  “I can’t believe this! After everything we went through tonight, after everything you said to me at the altar, after telling me that you love me, now you’re pulling this. Was it a lie? Are you just covering your ass so your little girlfriend doesn’t get hurt?”

  “Just, hear me out for a second.” I reach for her hand and she slaps me across the face, busting my bottom lip.

  “Don’t touch me! You don’t get to!”

  The tinge of copper overwhelms my taste buds. “Your father put a gun to my head, Lydia. He forced me to marry you. You can’t get mad at me for having reservations.” It suddenly occurs to me that I’m standing here with my dick out. I reach down to pull my pants up. A drop of blood falls from my lip and splashes against the hardwood.

  “You humiliated me!” She stomps towards the bathroom and slams the door.

  I follow behind her, trying to regain control of the situation. “Lydia, sweetheart,” saying the word makes me cringe, “can we talk about this, please?”

  The bathroom door flies open and she storms past me, now wrapped in a pink, cotton bathrobe. “Don’t follow me.”

  I follow her, getting as far as the bedroom door.

  She stops and swings around, stabbing at my face with an index finger. “Don’t follow me or I’ll have the guards gun you down! Test me, I dare you!”

  I raise my hands in surrender and allow her to slam the door in my face. A few seconds later, the front door shuts so hard it quakes the house.

  I don’t care.

  I’m borderline delirious. I need some sleep.

  I collapse on the bed and close my eyes.

  21

  I awaken to loud footsteps on the stairs and voices weaving in and out of each other; begging, cursing, commanding.

  Katia and Sonny!

  Daniel and Guy shove them into the bedroom, hands bound behind their backs.

  Katia’s face is streaked with blood and her right eye is swollen and purple.

  Sonny appears to have fared better; he’s got a single gash across the top of his forehead.

  “On your knees, both of you!” Daniel booms, sweeping Katia’s feet from under her when she doesn’t comply quickly enough.

  “What is going on?” I jump up, wearing only my boxers. The only thing keeping me from charging are the pistols leveled at their h
eads; Daniel is behind Katia and Guy has a hand-cannon snuggled up against the base of Sonny’s skull.

  “They are following my orders.” Lydia walks into the room, twirling the strings on her bathrobe. “They are playing their roles. You could learn something from them.” She stands next to Katia and picks up a strand of her hair between her fingers, examining it the way one might examine a gnat they’d just squished; disgust and curiosity.

  “Katia, sweetie, it’s going to be okay.” I crouch down, trying to make eye contact with her, but she keeps turning her head away, until she’s staring at the floor. “Look at me, Katia. Let me know you’re okay.” Silence. “Sonny? Are you okay?” He follows Katia’s example and turns his eyes to the floor. I stand, voice trembling. “What the hell have you done to them?”

  Lydia cackles. “Me? Oh, Tim, I didn’t do anything to them. I haven’t touched a hair on your sweetheart’s head…until now.” She lets the strand fall back into place and walks towards me, still twirling the strings on her robe.

  “This is between us, Lydia. There’s no need for them to be here.”

  “Between us? Really? You’re going to use that line now? According to you, Tim, there’s nothing between us. You married me with a gun to your head, remember? And you can’t seem to stop thinking about this little whore, so I brought her here for you.” She coils around me like a snake, hands on my chest, nails digging into my skin.

  “You’ve made your point. There’s no need for them to be here. I get it. I was wrong.” Katia is broken. Silent tears breach the corner of her working eye as she shivers like an abandoned street dog in the middle of a New England winter.

  “Your words are empty, Tim. You’ll say anything to spare your friends. You’ll say you love me. You’ll even say I do. You hurt me. I’m not going to sit here and pretend. When it comes to you, I’m vulnerable. But I’m strong. I bounce back quickly. I’m willing to fight for what I want. And right now, this is me fighting…for you…for us.”

  “This is manipulation, that’s what this is.”

  “Oh, Tim,” she grabs my face and turns it, “I know it seems that way. But it’s not. No, there’s a deeper purpose here.”

  “This isn’t going to do anything except make me hate you. They are not your pawns. Let them go.” My heart races as I watch Daniel’s finger dance near the trigger of the pistol, the muzzle scraping Katia’s scalp like some nuzzling beast.

  Lydia slides back to Katia and sinks down beside her. She brushes her hair back and whispers something in her ear, smiling up at me the entire time; the evil queen toying with her subjects. “You’re going to fuck me and she’s going to watch. You’re going to show her that you’re no longer in love with her. And you’re going to make her fall out of love with you. It’ll simplify things going forward.”

  “No, I’m not. Let them go.”

  Lydia stands, holding onto a clump of Katia’s hair, jerking her head back and making her squeal. “Yes, you are. You’ve played me for a fool once. The second time will have consequences.”

  “Lydia, I—”

  “Test me! I’ll have them put down like dogs, right here in front of you!” Lydia lets go of Katia’s hair and shoves her head forward. As she slinks towards me, she drops her robe. She’s wearing the same pink bra and panties, the same Cheshire grin, licking her lips expectantly. If anything, the presence of onlookers seems to have excited her more. She pushes me back on the bed and straddles my lap. She’s kissing my neck and grinding me, moaning my name. “You’ll see after this,” she whispers. “You’ll see that it’s better after this. Once you’ve let go of those feelings, once that connection is broken, it’ll be better…it’ll be easier; then we can start to fall in love. Oh God, Tim! Put your hands on me!”

  I set my hands against her flexing ass. I don’t grope, I just set them there; a robot obeying input. My face is against her shoulder. I look up and catch Katia’s eye. There’s a sadness that wasn’t present before, new cracks in the shell.

  I press my hands against her hips and shove her back to her feet, standing and skirting away from her. “Not like this. I can’t like this. Get them out of here. We can work this out in private.”

  “What did I just say?” Her arms are stiff at her sides. Her voice is a low roar.

  “I know what you just said. Now hear what I’m saying. Not like this!”

  “I told you that testing me would have consequences.”

  “Listen to reason, for one second.”

  She continues like she can no longer hear me. “And unlike you, I keep my promises.”

  “No, listen to me, for one second, please?”

  “Kill Sonny.” She waves her hand as if she’s simply dismissing Sonny from her presence.

  Guy pulls the trigger before I can protest. The bullet goes through the back of Sonny’s head and takes most of his face off, spreading bloody chunks of bone and tissue across the carpet. His faceless body hangs there for a moment, wobbling back and forth, before collapsing forward.

  “You bitch!” I raise my fists, with every intention of beating her ass to death.

  “Another step and I’ll kill this cunt!” Daniel booms, dropping the hammer on his pistol.

  Lydia moves towards me, unafraid; confident that my leash is secure.

  She’s right.

  As long as Katia’s in danger, I’m tied to the post.

  God, that was stupid.

  I shouldn’t have…

  Seeing the pain on her face, I couldn’t…

  “Tim, my love, I didn’t want that. You have to believe me.” She puts her head against my chest. “I just needed you to know how serious I am about this…about us. I’ll do anything for us. Do you believe me now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s focus on happier things.” She grabs my arms and turns my back to Katia and…Sonny. “Sit.” She removes her bra and panties and stands there.

  My eyes are staring at the ground.

  At her feet.

  Through her feet.

  My mind is somewhere else entirely, walking the halls of hell, adding another portrait to the ever-growing wall of horrors: Bo ripped apart, Lee beaten to a pulp, my sister dying in my arms, and now Sonny’s ruined face.

  Lydia clears her throat. “Tim, I’m here.”

  I shake my head, startled. I look into her eyes. I want to poke them out with my thumbs, shove them all the way to the back of her skull while she screams and squirms in agony.

  She uses her eyes to direct mine. I catch the hint and slowly look over her body.

  It’s a body. Nothing more.

  Tits.

  Stomach.

  Hips.

  Pussy.

  Thighs.

  It’s hard to appreciate the beauty of a tree when you’re swinging by a noose from its branches.

  “Hands, Tim.”

  My arms feel like they’re lined with lead weights. I struggle to lift them. I place my hands against her stomach and she immediately grabs my wrists and pulls them to her tits.

  “How does that feel?” she gasps.

  “It feels…good.” The need to cry is building inside of me and the will to fight is crumbling away. I’ve got to hold strong. The moment a tear escapes, it’s over for Katia.

  The only way to fight is to stop fighting.

  I give myself over to Lydia.

  As she pushes me back on the bed and mounts me, I respond to her. She does most of the work, leaning forward and whispering in my ear as she thrusts and rotates her hips. I close my eyes and imagine I’m somewhere else; somewhere with Katia and music and sunshine. It seems like an eternity, but in reality, only minutes pass before Lydia rolls off of me. She is soaked in sweat and breathing heavy.

  “Oh my God, Tim! That was incredible!” She pushes herself up. “Do you see now?” At first, I think she’s talking to me. I turn my head and see she’s looking at Katia. “Answer me, skank! Do you see?”

  Daniel jerks Katia by her hair, like he’s trying to st
op a horse. “She’s talking to you, bitch.”

  “Hey—” One look from Lydia presses me back onto the mattress. The command is right there on the tip of her tongue. Just an utterance from her and Katia will be lying in a shallow grave beside Sonny.

  “So, Katia, you were about to say something?”

  Katia’s good eye is bloodshot from crying. She nods and looks like she’s about to speak, but before she can get the words out, her face scrunches up and she’s taken by another wave of emotion.

  “It’s okay, dear. Take your time.” She’s getting off on this, on standing over her defeated prey and prodding at their wounds. The love-struck Southern belle is nowhere to be found. It hits me like a sack of bricks. This isn’t about her loving me. It’s about getting what she can’t have and conquering it. She’s just as power hungry and twisted as her father.

  “I see…I understand,” Katia mumbles, bubbles of saliva popping across her lips.

  “He’s with me. He loves me. He wants me. You see?”

  “I see,” she sobs and drops her head.

  “Get her out of here and send someone to clean up this mess.” Lydia lies across me, intertwining her legs with mine, her fingernails running up and down my body. I remain still…so still, playing dead, hoping the bear won’t bite. “We’re going to be happy together. I can see it.” She nudges me with her nose.

  “See what?” I respond to the input like a good robot, hands locked behind my head, staring up at the dull white ceiling, imagining that it’s a beach.

  “Our children playing in the front yard, us watching them, old and happy and fat. Oh, I can see it. Can’t you?”

  “Of course. I see it.”

  The images I see don’t involve a front yard or children. They have nothing to do with a fat wife and an unhappy life.

  They are dark and violent.

  What do I see?

  I see myself standing on the horizon, looking down over Próta, a blade in one hand and a gun in the other. There’s a storm forming at my back. Soon, I will descend the hill and I will cut them down.

  22

  Lydia departed early this morning to go visit with her father. I’ve spent most of the day in the living room, draped across the couch, staring at the ceiling. There are magazines and books, but I can’t focus on anything for more than a few seconds without the images from last night leaping from around the corners of my mind like carnival workers in a cheap haunted house. I try a few times, flipping through the pages of random magazines, but all I can see is the bloody crater where Sonny’s face used to be.