Hillary_Flesh and Blood

by Angel Gelique

  “Okay Jax,” she said, waving the lighter for her to see, “shhhh...SHHHHHH! STOP SCREAMING!”

  Jax was hysterical. She could see Hillary smugly displaying the lighter. She expected Hillary to flick the switch and set her ablaze. She saw Hillary’s lips moving but could not concentrate on what she was saying. She didn’t care. All she cared about was the few precious seconds that she had left to live. When Hillary pulled out her cell phone and dangled it over her, she quieted down a bit.

  “Finally!” Hillary complained, “You need to shut up for a moment.”

  “Please, oh God, please Hillary, I just—”

  “Shut up!” Hillary screamed fiercely, shoving the lighter in Jax’s face. Jax cringed in fear as she whimpered quietly.

  “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Hillary instructed. “I’m gonna dial Laura’s phone number and you’re gonna tell her to skip school and meet you in the woods tomorrow.”

  “For the picnic?” Jax asked nervously, naively.

  “No, moron, don’t screw this up...you’re going to tell Laura that you’ve got something to show her. Be convincing. Say it’s important. In fact, tell her you found some money, yeah, that’ll work. Say you found someone’s wallet and it had three thousand dollars in it.”

  “She won’t—”

  “Won’t what? She’s the most money-hungry girl I know, she’d go running to you, probably try to rob you and keep it all for herself.”

  “But what are you going to do to her?”

  “Play tidily winks. What d’ya think I’m gonna do? I’m gonna gut her.”

  A frightened whimpering sound escaped Jax’s lips.

  “I don’t...I can’t....”

  “Okay, well if you can’t help me.....”

  Hillary raised the lighter and placed her finger on the switch.

  “No, Hillary!” Jax cried out, “please don’t light that, I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “That’s better...I’ll call her and put the call on speakerphone. Convince her to meet you tomorrow in the woods, near the old picnic table. If you accomplish your mission, you’ll live, if not, you’ll be up in flames before you have time to regret your failure.”

  Jax nodded nervously. She understood what she needed to do. Hillary called Laura Dempsey, the girl who had talked about her. Laura answered on the fourth ring.

  “Yeah?” she said arrogantly.

  “It’s Jax,” Jax said nervously.

  “D’uh,” Laura said sarcastically, “I have caller ID, you know...what’s up?”

  “I...you won’t believe it. I found a wallet.”

  “Ooh, lucky for you!”

  “Skip school tomorrow and meet me in the woods.”

  “What are you talking about? I can’t—”

  “There’s three thousand dollars in it,” Jax said, too dryly for Hillary’s liking.

  “What? Are you shitting me?” Laura said, excitedly. Now Jax had her attention.

  “So you wanna go shopping or not?”

  “Hell yeah! So I’ll meet you at the mall, near Shari’s.”

  Hillary shook her head emphatically.

  “Uh, no,” Jax said, “at the old picnic table in the woods.”

  “That red, splintered one? Why? We can just meet—”

  “Unless you don’t want any of the money,” Jax interrupted.

  Hillary nodded her approval.

  “But why there?” Laura asked.

  “I have to show you something...it’s important, Laura.”

  “It sounds like a setup,” Laura said, “are you sure—”

  “I have to go, my Mom suspects something. Are you going to be there or not?”

  “I guess,” Laura replied hesitantly, “what time?”

  Jax look at Hillary waiting for a response.

  “Nine in the morning,” Hillary whispered in Jax’s ear.

  “Nine in the morning,” Jax said.

  “That’s too early,” Laura complained.

  Hillary was growing impatient and frustrated. She narrowed her eyes and glared at Jax. Jax knew that if she didn’t get Laura to meet her when and where Hillary wanted her to, Hillary would burn her to a crisp.

  “Laura, I’ll be there at nine, if you’re not there, I’ll assume you’re not interested.”

  “All right, all right,” Laura agreed, “who else is in on it?”

  Hillary shook her head again and put a finger up to her lips.

  “No one else knows. Don’t tell anyone, it’ll just be us.”

  Hillary nodded, giving Jax the thumbs up.

  “Okay, Jax, I’ll be there, but you better make it worth my time.”

  “You’ll have the time of your life,” Jax said, her voice shaky and unsteady.

  Before Laura could reply, Hillary ended the call and turned off Jax’s phone.

  “I did it,” Jax cried happily, “she’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “You did a good job, Jax...an excellent job,” Hillary praised her as she held up the lighter.

  Jax’s eyes grew large and frightened.

  “B-but we had a deal,” she cried, trembling.

  “I said I’d let you live. I did. You lived a few minutes longer,” Hillary said with a grin and a wink.

  With a flick of her finger, flame shot out of the lighter. Jax screamed out in fear as she squirmed on the floor.

  “Bye Jax...too bad things couldn’t have been different for me.”

  Hillary lowered the lighter and the gasoline fumes ignited with a loud and violent burst before it even touched Jax’s gasoline-drenched shoulder. Hillary dropped the lighter and jumped back for fear of getting singed by the flame. In an instant, Jax was engulfed in the blaze. Hillary could barely hear her agonizing screams over the roar of the fire. She watched from a distance as Jax’s flesh burned and blistered, her mouth contorting in anguish, searing and blackening before glazing over and melting to her skull. It took a surprisingly long time to happen. Hillary would have enjoyed staying and watching the show, but between the heat, the smoke, the smell and the fact that the fire was beginning to spread further into Jax’s room, Hillary knew it was time to move on.

  It had been a productive day. Hillary needed to drive home, check on her mother and take a shower. She still had mild, fleeting cramps and was bleeding rather heavily. She needed to eat and drink, to replenish her lost fluids and regain her full strength back. Before leaving Jax’s house, she grabbed a can of soda and a package of sliced ham which she carried to her mother’s car.

  Feeling far more confident now and titillated by the carnage she’d inflicted, she eagerly started the car and backed out of the driveway. She felt like a pro behind the wheels of the big SUV. She drove down the road happily, swigging soda and stuffing slices of ham into her mouth. She could hardly wait to meet with Laura in the woods.

  ~17~

  The ride home was as easy as sin. Hillary was back in just over ten minutes. She had just missed the heavier “rush-hour” traffic, not that the roads were ever all that congested around Maple Trails.

  Hillary was pleased to see her mother lying in the same spot at the bottom of the stairs where she had left her. Her mother’s eyes fluttered open slowly as she heard Hillary’s footsteps. She grew distraught when she saw the blood on Hillary’s clothing. Who had she killed now?

  “Having fun yet, Mom?” Hillary said, stepping over her mother’s shattered, bruised, wounded body.

  “What did you do now?” she wailed.

  “You don’t even want to know, Mom, trust me,” Hillary turned back and yelled loudly before continuing up to her room. She had plans to make and research to do. Tonight, she would be a scientist.

  Laura was an older student, a grade above her. She was one of those popular rich kids who had their own car. Whereas Maddie was a petite cheerleader, Laura was a tall, solid-framed athlete. Unlike her mother, Caleigh, Joshua, Jax and the twin babies, Laura would be a challenge to duct-tape or tie up. Hillary knew she’d have to find a way to take her down b
efore she could have fun with her. But she already had an idea in mind...something she had once overheard a senior talking about. Supposedly, he had created a home-made batch of chloroform from a recipe he’d found online. He bragged about how easy it was to make, with just a few household ingredients. Hillary hadn’t given his remarks any real thought...until now. It sounded like a fascinating endeavor.

  Hillary used to use her computer all the time for schoolwork and to check her email. It had been months since she last started it up to print a report for a class. When it was done booting up, Hillary stared briefly at the wallpaper photo of her and Jax hugging at the shore. Those days were long gone. She opened her web browser and typed some word into her search engine. She smiled when she saw all of the results.

  The first page she opened up had everything she needed to know, complete with bold-lettered, highlighted warnings. As the senior student had announced, the recipe called for three simple ingredients, all of which she was sure she had. She printed out the directions and ran eagerly to the shed in search of acetone. She knew it was something her father had used before as a cleaner and to strip paint. It was her lucky day. She reached up to the top shelf and grabbed the nearly-full quart of acetone. The other ingredients she would find in the kitchen and the utility closet. The only thing she wasn’t sure about was where she would put her home-made concoction. The recipe said it worked best if placed in a dark-colored bottle. She thought for a moment then smiled. She knew just the container.

  Kathy called out to Hillary as she entered the house again. Hillary ignored her as she anxiously carried the acetone up to the bathroom, her laboratory for the evening. She opened the medicine cabinet and laughed giddily. She pulled out the bottle of peroxide, opened it and poured the contents down the sink. She rinsed the bottle out and set it aside.

  Hillary walked back downstairs, stopping at the utility closet to grab the bleach before moving on to the freezer.

  “I have to go....” Kathy pestered. She had been complaining about having to go to the bathroom since Hillary first walked downstairs on her way to the shed. Hillary had ignored her then and continued to do so. As long as her mother couldn’t escape or stand in the way of her plans she wouldn’t have to bother with her.

  Struggling to carry two five-pound bags of ice and the gallon of bleach, Hillary made her way to the bathroom. Her mother’s ranting and whining was getting to her. She made a mental note to pour any leftover bleach over her face when she was done working on her project.

  Forty-five minutes later, Hillary had accomplished her task. She was quite pleased with the product she had created. Who said torture and murder couldn’t be educational? And the best part, she had nearly half the bottle of bleach left...plenty to throw on her mother’s face. Maybe she’d even throw the rest of the acetone on her too.

  Tightly screwing the cap on the brown bottle, Hillary carried her magic potion to her bedroom. She placed it on the dresser then thought about the other things she would need for her trip. Making a mental checklist, Hillary set off in search of her paraphernalia. Her first stop was to Caleigh’s room where she grabbed a knapsack she had always liked. Caleigh had won it in a raffle. Hillary had begged her for it, but her selfish sister kept it for herself. She rarely even used it.

  “It’s mine now,” she told her dead, stiffening sister.

  Hillary placed the strap of the empty bag over her shoulder and walked down the stairs. As expected, her mother cried out to her, begging for help, for mercy...everything but forgiveness. Hillary gazed at her scornfully as she ignored her pleas. When she was done gathering her tools, she would give her something to shut her up.

  As she reached the last step, the doorbell rang. Storm ran to the door, barking. Hillary froze in place. Could it be the cops?

  The bell rang again, followed by loud rapping on the door.

  “Hello?” A voice called out loudly.

  Hillary sighed in relief. It wasn’t the cops…just a woman who was probably lost and needed directions.

  Answer the door….

  Hillary hadn’t intended to answer the door. She was going to wait for the woman to grow tired of waiting and finally leave. But if the voice thought it was a good idea….

  “Coming,” Hillary called out.

  She ran to the front door and opened it, forgetting that she was covered in blood.

  Bobbi Sutton, the Child Protective Services caseworker, gasped out loud.

  “Oh my God,” she exclaimed, “what happened to you? Are you hurt?”

  Shit, Hillary thought frantically, what now?

  “Who are you?” she asked the alarmed woman.

  “My name is Bobbi Sutton, I work for CPS. Is your mother or father home?”

  It was clear to Bobbi that Hillary was not injured. Still, what were those stains on her clothing? It looked an awful lot like blood.

  “One second,” Hillary said “I’ll go get her.”

  Hillary shut the door and stood in the foyer as she figured out what she should do. Kathy knew what to do. She started screaming. She hollered as loud as her vocal chords allowed.

  Hillary was torn between running over to shut her up and running to the kitchen to grab a knife. The latter seemed like the more sensible option. She grabbed one of the last knives from the butcher block and began running toward the front door. She stopped when she heard that Mrs. Sutton had already let herself in and had apparently just noticed Kathy at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Help me!” Kathy pleaded desperately.

  “Help me!” Hillary mimicked, sounding even more desperate for help, “Please help me!”

  Hillary dropped to floor, pretending to be injured. Mrs. Sutton raced to the kitchen and squatted down beside her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously, rattled by the sight of Hillary’s mother just around the corner.

  “My father,” Hillary said, “he….”

  Hillary rambled off a string of unintelligible sounds.

  “What?” Mrs. Sutton asked, lowering her head to Hillary.

  Mrs. Sutton’s head was turned so that her left ear was lined up directly to Hillary’s mouth so that she could hear the poor girl more clearly. She didn’t even see the knife Hillary used to cut her throat. It must have been quite the shock for her, listening so intently one second then choking on her blood the next.

  “That’s what you get for not minding your business,” Hillary said bitterly as she shoved the woman’s body away from her and watched as she bled to death.

  It was a quick show. Hillary was back to gathering her supplies in no time at all. She placed the bloodied knife in her hand into the knapsack then grabbed the remaining knives from the butcher’s block and tossed them in as well. She remembered the big carving knife, the one her father used to use each Thanksgiving to carve the turkey. She found it in one of the kitchen drawers and carefully added it to her collection. It was so long, it barely fit all the way in the bag. She also found a mallet style meat tenderizer and a rusted old pocket knife that used to belong to her father. Her mother had kept it handy for when she needed to use the bottle opener attachment.

  Hillary threw some bottled water in the bag and a few snacks as well, just in case she got hungry while she waited for Laura. She couldn’t think of anything else she would need other than the chloroform which was up in her bedroom and a couple of washcloths.

  Content that she had packed a sufficient amount of supplies, Hillary carried the knapsack up to her room and set it beside the brown bottle. She wanted to wash up and put on some comfortable pajamas, but there was something else she needed to do first. She held the bleach in one hand and the acetone in the other and carried them down the stairs to where her mother lay ranting and raving. She knew that Hillary had killed the social worker, the one person who might have been able to rescue her.

  Hillary uncapped the bleach and poured it slowly over her mother.

  Kathy gasped and screamed as the bleach soaked her head, face and upper body. She cl
osed her eyes to protect them from the caustic liquid. She thought she was being doused with more bleach a moment later when Hillary poured the acetone on her, until she inhaled the sweet, pungent smell, like nail polish remover. She kept her eyes closed as she tried to wipe the chemicals off her face. Hillary laughed menacingly as she stepped on her mother’s ruptured leg on her way to the kitchen. The exposed, damaged bone splintered even more under Hillary’s weight.

  Kathy howled in pain as her swollen leg began bleeding again around the breakage. She could feel the bits of bone piercing her flesh and muscles like sharp toothpicks. The pain was intense, even worse than when Hillary had initially broken her leg. It made her forget all about the chemicals covering her scalp, face, neck and shoulders.

  Kathy lost control of her bladder as the warm urine flowed out, soaking her pants and floor around her. As humiliating as it might have been, it didn’t faze Kathy at all; it was actually one less thing tormenting her, one less thing she had to worry about.

  After Hillary had helped herself to some leftovers and a glass of juice, she walked upstairs to her room, this time bypassing Kathy on her way. She had grown tired of hearing her mother’s pained cries and moans and groans and blubbering. She had a warm shower and cozy pajamas waiting for her.

  When at last it was time to shower, Hillary stripped out of her blood-stained clothes. Her once-pink panties were saturated with blood and small bits of fetal matter. Her entire crotch area was nightmarishly bloody. Her cramping had just about ceased altogether. All in all, despite being denied the choice, Hillary was glad that the unwanted little leech was dead and gone and out of her body for good. She left her ruined clothing on the growing heap on the floor and walked to the bathroom. She took the longest shower ever, nearly a full hour, before drying off and dressing for bed. Her mother was still wailing downstairs.