Forsaken Repose: The Restless Dead

by Barger, Theron C.

  Looking down at her, a name leaped into my mind. “Your name is Rose,” I told her. When she only looked up at me in approval, but remained silent, I demanded, “Say it!”

  Blazing passion exploded behind her eyes and, as she squirmed vainly in her bonds, she whimpered back at me, “My name is Rose.”

  I pressed myself past her painted-red lips and took fistfuls of her fiery locks into both of my hands. Thrusting myself into her eager orifice, over and over, it wasn't long until the combination of her hungry mouth and slippery tongue sent me careening over the edge.

  Under normal circumstances, that would be enough to finish me. I'd lay gasping and exhausted on the bed until the shroud of sleep fell upon me.

  Not tonight.

  I shuffled backward until my knees straddled her thighs. I pushed my left knee between her legs and shoved hard to my left. With her legs now half-open, I brought my right knee between her legs and shoved hard to my right. She was splayed wide and helpless, a fact of which I took advantage by scooping my arms underneath either of her legs and yanking upward. Her nattily-trimmed, crimson-framed womanhood was open and exposed, which only aroused me further.

  I cast aside any considerations of gentleness and drove myself into her, slamming my hips against hers with a slapping sound so loud I worried it might wake the neighbors across the street. She cursed and swore at me, telling me what a perverted villain I'd become but, just as I feared I'd crossed a line, she urged me on, demanding that I give it to her harder and faster. I was no better, alternating between shouting out that she was a filthy whore who needed to shut the hell up and take it, and whispering in her ear how beautiful she was, how special she was to me and how much I needed to hear her tell me of her desire for me.

  I released my passion into her, my fingers twisted in her hair and yanking her head to the side as I planted my seed. I buried my face deeply into her neck and my lips latched onto her soft, tender flesh. I sucked forcefully as I dragged her legs up. We were one then, intertwined in blind, desperate, unthinking passion.

  “Andy?” Claire's voice cut through my nocturnal musings, severing from me any chance I had of continued restfulness.

  “Huh? What...?” I stammered, blearily turning my head toward my alarm clock. The display showed that it was well past the time that I should have risen if I intended to leave for work.

  “You've overslept again,” Claire told me, doing nothing to disguise the annoyance in her voice.

  I looked over at her. Her hair was a mess and her eyelids drooped from exhaustion. Still, I found her irresistible. I rolled over and snatched a fistful of her dark hair. I pressed myself against her and snapped, “Don't you ever again talk to me that way or I'll spank your ass raw!”

  Claire's eyes snapped open wide. “What the hell?” Her hand reached up to mine, but her fingers were limp noodles against my iron digits. “Get the hell off of me before-”

  “Shut up!” I ordered. When Claire immediately fell silent, I dragged her onto her side before rolling her onto her stomach. I rose up and sat on her thighs, her hair still knotted in my fist. “Apologize!”

  “Go to hell!” she barked in reply, reaching back to shove both of her hands against my thighs.

  I pulled back my hand, snatching her head from the pillow. She grunted, not in pain, but arousal. I raised high my other hand and then sent it down powerfully, delivering a stinging blow to her silken-clad buttocks.

  “Aah!” she screamed, her arms flailing wildly at her sides. Another slap across her hindquarters elicited a similar response. She attempted to protect her burning cheeks, but I brushed her hands to the side and cracked another blow even more forcefully. This time, however, she only sucked in a deep gulp of air before cursing me. “Fuck you! Fuck you straight to hell!”

  Undaunted, I raised my hand once more, holding it high in the air. “Have you had enough or do you need some more?”

  Gasping and wheezing, she hissed, “More, you sick bastard!”

  I gave her more...several more. Her ass was bright red and swollen before her will was broken and she begged for mercy. I stopped my hand mid-swing, sparing her another harsh strike. However, while I was willing to spare her ass from further punishment, I felt no such sympathy for the rest of her. I released her hair and grabbed hold of her hips, pulling her up to her knees. I dragged down her silken panties to her knees and, with a swift pull, snatched them past her bent knees, down her calves and off her feet.

  “Spread!” I shouted, tossing her panties to the floor and moving to kneel behind her.

  She resisted at first, but I slapped her once across her bare behind with a strong backhand, which immediately gained her acquiescence. I was about to slide into her, but then changed my mind. I dropped down, spinning as I fell onto the mattress. With my face only inches from her lower lips, I reached up, grabbed her behind and pulled her onto my face. My tongue slipped and slid – around her and into her – sending her into uncontrolled vibrations of bliss.

  She had no time to come to her senses before I was back on my knees behind her. My fingers dug deeply into her hips, slamming her against me as I attempted to force myself farther into her than I ever before had. She groaned, grunted and rambled incoherently as I continued, my passion rampaging unabated. By the time I was ready to deliver my lust into her, she had been reduced to nothing more than a sweaty, gibbering mass of twitching flesh.

  I wasn't gentle with her. My skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat, I placed both of my hands on her back and forced her down onto the mattress. Once she was sent sprawling, I fell on top of her. Once again, I took a fistful of her hair. Growling into her ear and sliding my other hand along her body, I demanded to know, “Who owns all this?”

  “You,” she quickly answered, her eyes closed and her body completely limp.

  With her hair twined around my fingers, I lifted my hand, yanking her head from the pillow. I paused for a moment, thinking of all the times she left the house to go out with her friends and do whatever it is she did. I pushed her head down onto the pillow and snapped, “Who?”

  Unhesitatingly, she exhaled, “You! You own every inch of me. All of me is yours.”

  “Don't you forget it,” I said, forcing her head down so far into the pillow as I slid off the bed that I doubt she could breathe. Once I released her and stood beside the bed, she turned her head to look at me. I raised my hand and brought it down on her ass with such force that she squealed and whimpered as she clamped her hands over her rear and backed away from me. Her body language suggested she was terrified of me, but the unfettered lust shooting forth from her eyes threatened to burn a hole through my skull.

  My head tilted to the side a bit as I stared at her. “Come home early so I can give you more of the same.”

  Claire's head lifted from the pillow and her brow furrowed. “I'm not sure if I can -”

  I raised my hand high over my head and shouted, “What did you say?”

  “Yes,” she said quickly, raising a hand defensively. “I'll be home early.”

  I grinned darkly down at her. She was on her side with one hand still on her sore ass and the other still raised high in the air, leaving her breasts exposed. Her nipples extended so far from her that it was as if a pair of bullets had been glued to her breasts. Her brown eyes glared up at me with voracious hunger, betraying her sexual desires.

  I went to the shower, cleaned myself, got dressed and went to work. I was possessed of a newly-found exuberance for...well...everything, and it gained the attention of my superiors. I was called into the office of my direct supervisor and given a glowing report. She told me that if I kept up my positive attitude and solid performance, I was a shoe-in for a promotion. I walked around on cloud nine, the faint odor of wine mysteriously following me.

  I left work a little early, testing Claire to see what she would do. By the time I arrived home, Claire's car was already parked on the street in front of our house. I parked behind her, exited my vehicle and walked to her car.
I pressed my hand against the cold metal of the hood. I smiled then, satisfied that, not only had she arrived home early, but she'd been home for quite awhile. I strolled to the front door of our house, slid my key into the lock and pushed open the door.

  “Claire?” I called out, closing the door behind me.

  I could hear the door to our bedroom close, and I stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Claire to walk down the hallway and into view. To my surprise, it was not Claire, but Rose, who sauntered down the stairs toward me.

  “Rose?” I asked, confused about what was happening.

  Rose continued slinking seductively down the stairs, one hand held behind her back. By the time she stepped off the bottom stair onto the landing, I was nearing panic.

  “Where is Claire?” I demanded.

  “She's out of the way now,” Rose replied, smiling at me as her hand moved from around her back. She cradled in her delicate hand a steak knife from my kitchen. From the blade of the knife dripped dots of crimson that fell to the tile floor in soft plops. Looking over her shoulder into my kitchen, I saw the off-red wine glass, half-filled, on the counter beside an open bottle of champagne.

  “No,” I stammered, stumbling back until I hit the door. “Claire...”

  Rose smiled at me, the glee on her face standing in stark contrast to the mortified grimace on my own. “You and I can be together now,” she said cheerfully, taking a step toward me and reaching up with her free hand to caress my cheek.

  I slapped aside her hand. “Get out of my way!” I ordered, pushing past her and moving toward the stairs. A moment later I was flat on my face on the foyer floor. A shooting, searing pain scourged my upper back, just to the right of my spine. I forced myself into a stooped, standing position, the blinding agony gnawing through my back rendering me incapable of standing fully erect.

  “You lying sack of shit!” Rose screamed at me, swinging the steak knife at my head.

  I turned away, but she still made contact, and the force was such that I was sent sprawling onto the floor beside the stairs. My cheek felt like it was on fire and my hand moved quickly to cover it. The rent flesh of my cheek flopped down, slapping against the side of my chin, and I yanked my hand away as my fingers came into contact with the exposed nerves that had been laid bare. Rolling onto my back, I looked up into Rose's enraged face.

  “You said I was special,” Rose reminded me, jabbing the knife in the air in my direction. Rose shook her head and spit at me, “You're just like the others!”

  “Oth...others?” I mumbled, holding up a hand defensively between she and I.

  Rose swung the knife, cutting through the air as well as three of my digits. My severed fingers sailed against the nearby wall and bounced off, landing on the floor near my shoulder as I screamed in pain and horror. Rose dropped down on top of my chest, silencing my cries as the force of her landing knocked the wind out of me. She clenched the knife between both hands and raised it high over her head. She sent the blade down, but I moved my head at the last second. Unfortunately, the knife still managed to cut deeply into the side of my neck. Jets of blood surged from the wound and splashed against the wall and floor. Rose raised the knife once more, but a voice from near my back door stopped her.

  “Rose,” the voice called out.

  “Susan,” Rose replied, leaping off me, dropping the knife and racing into my kitchen.

  Employing my final reserves of strength, I craned my neck to look into my kitchen. Rose wept as Susan held her and stroked Rose's long, red hair.

  “It happened again!” Rose sobbed.

  “I know it did,” Susan said softly. “I thought this one would be different.”

  Rose pushed back a bit and glared at Susan. “You always say that!”

  Susan nodded and replied, “I know. In this case, I really thought things would work out. I saw his wife at the bar all those nights. I saw her with those other men. I figured Andy would be ready to move on once he met someone as special as you.”

  “He isn't ready!” Rose exclaimed, pointing a finger at me. Rose swung her arm so that her pointed finger was leveled at Susan. “You and him used to be together. You knew how he was. You only -”

  “I only...what?” Susan interrupted. “You think I wanted this to happen?”

  “Didn't you?” Rose shot back.

  “Hey!” Susan snapped. “You're the one who got all worked up about your boyfriend. You're the one who had a few glasses of wine and decided to catch his cheating ass in the act. You're the one who, after actually catching him, decided to race off and ran into that tree.”

  Softly, Rose replied, “I was mad. I didn't really -”

  “I know,” Susan said gently, pulling Rose into her arms. “You're still my little sister, and I still want you to be happy. When you came back and told me you didn't want to be alone, that you wanted a man worthy of you, I did what I could.” Susan shrugged a little. “Sure, Andy might have been a little cruel to me. I had to leave school to help mom and dad after you died and, by the time I returned, he'd started to mess around with Claire, but I thought he'd grown some over the years.”

  Her cheek resting on Susan's shoulder, Rose asked, “Really?”

  “Of course,” Susan said, chuckling a little. “What did you think? That I've been setting you up with my exes with the expectation that things will go wrong?”

  “No,” Rose answered quickly. “I never thought that.”

  “Good.” Susan took a step back, smiled and cradled Rose's face in her hands. “Nothing is going to come between us, okay? Nothing ever has. Remember when my boyfriend dumped me for you and you still decided to date him? I didn't get mad, did I?”

  “No,” Rose sniffled.

  “Remember when I visited home for the weekend about a month later and bought that bottle of wine for you, even though you were only nineteen and had to hide it in your bedroom closet so mom and dad wouldn't find it?”

  “Yeah,” Rose said, laughing a little.

  “Remember how, the following weekend, I stayed up half the night talking on the phone with you about what a bastard your boyfriend – my ex-boyfriend – really was, while you drank that bottle of wine and recited all that bad poetry you'd written?”

  Rose nods, sniffles and slides a hand underneath her nose.

  “Remember how you said you wanted to sneak out of the house, drive over to his place and catch him cheating? Remember how I supported your decision?”

  “I remember,” Rose said.

  “See?” Susan asked. “While it's a shame the way things worked out, haven't I always been there for you? I mean, I was certainly shocked to see you back from the dead, but once I accepted it, haven't I always had your back?”

  Rose fell into Susan's arms and, her face buried in Susan's chest, she said, “You've always taken care of me.”

  “That's right,” Susan agreed, looking over at me. “You betrayed me, but I took care of you. In fact, I intend to take care of everyone who's ever betrayed me.” Grinning darkly, Susan added, “That's just the sort of person I am.”

  Rose released Susan and took a step back. Susan slid past her and lifted the off-red wine glass from the kitchen counter and dumped its remaining contents into the sink. Susan reached out and took Rose's hand into her own and the pair walked out my back door. Susan tossed a glance over her shoulder at me. She wore a bright, cheerful smile on her face...just like the one she wore when she and I broke up in college. She closed my back door behind her and my head fell to the side as the cold and darkness enveloped me.

  You never know which direction your life will take. You never know just what sorts of desires you have buried within you. You never know where your choices will lead. And, if I can say one thing with absolute certainty, it's that you never really know a person...not until she kills you.

  The Status Quo

  You know what will happen when you go there.

  Your journey started when you simply could no longer endure the monotony of your exist
ence. You clutched in your hands a shotgun you bought from a pawn shop and stood, holding the barrel underneath your chin and ready to squeeze the trigger, unleashing hot, loud, sweet relief from the drudgery of your pedestrian life.

  Now, you know you'll walk away from that area, back to your car and drive away, returning to your new life. You'll be stronger when you leave, but that's always the way of things. You'll become more confident and capable. You'll still have the same job you've always had, but you'll approach it from a new perspective. You'll understand that there are more things for you to do, and that those things are exponentially more important than your selfish desire to put an end to your staid journey.

  You'll wheel your car along the busy highway and then the quiet back roads, not quite sure about your destination, but knowing exactly where you'll wind up. It's the same place every time, and you know it. You've known it all along. You'll go along with the whole thing, not in anticipation of something different, but in expectation of the same.

  You'll stop your car a good distance from the place you wish to visit, since you never want to be too closely associated with business that unsavory. You'll make your way down the street, up the driveway and around to the back of the house, the siren's song of your target's despair drawing you like a moth to a flame. You'll slide open the patio door and enter the house, then walk through the living room, across the dining room and into the garage. He'll be in there, just as you know he will be. He will look up at you, the shotgun held under his chin, and you'll smile and nod, just as you always do. He'll return your smile, seeming to appreciate that you've come to see him off, and then he'll pull the trigger. The explosion of crimson ichor, gray matter and bone fragments sent flying out the back of his skull as the blast punches through his head will cause you to reminisce a bit. That scene will have played out all too often, but never enough for you.