Gemini: A Psychological Horror

by Stuart Keane

  “I do apologise, love,” the driver uttered, sarcasm oozing from his lips. “My driving is a bit reckless sometimes. But don’t you worry, we’re nearly there, huh.”

  “West Street?” she said, dazed. Odette wiped her top lip, smearing the back of her hand with hot sweat, and ruffled her hair with some probing fingers, breathing out loudly.

  “Fuck no,” he chuckled. “Somewhere much … nicer.”

  Odette.

  She blinked, unsure where the voice had come from.

  Odette.

  But it wasn’t a voice, it was internal, the dulcet tones vibrating through her skull.

  Up here, Odette.

  She actually looked up to the roof of the vehicle before realising the mysterious voice was referring to her head. The voice was inside her brain, talking quietly in a tone that was low-key and soothing. Then, she realised.

  Oh, no. Not you again.

  Yep. Me.

  What do you want? she asked, her mind swimming.

  Control.

  What control?

  Of you. You don’t remember, do you?

  Remember what?

  It, the chaos, the violence. The switch triggering deep inside your head. When you heard Shay fucking Gavin. Do you remember the shift?

  She physically nodded. I do.

  Well, I’m the shift. I take control of you during the aptly named kill zone.

  Kill zone. I don’t remember that.

  And you never will, which is why you’ll be so effective going forward. We unite, to become one and form the ultimate killer. We’re the same consciousness, after all.

  Odette looked up and stared at the driver. The car began to slow.

  “You have to let me go,” she uttered, calmer now. Her eyes sized up the hazardous situation, the layout of the aged vehicle, the bulk of her potential opponent.

  “We’re nearly there, love. Then, well, you can attempt to go all you want.” He chuckled.

  “I don’t think you understand. This isn’t a choice. I have places to be, people to see, and I can’t be sitting in the back of a disgusting taxi on the whim of a deviant sexual fantasy, all because some fat cunt feels the need to massage his parental-neglected ego.”

  The driver slammed on the brakes, jerking Odette forward. His bulging eyes shot to the rear-view mirror. He wiped his mouth slowly, blinking. “What did you just call me?”

  Odette stared back. “I didn’t call you anything, I was merely stating the obvious.”

  He shook his head. “You gobby little cunt.” Then, he smiled. “I’m going to fuckin’ enjoy this.”

  And with that, he climbed from the car.

  Odette watched him shuffle from the car, uncaring. She realised she wasn’t afraid, and wasn’t bothered in the slightest. She found her left hand sliding into her jeans pocket, almost on automatic, and felt her gloved fingers clasp around something long and thin.

  Just something I left for you, Odette. Hope you don’t mind.

  She tried to remember placing it there, deep in her pocket with random lint and some change, and tried to recall picking up the metal object, but couldn’t. She finally gave in, releasing herself to the inner voice, realising that, in the grand scheme of things, the voice was now her protector in this new phase of life. He’d been present against Gavin and he was present now.

  Hope you don’t mind.

  No, I don’t. Thank you.

  I knew we could be friends. A chuckle echoed across her dark mind’s eye.

  Slipping the scalpel from her pocket, Odette held it tight against her thigh. A dark shadow flickered across her window, the locks thudded once more, and the door opened. A blast of cold air filled the car as the driver leant down, his wide frame a dull grey against the darkness of the night beyond. His breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps. “Come here you –”

  Odette swung her hand and embedded the scalpel in his face.

  He screamed, slamming into the side of the car as the agony crippled his normal functions. Pulling the blade away, she then stabbed it into his neck, the pale slab of meat now partially visible in the night. The scalpel disappeared to the very hilt, leaving an inch of shiny metal protruding from his flesh, which glinted in the moonlight. A bloody gargle escaped his lips, and a blast of hot breath smacked Odette in the face. She didn’t even flinch.

  She reached out and prised the scalpel from the wound with her fingertips, the blood sloshing over her gloved hand. A geyser of hot blood splattered the door beside her, the sound thudding off the night’s silence. She stabbed again, and again, repeatedly, oblivious to the jets of dark crimson that were arcing into the night air.

  “You wanted this, huh?”

  Stab.

  You asked for this, huh?”

  Another stab, this one puncturing his jugular.

  “Want to kidnap me and take me to the fucking booneys, huh?”

  Stab.

  “You think you can kidnap innocent people and do what you want with them, huh?”

  Three stabs to the face, two of which shredded his left cheek.

  “Well, fuck you! Fuck you! Fucking die, huh!”

  His eyes wide, his shredded throat gaping and gushing in multiple places, the man staggered and collapsed, sinking to his knees before her very eyes.

  Odette was aware of a hot splashing noise, and realised his torn neck was emptying its contents onto the floor outside. The blood sounded like water sluicing onto scattered tree branches. Her eyes were stoic, frozen, watching the man as he died before her uncaring gaze. She was aware of a hot dampness on her face and her gloves were warm, sticky, but she ignored it.

  She waited for seven whole minutes before moving.

  Sliding out of the other rear door, her hands before her so as to leave no mixed blood and DNA evidence, Odette walked around the vehicle and kicked the body from the side of the vehicle. Using the soles of her shoes, she rolled it a few feet and placed the oversized body beneath an overgrown hedge. Gathering some twigs, she tossed them on top of the dead driver. She looked around, and realised she was in a rounded clearing, surrounded by beautiful trees and wildlife. The touch of man and his technology was nowhere in sight. She walked to the edge of the clearing and found a small stream trickling away beneath an overgrown hedge. She washed her gloves thoroughly, happy that no blood had breached them, and hoped that the clearing was far enough away from society to remain undetected, for a few days at least.

  When the blood was washed away, she stood up and returned to the vehicle, waving her gloved hands in the air. Shooting a final glance at the corpse, she turned and looked at the rear passenger door, her eyes studying every inch. Several large blood spatters had stained the bruised metal. She sighed, closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. Odette climbed into the vehicle and tapped the sat-nav on the dashboard. It took a few attempts for the screen to recognise her commands with the gloves in place.

  Locating West Street on the device, she started the vehicle.

  As the car exited the small copse of trees, leaves crunching beneath its tyres, a smile curled the corners of her mouth.

  Well done, Odette. You’re one for one. Two more to go.

  VIII

  Shay and the stranger conversed in the wine bar for the next hour. She was enjoying his company, much to her surprise, and he seemed to be enjoying hers. After four years of abstinence from any form of alcohol, the three Bacardi doubles that she had consumed were beginning to quickly take effect; her days of binge drinking were clearly behind her.

  Not that she cared.

  The man took a swig from his cold bottle of beer. “I hope you don’t mind the terrible cliché, but I don’t recall ever seeing you in here before.”

  “I’ve never been in here before.” Shay composed herself. “You see, the truth is … I’ve just gotten out of a messy relationship and decided to move to London to get away from it all.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that,” the man said, a hint of genuine concern in his voic
e.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it; the guy was a two-timing dick anyhow. I’m sure he’ll get what’s coming to him.” She smiled, sipping her drink. She thought back to earlier that day, remembered the bloodshed, and groaned under her breath. “So, tell me a bit about yourself, Steve. What is it you do? Don’t tell me you’re out for an evening on the razz, and you have a wife and two kids back at home.”

  Steve smiled. “There’s not much to tell, really. I work in the city for an insurance company; I live alone in Chelsea. I come in here a few nights a week to unwind after work. Sometimes there’s a crowd of us, other times, it’s just me.”

  Shay raised an eyebrow. “You work in insurance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You must really live a rock and roll lifestyle,” she joked. Shay emptied her glass and placed it on the table, the molten ice cubes clinking as she set it down. Her eyes, glazed and fuzzy from the alcohol, watched Steve with curious abandon.

  He laughed. “Not really, but the money’s good and without a family to provide for, it keeps me comfortable in life’s little luxuries. Talking of which, why don’t we push the boat out and order a bottle of bubbly?”

  “Anything you say. It can’t be cheap in a place like this, though.”

  The man reached into the inside pocket of his suit and produced his wallet, a solid billfold made from expensive looking black leather. Flipping it open, he slipped a gold Visa card from its place and tapped its edge on the surface of the table. Shay noticed the card was just one of many. Her eyes widened a little at the range of coloured plastic in his hand.

  “That’s what these things were invented for. Come on, let’s celebrate. What was the name of your love rat ex-boyfriend?”

  “Gavin,” she replied.

  “Right you are, let’s celebrate your first night of freedom away from … Gavin.”

  Laughing, he faltered to his feet, clearly quite inebriated from his own consumption of alcohol that evening. Taking a moment to steady himself, Shay watched as he staggered his way over towards the bar and leaned forward, waiting to be served.

  Shay stood up from the table, collecting her handbag from where it hung at the side of the chair, and made her way towards the ladies’ room. The chill out music, a choice of sound designed to soothe the punters, continued to play throughout the bar and was beginning to grate on her nerves. She entered the toilets, narrowly avoiding a collision with two women who were standing just the other side of the doorway, chatting between themselves.

  Squeezing past the two women, she made her way into the first toilet cubicle and relieved herself, her head still feeling a little fuzzy from the onset of alcohol. Exiting the cubicle, she stopped in front of the mirror, placed her handbag near to her feet, and washed her hands. She couldn’t help but notice the yellow vitreous humour that still coated one of her fingernails. Shay recalled her scuffle in the underground station, puncturing the man’s eyeball, and watching the yellow fluid ooze from the orb. She smiled.

  You need to be more careful than this, too many stupid mistakes and the whole thing is off. You’ll get caught if you don’t sort out your carelessness.

  Drying her hands, she threw the used paper towel into the bin and opened up her handbag. Fishing out her lipstick, she applied a fresh coat and puckered her lips to herself in the mirror. She caught a few stray hairs with her fingertips and swiped them back behind her ears. Squeezing her breasts together, she blew herself a kiss, and enjoyed the feeling of the alcohol as it swished around her system.

  Time to focus, Shay.

  This guy, Steve. He could be the key to getting this thing off the ground. It doesn’t hurt that he’s not too bad on the eye. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you … no, keep your mind on the game.

  Happy that her appearance was as attractive as it was going to get for now, Shay threw the lipstick back into her handbag. She flinched and looked around sheepishly as the plastic casing clanked off the steel blade of the knife. The sound seemed thunderous in the quiet of the rest room. Thankfully, nobody appeared to be watching her.

  As she made her way back into the main room, the awful music continued playing through the system as she made her way back over the table. Steve had already returned from the bar. Sitting on the table was a silver ice bucket containing an expensive bottle of champagne; well it may have been expensive. Shay knew nothing about champagne, nor did she care. As she sat back down next to Steve, she smiled pleasantly.

  He passed her a champagne glass. “Hey. I was beginning to think that you had run out on me.”

  “And why would I do that when I’m beginning to enjoy your company?”

  Leaning over and grabbing the bottle, Steve poured them both a small glass, hesitating as the bubbles began to creep up the sides of the flute. He handed her a glass before holding his own out aloft towards her. She clinked her own glass on the side of his.

  “To new friends,” he said.

  “To new friends,” Shay repeated.

  They both laughed and took a swig from their glasses before continuing to chat away. The next forty minutes passed quickly, as did the contents of the next two bottles. Shay made a conscious effort to ensure that Steve’s glass was readily topped up, whilst hers was emptied regularly into the large yucca pot plant that stood next to her chair.

  Steve drained the last of his glass before turning to Shay, slurring his words. “Should we get another bottle, or should we move onto somewhere else?”

  Shay leaned in towards him, so close that he could feel her warm breath on his cheek as she exhaled. “Why don’t we get ourselves a takeaway, and go somewhere a little more private … you know, have our own party?”

  She slowly moved her hand down towards the man’s groin and stroked gently. Steve jerked slightly, not expecting her sudden caress. He smiled as she continued to rub the palm of her hand across his groin. Shay felt him stiffen inside his trousers. He closed his eyes for a moment in pleasure and groaned inwardly.

  “So what do you say? You go and get us another bottle and we take this elsewhere?”

  Steve smiled. “I would, but I do seem to have a slight problem.”

  He nodded down to his throbbing erection, poking out awkwardly from the groin of his trousers. Shay sniggered, leaned in towards him, and began to nibble suggestively on his earlobe. “I tell you what, give me your card. I’ll go and get the bottle while you stay here and calm yourself down a little. Don’t go blowing your lid, we’ve got all night ahead of us, you know.”

  The man pondered her suggestion for a moment, before conceding and pulling the wallet from his inside jacket pocket once again. Shay brushed his crotch once more with her hand. Flipping it open, he pulled the Visa card from inside and handed it to her. She took it in her left hand whilst continuing to stroke his groin with her right. She kissed him gently on the cheek, and then began to nibble gently on his bottom lip.

  The man groaned. “Four-four-three-seven.”

  “What?”

  “My pin number. Go get the bottle and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Shay smiled and jumped up from her seat. The woman walked straight to the bar, whilst attempting to swing her buttocks from side to side suggestively in a seductive display for her companion. Shouting the bartender over, she asked the man for a bottle of what they had been drinking, but requested that it remained unopened. The bartender rang the price up on the till.

  “That’s one hundred and seventy-five pounds please.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and lifted Steve’s card before her, gesturing for the man to push the pin machine over. Slipping the card into the slot on the machine, she punched in the four-digit number that Steve had given her and waited, half expecting it to report there had been an error. Less than a second later, the message on screen displayed that the transaction was approved. The bartender ripped off the receipt and handed it back to her with the card.

  She smiled. Bingo.

  A short taxi ride later, which involved some heavy tong
uing and necking sessions, Shay and Steve were standing outside his house in central London. The property was nothing much to look at; a simple terraced town house. A few steps led up to the front door behind a cast iron fence, directly on the pavement, with no front garden. Despite its simple appearance, its location meant that it came with a hefty price tag.

  He leant up against the door, drunk, fumbling to get his key into the lock.

  “Just bear with me a moment, I’ll have this open in a minute,” he slurred.

  “Hurry up, will you? I’m freezing my tits off out here.”

  Steve smiled, his eyes roaming up and down Shay’s curvy figure. He attempted to speak three times before any slurred words escaped his lips. “Wellsh, we can’t have that now, cans we? Would be suchhh a shame.” He winked, and finally opened the door. Shay smiled as he entered his home, a hint of sadistic evil in her expression, and followed him over the threshold.

  The following morning, Shay made her way to Oxford Street armed with Steve’s credit card. She stopped at an over-priced coffee shop where she purchased breakfast; a sublime Eggs Benedict washed down with three cups of rich, fresh coffee. It had been a long time since she had tasted such a good brew. It was going to be a long day; she needed her strength.

  When she had finished, she made her way to the till and requested her bill.

  “Will that be all, madam?” the waitress asked.

  Shay pondered a thought for a few seconds before replying, “Do you know of a salon nearby, you know, somewhere I can get some pampering done? Haircut, colour, eyebrows, the full works.”

  The waitress smiled. “I know the perfect place. Take a left out the door, and head two hundred yards down on the right hand side; there’s a salon called ‘Glam’. If you get there early enough, you may even get in without an appointment. I’ve been there before myself, excellent place.”

  The woman slid the card machine across the glass counter. Shay smiled and punched in the four-figure pin code. She held her breath, waiting as the transaction processed. A few moments later the receipt began to print and Shay exhaled, relieved.

  She smiled at the waitress before handing her a crisp twenty-pound note from her pile. “Thank you, I’ll head there right now.”