by Matt Hickman
“What? How?” Clive choked. His eyes scanned every crack in the floor.
“How the fuck do you think? You put that tiny little prick in me and now I’m fucking pregnant. I’ve taken three pregnancy tests.” Her body shook as she clenched her fists on her lap. “It’s your fucking fault.”
“B-But how? I thought we couldn’t… not since….” Clive stammered as he raised his eyes to meet Sarah’s.
“We?” Sarah locked eyes with Clive. “We? You mean since you crashed the car and cost me my child. Everything that’s happened is your fucking fault.”
“But you wanted to get rid of it.” Clive stepped towards the door.
“You took that choice away from me with your drunken driving.” Sarah stood up from the bed. “Now we have a child I never wanted and another on the way that I don’t fucking need.”
“Lower your voice Sarah, Anna will hear you.” Clive closed the bedroom door and stared at the knotted wood.
“Listen, you cunt!” she started, but Clive cut her off.
“Sit down.” He turned to face her. “If you don’t want it, that’s fine. I’ll take Anna and the baby and we’ll leave. I won’t let you hurt another member of my family.”
“When the fuck did you grow a pair of balls?” Sarah sat back down. “I won’t have this baby and that’s final. If you make me carry it to term, then I’ll just put it up for adoption," Her eyes glazed over.
“My flesh and blood ain’t being raised by some stranger.”
“But it’s all right for you to kill your own, is it?” Without warning Sarah lunged at Clive from the bed. Grabbing his hair in her hand, she drove her forehead into his nose. Blood gushed out of his nostrils. Clive yelped in surprise. Before he could work free, she swung her other fist at his jaw. A sharp crack echoed around the room. Pulling his head back, Sarah swung again. She connected hard with his nose and drove it across his cheek. Clive stumbled, crashing into the corner of the dressing unit. Clive’s world spun around; his vision shrouded red. Sarah grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the walk-in wardrobe. Flinging the door open she threw Clive’s quivering body into the open doorway.
“You think you can tell me what to do?” Sarah slammed the door onto the side of his head. Again and again she slammed the door onto Clive’s skull. Blood oozed through his scalp and pooled on the floor.
“You want to keep the baby? It’s my body that has to carry the fucking thing. It’s me who has to suffer with it. Fuck you, Clive.”
Her eyes furrowed. She turned to the bedside table and grabbed the wrought iron lamp. As she wrenched the wire from the wall, she could see Clive struggling to pick himself up from the floor in her peripheral vision. Spinning back to face him, Sarah brought the lamp down hard and struck his ankle. Clive screamed as his bones cracked. He fell limp to the floor.
“I will give you one last chance,” she said hefting the lamp, “say you’re sorry. Say, I can get rid of this fucking abomination.”
Clive held his head in his hands as the blood continued to flow from his skull. Wiping his face with his palms, a slow whimper escaped his mouth.
“Yes,” he gargled.
“What did you say?”
“Yes, you can get rid of it.”
“And?”
“And, I’m sorry.” Clive wheezed.
Sarah relaxed and placed the lamp back on the side table.” I’ll go book an appointment.” She walked out the room, heading for the phone in the kitchen.
Clive curled up into the foetal position and lay still as he waited for the pain to subside a little. After a few minutes, Sarah returned and helped him to his feet. Staring into his cut and bruised face, she helped him down to the kitchen, his face creased up in agony with every step.
“Come dear, we’ll get you cleaned and patched up, and then we’ll get things ready. The appointments in the morning, let’s get you decent.” She slumped him on barstool in the kitchen. Her words cut him deeper than the door or the lamp ever could. She knew exactly what to say to hit him the hardest. A single tear cleared a trail through the blood on his cheek. With a swipe of her finger tip, Sarah wiped it away.
*****
“No officer, no disturbance here…”
Grabbing a tea towel off the breakfast bench, Clive wiped his face and hands. He couldn’t let her do this; he wouldn’t let her do this.
“Yes, I’m alone…”
He saw a large wooden handle poking out from between the dishes in the sink. The steak knife he had used for yesterday’s dinner. Putting all his weight on his good ankle, Clive inched his way across the breakfast bar towards the sink.
“Screaming? Not from here…”
Clive reached the sink and retrieved the steak knife. Freeing it from the dishes, its serrated blade glistened in the kitchen light. He tucked it into his inside jacket pocket then selected a glass out of the sink and filled it with water.
“… ok, thank you officer I will.”
The door slammed shut, Sarah was muttering under her breath as she came back into the kitchen.
“Fucking neighbour rang the cops all because you can’t take a hit. Stupid cunt,” she removed the knife from the back of her belt and placed it on the side. Clive heard the police car out front start its engine and drive off.
“What the fuck are you doing there?” she said, noticing Clive by the sink.
“Needed water,” he placed the glass on the side.
“Ok, so where were we?”
“Cleaning me up,”
“Ah yes, so we were.” Sarah moved closer.
She filled a bowl with hot water from the tap then helped Clive back to the stool. Sarah picked a towel up from the side and dipped it in the water; she began to wipe the blood off his face. Clive winced and hissed with each cleansing motion.
“Why do we do this?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Do what?”
“Every week it’s something different. We argue, you beat me, you clean me up and then we carry on like nothing’s changed.”
“It’s just the way we are.”
“But I’m tired Sarah, I don’t want to do this anymore,” Clive dropped his head onto his chest.
“What do you mean?” Sarah pushed his chin up so his eyes met hers.
“I’ve had enough. Surely it’s your turn by now?” Another tear mingled with the blood on his cheek.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? We could have swapped at the last house.” Sarah placed a hand on his cheek and stroked the tear away.
“I thought I could handle one more, but I was wrong.”
“Oh baby, I’m sorry.” Sarah kissed him on his forehead. As she came closer, Clive put his hand inside his jacket and wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle of the steak knife. He drew it out its hiding place, holding it so hard his knuckles turned white. As she moved back, Clive brought the knife out from under his jacket and punched it into her thigh.
Sarah screamed as a crash of thunder ripped through the house. Stumbling back she collided with the edge of the sink and sank to the floor staring at the knife protruding from her leg. The blood poured from the wound, staining her dress red. Sarah shook as she raised her head to the ceiling. Clive couldn’t believe it as she barked laughter into the kitchen.
“Well, I guess I deserved that.”
Grasping the handle with blood slicked hands she tried to pull it free. Splinters tore from the handle and pierced her flesh. Sarah whimpered as the wood wormed its way under her skin.
“A little help,” she spluttered.
Steadying himself on the counter, Clive worked his way back towards the sink. Each step he took was agony as he inched closer to Sarah. Lowering himself to the floor beside her, he picked the towel up from the floor and wrapped it around the handle. Grasping it tightly with both hands, he steadied his grip. Clive looked up into Sarah’s eyes and she nodded at him. With one hard tug he tore the knife out of her leg. Sarah screamed as blood fountained up into the air. Dropping the knife from insi
de the towel, Clive applied it to the wound to stem the blood flow.
“You’re a dick Clive,” Sarah hissed as he put pressure on her leg.
“I know, at least I tried to avoid anything major by going in sideways.”
Sarah laughed again, a low, guttural chuckle. Clive raised his head to look at her. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth as she laughed. Clive laughed as well.
“Hey,” Clive smiled, “Are you really pregnant this time?”
“No, but I figured it would be a good way to get the ball rolling. We’ve been here too long.” She said as she wiped the blood from her chin.
Leaning in, Sarah kissed Clive on the lips, he kissed back, harder. Blood and saliva mingled as their tongues explored every inch of their mouths. Sarah took Clive’s head in her hands and ran her fingers through his blood soaked hair. Clive took his hand off the towel on her thigh and slid it up over the blood and under her dress. His bloodied fingers found her pants. He moved them to one side and used her own blood as a lubricant as he slid them inside her.
Sarah arched her back as Clive explored with his fingers. His thrusting got rougher as she rode him deeper inside. Feeling herself getting closer to orgasm, Sarah grabbed his head. Clive yelped as she forced his battered skull between her thighs. His tongue and fingers worked in unison on her, as blood from her leg sluiced down his cheek and into his mouth. The combined, sweet taste of her blood and juices sent him into a fucking frenzy. His fingers turned into a jackhammer and his tongue became a whirlwind.
Gasping and moaning, Sarah ground against his face until she exploded in a cloud of ecstasy and blood. Her legs clamped shut, body shuddering as the waves of endorphins crashed through her. Struggling for air and feeling the pressure on his battered skull, Clive tapped her on her leg to get her to let go but to no avail. Panic swept through his body as the pain and lack of air intensified. He gouged his thumb into her knife wound and Sarah screamed as she released her grip on his head. Greedily breathing in a deep gulp of air, Clive rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
They sat against the cupboard in silence, both savouring the moment. It had been awhile since they had done anything like that. Playing happy families sucked. Clive pulled down a clean towel from the kitchen surface and tore it into strips. Clive raised Sarah’s leg then wrapped each one around the knife wound and tied them as tight as he dared.
“Come on, it’s time we got going.” Clive rasped as some blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.
“Not yet, we need to finish this.”
“Well I’m not in a fit state to do it.”
“It’s ok, I have a plan. You wait here I’ll be back in a few.”
Retrieving the knife from the floor, Sarah used the sink to help her stand up. Making her way around the breakfast bar she headed for the door. Flashing a wicked smile back at Clive she saw that he had already passed out. Standing in the doorway, Sarah could see the blood streaming from his mouth, his nose and his ears. Maybe she did go too far this time? Maybe there is no going back this time? Fuck it, she thought, I could always replace him.
Sarah used the bannister for support and made her way back up the stairs, heading for the master bedroom. Collapsing onto the edge of the bed, Sarah sat and looked at the knife in her hands. Its serrated edges glistened in the light. Reaching one hand behind her, Sarah tapped the foot sticking out from the covers with the tip of the blade.
“Well, now it’s just me and you,” Sarah stood up and made her way to the end of the bed. She grabbed a handful of quilt and tossed it aside.
A woman’s head appeared on the pillow. Her face was frozen in a twisted grimace, her neck held fast by a thick, leather strap. With the cover pulled further down the bed, it revealed the woman’s shoulders and bare breasts. Each breast was covered in a multitude of bites and scratches.
Her stomach showed more bloody scratches and a variety of cuts. Strips of her flesh had been peeled away and stapled back onto themselves creating a crude facsimile of a smiley face. Her forearms and wrists had been super-glued to her sides. The skin had torn where the woman had tried to rip them free but the glue did not give. Across her waist, another leather strap had been used to hold her down. Her struggles had torn crimson gouges into her skin yet the strap had held fast. Sarah whipped the cover off the end of the bed like a magician revealing his illusion, “Ta-dah.”
Throwing the blood-soaked cover on the floor, Sarah surveyed their masterpiece. She had been beautiful once, but not anymore. They had seen to that. Rounding the corner of the bed, Sarah placed the tip of the knife on the woman’s ankle and pressed it through the top layers of skin.
“You’re not the reason I’m here my lovely. As much fun as you were, I want Anna.” Sarah dragged the knife through the woman’s skin as she moved up the bed.
“I have been watching, waiting. And i know all about the bolt hole she has. I know about the peep-hole she uses to check it’s you before she opens up. That’s why, my lovely, I need you.” Pulling the knife from the flesh in the woman’s hip Sarah wiped the blade on the edge of the bed.
“Enough play, I could carve you all day. But I’m only here for one thing.”
Sarah positioned herself next to the shoulder of the dead woman and lowered herself to the bed. Sarah pursed her lips and whistled. Tightening her grip on the handle of the knife she inserted it halfway down the woman’s neck. Sawing through the muscle and tendons always took time, due to rigor mortis setting in. Once the neck was dealt with the rest was easier.
Guiding the tip of the knife up behind the ears, she worked the skin as if she were a plastic surgeon. A little blood stemmed from the cuts but not enough to slow her down. Sarah worked the blade across the hairline and down the other side of the woman’s face. When the knife met up with the neck incision, she withdrew it and stabbed it into the mattress by her leg.
Sarah flexed her fingers and shoved her fingernails into the fleshy crevice. She could feel thick blood seeping between her fingers as she worked her way under the skin. Grasping a hold of the flap she had created, Sarah dug her thumbnail into the skin and peeled. A cruel smile crossed her face as she teased it.
Taking up the tune again, she whistled as she gently worked the woman’s flesh. Pulling it away from the skull, she could feel the skin tearing away. When she reached the lips Sarah plucked the knife from the mattress and sliced underneath where the lips joined the muscle. Upon reaching the nose she did the same thing again. Inserting the knife under the skin and teasing the skin away from the cartilage until the nose popped loose.
Sarah tried her hardest to keep the eyes intact, but the skin was too soft and it tore, so she settled for the outer eye. Working her fingers back under the skin, she took hold one last time and with a final, careful tug, she separated the skin from the woman’s skull.
“There you are sweetie,” she held the skin up to the light.
Thrusting the knife into the woman’s bloodied forehead, Sarah stood up from the bed and grinned. She turned to the dresser and placed the skin mask, face upwards on the surface.
“Now all we need is bobby pins,” she muttered as she rifled through the drawers. Finding a clear plastic pot containing dozens of them, she popped the lid and removed a few of them before replacing the pot.
“I loved dressing up when I was a little girl,” Sarah picked up the skin, “I used to love pretending to be someone else. It was my escape from life, from my mother.”
Placing the skin upon her own face, Sarah worked the flesh. She moulded the nose on then hooked the ears over her own. She pushed, tugged and blended the mask onto her face. Sarah stroked and sculpted the lips onto her own until they were inseparable. She picked up a bobby pin and secured the mask in place.
“Mother used to beat me. She used to take her leather belt and beat me black and blue. I always reminded her of daddy and she never let me forget that. When I was younger, she used to hit me until I was unconscious. Then, when I was older, she used to invite her
friends over. Get them good and drunk. Then she would drug me and tie me to my bed. Then, well, you can guess the rest. Her so-called friends fucked me every way. They didn’t just use their fucking cocks though. The impotent ones used whatever they could find. A baseball bat? Check. A shoe? Check. No child should ever have to go through that. Yet she let it happen over and over again. One day I snapped, I’d had enough. I waited till she passed out drunk. I sneaked into her room and tied her to her bed. Then I fucked her with everything I could lay my hands on. I even made the effort of going downstairs to fetch the electric whisk. Oh man, that one was fun.”
Sarah put the final pin in place and admired her reflection in the mirror. Bringing her hair forwards to cover the ragged edges she turned her head left and right making sure all was concealed. Sarah attempted a smile, it worked beautifully. She beamed at herself in the mirror as she picked up the hairbrush and fixed her hair.
“Enough about me, let’s talk about you. I’ve been watching you. I saw how you treated your daughter. It’s not on, a child should be protected and you failed miserably. You should never have beaten her. There are worse things out there in the dark. And now you’ve met one. I used to think I could make a difference and change people. But that got me more beatings. The police wouldn’t shit without a signed statement and guess what; they were never going to do that. So now I make it easier for myself. I find myself a nice young man. Break him down then mould him up into whatever I need. Then we waited. We would find an abused child and end their suffering. You should never have ignored those warnings we sent you. What you’ve done to your child will scar her for life and I can’t have that. Well, it’s time,” she said placing the brush down. Standing up, Sarah turned back to the bed, “It’s been fun love.”
Sarah yanked the knife out of the woman’s head, working the blade loose from where it was embedded into the bone and checked her face one last time in the mirror. Pinching the flesh under her left ear she pulled it tighter, “You’ve taken ten years off me.”
