Page 5 of Ghosts of Halloween

I give him another fake moan, but internally, I’m seething. The bubble is gone. I don’t feel anything now. The slide of his dick inside me does completely nothing, and if I didn’t put lube in my pussy before approaching him, it would be very uncomfortable right now.

He’s wearing a condom, anyway. There is no point of contact, no skin on skin. It’s just numbing and not even unpleasant. Just… nothing.

I bounce harder, my jaw set. I’m done, but I need to get him to finish. Because if I leave now, he’ll be furious. Like others before him, he’ll hound me and punish me for being a tease…No, don’t think about it.

Point is, I learned my lesson. I always let them finish now.

Although…

I sink into Ryan’s lap, and for a moment, there is only the cheerful pop music streaming from his audio system and our hard breathing. His hand falls off my breast and settles on my hip again, and I close my eyes.

It’s tonight. I’m doing it. And that means, he can be furious with me all he wants. I won’t be affected.

I don’t have to suffer his sleazy touch even one minute longer.

Tomorrow, I’ll be gone.

“Bye, then,” I say.

I open the door and shoot out, not stopping to right my panties. He just pushed them to the side, anyway, so I’m good. No underwear at my ankles, tripping me up.

I slam the door shut and run away, knowing now is the most dangerous moment. If he catches me, he’ll fuck me against a car, and he’ll be rough and cruel. No spark from that, though a part of me likes to be hunted and caught.

But not by Ryan. Not by anyone I know.

I hear muffled screaming behind me, but it will take him a moment to get his dick in his pants, and by the time he comes out of the car, I’ll be gone.

They always underestimate me. The lame girl. It’s like they can’t even see there’s nothing wrong with my legs, and I can fucking run.

All they see is my right arm.

I breathe faster now, a glow of exhilaration filling my body as I shoot between the cars, Ryan’s father’s car dealership blurring past. He always wants to fuck here, in the back of the lot, sometimes in his own car, sometimes in one of those for sale.

Feels like a king looking out on his future kingdom while I work his dick.

Loser.

“You fucking whore!” he bellows far away, and I laugh under my breath, slinking out through the rusty gate.

It’s already dark, and the fog is rising above the neglected lots surrounding the dealership. It’s cold, the air humid and icy, but I burn from within. The faster I run, the hotter I burn, and soon, Ryan is long forgotten behind me.

He’ll never get me now. None of them will.

I’m free.

But soon, I am among the houses, the wild outskirts of our town giving way to streets with neat rows of buildings. People walk under the tired glow of street lamps, children laughing and shouting with excitement. Fallen leaves crinkle under my shoes and rustle above in the canopies, and I take a deep breath of the icy air. It’s tinged with the smoky aroma of burning candles.

It’s Halloween.

I slow down. I attract enough pitiful glances as it is, don’t need to be seen sprinting down the street as well. People can’t help staring, I’ve been told. It’s my job to make them notice me less.

Don’t stand out. Don’t attract attention.

It’s with a profound regret that I slow my steps and even out my breathing. Because when I’m no longer running, the fire inside me dies.

It’s always like this. I run every day, for an hour or two if I can, but that’s just two hours out of twenty-four. How am I supposed to live off two hours a day? I’m dead the rest of the time.

A sick, numb feeling crawls up from my gut, wrapping around my heart and lungs, sending tendrils to my limbs. With it comes the pain. The palm of my prosthetic arm pulses and throbs, the hammers descending, and I curl in on myself, walking faster.

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