Scarlet Unleashed

by Krihstin Zink

  My mother and Aurora catch up on family gossip while I plot my return to Naples. I recognize that my current condition limits my ability to leave on a whim. I’m pretty much fucked unless someone helps me.

  I acknowledge that today I won’t press the issue of my pending return, but soon, my parents will have to back the fuck off and let me live.

  “So. David, how was it to live on the wild side?” Aurora snickers at her snide comment.

  “Aurora!” again, my mother snaps in my defense.

  “Regretful,” I mumble as I stare at the traffic that seems to zoom past us.

  For the duration of the ride, from Miami International to my parents’ home, I stare at my cell phone, willing Scarlet to text me, that she’ll retract her inability to continue with me. I wait and will her to forgive me, but her messages never arrive. Confusion of the punk-ass that held Scarlet’s attention causes a cautious discomfort to tighten at my chest. How could she just move on so quickly? And why didn’t she introduce him?

  Scarlet’s dumbfounded stare haunts my thoughts. My cell buzzes. As I stumble to read the monitor—with the grace of an infant—my cell slips from my fingers. My incision tugs and burns a tad as I lean over to pick up my cell. An unknown number flashes on my screen. Then, a simple text flashes in repetition:

  I see you. Ivy

  “Whaaa—da—fuuuck?” fumbles out of my mouth.

  “David. That is absolutely unacceptable language,” my mother scolds me before she accidentally swerves the car. In a flash, she returns to her lane.

  Upon the arrival to my parents’ home, my dad and Fatima step out of the front door to greet us. My dad forms a smile as he gives Aurora a quick, forced hug.

  We all catch up over lunch. Once Fatima has cleared the table, my parents relocate to the living room. I need space, so in a handicap-impaired stance, I hobble toward my room.

  Bile surges into my mouth as I stare at Ivy’s text message. My mind is plagued with visions of her naked body.

  “Fuck you, David. You know you enjoyed every minute with that whore,” Kate hisses into my ear.

  “What the fuck, Kate?” I holler as my arms swat at her. Horror seizes through me when my hand burns against her skin.

  “You…You’re real?” I stammer.

  “Yeah, fucker. What part of I’m a demon or that we bumped uglies do you not remember? Mmm…I need more,” she pants. Suddenly, her voice morphs into Scarlet’s. And just like a horrific drug trip, I recoil in terror as Kate transforms into a naked Scarlet. Her smooth, tanned skin is a definite contrast to Kate’s paler skin. Every curve of her body is Scarlet’s, even the blue flicks in her hazel eyes and her fruit-scented, wavy, auburn hair become too much for my fragile heart and mind to bare.

  “No, I’m hallucinating. I must be rejecting my heart, and it’s making my mind feverish, because you’ll never be her!” Rage empowers my words as my borrowed heart thumps and pleads for me to chill.

  Like a super hero, my father bursts into my room. And before I can react, tachycardia and angina set-in.

  “Martha, quick, get David’s meds!” he yells as he fails to catch me while I bounce from the edge of the bed and then collapse against my father’s legs. My mother and Aurora move like blurs before me. The moment my mom places my nitrate pill under my tongue, I feel an internal surge as new blood pumps through my system.

  “Maybe we should take him to the hospital?” Aurora questions with concern. As if I were a child that they could make decisions for, my family discusses what should be done next. Death looms and taunts me. This heart has a pending expiration date. Heart rejection symptoms are evident, and it’d be a medical miracle if I make it past my 33rd birthday.

  “I need to see Scarlet. This heart is failing me. Please take me to her.” I struggle to lift myself onto my bed. But then, again, I stumble and fall.

  Any pride I once had disappears as my parents aid my return to my bed. I deserve this embarrassment. They converse as I stare at my feet and await their decision. Kate’s return to her frightful demonic form haunts my sight; it’s as if I cannot remove my gaze from her sensual, luring, naked form. Her tail whips behind her while her flame-pupils dance. Kate’s glare becomes dark as she raises a hand to form a menacing claw. A sinister smirk forms at her lips, and with slow, deranged intention, she grips at the air. And again, I struggle and choke as my last breaths seep from me.

  My family panics, while my face bloats and burns as it transforms to dangerous shades of red.

  “Jackson!” my mom cries as I slump over and hit the bed frame on my way down to the carpet.

  My eyes bulge in their sockets, and my view of the room is at a strange angle. But, I still see it—I see the dark tendrils rest onto Kate’s shoulder. She jolts her attention and grip away from me. A gush of air rushes through my lungs and fuels my blood cells to circulate in a frantic rush to revive my deprived body. Kate and the darkness disappear, and relief flows through me like a rush of hope.

  First Ivy and now this demonic bitch?

  I have to see Scarlet—she has to know how much I need and want her in my life.

  After much discussion, I agree to an urgent care visit. The physician concludes that I need rest or my body will ultimately reject my new heart. Once I’m discharged and return to my parents’ home, I request to speak to my father—alone.

  Silence fortifies our pending conversation. I comb my fingers through my outgrown hair and search for the words, the angle that would convince him to confirm with my request.

  “Do you remember how Mom made you feel? In the beginning…” I ask with a stance of respect.

  “Of course,” he replies in a husky mumble. I exhale and use caution to rub at my chest.

  “I love her, Dad. Scarlet is meant for me,” I begin. But then, he interrupts me.

  “Son, you’ve had a major surgery. You should be more concerned with your health than a relationship that you neglected. Put yourself in her mindset: What if she had cheated on you?” he questions in a stern, parental manner.

  “Shouldn’t you have my side?” I huff in a defensive tone as I recline onto my bed. My hands cover my face in an attempt to shield my emotions.

  Yeah, I fucked up. Drugs fucked everything up, but my judgement was clouded, and I wasn’t evaluating my decisions rationally.

  “She doesn’t want you anyway. She’s probably fucking him right now,” Kate taunts from the edge of my bed. My incisions throbs as I jolt forward to glare at her.

  “Whoa! Settle down, son. You’ve been so damn strange,” he orders with concern as his face wrinkles into a suspicious stare.

  I place my palm on the side of my face and then glance at him while I succeed in blocking Kate’s demonic stare. Yet, in my peripheral, I can see her scale-like tail whip frantically at the walls.

  “Son, you cannot diminish a woman’s trust and then expect her to stay true to you. You’re old enough to grasp this.” His curt words wound my optimism. And Kate’s judgmental finger makes everything worse.

  I stand, then hobble to pace near him. Clearly, I hurt Scarlet. And, it’s true: If she had cheated on me. Fuck! Just the thought of her with that jackass punk from the airport... My chest begins to clench up, so I gradually descend onto my bed.

  “Son, you should give Scarlet some space. Let her miss you. If you’re too persistent, you may push her away,” my father offers before he takes a seat on my bed. He’s right, the last thing I want is to push Scarlet into that fuck face’s arms. The thought of Scarlet with that boy stirs an unfamiliar, animalistic frenzy.

  “Look, son, email her, tell her you’re here and you’ll wait for her—if that’s what she wants. But, if she pushes you away again… Son, you’ll just have to come to terms with her rejection and move on.” He scratches at his thinning scalp before a glum smile begins to form.

  Sympathy reveals itself in his eyes. This isn’t the conversation I hoped for. I wanted him to support my decision and to want to help me pursue Scarlet. I wanted him to
help me win her back. But, he’s right. I need to address this matter with intelligence.

  I thank my father for his insight and guidance, then tell him that I need to nap. He gives my shoulder a firm squeeze and pat, then leaves me alone—with Kate.

  “Davey, you should just move on. Let me be your Scarlet,” she proposes as she morphs and returns to fake Scarlet.

  “It’s more than that, Kate. I love her. Our chemistry is electric and unique. She’s what my heart wants,” I state with assurance.

  “But that’s not even your heart anymore—it’s borrowed,” she snaps. Her giggles taunt and burn my wounds. “You’re different now,” she pants as she stalks toward me. With each step, her serpent-like tail whips at the air. My mind wants me to run, but I become frozen to the bed. She straddles me and then moans into my ear, “Let me help you forget her.” Her tongue is blistering against my neck. She nips at my ear while her claw-like fingers scratch at my scalp.

  “We were great together. Do you remember?” Her voice is laced with lust as she yanks my hair back for me to face her. Her lips burn against my lips, and her tongue is forceful into my mouth. Fighting against a demon’s seduction is futile.

  I’m a puppet under her demonic manipulation. She tugs at my dick until it’s ready to please her. Then she inserts my cock into her hellish hot cunt. Thoughts of Scarlet urge me to fight Kate off, and I feel as if her blazing twat might burn my dick off. But my cock betrays me just like it did with Ivy; it pulsates with glee as I fill her overheated, demonic cave.

  “I can make you forget her,” she moans as she shoves her fingers under my shirt to claw at the skin that’s alongside my incision.

  “You’re a demon. How is this possible? Shouldn’t you be burning in hell?” I grunt out. She unleashes a snarl, then backhands me and her attack splits my lip open. My injury stings against her as her tongue sizzles circles onto my injured lip.

  “You’ll never be her and you need to leave. Now,” I yell, but my rage is pointless.

  Her flamed pupils captivate me, and in an instance I am a lust-sick zombie that’s at her disposal. She bucks and grinds until I’m left defeated, but she never unmounts. I’m a dildo under her scorching, vivacious twat.

  Scarlet

  Our trip on US41 from Miami International to Naples was an estimated three-hour drive. Roman and Q filled the first hour of our drive with their shared childhood recollections. I’m quite certain that Violet nor myself got a word in. Honestly, I’d never met such chatty men.

  Finally, after what felt like the seventh story of Roman saving Q’s ass due to some stupid decision, Roman turned to Violet to question if she attended Naples High. This question awakened her chatty-Kathy side. And for the second hour of our trip, Violet shared an amiable version of her childhood as well as my adoption.

  Thankfully, Q interrupts Violet before she overshares and reveals the horrors of my last year. Her eyes meet mine in the visor’s mirror. I give her a slow blink of relief. She gives me an apologetic smile and shrug.

  “So, do you plan to stop? I need to relieve myself. Stat, brah,” Q urges and probes at his brother’s shoulder.

  I return my attention to the traffic outside my window. A blue car zooms by, and of course it’s the same shade as David’s Fisker Karma. Instantly, I’m reminded of my fondest memory in his car. The night that Officer Samson interrupted our lovemaking. My lips grow flushed as I’m reminded of David’s touch, his smell, his smooth skin pressed firm against mine.

  I must forget him.

  My heart will not win.

  He will never hurt me again.

  Q grazes my hand and jolts me out of my reverie. “Do you need to go?” He points out the window. Thoughts of David consumed my attention to the point that I failed to notice that we stopped. In an absentminded state, I nod my head. I’m a one-thought zombie while I mope my way toward the restroom.

  “Do you have some change to spare?” an older man in a ragged military uniform questions. In a polite manner, I nod as I retrieve my quilted wallet from my Chanel purse. Without looking, I wad up all of my cash and then place it into the man’s glass jar.

  “Miss…Miss…this is far too much,” he gasps in astonishment.

  I smile at him and offer, “Get a hotel room and have a better year than the last one.” I sling my purse over my shoulder before I continue toward the restroom. My good deed distracts me, but only for a moment. As I draw close to the restroom, a man that’s covered in an aroma that’s similar to David’s signature scent induces a rush of nostalgic melancholy.

  Too many constants within my life have changed. My once loving family is down to one loving sister. I had pure hopes of joy for the life that I thought I’d share with David, but now he’s just someone that I used to love. But what bothers me the most is my appearance—I’m no longer the curvy woman I grew to love. Now, I’m a thin almost sickly version of myself. Losing twenty-five pounds will do that to you.

  Weeks of medication combined with food that I had no taste for left me much too thin—thinner than I’ve ever been. I hoped that my trip with Violet would help me return to my favored 140lbs, but the circumstances Violet and I have survived have allowed alcoholism to creep in and take hold of Violet.

  “I’m a grown woman; I’ll booze when I want,” she snapped at me as I failed to remove the third bottle of sweet red from her death grip. She held on tight, as if she were a newborn child that wouldn’t thrive otherwise.

  So much devastation and loss; it’s an astonishment that Violet and I haven’t become binge-eating alcoholics that have a knack for QVC—just like the typical hoarder on AMC. A knock on the bathroom door causes me to jump.

  “Helleroooo! Other’s need to use the restroom, too,” sarcasm penetrates from the other side of the door. Without saying a word, I wash my hands then exit the restroom. An older woman saturated in Chanel 5 shoves me out of her way.

  I find Q next to the twenty-ounce soft drinks. As I search the third drink row, a deranged, boisterous female storms into the gas station.

  “Get the fuck down, now.” The vexed stranger releases two bullets into the air. Screams and rushed movements fill the small space within the gas station. My gaze is fixed on the havoc that plays out in the reflection on the drink refrigerators.

  “Scarlet.” Q pulls me in near and then intertwines his fingers with mine.

  “Ma’am, please, I’m pregnant.” A ready to pop mother grasps the hands of her two preschool-aged daughters. “They’re so young…” she whimpers with tear-filled eyes as she pulls her daughters tightly against her sides. “Please,” she pleads while her tears spill from her eyes. Her gaze is engaged on the gunwoman’s pistol.

  The deranged, gun-wielding woman stares from one innocent child’s face to the other, then says, “Go. Now,” her screams echo within the gas station. Then, the pregnant mother and her small children rush out of the gas station. Just as the door seals shut, a teenaged boy attempts to slip out. But, he’s stopped when the lunatic fires one single shot into his thigh. The teen’s wails increase this entire scene to become a horrific blood splatter in time.

  Including the gun-wielding lunatic, there’s a total of seven people that are unsure if they’ll live to see the outside of the gas station: A young store clerk; the wailing, injured teen; a scared, older couple; Q and me.

  The older couple clench to one another while they stare with fear-filled eyes at the injured teen that continues to shriek in agony as he rubs at his gore-infused wound. A wide-eyed gape is all that the young store clerk can manage.

  I’m a shaking mess as the lunatic focuses her wild-eyed glare at me from the surveillance mirror, and then I become as mute and stiff as a corpse. Everything I’ve survived in the past year has brought me to this point. Immediately, I regret not hearing David out. I rationalize that if I had stayed and made up with him, we wouldn’t have stopped here. Blaming myself is the only thing I can do to keep my mind calm.

  “Everyone move next to that cry baby.�
�� My gaze focuses on the crazy female’s pistol as she waves us toward the injured teen. Q leads me toward the front of the gas station. We all huddle up next to the wailing, injured teen. The petrified store clerk has visibly lost his composure; it shows all over his damp khaki slacks.

  “I love you, Stan. Forever,” the older woman declares as she shivers with fear before her husband hugs her tighter.

  “I love you more, Twilah. We’ll survive, you’ll see—Jesus is always with us.” His declaration comforts her and me.

  Q’s grip becomes stronger, and although my knees feel weak, I manage to stay alert and wait for what’s to come. The deranged gun holder paces as she mumbles inaudibly to herself.

  “I wasn’t always like this, you know. But the system failed us. I lost her today,” she yells as her eyes bug out and become clouded with fury. In a moment of uncertainty, she points the gun in our direction. Then, moves the gun from one person to the next. All I can do is pray. Please, Lord, save all of us.

  “I lost her; she’s gone forever. And now, I have no one.” A gurgle type sob follows the pistol holder’s confession. She continues by revealing that her name is Svetlana, and that this morning she lost her eight-year-old daughter to leukemia. Two years prior, she lost her wife to cervical cancer. Svetlana’s family moved to Florida for a fresh start, but a year after their arrival, her wife was diagnosed with cancer. It was too advanced for effective treatment. She shared that she was strong, as strong as she could be for her daughter. And yet, she lost her eight-year-old to a preventable condition. “I’m left alone, and you’ll all suffer as I have,” she screams as she pulls at her frayed, thin, chestnut hair.

  My mouth spoke before my brain could react. “We’re so sorry for your loss. But, please, don’t do this to us.”