Desiderium, Monsters the First Ch 14

My #WedPeeks post for this week is chapter fourteen of my new novella, coming soon!  Desiderium is a dark fantasy/horror and is for mature readers.

*Warning: There is violence, sex, and a lot of profanity in these pages.

 

~ FOURTEEN ~

Alone

 

It’s been a month since I was fired from my job, and a month since I last saw Annabel Lee. I don’t talk to anyone. I don’t go out. I feel like I’m losing my mind.

I tried to find her. I spent ten days straight staked out in front of her building in the alleyway around the clock, eating and sleeping there, but I never saw her (or anyone else for that matter) for the entire time. I half believe no one actually lives there, and maybe Annabel just moved away without a word. But I don’t really buy that—I still somehow knew she was out there. We were linked, tied together by some animalistic, carnal umbilical cord. There was no question she was out there somewhere, avoiding me, frustrating me, teasing me.

I couldn’t find her door, either. I have no explanation for that. I’ve walked through it three times, I know it’s there, but I couldn’t find any trace of it. Even in the light of day there’s nothing there but filthy brick and garbage. No trace of a seam on the brick that might indicate even a hidden door. I stood in front of it and muttered open sesame, only half joking, but the brick remained unchanged. I tried it at night, too, thinking the light of the sun killed the magic like it does the demons, but I had no luck there, either.

I’m fully recovered from the drug-induced exhaustion from our last encounter, and my desire’s built again to a feverish state. It really is like an addiction. I Googled “withdrawal” one night, mildly sloshed on tequila again, and the symptoms match exactly. I’m addicted to Annabel Lee. It isn’t love, I’m certain of that now. It’s more like I have a physical need for her in order to continue to function normally. Or at least what passes for normal these days. How can a person become physically addicted to another person? It doesn’t seem medically possible. But I never said that whatever I share with Annabel falls within the realm of science, or even reality.

Maybe it’s just another excuse. Another way I lie to myself about the fact that I’m just a pervert and that’s the real reason I seek Annabel out. Just like the lie I tell myself about searching for Blake’s killer and going on the offensive. All just excuses to rationalize away all of my behavior, the way I’ve treated Sophie, the way I’ve fucked up my job.

I’d driven everyone away. Even my mom only texted me every several days to see if I was OK, but otherwise left me alone. I had bitched her out finally, irritated that she kept calling and wanting to hang out. I’d told her she was overbearing and being a bitch and that she needed to respect me and my space. She had said nothing for several long moments, and then had told me she loved me and had hung up the phone. That was the last time I’d heard her voice. I send her a terse “fine” every time she texts me so she knows I’m still alive.

Silence weighs heavy in the house, and tonight I am getting the fuck out. I feel like the walls are closing in on me, and the ghost of my brother is everywhere. Last night I dreamt of him again. It was the first time since I met Annabel, and it was worse than the dreams have ever been. This time, the mysterious woman turned into Annabel, and then her beautiful pixie face morphed into nothing but that all-too-familiar giant mouth filled with row after row of those sharp teeth. She attached her face-mouth to my brother’s abdomen and fed on him, and then she turned those sickly green glowing eyes on me and lunged at me, hissing. I woke sweating and shaking, not able to separate dream from memory.

I head out to that shitty club down Blake used to visit just before he died. Maybe I’ll catch sight of her out on the town. I don’t really know her at all, I have no idea what she does or what she’s into, but a club seems like a place she’d hang out. And if I can’t find her, then I intend to find someone else. The frustration is too much. I need to relax. I need release.

The music hits me hard as soon as I walk in, loud and throbbing. The floor is filled to bursting already and I have to wrestle my way to the bar to get a drink. I order two shots of tequila and a Budweiser. I intend on getting drunk tonight, and don’t mean to waste any time at it. I also mean to get laid tonight. I hope it can be with Annabel, but if not her, then someone else. Anyone else. I feel swollen and bloated with desire.

I throw back both shots of tequila and suck down the beer. I turn to the floor and scan the writhing mass in front of me. I am not the hunted tonight. I’m prowling, scenting, stalking. When I see a likely candidate I move out onto the dance floor and slide my body into the gyrating, throbbing mass moving with the music. It takes me awhile, but eventually I slide up behind the woman I had seen from the sidelines and I place one hand on her hip. She turns to me, and apparently likes what she sees because she turns back and pushes herself against me as we dance. An electric shock shoots through my body, and I’m instantly hard. I press against her, letting her feel my response, and she responds in kind. I smile to myself and clutch her tighter against me.

The night blurs into nothing but thumping music, sweat, and heat, bodies bumping and rubbing against each other to that thrumming animal rhythm. Song after song, dance after dance, we get closer and closer, both relishing the growing excitement and pressure between us. I don’t know how long we danced, but eventually the buildup becomes too much for both of us, and she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. I have no idea where she intends to take me—I don’t care. I’d fuck her up against a grimy alley wall with rotting garbage at our feet just as well as in a backseat or bed.

She pulls me out of the front door and into the coolness of the early morning. I walk out after her and stop dead in my tracks. I see the woman I’m with turn back to me. From the corner of my eye I see her mouth move in some question, but I ignore her. She means nothing. Not anymore.

An ice-blue sedan idles on the side of the road across from the bar; the engine alternating in purrs and sputters in the early morning air. The exhaust puffs out random patterns, but through those patterns I see Annabel.

She’s on the far side of the car, splayed against the hood, with a man in front of her. They’re clearly having sex. He’s moving fast, clearly close to finishing. I’m already excited, but the sight of the two of them together drives me mad. As I watch, Annabel leans far back on the car and turns her head to look at me. She watches me, intent, while the man in front of her groans and spends himself into her. After a moment he collapses, still panting, out of my sight.

She stands up, pushes her skirt down with an inspiring wiggle of her hips, and walks to the side of the car facing me. She never takes her eyes from mine. She opens the back door of the car and stands there waiting, watching.

Without a second thought or a glance back I move to her. Briefly, Sophie’s face floats up into my mind as I cross the street but I push it away. I’m instantly overwhelmed with that rotten smell—it’s the smell of a thousand bodies rotting in a hot room, maggots wriggling everywhere in sight. I blink once, twice, and Sophie’s face—her beautiful face—shifts and sinks in on itself, her eyes hollowed out and filled with maggots.

My steps falter, but Annabel is suddenly there beside me. “Terryn!” she whispers. “Oh have I missed you, Terryn.” A thick, sweet smell overtakes the rot, her voice soothes me, and all thoughts of Sophie flee my mind to my great relief. We hop into the back seat together, and this time she doesn’t wait until we get back to her apartment. She takes me right there, in the back seat of that sedan with some other man’s still-warm jiz lubing my path. It’s as glorious as ever, but something’s wrong—I keep whiffing that rotten smell, sometimes so strongly I come close to retching.

Annabel keeps repeating my name and talking to me. Talking passionately, and maybe a little desperately. With every caress of her voice the smell sweetens, but then it starts to cloy, the grotesque scent of rotting corpses emerging again a short time later. I try to bury myself in Annabel, to vanish into her like I usually do. I bury my nose in her hair but recoil immediately at the old, stale scent I encounter there.

I shake my head like a wet dog, and when I refocus my eyes I recoil from the pale green eyes looking hungrily at me from that once-beautiful face. And teeth. It’s my nightmare looking me square in the face. I take a sharp breath. I think I meant to scream, but nothing came of it. She lunges at me and attaches herself to my chest. I feel a piercing pain and take a breath again to scream but she reaches a hand up and jams it into my mouth. Her hand fills me up, presses my tongue down and pins it to the bottom of my mouth, even pressing back against my tonsils. I want to vomit but can’t. I want to struggle, but I’m paralyzed and can’t move. I stare at the ceiling of that car, seeing the ripped roof, smelling that rotten smell, my heart hammering in my chest and feeling terror overwhelm me. But I can’t even twitch a muscle as Annabel continues to ride me. She bounces on me desperately, and I start to come. She rides me even harder. I have no idea how long I lay like that, with her head buried in my abdomen and her legs wrapped around me, fucking me as if her life depended on it.

Maybe it does.