“You…..you….you…” was all she could say in a husky and washed out voice. Her hands were shaking with anger.
“Chloe, listen….I just wanted….I was looking for your phone and I…” She cut him off mid-sentence by kicking him squarely in the balls. Her foot connected with his crotch with sickening force. Laurence’s deflated penis was still hanging out of his trousers and the force of the impact caused it to retract back into its cave. Laurence turned his head up to the ceiling and roared a scream with every ounce of breath in his body. He fell to his side and began to roll across the floor in both directions clutching at his wounded testicles. He had never known pain like it in his entire life and no matter how many times he rolled or how much he cupped his crotch, the pain wouldn’t die down. He opened his mouth to hurl a torrent of abuse at Chloe, but instead he threw up a sickly, thick glut of half-digested whiskey onto the carpet. The smell of it struck his nose and he puked again, the force of his retching causing his balls to hurt more than they already were. The pain began to ebb a little and he lay still, making sure that he was facing away from the puke on the floor. He saw Chloe’s bare feet standing in front of him. He half rolled backwards and he saw her standing over him. He saw something that made his bladder weaken the moment he set eyes on it. Chloe had picked up his bat and she was holding it above her head. Her eyes were blazing with fury and she had Laurence’s blood smeared around her mouth.
“Fucking rapist bastard,” she rasped and she brought the bat down hard. Laurence roared and put up his arms to deflect the blow. His right forearm was leading the charge and the bat connected with it. It was a no contest. Chloe was swinging downwards and she was ready to kill him. Laurence’s arm cracked against the wood. The two long bones that made up his forearm snapped like damp twigs against the force of the blow. Pain shot up from his arm. He momentarily thought that being kicked in the balls was a picnic compared to this. He tried to scream again but his voice had all been used up. He managed to emit a horse, breathless noise. He brought up his good arm to steady the broken one. It was hanging limp, as if the bones inside had been pulverized. He had no time to think about it because Chloe was bringing the bat down again. Laurence tried to catch the bat with his good hand, his delirious mind telling him that he could disarm her this way and then take a few swings right back at her. He might even shove the bat up her arse just for good measure. The bat caught his outstretched hand at the base of his fingers. The fingers were bent backwards all the way to the back of his hand, each one of them breaking and splintering in the process. Laurence couldn’t scream any more despite the pain, all he could muster was a low groan. The world was going dark, he was passing out. He had decided that Chloe was going to batter him to death whilst he was out. He actually felt the slightest hint of gratitude that he was about to punch his ticket. The last thing he saw was Chloe squatting down next to him.
“Look what you made me do. Just look what you fucking well made me do….” She was saying.
The spiders outside were shivering and clicking almost to the point of frenzy. As the last of Laurence’s consciousness slipped away he wondered if Chloe was going to be joining him soon at the fanged jaws of a killer spider. He hoped so, he really did.
Laurence flaked out and began to snore like a dragon with a blocked nose. She sat down on the sofa and saw that the television was on. She sat and watched the reports that told her all about the spider invasion and the shit that Newtown was in. She fished her phone out of the left pocket of her jeans, the one pocket that Laurence hadn’t looked in. She began to punch the buttons to try and phone her sister but the phone died in her hand, it was out of battery. She swore at it and threw it against the opposite wall. The phone exploded into pieces which clattered to the floor. She dragged an arm across her mouth and saw with a little revulsion that it came away bloody. Then she remembered that she had bitten Laurence the rapist and that the blood didn’t belong to her. She looked down at the floor where he was still lay, snoring his fucking head off like he didn’t have a care in the world. She reached over and gripped the bat, wanting to cave his head in, but she decided that he wouldn’t learn his lesson that way, he would have to suffer first. She stared at the television, looking at the pictures of the military preparing their attack on the spiders. She was pretty sure she would be rescued at some point and then she would have to explain what happened to Laurence. Perhaps she could somehow dump him outside for the spiders to eat and then she could go home and forget about the whole thing. She was pretty sure she could do it, after all she had been accused of murder before and they had never found her out. The last one she had to discipline was Robert ‘call me Bob’ Stewart. Things had been good with him for a while, until he got bored of her wanting to be around him all the time. He had wanted to spend more and more time with his construction buddies from work. She hadn’t know what to do about it until her sister had told her to stop sleeping with him. The logic behind it was to make him want her all the more. If he knew it wasn’t on tap, then he would start working for it thereby giving her more attention. She had put it into practice, refusing all of his advances, no matter how much she wanted to do it with him. He had come home one night looking for a fuck and a kebab and she had refused again. This time Robert ‘call me Bob’ had snapped. He had unloaded a two-punch combo into her face, torn off her favorite baggies and raped her. He had passed out on the bed afterwards with his heavy arm draped across her chest. She had stayed awake all night, waiting for him to shift his position so she could get the fuck out of there. Her body had not stopped shaking in fear the whole time she had been waiting. Finally he grunted and rolled over so he was facing away from her which was his normal sleeping position. The sun had begun to peek over the horizon and had begun to flood the room with a warming orange glow. She had got off the bed, grabbed a few clothes to put on and left the house. She had gone to her sisters with the intention of telling her exactly what had happened. She was halfway there when she had decided to take care of it herself. Their father had always taught them to punish those that treated them badly and that was what she needed to do, she needed to punish him, that was all and then he would be a perfect boyfriend again. He wouldn’t force her to do things when she had told him no. She needed to regain control of things, that would make her feel better, and then she would be able to forget it and move on. She was three minutes from getting back home again when she remembered Robert’s baseball bat that he had brought back from America when he had visited Florida some years ago. It was his pride and joy, occupying a space above their fireplace. He had hung it there on the day that they had moved in together and it hadn’t moved from that spot since. She let herself into the house again, hoping that he was still snoring away in bed. Luck was on her side, because she could still hear the pig-like snorting from downstairs. She went to the bat and stroked it for a moment, wondering if she should dare pick it up. Robert had insisted that the bat was out of bounds to everyone, and he had promised a harsh punishment to anyone who took it upon themselves to break his rules. Then she remembered that it was him who had broken the rules, him that needed to be taught a lesson in how to behave, him that needed to be taught that rapists needed to be punished. She picked up the bat off the hooks and held it for a moment. She had felt empowered from the moment that the solid wood had been in her hands. She would talk to him first and if he didn’t listen, perhaps he would listen to the bat. She walked across the room to the foot of the stairs and then began to ascend them. A strange exciting fear started to creep up in her guts, something that she had never felt before. It was the feeling of finally being in control of her own destiny. She reached the top of the stairs and crept across the landing and into the bedroom. Robert was still sprawled out on the bed, naked except for a pair of shorts that looked like they had seen better days. She stood at the foot of the bed, gripping the handle of the bat tightly with both hands.
“Robert…” she said. Her voice sounded scared and cowering and she didn’t like that. It w
as time to inject some bass into her voice.
“Robert,” she said again, this time louder. He still didn’t stir, he just kept on snoring as if she didn’t exist. Chloe felt a sudden rush of anger. She needed to talk to him and he wasn’t even listening to her. She raised the bat halfway up her body and then brought it down on Robert’s exposed ankle. The bat struck the bony outcrop on the side of his foot with a hollow clonk. There was a one second pause whilst the pain travelled up to Robert’s brain and then he let out a choked yelp and drew his pained ankle upwards. He rolled over on his back, his hands reaching down for the site of the pain and then he saw who had done it and what they had done it with. His face was shocked at first and then it began to crumple into anger.
“Chloe, what the fuck…..”
“I need to talk to you Robert,” she said. Her voice began to wobble again and she cleared her throat.
“Talk? We ain’t going to talk until you put my fuckin’ bat back,” said Robert. He was aghast, how could she be breaking his rules in such a blatant fashion? They were going to talk alright, there were some things he needed to set straight. He climbed out of the bed and his ankle that Chloe had batted gave way on him. He slumped to the floor and began checking his ankle again. There was an ugly bruise beginning to appear around the top of his foot. Chloe took a step back.
“I need to talk and you need to listen,” she said. There was a tone of authority to the way she was speaking now and she was pleased.
Robert shook his head, “I don’t think you are listening to me Chloe, I…..” that was all he had time to say.
Chloe saw him shake his head and she understood that he wasn’t going to listen to her. She swung the bat as if she had been bowled a fast-ball and the end of the bat struck Robert squarely in the mouth. All of his front teeth had shattered upon impact sending pieces of blood and broken tooth flying in a neat arc towards the bedroom window. Robert didn’t scream, not at first. He just sat there on the floor, his hands out in front of him catching the torrent of blood that was cascading out of his mouth. Chloe lowered the bat for a moment, surveying the damage she had caused. She felt revulsion, horror, fear and a sickening kind of glee. She had shut him up for once, she had been right, the bat had forced him to listen to her. She was about to start talking when a low moan began to come out of Robert’s broken mouth. The moan began to go up in volume and pitch until it was a prolonged scream. He got up to his feet and balanced his weight on his good leg. He began to move forwards towards Chloe, his hands stretched out towards her. He stopped screaming and began to say something to her. She couldn’t understand the words, such was the damage to his teeth and gums.
“Ooooh hucking bith, I oowin oo kiwwwl oo, oo hucking bith.”
I’m going to kill you, you fucking bitch.
That was all it took to get her moving. She swung the bat again and Robert deftly ducked out of the way. His dodge caused him to put weight down on his bad ankle and he went down to the floor in a heap. He began to scramble to his feet again, still bellowing mashed curses at her. Without thinking, she brought the bat down onto the back of his head. The sound of the bat striking his skull sounded like a ball being struck at high velocity, just like in the rounders games she used to play at school as a child. Robert went down to the floor again. He was still for a moment and then every muscle in his body began to twitch and shake. He was having a seizure. She had seen one of those before on the television during one of the medical dramas that she loved to watch. There was a steady pool of blood running from the back of Robert’s head where the bat had caught him. It began to pool on the floor around where his head was positioned. Some of it was being splattered all over the carpet by the force of his convulsions. She brought down the bat one more time to try and stop him from shaking any more. It worked, a moment after the bat struck he stopped shaking, let out one last sighing breath and then he was still.
“Robert?” she said in a thin, breathless voice.
Nothing. He didn’t twitch or moan or anything. She cautiously bent down to see if he was breathing. Again there was nothing. He was dead, and she had killed him. She began to feel afraid and then the other voice in her head began to tell her different.
He got what he deserved. He wasn’t listening to you. He is a rapist, a dirty fucking rapist. He deserved to die. Now he can’t rape anyone ever again.
She began to nod to herself, listening to the voice. The voice was right, she had done the right thing. But now she had to get rid of him before anyone came sniffing round. She tore the cover off the bed and managed to wrap Robert up in it. She then slowly and painstakingly dragged his carcass down the stairs and into the garage. Robert’s car was in there, his pride and joy, a bright yellow Escort Turbo. She hauled his body into the boot and locked him in. Then she set to work, cleaning the blood from the upstairs carpet using her carpet washer. She nearly puked when she had cleaned up the blood and bits of broken tooth off the window sill. But, she managed to get the job done. She changed her clothes and bagged up the ones she was wearing to go in the boot of the car. Then she had sat and waited. She had waited all day, watching program after program on the television, occasionally making herself a cup of tea in an effort to try and make the day go away faster. Eventually it had gone dark outside. She waited for longer, resisting the urge to go early and get it over with. She didn’t want to be seen, not by anyone and especially not the police. She knew that they wouldn’t understand and they would have let Robert get away with it if she had told them what he had done. It got to midnight and she decided that it was time enough. She drove Roberts shitty boy-racer car halfway across Layton Valley until she had got to the outskirts of Hemmington quarry. There was a section that was closed off to the general public. She knew about it because Robert had brought her up here. He had told her that he wanted to do it with her on the bonnet of his car. He would love her forever if he did it, that’s what he had said. Chloe could remember it as clear as day whilst she was sitting in the same spot. She had lay back on the bonnet, trying desperately to stop from sliding off it whilst he fumbled his penis into her. Their precarious position had made him ask her to turn around and bend over instead. He had started doing her from behind and she had actually come halfway through it. Then he had pulled out and told her he wanted to try something else and if she loved him, she would let him. It had hurt her to sit down for the next three days. She remembered it all, the pain, the humiliation. But he told her he would love her forever and she believed him. But he was just another rapist. He had lied and she had made him pay. The ground was flat at the top of the cliff. The water below was so deep you couldn’t see the bottom. It was perfect. She let the handbrake off and then got out of the car, pausing only to yank the gear selector into drive. She stepped backwards and watched the car coast forwards. It hit the end of the cliff and the front end dropped. The engine began to rev up as the wheels came loose from the ground. She was worried that the car wasn’t going to fall over the edge at first, but then it see-sawed forwards and slid off the end of the cliff. There was silence for a moment and then there was an almighty splash. Chloe went to the edge and looked over. She shined her mini torch that she had on her keyring and she saw the tail end of the car going down into the blackness. Then she turned and walked away. She had a hell of a walk back home, but she didn’t care, it was worth it. She arrived back at her front door just after seven in the morning. She showered, changed her clothes and then slept on the sofa for sixteen hours. She phoned her sister the next day and told her that Robert had done a runner.
Dawn of the Spiders: Special Edition Page 11
