Three Ring Circus: An Introduction

   As the audience sat in mute darkness, a spotlight snapped on the right ring. In the centre of the circle, a woman sat atop of a bloodstained oak table. Her arms were missing from the shoulder, the flesh stitched closed. The eyelids were melted closed, the lashes burned away. Over her mouth, a brace held the lips open, clamps forcing the teeth apart. The metal device wrapped around a shaved skull, her head rolling with pleasure. Hips ground perversely against the surface, crushing the vagina with each pull. Her legs were missing, the stumps on the thighs sewn. Her breasts were bare, the nipples pierced through with dull studs. Her groin was hairless, a tattoo of a heart over the clitoris.

A second spotlight snapped, lighting up the far left ring. A large dog lay on its side, legs akimbo. The muzzle slack, its tongue lay on the floor. Flies buzzed like a cloud around the corpse. The ribcage was exposed, flesh and fur torn away in shreds. A naked man, emaciated to but shades on pale grey flesh, crouched over the dead beast. His hands held the rubber entrails of the animal, caressing them with thin fingers. Eyes flickered to and fro in jerks as he masturbated his lengthy member. Short steel spikes protruded from his scalp like tiny slivers of reflective hair and his mouth drooled blood. Ill yellow semen erupted from his glands into the gaping damage of the beast.

The final light, the centre ring. A lone man stood, dressed in a tuxedo and top hat. He was but three feet tall with a skull painted over his face.

The Ring Master. He raised a microphone to his lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bitches and fuckers. Children served in every way. Welcome to the Three Ring Circus! Tonight we bring to you the violent representation of hatred most pure. A sexual carnage presented through the submissive surrender of gore and beauty combined.”

“A torso for your pleasure and a feast of the beast.”

The spotlight vanished off the right ring, followed by the left. He stood alone in the darkness, a cruel smirk on his face.

“Ladies and gentlemen. You bitches and every fucker out there. Allow me to introduce to you the master of masters. The ego feeding upon egos. A sinner of saints.”

“Mr. Grin.”

The centre light vanishes, plunging everything in darkness. Moments pass. The right ring returns.

A woman knelt on an altar of stone, side to the audience. She wore a nun's habit made of latex, raven hair hidden beneath the wimple. The chest of her robes was tailored around her breasts, exposing smooth round molds and hardened pink nipples. Black lips showed prominently on her smooth white face, eyes veiled by long lashes. Around her neck hung a large wooden cross, reversed in fashion. Three men surrounded her, each nude and muscular. She pulled consistently at two hardened members, the third swallowed to the pubis within her throat. Each male wore a full mask of an animal, the details of realism grand; a lion, a wolf and a sheep.

The left ring returned, a man suspended off the ground by a length of rusted chain. The end vanished into darkness. He was bare, the sinew stretched with strain, head wrapped in a black burlap sac. Feet struggled to touch the ground as a second man entered the ring. Wearing a surgical apron and mask, he carried in a gloved hand a long razor. His bald head lacked the cap of the skull, brain exposed. Solemnly he stood before the suspended victim and with dextrous precision, began carving the flesh off the man's stomach. From the bag came an excruciating scream.

The third circle lit up on a solitary man, his shaved head and goatee prominent above a priest collar and robes. He stared toward the audience, a speaker phone painted black in his hand.

Mr. Grin.

He raised the microphone to his mouth and shouted.

“God!”

A pause. He spoke gently, his voice carrying lightly.

“This is my existence. A nightmare in my nightmare. My halls of desolation and chamber of eternal sorrow. Misery to your right, reality to the left. We, caught in the middle, stand alone against a hypocrisy of society and the vile rape of our future.”

“Within my mind rests the one-shot two step, a macabre dance of visions wrapped further in visions. A city built on gore and lust. A kingdom raised on chaos. We live in the underbelly crust of secrets, walking on graves and corpses, eagerly aware that our very existence exists solely on the simple fact that humanity is lost and we are the monsters we bear.”

“I am the monster we bear.”

To the right, the men stepped back from the woman and she lowered her face in reverence. Hands raised before moist lips in a mockery of prayer. The three pulled at themselves, their glands aimed, each in turn ejaculated on her bowed face.

To the left, the doctor stepped around the hung man, revealing a fleshless torso. Red muscle shined with blood. The head within the sac twitched in violent spasms, the penis below the carved layer standing erect in a climax of agony and suffering.

Mr. Grin continued.

“This is our tragedy. The children of children. The violated meaning coiled in godlessness and blasphemy. We create for the sole purpose of destruction and revel in the abuse of our fore fathers. We bring to light a darkness so thick of foul fog we choke on the scent and strangle on the meaning. Our race, of colour or blood, crawls like the mindless ants of a colony aimed at feeding off each other.”

“And I embrace it.”

“I coddle the heartless and the cold. I embrace the dead and unwilling. I wrap myself in misery and reality, curled within a shroud of horror and fact.”

“We are disgusting creatures. We are the everlasting fuck that strives to destroy any sense of logic and drown the infant hope in a pool of piss and terror. We shatter our innocence like a victim of rape and the perpetrator of which take is take and giving is all that's left.”

Silence. He lowers the speaker yet his voice floats on.

“Face it. We are all capable of such things. All guilty of crimes never committed yet forever achieved. We have inside us a creature of distorted morals and gutted values and to each of us we venture curiously. Seeking forever the limits of our discomfort and the towers of our hate.”

“We want to fear. We want to squirm. We want to swallow and force every putrid thought like the coated pill of reason. And I willingly present it to you.”

The lights vanish, plunging the flanking rings into inky nothingness. Mr. Grin stands alone, a beacon of blasphemy.

“This is my mind. Please come inside.”

The centre circle fades away. A distant buzzing of flies blend lightly with the hollow moan of primal pleasure and the wailing of a babe. In the darkness the sounds fade, leaving nothing.

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Any comment or feedback is welcome.

This Is Our Home

 If you were to come down off the overpass and head east along Dreton Drive, you'd eventually come across a dive bar called The Dog. By turning left at the lights, and then crossing underneath the train rails, you'll be following the Campor District. This is where most of the bums and drug addicts hide from their shit ass reality. Continue along until you come to a laundry mat known as Mal's. That hole was once used by the mob. Now it's owned by some Asian dick and his ancient wife. Take a right, and after following the curve through rows of apartment buildings, you'll find yourself in the Grives Industrial Park. On your passenger side you'll see a strip joint named Black Tie Event. Travel along until you reach a right turn, and head down that way.

The abandoned two story homes erected in the area are known on the street as The Slums. Not a very creative name but it's the honest truth. Almost every house in the neighbourhood is a piece of shit. After about four blocks and one more left turn, there's a house on the driver's side. The one with the faded white fence and no grass on the front lawn. The one with the damaged grey siding and the tar black shingles. That's where we live.

My name is Skiv. It's not my birth name, but by the time I was fifteen, everyone called me that. I'm lucky to remember my real name on some days.

I don't live alone in this dump. The second you come up the rotting porch steps and pass into the main entrance, you'll find the bare and vandalized living room on the left and a dining room with a plywood table and shitty chairs to the right. Odds are, sitting on the busted up green couch stoned out of their fucking mind, you would find the twins Mira and Tia. They usually vegetate there, staring at the T.V. that hasn't worked in ages. These black girls aren't even eighteen yet, but we have no fucking clue how old they really are. All we know is that at some point in their lives they ran away from home, together, and somehow ended up living in this house.

Fuck, half the time I wouldn't know which one is which if they didn't have different hairstyles. Mira's the one with the shoulder length hair while Tia has the short spikes. They even dress the same most of the time, wearing short skirts and tube tops that flash their shit everywhere. See, they pull tricks down near the strip place I mentioned, over at the Black Tie Event. Every now and then they disappear for a night or two, fucking some bastard before winding up here again.

Either way, as twins go, their pussies are pretty much the same.

Through the dining room is the kitchen, with a broken fridge and disgusting sink. The cupboards have fucking mouse droppings in them and the floor is stained with blood. The oven is missing the door and the window was smashed ages ago.

If you climb the stairs to the landing, there's three more doors. One is the bathroom. Half the time no one flushes, because you never know if it'll come bubbling back up. For a piss we usually go outside. The mirror was shattered when me and Davo had a fight and he smashed my head against it. The bath tub... let's not go there just yet.

The room on the left, well, that's kind of a crash room. There's a mattress on the floor, a bunch of candles on a wooden box and the window was painted completely black. The closet holds some of our shit, but usually we don't have much in there. There's a chair that gets used on occasion, this fucked up old electric chair with the skull cap missing. The straps on it are still good though. Davo and I dragged it all the way from the abandoned correctional compound located near the bin yards.

The other door from the hallway leads to the second room. That's usually where Coco hangs out. If there is one thing you need to know about Coco, it's that you never, ever want to stare too long at him. The guy is a good 6'6”, maybe taller for all we know. Built like a brick shit house, his bald head is covered with this creepy tribal tattoo he claims was forced on him by some gang. Either way, he's a freak . If Coco is in his room, then he's on one of his dates. And by date I mean he likely has a sobbing chick screaming as he rips her arm completely off.

Yeah, he's a sick fuck. But we all are. Davo, Coco, the twins and I. We live this sort of uninhibited existence here.

See, there's not a lot of cops that come around this place. The Slums have pretty much fallen out of their jurisdiction. Literately. People come here and they just disappear. And odds are, if they did, it was awful, it was painful, it was disgusting and it happened right here in this house.

Shit, that's right; Davo. This guy and I, we go way back. Since junior high. We were the best of pals, and when we ran from home, we did it together. We ended up living in this house, and that's how shit got messed up, but we were pals through it all. We've been through crazy times together and still came out in the end as the best of friends. The fight that broke the mirror in the bathroom? That shit was nothing compared to what we had.

If you head back down, there's a rear exit around the stairs leading outside to the yard. Not much to mention there other than a tree we sometimes hang people from. But behind the stairs there's a way leading into the basement. That's where Davo spends his time. There's no walls or anything down there. It's just the concrete foundation, rafters for a ceiling and cement for a floor. The space is always damp and chilly, but he seems to prefer it for that.

Davo is sort of what you might call a punk, if a punk was a sociopath, rapist and cannibal. He's got the mohawk, though it's more like a short strip of black across his head, and a long goatee. He's usually topless, showing off the canvas of ink work on his body.

And he's more insane than anyone in this house.

That's us, I guess. This is our home. This is where we lived, ate and fucked with lives. Sure, we were sick and twisted, but we had a place to call our own. Things would have stayed simple, too, until the one day where I fucking changed things forever.

It must have been some time in the middle of summer. If we had grass it would have been green, and if we ever went out during the day there would have been blue skies. When I awoke on the mattress, I found that I wasn't alone. This is sort of unrelated, but when you wake up sometime in the evening and find that there's a naked bitch strapped to the electric chair, it reminds you of how surreal life can get.

Just saying.

The blond was staring at me, all terrified and such, arms and legs tied down and a ball gag in her mouth. Her tits were bouncing because she was breathing so hard, and she looked like she'd been crying for hours. Regardless of all that, I promptly headed out of the room, ignoring her desperate stare. Whatever Coco had in mind for that cunt didn't involve me, I was sure, and I couldn't care less about another body in the basement.

Mira and Tia were missing. Instead, there was this kid lying on the couch. No joke, this boy must have been around twelve or something. His little bald head was pale and he was passed right out. He smelled like shit, and there was a bile coming from his mouth. I'm not sure what an overdose looked like but the little dude was at least breathing. Not that it mattered.

I really had to piss and went out the back. The sky was getting dark and was overcast . Hanging from a noose in the tree was some asshole we lynched for fun. We had stripped him naked and Coco cut his dick off before hoisting his screaming ass up. He was dead, but I still stood there a moment and rubbed one out, shooting come on the puddle of piss I had made.

Going back into the house, I heard the door upstairs open and close, followed by heavy footsteps. Then another door squeaked and I knew that Coco was in the mattress room with that girl. Walking around through the entrance and dining room, I entered the kitchen. The fridge door was open. Yeah, I said it was broken, but we could still keep beer in there and it would stay cold for a while. Sticking out from behind the door was a bare brown ass and long legs. Without seeing a hairstyle, though, I wasn't going to make guesses on which twin it was, so I just waited. When she rose holding a can of Mountain Crest, I barely gave Mira a nod. The door closed and she stood there in the nude, her dark tits poking black nipples at me and her patch of pubes was like a triangle above her cunt.

Preemptively she handed me a beer as well. In a way, the twins were our mother figures.

Cracking it open, I drank down half of my breakfast before nodding back behind me.

“Who's the kid?”

She drank a sip with her full lips and shrugged. “Some punk Tia and I ran into.”

“So why is he here?” I asked.

“Do you care?”

Of course I did not, so I dropped it. “Where's Davo?”

She shrugged again before taking a sip. Sometimes, I didn't think she even knew where she was.

Turning around, I started for the living room as Mira called out to me. “Want a blowjob?”

Always with the fucking blowjob. Seriously, if ever the twins decided to shave their heads, the only other way to tell them apart was by shit like that. We could be having a serious debate about our impact on society, and Mira would be the one offering to take two cocks in the ass. This one time, Coco and Davo were in the basement trying to pull the limbs off some guy, and Mira comes down and says, kid you not, “I need to swallow someone's load.” That's Mira for you.

As I passed the stairway, I could here the muffled screams upstairs. I ignored the kid on the couch as I went around and started down the basement.

“Davo.” I called out before descending all the way. The light was faint, the area lit only by candles set along the shelving of the foundation. In one corner, what was left of three bodies lay in a pile. On the right there was a sleeping bag covered in dust. Over in one of the corners, I found Davo.

He was standing there with his back to me, looking down at something I couldn't really distinguish. In his hand he held a hacksaw, in the other some long object. There was the distinct smell of copper in the air. When I joined his side, I found a brunette woman curled up on the concrete floor, her eyes rolled back in her skull. She was stripped down to nothing, her pussy hidden between the thighs, breasts sloping down. There was a bald spot on her head, the flesh bruised and raw. She lay in a dark pool of blood and where her arms should have been, the shoulder bones stuck out in jagged protrusions. The bitch was dead.

In his hand was one of her arms. I'm still not sure of what happened to the other.

“Beautiful, isn't she?” Davo said.

I stared at the dead broad a moment before asking. “Wanna go hit up a beer store?”

Davo didn't even acknowledge me. His jeans were splattered with blood, his bare chest coated in crimson. “She screamed until they came off.” He said. “Crying for help.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I replied . “Look, do you want to go out?”

He looked over at me, frowning as if just realizing I was there. He gets this look in his eyes that seem so distant whenever he kills someone. It's as if he holds inside the passion of an artist, only his canvas is that of gore.

Despite that deep stare, though, he drops the arm right there, followed by the saw and smiles.

“Stay in with me.” He says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small baggy of white pills.

I'm not big on E. I mean, I've done it before but I tend not to go crazy over the drug. By that time, though, I knew it was useless to try and deter him. My options were simple; go off alone or hang out with Davo. Tossing the emptied can of beer aside, I took the bag and grabbed myself a pill.

In that next hour, Davo and I stayed down in the basement, the candles sputtering in the wax. We each took at the girl, moving her body around on the floor, twisting it over and such. Most of the time, Davo had her lying back, holding her ass off the ground with his hands and kneeling between her thighs. His dick would be pumping in a pussy so cold and dry the lips stuck to his shaft like raw meat. I had her head turned, sitting on my ankles while I manipulated her mouth around my own hardened cock.

The drug seduced us, though, heating the cool and molding basement with our sweat and grunts. The chemical high surged through us, twirling around Davo and I. The moment was tangled in chaos, our bodies completely bare as each of us filled some hole on the bitch. Her armless torso scraped against the floor, coating it in blood, smearing it around as I fucked her in the resisting ass. Davo held her up, cradling the head and fucking her mouth in sharp jerks.

We laughed, looking across each other on occasion, just the two of us. Best friends since high school. Buzzing through time and space on a toxic freeway. And when Davo flipped the corpse on her knees and crouched over her, cock pumping in her shaved pussy, I came in behind him. Caught in the flow of sexual pleasure with some help from the E, I bent over Davo and pushed my dick into his ass. We fucked together, a necrophiliac threesome, taking turns with every hole. He entered me, and I rubbed myself between her tits. I stroked his length as he fucked the wounds of her shoulder. And in a final climatic release, I sucked his cock and swallowed the load while pulling my own out onto the cunt's lifeless face.

It was not the first time Davo and I had sex. Really, there's a fine line in our deranged reality and being concerned about homosexuality seems stupid when one considers what else goes on in the household. Fuck, our whole group was a graphic perversion of straight, bi and gay combinations. Me and Davo fucking each other was as common place as the twins eating each other out, or Coco forcing his dick into a little girl. We lived undefined and we carried no labels to show for it.

Or so it was before. And, well...

We lay there on the cement, our bodies together, with only a corpse between us, and I spoke moments before I considered my words. Words that had never been whispered in this basement, this house before. Words that gave structure to the very core of our ghostly and hellish existence.

Words that move faster with the mouth than the brain.

“I love you.”

I always have. Ever since we ran away together, I've loved Davo. He was my friend, my brother and my lover. We had gone so long as partners that my love grew each day. So often a time came when I thought to myself that we were meant to be, during the good times, and the worse. Our first murder, our first rape. The jealous stab whenever he fucked a live girl. The hateful rage whenever he fucked a man. I had grown to feel for him the only sense of feeling I had ever had.

And in the basement that day, I told him all of that.

Davo sat up, looking down on me and I could still taste him in my mouth. He was frowning, a far off look in his eyes when he asked.

“What?”

I hesitated only a moment. “I love you.”

Without a word, Davo rose. I lay there watching as he pulled his pants back on. He paused briefly to glance back at me before walking away towards the stairs.

I wished then that I hadn't told him. I wished at that moment that I had kept my mouth shut and chose to just live with it for the rest of eternity. Rubbing my eyes with a sigh, I pulled myself to my feet and started after him.

“Davo!” I called out , taking the steps by two. I opened the back door and looked out but he was nowhere to be seen. Filling with a sense of urgency, I hurried towards the front door.

On the couch, Mira was bent completely over the boy. She had lowered his pants down off his small dick and was sucking at it, her pussy crushing his mouth. The kid looked pale and sick, clumsily moving his tongue between her dark pink lips, a sheen of ill sweat on his head.

“Did Davo leave?” I asked quickly, technically to her asshole.

At that moment, the boy threw up a mass of yellow spit onto her cunt. Mira ignored me, and the boy's sickness, continuing to suck his penis. The kid, dazed by whatever shit he had taken, resumed lapping away the puke off her snatch.

Swiftly I rounded the landing and rushed up the stairs. I found no sign of him in the bathroom, the curtains pulled away from the tub. In it lay the rotting corpse of a little girl Coco once brought home, from wherever, her mouth eaten away by flies and her teeth missing.

I hurried into the mattress room, barging in. Coco was standing on the seat of the electric chair, his cock out as he forced the blond from earlier to suck it. She was complying out of sheer momentum, her eyes wavering weakly from loss of blood. Her legs were missing from the knees, the caps ending in neatly sliced rawness.

Coco didn't stop as he glanced over at me in annoyance but I was unconcerned with him.

“Did Davo come in?”

He shook his head, gritting his teeth before pulling the girl down hard around himself. Closing the door, I scurried down the stairs and burst out onto the porch. In my haste, I almost smashed into Tia.

“Whoa,” she slurred, “what's the rush, Skiv?”

She was wearing some denim skirt, and her tits were hanging out over a black bra. In her hand was a bottle of whiskey, the contents almost gone. I think she had been heading towards the house.

Grabbing Tia by the shoulders, I pulled her attention. “Have you seen Davo?”

She looked down at my hanging member and chuckled stupidly. “You're naked.”

“Have you seen Davo?” I shouted, rattling her.

She scowled, trying to focus on me. “He went down the street running.” She said. “Is something wrong?”

Ignoring the question, I ran towards the gate and swung it open. Fully nude, I went onto the street and spun around, looking down every direction. The night was cool, the stars above only hints hiding behind the clouds. The street lamps flickered tiredly.

There was no sight of Davo, not a hint or shadow. Only the air whispered, the sounds of the city so distant it could have been a dream. I had nothing at that moment, bare and exposed, and I could still smell the sweat of his flesh.

Hopelessly, I cried out.

“Davo!”

I was lying on the ground in our backyard when I awoke. The sun was just beginning to rise over the buildings, and distant birds called out. The dirt clung to my naked body as I groggily sat up and looked around. Tia was just outside of our back door, squatting naked, a stream of urine falling from her pussy.

Disoriented, I rose to my feet and headed for the house, stumbling with every few steps. I ignored her as I entered our home.

In the small hallway passing the stairs, Mira was dragging the boy by the feet towards me, her bare ass flexing with each pull. I left the door open for her before climbing down the stairs into the basement.

The candles had burned out. The dismembered girl lay in a thickening pool of blood. Dejected, I hobbled over to the sleeping bag and sat down on it.

That's when I final began to sob. Things had been just fine until the night before. We were messed up and going to Hell but fucked if we weren't doing it together. Davo was gone and I had no clue what became of him or how he felt about it. At that moment it was like years of murders and violence and all the shit we've done came crashing down on me. I finally felt truly alone.

When I heard the footsteps on the stairs, I assumed it to be Tia or Coco.

“Hey.”

I looked up to find Davo standing on the last step.

“Hey.” I replied.

Carefully I rose, staring back at him. He was a silhouette in the dark and I could not clearly see his face. Wiping tears off my cheek, I held still, watching him. Waiting. In our manner, people die with so little a chance. In a blink a life is silenced.

He stepped down and walked over towards me, a shadow among shadows, moving in still frame jerks. When he grabbed me and his lips crushed against mine, the world fell silent and I felt weightless.

Sighing, I surrendered with him into oblivion.

Now we are a something, though what that something might be is beyond me. On the usual occasions we do a something together. We found a rifle a few days later and spent an afternoon shooting at a new man we had tied to the tree in the yard. We raped a woman outside on the street in front of our house and kissed deeply as her screams filled the air.

Coco doesn't seem to care too much about what we do. He's been occupied with collecting body parts off women. Tia and Mira don't seem to approve of us, though. They might be worried that our love will bring something else into the household, something foreign and dangerous that none of us are prepared to deal with.

I don't see what could really happen. We have each other, Davo and I, and we've been so for a month. If we brought anything to this house of ours, it's a love that's more real than the blood, sex and drugs we live in each day. What we brought can't be any more hazardous than the guts lying on the kitchen floor or the puke stains on the couch. What we have now is something real and tangible in a house of madness.

The only sense in the world I know is Davo.

This is us now. This is our home.

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Any comment or feedback is welcome.

Raison D'Être

In the bathroom, Kary Sand sat naked on the toilet seat. Her brown hair hung low, eyes downcast. Jackson stood before her, nude as well. He stroked his erect penis slowly. Precum glistened on the tip.

Doris sat on the edge of the tub. In her hand was a video camera. Grinning, she zoomed in on Kary's shaven crotch.

“Lift up a little.” She licked her lip. “Show me your pussy.”

Blushing, Kary raised off the seat. With two fingers, she spread her vagina open.

“Do it.” Jackson grunted.

Burning with embarrassment, Kary released a stream. Some of it hit the toilet bowl ring.

Jackson stepped in close to her. His penis was inches from her face. “Fuck yeah.” He grunted. “You dirty cunt.”

Doris grinned. Rising, she came closer and zoomed on Kary's shamed expression.

“You're a little fuck doll, aren't you?” She purred. “A little fuck doll?”

Kary pushed another shot at the water. At that moment, Jackson groaned. A hot burst of semen splashed on her cheek. A stray burst hit her eye. She recoiled, yelping softly. Some sneaked into her mouth.

The camera focused on her face. A thick white string hung from Katy's chin. One eye was closed. She finished pissing and swallowed.

Jackson grabbed her chin and faced her towards him. He spat on her forehead.

“Good girl.”

Katy was seated on a wooden chair in their spacious living room. She wore a silky red neglige. Doris stood behind her, groping Katy's breasts. A plastic bar was strapped between her legs at the knees, keeping them apart. Her arms were bound across the back of the chair.

Jackson held the camera. He zoomed on the pink lips of her sex. “How old are you?”

“Twenty seven.” She stammered shyly.

“How long have you been a whore?”

Doris pulled one of Katy's breasts out over the slip. Her fingers pinched and pulled at her nipple.

“Since I was eighteen.” Katy gasped.

Jackson panned to her lips. They trembled. “Do you like being used?”

She closed her eyes, frowning. Doris squeezed her breast painfully and Katy grunted.

“Do you like being used like a little bitch? Do you like getting paid to be a slut?”

Katy whispered. “No.”

His hand struck out sharply across her cheek. She cried out and Doris laughed.

“What was that, cunt?”

She suppressed the urge to sob. Doris grabbed her chin, forcing her towards the camera.

“Do you like it?”

A tear escaped her. “Yes.”

In their bedroom, Doris secured the camera to a tripod. She aimed it and started recording. On the large bed, Jackson sat back against the headboard. Katy was bent over his groin, the renewed erection buried in her mouth. Her exposed rear was raised. His hand held her head down. When she coughed and gagged, he let go momentarily. A deep breath and he yanked her back by the hair.

Doris slipped on a pair of rubber underwear. A thick rubber penis stuck out the front.

“Is she any good with that mouth?” She grinned.

Jackson pulled Katy up. A strand of precum travelled from her bottom lip to the tip of his glands.

“She sucks like a pro.” He grunted. Holding himself, Jackson rubbed the end against her lips.

Doris climbed onto the bed and crouched behind her. Pulling a buttock aside, she held the large head of her dildo against Katy's anus.

“Say it.”

Katy choked. “I'm a bitch.”

Jackson forced her down around him. Doris pushed and Katy grunted in pain.

Four blocks away from the hospital, Katy stood at a corner, leaning against a brick wall.

Jackson drove in a black car. The cost of it could have covered a year of rent for Katy. In the passenger seat, Doris looked out passed him.

“Hey.” She called out.

Katy walked up and leaned in.

“You guys looking for a date?”

Jackson grinned and Doris winked. “Want to make a shit ton of money?”

Katy hesitated. She feigned looking around. Biting a nail, she asked. “How much are we talking?”

Jackson answered. Doris added. “But you have to everything we say. We're talking real hardcore. I' not paying that much just so you can give my husband a quick handjob. You might get a little hurt but we just want to try out having a sex slave.”

Katy was about to change her mind.

“Ok.”

On the bed, Jackson held Katy's rear raised. His penis moved quickly within her vagina. She was lying down. Doris knelt over her face, her loins against Katy's mouth. She pulled her head up by the hair, crushing her.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit, I'm coming.”

Jackson's finger was in Katy's rectum.

Katy stumbled out of a car, ankles tangled in her underwear. The man within returned to the driver seat.

“Close the door, for fuck's sakes.”

She slammed it and he drove out of the alley. Squatting, she pulled her underwear up beneath her skirt. Dizzy, Katy shuffled further between the buildings. She stopped her her foot stepped on a newspaper page.

Picking it up, she read the article.

On the kitchen floor, Katy knelt. She was nude. Her hands her bound by her underwear behind her back. Her knees were bruised. The cheeks of her rear were pink. There was a slight cut on her upper lip. Her hair tangled in clumps.

She was blindfolded. Jackson stood before her. He held a tail of her hair in his fist. He thrust his pelvis in jerks, penis inside her mouth. He held the camera.

Beside her was Doris. Jackson pulled out of Katy and turned to Doris. She bobbed her face around his length. He then yanked Katy back on him.

Doris grabbed her throat and squeezed. “Choke the bitch. Choke her on your cock.”

Pushing against her head, he buried in her throat. Katy gagged. She coughed bile against Jackson's pubis. He released her and she pulled back. Turning aside, she coughed out a splash of vomit. It swung off her chin as she was forced back. Jackson resumed.

“Fucking doll. Fuck doll.” Doris squeezed Katy's breast.

Walking down the hospital hallway, Katy felt insecure. A mother came out of a room, weeping. A doctor followed behind her.

Kay stayed back, listening. She caught the words.

Terminal. Operation. Money.

The mother shook her head. She leaned against the doctor and he hugged her. Katy wanted to comfort her as well.

A nurse stopped beside her. “Can I help you?”

“No.” Katy said. She walked away, tears starting down her face.

“I'm a bitch.”

Katy was bent on her knees. Behind her, Jackson crouched. His penis pushed down into her rear.

Doris knelt before her. Reaching back, she pulled a buttock aside. Katy held the other one and licked circles around Doris' rectum.

“Again.” Jackson slapped Katy across a rear cheek.

Katy stopped momentarily. “I'm a bitch.”

“You piece of shit.” Doris gasped. “You fucking cunt. I'm coming. Make me come, slut.”

Katy pushed her tongue inside. Doris fingered her clitoris and climaxed.

Jackson crushed his pelvis on Katy's rear. “Fuck. You cow. Your ass is tight. So hot. Do it again.”

Katy sobbed.

“That's right. You hate yourself. You worthless whore.”

Doris looked up at the camera with a grin.

Jackson pulled his penis out of Katy sharply. Her anus stayed open a moment. Rising, he pulled at his length and nodded urgently at Doris. Elated, she squirmed away from Katy.

“Lay down, bitch.”

Katy rolled onto her back and spread her legs out. Her breath came fast. Tears had long dried. She watched Jackson anxiously. He stepped up to Doris. She knelt before his penis and opened her mouth. He ejaculate and she caught it between her lips.

“Oh fuck.” He groaned.

She sucked in on the head and pulled away. Jackson grabbed the camera off the tripod.

Doris climbed over Katy, looking down at her. He zoomed in close at the girls. Violently, Doris spat the semen out on Katy's face. She screamed in surprise.

Standing, Doris giggled. Jackson paned over Katy's ruined face. She was weeping. He focus on her tears.

“Cry bitch. Cry.”

She wore her clothes once more. Her hair was a mess. Her face was cleaned. She stood in their doorway as Doris counted out bills.

“Nine thousand, nine hundred. Ten thousand.”

She zipped up a sports bag and handed it to Katy.

“Thank you.” She muttered.

“Fuck, whatever. It's pennies.” Doris crossed her arms. “Feel like shit? That's a lot of money. Your mother would be so proud.”

Katy choked. “I need it.”

“Enjoy your crack, cunt.”

The door slammed in her face.

Outside a home, a broken mother answered the door and found a bag instead. Inside was hundred dollar bills and a note.

You do not know me. I do not know you. But I know about your son. I read about him in the paper.

The operation will save his life. This doesn't cover all of it, but it should bring you a lot closer to your goal.

I failed my chance at life. I would like to believe I gave someone else the opportunity to do better.

I love you.

Anonymous

On the bridge crossing the shallow river, Katy stood on the railing. The memory of her night stung like a needle. In a large home, a man and a woman have videos of lust unleashed. Of a prostitute who submitted her body to humility.

In a home, a mother is calling her friends, family. She is ecstatic. She is overjoyed. She believes once more in angels.

Smiling softly to herself, Katy jumped and pretended to fly.

--------------

Any comment or feedback is welcome.

Innocence

   Maeko was no different than any other girl in her class. She was definitely not the most popular. She was no social outcast either. Her long dark hair fell around a pretty face, the glasses she wore a compliment to her appearance, not a hindrance. She had an independent sense of fashion, playing with short skirts over tight jeans, or an open blouse and tie. She was unique. Her friends liked her for it. Most of them. Some simply liked to say they had an Asian friend.

Maeko was seventeen years old.

Whenever she went out on weekends, Maeko had the habit of carrying her video camera with her. It was her most prized possession. Everywhere she went, it came along. It was a rare sight to not see the lens reflecting back her surroundings. Maeko's personal laptop was full of videos of her life.

Like a diary.

It was a Saturday morning. Maeko was ready to leave her house with her the carry case for the camera slung over a shoulder. She almost made it before her mother, Kicho, stepped out of the living room into the lobby of their two story house. She was replacing one of her earrings with great difficulty and was dressed for the office. As a single parent, Kicho often worked through weekends.

“Where are you going?” She asked in their native tongue.

Sighing, Maeko faced her aged and tired mother. “I'm meeting with my friends.” She replied in English. “I told Hanna I would be there.”

Kicho flinched as the earring's backing pinched her lobe. “Take your brother with you.” She continued.

Immediately Maeko whined. “Mom! He gets in the way.”

“I don't care. I have to go to work and I told you yesterday you had to watch him.”

Maeko didn't bother to fight it. She stomped up the stairs to the second floor.

Ichiro was only eight. At his age, he had little interest in girls. Robots were amazing and he had a pet turtle in his room. He liked movies over television, was proficient at video games and put little effort in the way he dressed.

When Maeko entered his room uninvited, Ichiro jumped and dropped his comic book.

“Come on.” His sister said in annoyance. “Mom says you have to come with me.”

He shook his head quickly. “I don't want to go. I want to stay home.”

Maeko stormed up to him. Grabbing Ichiro's arm she pulled him to his feet. “I don't give a shit. Mom says you have to come with me.”

He fought against her, struggling to free himself. “I want to stay here and play my games.”

Maeko slapped him across the face. Ichiro recoiled, covering his cheek.

“I said we're fucking going.” His sister hissed. “So put your fucking shoes on and let's go.”

Maeko often hit him whenever she wanted things to go her way. When he was seven, she kicked him in the groin when he was walking too slowly to the park. She once trapped him in his closet after Ichiro was given the last cookie.

He'd never told their mother. She was often too busy to take the time to listen. And he had been warned by Maeko already.

She would kill him if he did.

Surrendering, he followed his sister out the room and down the stairs.

In their neighbourhood, alleys led out towards a ravine. They crawled under a wire fence down to where the creek flowed and followed it. From within the cover of trees, the city scrapers were hidden. The city a distant static. Bushes reached out, scratching against Ichiro and Maeko's pants like tiny fingers. Bees buzzed softly from wild flowers. The wind whispered through the leaves above.

Maeko held Ichiro's hand and led him further away from home. Along the slow flowing creek, the water stagnant and low. Deeper among the woods until finally she pulled him up the slope. They stepped out into a clearing where the grass rose uncut like a green sea. There sat an old barn, the door opened slightly.

Standing outside were Maeko's friends, Hanna and Neil. Hanna waved to Maeko and her brother first.

Hanna was a larger girl, many pounds away from being obese but enough to hamper her confidence. Her plain brown hair was cut to an unflattering short length and the black she always wore did little to make her seem slimmer. She was often seen reading or writing in the privacy of a dark corner at school and was generally a social outcast.

Neil was skinny enough to cause his mother to worry and take him to see a doctor. He had his father's metabolism. His mother refused to connect Neil to his father ever since the man left her. Neil rarely wore anything that showed his body physique and was the target of bullying. His unwashed black hair hung in strings around a gaunt face, the dark eyes big and bug-like.

These were Maeko's friends since their early years in school. A trio of social outcasts, loners and different. Keeping to themselves. They were better companions than anyone would ever know.

Maeko approached them, waddling through the tall grass with her brother in tow. Hanna called out to her.

“You brought it?”

Maeko raised her camera bag with a grin. Neil stood by the barn door looking in.

Ichiro began to resist. “I want to go home.” He whined.

His sister pulled him along, ignoring his protest. He yanked against her arm. “I said I want to go home.”

She stopped in the open field and spun around sharply. Her fist slammed the boy in his stomach. With a breathless grunt, Ichiro fell to one knee. Hanna got Neil's attention and together they watched.

Ferociously Maeko pushed her brother onto his back. She kicked his side sharply. He cried out in pain.

“Quit your fucking bitching.” She said as he curled into a ball. “Mom made me in charge and you have to listen to me. Now get up, you big baby.”

Suppressing the urge to cry, Ichiro achingly rose. He let his sister take his hand and held his sore waist. They continued onward, reaching the barn and her friends.

“Why is he here?” Neil asked curiously, looking down at Maeko's brother. Ichiro kept his eyes low.

“I had to.” Maeko replied. “Mom didn't give me much of an option.”

“Is he gonna rat us out?” Hanna asked with worry.

Maeko grinned and turned to her brother. He cowered submissively.

“I think he'll be good. Am I right, Ichiro?”

He nodded quickly. It was enough for her friends.

“Then let's get to it.” Neil said, pulling the bar door wider. “I've been thinking about today since last night.”

Hanna paused them a moment. “Did anyone say anything to you guys?”

They shook their heads and then Maeko asked. “Why? Is someone talking?”

“Well,” Hanna said hesitantly, “my parents asked me about it last night.”

“And?” Neil enquired.

“They believed me when I said had no idea.”

Maeko gave an assertive nod. “Good. It won't matter after today, anyway.”

With that said, the four of them entered the barn.

Her name was Isabelle but among her peers they were privileged to call her Izzy. They had to ask her for permission first. It was an honour if she said yes. Izzy was the popular girl in school. It wasn't because her parents were rich. It had to do with her blond hair, her beautiful face and her abilities to manipulate people. She was her own clique in school and her followers were her army.

They were nowhere to be seen that Saturday as she sat with her back against a support pole in the barn. Her hands tied behind it. Her normally silky hair falling in thick strands. Her face pale and bruised. She was gagged and blindfold by cloth.

Izzy was completely naked.

When the four children entered the barn and closed the door, Isabelle raised her head fearfully. Her breath came in fast at the sound of their approaching footsteps.

When Maeko released Ichiro's hand, he immediately went over into the corner and watched. She had already completely forgotten him as she stalked up to their captive with a grin.

“Izzy, Izzy. Little Izzy.” She said with a chuckle. “Everyone is looking for you.”

Hanna walked up to the girl and knelt to lift the blindfold off. Horrified blue eyes jumped from the girls to Neil and then back to Maeko. Tears escaped her lids and eased down her cheek.

Rising, Hanna spat down at her face. The blond recoiled.

“Fucking cunt.” The larger girl hissed. “No one's gonna find you here.”

Neil stood behind Hanna, watching with a hand on his groin. “You're going to rot in here.” He said, drawing Isabelle's trembling stare.

Maeko opened her bag and took out the camcorder. She raised it and turned it on.

Hanna glanced towards her with a vicious smirk. “Ready?”

Maeko looked back over her shoulder. Ichiro had cowered into a far corner, slumped down on old hay. His eyes were wide. Smirking at her younger brother, she turned back to her camera and looked vicariously through the lens.

“Yes.” She said, pressing record. “Yes I am.”

Isabelle started to cry as Neil walked over. He began to unbutton his pants.

“I want to go.” Ichiro whispered, pulling as his sister's sleeve.

Maeko was crouched, the camera focused on Isabelle's face. Hanna stood behind the post, pulling Izzy's head back against it by her hair. Neil was squatting before the bound girl, naked below the waist. His hips were thrusting in sharp jerks against Isabelle's face. The girl was choking loudly.

Ichiro couldn't prevent staring at the sight before him. “I want to go.” He tugged again.

Sighing, his sister stopped the camera. “Guys, hold on.”

Neil pulled away from Isabelle. She gasped a coughing fit. Hanna continued to hold her hair and looked over at Maeko.

“I told you he'd get in the way.” She said irritably.

With another frustrated sigh, Maeko rose on sore legs and faced her brother. He naturally recoiled in defence.

“You fucking shit.” She said. “Why can't you just shut up? We'll go home when we're done.”

He couldn't take his eyes off Isabelle. Hanna had risen, releasing the blond hair. Izzy's head hung, a line of wet drool hanging off her bottom lip. Her breasts hung downward. Her legs were parted, stretched out along the barn floor. His glance caught the slip of pink flesh between her thighs.

Maeko followed his stare and grinned back at him. “Like it?”

He quickly shook his head and stepped back. Hanna and Neil watched silently.

Fearful, Ichiro looked from Hanna to Neil's erection and back to his sister. She smirked cruelly.

“Like her pussy, you little perv?”

Neil chuckled.

“I want to go home.” Ichiro said. “I want to go home to my room.”

Reaching into her back pocket, Maeko pulled out a knife. She pointed it at her brother. “We aren't going yet. Not yet.”
The blade of her weapon caught Ichiro's horrified gaze and he began to sob softly. Maeko passed Neil her camera before grabbing her brother by the arm. With a cry he pulled against her hold. She pointed the knife at his face. He froze. The crotch of his pants grew warm and wet.

“I've had just about enough of your fucking bitching.” She growled softly at him. “Do you want me to have to tell our mom you've run away? Run away forever and will never come back? Not until they find the body?”

He slowly shook his head. “No.”

“Then fucking shut up and do as your told.”

“But-”

She cut a small line into his cheek and he yelped, pulling away. “Do it!”

Resolutely he nodded, lips trembling.

Through the camera, Maeko watched. Zoomed in as her brother hesitantly pushed a finger into Izzy's struggling loins. His own face damp with tears. Isabelle's head turned to the side, grunting with each push of Neil's hips. Hanna whispering to Ichiro, guiding his unwilling hands. Forcing him to explore the captured girl.

Maeko grinned when Neil pulled back from the crying blond. Izzy gasped a scream as he ejaculated on her face. Hanna made Ichiro push three fingers into the girl.

“No.” Ichiro said sternly, stepping back from them.

Isabelle was cut free from the post and was lain out on the floor. Hanna held her struggling arms down. Neil was between her thighs, holding them open as he raped her.

Maeko leaned down to her brother, knife in hand. She held his arm tightly.

“If you don't,” she hissed, “I'm killing you right here. I'll cut your throat open and shove my fingers in the hole. Fucking do it.”

Ichiro glanced over at Isabelle. She was crying out tearfully, throwing her head from side to side. Hanna leaned over and spat in her face.

“I don't want to.” He replied softly.

His sister slapped the cut on his cheek and he fell to the floor.

“You fucker!” She yelled. “Do it! Do it!”

Cupping the stinging pain, Ichiro rose slowly. His sister held out the knife and he took it hesitantly.

“Do it.” She repeated, bringing the camera to her eye. Ichiro walked over to where Isabelle lay. Neil was slamming his groin against her. The girl was screaming, pleading and sobbing.

“Please!” Isabelle pleaded, eyes shut in terror. “Please!”

Kneeling over her bare chest, Ichiro felt sick in his stomach. His palm's sweat made the handle of the knife warm.

Hanna smiled gently at him. She continued to hold the blond down. “You're doing her a favour.” She said. “You're doing her good.”

Neil didn't stop, thrusting in sharp jerks. Closing his eyes, Ichiro choked out a sob and raised the blade in his hand. He plunged it down between Isabelle's breasts. Her eyes went wide as the steel cut in, shocked by the pinching invasion.

“Again.” Maeko said, zooming in with the camera. Blood grew from the slit in her skin. Lifting the knife once more, Ichiro cried went he brought it back down.

That night, Ichiro's mother was late for supper. Maeko fed them and then let her brother hide in his room. He sat there in silence, the video games ignored. The comic book lying on the bed untouched. When his mother arrived, she found him lying in bed, curled up beneath the blankets.

“He was so active today.” Maeko told her mother when they were in the living room. “He must have really tired himself out.”

That night, in the darkness of his room, the vision of Isabelle's raped and murdered body clouded his mind. The memory of her lifeless eyes stared up from the hole they had left her in, the dirt falling from Neil's shovel over her pale and naked body. Maeko entered his room silently and he refused to look up at her. She walked over. Ichiro felt her weight on the bed as she sat down beside him.

“You killed a girl today, Ichiro.” She whispered close to his ear. “You killed Isabelle with a knife. You killed her and now she's dead. I have it all. I have it on my camera. I have it on my laptop. Everyone will know if you choose to share our little secret. Everyone will know. You killed her, Ichiro. You stabbed Izzy with a knife.”

She left his room, door closing slowly behind her. The light of the hallway thinned away to nothing, leaving him alone in darkness.

Ichiro sobbed silently into his pillow.

--------------

Any comment or feedback is welcome.

Rodney

Aug 10

Dear Jenny,

It’s me. Rodney. It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve last spoke. Since I’ve spoken with you. Look, I miss you, Jenny. I really do. I know it’s hard to believe, you know… considering… Well, I do. I think about you every night. Every time I come, it’s your crying eyes I see.

Listen, I’m trying. I’m here now, at the camp. It’s a camp for workers. Up north, in the oil sands. It’s this huge refinery or something. A large plant the size of a city. Jenny, they give you a room in one of the camps, right? It’s in a unit. Not large, but you get three meals a day and the pay is really good.

The plant that I’m working at smells like an open grave on the face of the Earth.

The walls here are paper thin. The ones in the units separating the rooms. I can hear my neighbor clearly from my bed. He coughs and farts and stomps around and I think he jerks off with a belt tight around his neck. A pervert. You know, when you consider how many guys must have blown their loads on the floor of my room…

I’m trying, Jenny. I’ve been very polite and courteous since I’ve got here. I hold the doors open for people and try to smile a lot. I say please and thank you as much as I can. I’ve been super nice to the kitchen staff. And I have yet to insult my co-workers. I have yet to threaten anyone. I’m trying very hard to be a good person.

The machine I get to run is a forklift. She’s beautiful! Two four-feet long forks lead me like the raised spears of a blood thirsty cavalry. If I was so inclined to, I could charge through one of the smoke pits during the peak hours. When everyone is standing there. I could impale and crush the whole lot of them in one violent blow.

I won’t though. I promise you, Jenny. I’m trying very hard.

Wish me luck today. I’ll be good.

I miss you Jenny.

I wish… you know. I’m sorry.

Your loving and changed man,

Rodney

Aug 13

Dear Jenny,

Did you know that in 2007, this plant had a fatality? They tell you this stuff during what is called “orientation”. Seems that a man working at heights wasn’t properly tied off, you know. With a rope or something. He fell, hitting the ground with the force of a sledge hammer. He was forty feet above the concrete. I’ve asked around but no one seems able to tell me if he hit the ground head first.

In 2008, an electrician made a simple mistake and shocked himself on damaged copper wiring. The strength of the current was apparently high enough that his body seized and his fists melted into the wires. I bet he shit himself. The man held on until he was fried. I wonder if he smelled of crisp meat and bubbling fat?

It’s difficult, Jenny. Everywhere I go, there are people. So many people. In the kitchen, in the recreation. Fucking people. The buses that take us from the camps to the factory. People. People. Every morning is a full bus. A man sat down next to me this morning. He just started talking. He hopped right into a conversation with me and he wouldn’t shut up! I couldn’t say anything. I thought I was going to cry.

I got to learn a few names. I work on occasions with a Mike, a Paul, another Mike and Andy. Two Mikes. I can never remember which is which. I don’t think it really matters. Both Mikes, they are nothing more than blood and guts on the inside anyway. Right?

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have added that last part. That was bad. Bad Rodney, right? Bad. That was bad.

I’m trying really hard, Jenny. For you. I’m still holding the doors open and smiling. Smiling so hard it hurts. But it isn’t easy. No one thanks you. No one smiles bad. Don’t these assholes see how much effort I’m putting into being nice?! If only they knew. Maybe then they would be more inclined to say thank you every once in a fucking while!

My neighbor. I can hear every goddamn word he says in his room when he’s on the cell phone. I guess he has a wife and a daughter. A teenager. I think she’s been skipping class, a real troublemaker. I hear everything going on in my unit. Every damn person living around me. Like a constant buzzing of a beehive. Buzz buzz buzz! I’m getting no sleep at night.

There’s a smoke pit near this pond. I guess the pond is where they dump some toxic waste or something like that. I don’t know. Relax, Jenny. I’m not smoking. That’s the old Rodney. I quit. I just like to park my machine there and hang out with the smokers. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try to talk to someone there. Maybe make a friend. I would like that very much.

From the pit you can hear the blank shots going off. See, they use these harmless cannons or guns to scare off ducks so they stay away from the unhealthy shit. It’s like constant sniper shots being fired from the unseen depths of the factory.

The roast last night tasted like raw flesh and I pushed the soap in to my ass during my shower. I’m sorry.

Jenny, I miss you. I wish it could be different. I have to end this now. They gave me a radio to call me when I have something to do. It keeps going off with people calling me and it’s making me angry.

Love,

Rodney

Aug 14

Dear Jenny,

The cleaning girl who handles the rooms is pretty. Not like you, but she’s far from ugly. I came on my sheets this morning. It excites me to know she’ll be touching my cum.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be thinking that. Bad Rod! Bad!

Last night in the kitchen, they had macaroni and cheese on the menu. This very fat man sat at my table and his plate of overflowing with it. They looked like squirming little maggots coated with puss. He ate through it like it was his last meal. Little yellow maggots sticking to his bottom lip, mashed within his mouth in to a tasteless pale paste. I couldn’t stop staring. I though I was going to puke.

The girls at camp have separate units. Units with only girls in them. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry, Jenny. There was this one girls today in the smoke pit today. The pit near the shots. She’s very pretty, with nice hair and a hot body. Her cunt smelled of lemons through her jeans.

She looked familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen her before. I could have sworn I’ve seen her in a porno getting gangbanged roughly, crying hard as she choked on a cock. I was too shy to ask though.

Last night, my neighbor was jerking off. I’m sure of it. The bed was squeaking and banging against the wall.. He was arguing with his daughter about her skipping school. I think he was jerking off to that. I think yelling at his daughter gets him off. I bet she’s hot.

I didn’t bring a lunch today. I had a dream that maggots were crawling in to my dick. I had to jerk off in the shower this morning, just to make sure it wasn’t real. I came in to my palm and rubbed it on the shower. Can you just imagine? The next guy to take a shower, he’ll be showering in my semen! Hahaha!

I’m sorry.

On the bus this morning, a girl sat next to me. She smelled of blood. I think she’s on her period. She wanted to touch my crotch. She didn’t say it but I can tell these things. Slut.

Did I tell you they have units just for the girls?

FUCKING RADIO WON’T FUCKING SHUT UP! RODNEY DO THIS! RODNEY DO THAT! FUCK YOU! I’LL KILL YOU! JUST SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!

I’m sorry, Jenny. That was bad of me. I’m sorry. Maybe Dr. Andrews was wrong. Maybe coming up here was a bad idea.

The cleaning girl has keys to every room in my unit. Can you believe that? Being trusted with such power. I bet she rubs everyone’s toothbrush against her clit. We’re all brushing our teeth with her snatch. Clit paste. Haha!

I’m sorry. I’m ending this now. The FUCKING RADI

Aug 16

Dear Jenny,

I wrote yesterday but it was bad so I tore it up. But I still want to ask. Why? Why did you do it? We could have been

Last night’s dinner was liver and children. I sat alone. I think everyone is avoiding me. What am I doing wrong? I hold doors open and I smile until it hurts and I say hi. Why can’t I make friends up here? Why does everyone seem to hate me? Well, no more. Fuck them. Sorry, Jenny, but I won’t be taken advantage of anymore.

I’m sorry, Jenny. I have a confession to make. Please don’t be angry. I brought the sharp. The same one. I’m sorry. I packed it in my suitcase and brought it with me. I know I did something very bad. Bad Rodney! BAD BAD BAD!

I won’t take it out of the bag. I promise.

I’m playing with my dick underneath my coveralls. It’s that girl at the smoke pit. The exploding sniper smoke pit. I bummed a smoke off her and she gave me one. It tasted like her finger. I tried to talk with her but she said she had to go back to work. She smiled at me.

Her name is… fuck, I forgot.

I wish those shots were real. A disgruntled employee with a rifle trying to kill as many smokers as possible. And I could save that girl somehow. I could save the girl by grabbing her and carrying her off as people die around us. I could take her to the tool crib and in the chaos she would thank me. She would get down on her knees and choke herself to death on my cock.

I mean… sorry.

Sorry. Bad Rod.

The man who sat beside me on the bus today touched my leg. Fucking queer. I’ll kill him if he thinks I’ll suck his dick! Sorry.

I would make a great cleaning person. Better than the bitch we have right now. She made my bed and cleaned the floor but she left my waste basket full! What are they paying her for? I would do a better job. I don’t even need the keys. I could tell her boss that. They would hire me on the spot. I have the tools with me. I still remember what Dad taught me. I should put that on my resume. A locksmith for a father. A family business. I should tell them. I would be so much better than that cunt.

I bet her ass is tight.

I can’t say that. I don’t mind being an operator. I’m good at it. My foreman has even hinted about carrying me on to the next job when this one is done. Isn’t that great? I think he wants to be friends! That’s good, right? Good Rodney.

I hope you can see how hard I’m trying, Jenny. I hope you can see your Rodney from the bottom of the river.

I love you,

Rodney

Aug 17

FUCK YOU! THE FUCKING RADIO CALLING ME! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!

I’LL KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL! THE SMOKE PIT BITCH! THE COOKS! THE WORKERS! LIKE A SNIPER SCARING OFF DUCKS! BANG BANG BANG! FUCK YOU FOREMAN! FUCK YOU SUPERVISOR! FUCK YOU! I’M DOING MY JOB! LEAVE ME ALONE!

IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, DR. ANDREWS! YOU TOLD ME TO DO THIS! COME UP HERE! MAKE SOME FUCKING FRIENDS AND GOOD MONEY! FUCK YOU!@ WHEN I GET BACK HOME I’M COMING TO YOUR HOUSE! CUT YOUR HEAD OF WITH MY SHARP! PUT IT IN YOUR CHAIR! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME NOW, ASSHOLE?

DON’T THINK I’LL DO IT? I’LL PICK THE LOCKS TO THE GIRL’S UNIT! RAPE EVERY SINGLE WHORE WHO FAILS TO THANK ME FOR HOLDING THE DOOR OPEN! SEE ME SMILING NOW, YOU CUNTS? DEAD MOMMIES AND DAUGHTER, THEIR MUTILATED BODIES COATED IN CUM! HAHAHAHA! LET THE CLEANING CUNT DEAL WITH THE MESS! SHE’LL LEAVE THE WASTE BASKET FUL! HAHAHAHA!

THIS IS YOUR FAULT, JENNY! YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE SAID THAT! YOU SHOULD HAVE NEVER LEFT ME!

I HOPE THEY NEVER FIND YOU!

HAHAHA!

Aug 18

Jenny,

Yesterday was not a good day. My neighbor’s snoring is loud. I can hear him breathing. I can’t sleep. The foreman and the supervisor had a talk with me and it upset me. I thought I was doing just fine. I thought I was making a friend. The radio keeps calling for me and I’m just so tired. So tired.

The cleaning girl didn’t empty my waste basket yet so I came on the pillowcase. I pretended it was her mutilated face I was coming on. I’m so lonely up here. Last night’s dinner was lasagna. I pretended it was the girl seated across from me. Yum! Bloody pussy juice dripping off my chin. Your cunt tastes like week old shit, bitch. When she caught me staring I didn’t bother to smile.

I hate this place.

I’ve been checking the newspapers since I got here. They still haven’t found your bloated body yet. You cow. You fucking bitch. Is the river cold?

On the bus no one sat next to me. I don’t care. Every second I was hoping we’d crash. The bus flipping on to its side. People screaming in horror and flailing like rag dolls. Smashing their heads open on the steel window frames. The engine on fire. KABOOM! All dead.

I hate this place. I’ve been at the smoke pit more often now. I sit and smoke. I kept the radio off all morning and just sat and smoked. The hot bitch, she came down a few times. Would she submit if she knew I had my sharp inside my coveralls? Oh yes. Security at the gates don’t search people on the buses. Snuck it in with my lunch. Five sandwiches in a paper bag to hide a sharp. I won’t eat them. I’ll throw it in the pond for the ducks.

She wouldn’t say no. Not with a shiny sharp waving in her face. She’d lie down. She’d submit. Right there in the smoke pit. Her jeans torn down, crying as I force my fist in to her asshole, the sharp on her neck. The workers falling around us, shot down by the sniper shots. All dead. I would slit her throat just to feel her ass squeeze around my fist.

Is the river cold, love?

The foreman asked me if my radio was on. I told him that the battery might be dead. He’s getting me a new one but I don’t think I’ll turn my radio on at all today.

I just don’t care anymore.

You shouldn’t have left me, cunt.

Rodney

Aug 19

Dear Dr. Andrews,

If you are reading this, I might be dead.

I tried. I tried and I failed. I’m bad. Bad Rodney! Very fucking bad.

No sleep again. My neighbor was on the phone again, arguing with his daughter over school and then with his wife over their daughter.

I hope they serve diced up newborn babies for dinner.

Tomorrow is my last day for this stretch. I get four days off. I get to go home during that time. You better hope I don’t, Dr. Andrews. I blame you. Your daughter is how old now? Nine? Ten? Old enough to bleed.

I hate this life.

I’ve decided to take the initiative, Doctor. I think I should. Tonight, I’m eating my supper. I’ll go back to my room. I’ll come on the wall and then wait until midnight.

Doctor, Rodney is dead. There’s just me now and I’m done trying.

Picking the lock won’t be hard and with the way my neighbor snores I’m sure he won’t hear me come it. I could sneak in undetected. After I gouge his neck open I’ll pull the throat out and ram the shreds into his mouth. With his cell phone I’ll take pictures. I plan to take many.

I was granted half a day tomorrow so I can drive home but I’m not leaving my camp at noon.

The kitchen carries plastic forks for us to take with our lunch. I grabbed a couple. Tonight when I kill my neighbor, I’m snapping the prongs of one fork into the keyhole to his room. That should make it impossible for the cleaning girl to unlock it.

If killing him gets me hard, I’ll come on the floor of my room. Tomorrow morning, I’ll come on the chair I have.

At noon, when I get back to the camp, I’ll wait in my room. The cleaning girl comes in the afternoon. I found out yesterday when I asked her about picking locks.

If she tries my neighbor’s door first, I hope she waits on reporting the jam and moves on to mine. Maybe she comes to mine first. Regardless, I’ll be in my room, in the closet. When she comes in, I’m slitting her throat. I’m cutting off her head and hands and leaving them in my full waste basket. Then I’ll jam my door with the second fork.

At this point, I’ll send the pictures of my mutilated neighbor to his daughter. I’ll send it with a message.

STAY IN SCHOOL, YOU COW! HAHAHA!

I don’t know what I’ll do then. Maybe I’ll go to the all-girl units. Pick the locks to those on night shift. Stab the sleeping girls in their stomachs and rape them as they die. Fill as many of them as I can with cum.

Maybe I’ll just wait for the smoke pit bitch to return from work. Follow her into her unit. Pick her lock and maybe catch her undressing. Rape her face at sharp point. I could ram my cock deep until she gags and pukes on my balls. Then I could cut her eyes out and shove them up her pussy so she can finally see herself the way everyone else does.

I could always just barge in to the kitchen and go on a massacre. Slice and dice! Kill as many fuckers as I can. Bodies crashing down on stewed virgin schoolgirls and abortion chowder. Kill everyone I can!

Either way, I’m going out with a bag. Like a sniper scaring away ducks as he takes out everyone in the smoke pit. Bang.

As for you, Dr. Andrew, if things go according to plan, I might not get the chance with you. That’s fine. When you read about it in the paper or see it on the news, when the finally fish Jenny’s corpse out of the river, I want you to remember this.

This is all your fault. You suggested I come up here.

I’m tired of trying.

Goodbye.

Rodney

Aug 20

Dear Jenny,

I slept great. Best since I got here.

Now that the snoring stopped.

I have a busy day ahead of me. It’s almost noon.

I just wanted you to know, before I do this.

Did you go to hell for leaving me?

If not, I’m coming to heaven to drag you down with me.

You can’t leave me, you cunt. You’ll be my bitch now.

For eternity.

Love,

Rodney

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