Page 62 of Hello, Listener
Disposable
Life drains from her eyes while she slumps over in the folding chair. I slowly walk around her slender body, trying to determine my next move. Her blood on my switchblade still drips from the sharp metal. I crouch down behind her chair and cut off the tight zip ties around her ankles. Her lifeless body falls hard on the clear tarp I had laid out for her. The impact of the small drop creates a loud sound in the little storage space.
The scratches on the small of her back trace over the curvatures of her spine. They're most likely caused by the loose gravel when I drag her slender body.Another touch of my handiwork.The several raised marks on her flesh add a touch of character to her smooth skin. Her body rolls over nicely on the tarp. The large brown eyes looking up at me were once full of life, but now look heavy, tired, and clouded with death.
I smooth out her long purple hair as well as I can with my fingers until I can no longer feel a tangled mess. “You never really deserved this pain,” I reassure her quietly. My blade cuts through the ends of her locks smoothly, and I hold the lock of hairin my hands, running my thumb over the shiny strands. The tarp creases below my knees while I stand up from the hard floor.
“There is a perfect spot on my shelf that I have picked out for you,” I tell the body behind me. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll never forget our night.”
My wide eyes scan over her body. The way that her blood stops in the middle of her stomach excites me in a way that would concern most men. I’ve come to the realization, however, that I am one of a kind.
“I’ll clean you up, pretty girl,” I promise her with my lips nearly touching the side of her face. I kneel next to her body and lap up the pool of crimson collecting near her abdomen. My tongue moves along the trail of liquid scarlet, slowly up between her breasts. I keep running the flat of my tongue up her body until I reach the gash I made in her slender neck. I lick the few drops that fall off my bottom lip. The copper tinge on my tongue sends a shiver up my spine.
My focus changes its course to the cuts I made on her earlier. Goosebumps cover my skin as the tips of my fingers touch the raised, red surface.
“Even as a warm corpse, your body still looks so fucking beautiful with my marks.”
She feels nice cradled in my arms, her form fitting perfectly in mine with her feet dangling off my forearm and her neck resting on my other bicep.
I comfortably put her body in the passenger seat as if she were asleep. The seat belt wraps loosely around her leaning body. Her vital fluid continues to stream down between her breasts. The strap of the seatbelt barely sits on her slightly exposed chest.
“Sorry, pretty girl. I did the best I could with your shirt.” The thin, black fabric I cut earlier still lies gently on her large, fake breasts.
Her shiny, black leather purse sits next to her feet on the floor in the car. It falls lopsided next to her black heels. Her phone fits snugly inside with her screen face up. I make sure to take glances every so often.Still no messages for my pretty girl.
“Sorry, there’s no one looking for you.” I move my exposed arms through the sleeves of my black zip-up sweatshirt and settle myself into the driver's seat. “You ready?” I ask her as if she’s going to give me an answer, nodding at her silent response, and turn on the car.
The drive is long and quiet. As is to be expected with a dead girl and her killer in the same car. Now and then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice the shadows casting down from the lights of the city hitting her very cream complected face. She looks almost peaceful. “Almost there, pretty girl.”
I take glances at the familiar alley between The Neon Rose and the small boutique, and then back again at the lifeless woman in my passenger seat.
“The sun will be up soon. I'd better get you settled. You’ll have a big day in the morning.” I turn off the car and unlatch the loose seat belt around her lap, and grab the small purse on the floor. The leather strap slides conveniently on my shoulder. It settles in the creases between the black cotton of my sweatshirt. “Stay right there, pretty girl. I’ll get your door.”
I scoop up her body just as I had done earlier at the storage unit and quietly shut the passenger side door with my hip. The two of us watch for cars, and we quickly cross the street. I set her body against the large dumpster that I had been acquainted with two times before.
“I know it’s not much, but you won’t be here too much longer.” I smooth down her frizzy, dark purple hair as it hangs on her delicate shoulders. Next, I fish out her phone from her tiny purse and rub down the case with my cotton shirt. “You know the drill, baby. Say cheese.”She complies as I grab her hair from the top of her head and move her face in view of her screen. Her phone opens up, allowing me to open her gallery and play the last video I took of the show we made.
“You did so well.” I praise the beautiful corpse before setting the small purse on her lap.
The light of my phone shines brightly on my nightstand. I should be asleep, but my mind is overrun with thoughts. I reluctantly look over at the screen.It’s late. Only one person would send me anything this time of night.I roll over to what used to be my side of the bed and check the screen.Fuck. You knew it would be her.
“Why the fuck did it have to be her?” I ask myself out loud.
Thalia:
Hey, Alan
I grip my black phone case and stare down at the message like it’s going to self-destruct any minute.Don’t answer her, asshole.My fingertips glide over the keyboard on the screen.
Me:
Hello, Listener
Thalia:
Alan, I want to see you.
Me:
