Last Night Stand - Short Story

 Warning: This is strictly rated R. This was a writing excercise I was given, which turned into a dark short. It's rough, and is not my normal writing style. You have been warned. 

 © Gem Higa

Slowly coming out of his unconscious state, he felt a blindfold covering half his face, keeping everything in complete darkness as he sat on a chair. A rag gagged and kept him from screaming out for help. Though he knew there was no point, because no one would come. He had put himself in this situation and everything that he had done in life led to this. Every bit of him throbbed, feeling as if a large bat had battered him. His hands shook with both anger and cowardice, as his heart palpated and skipped a beat with every thump that resonated inside the room. 

A door opened somewhere across the expanse of wherever he was, shutting with a soft click. Sharp steps reverberated around him. A woman’s heels, he thought. At one point, before he landed himself in this mess, the sexy sound of a woman’s shoe would have turned him on, but not now. At this point it practically terrified his very being. It wasn’t something he was used to, and never would have thought something as sensual could be alarmingly paralyzing. Two soft hands landed on his neck, moving so languidly across its base as it moved to cup the side of his face. A woman. He could smell the flowery perfume she had on, the way it brought him back to a time not long ago with a woman he had just met at a bar.

She was tall, blonde and gorgeous. It didn’t take long for them to end up sprawled naked in his hotel room. As quickly as it had taken for him to get the beautiful bombshell on his bed, was the same amount of time it had taken him to shed the “good guy” image. He had done things to that woman –to several women in fact- that were inexcusable. Out of fear not one of those women ever ratted him out, allowing him to continue his tirade. There was just something in inside that wanted to be let out. 

Suddenly, something sharp penetrated his upper left arm, slicing through the flesh and digging its way into the muscles. Something awakened in him. Something dark. It was the same monster that clawed through every time he was with a woman. He started calling her a bitch, and a whore, but she refused to acknowledge his words. 

Another slice, but this time on his right arm. The blade dug deeper than the last, as he felt the blood pool out in waves. The woman carved down, opening arteries and causing the veins to spurt out with blood. He screamed as his head started swimming away from reality and from the blood loss. 

Several more lacerations were inflicted on both his legs, leaving him practically immobile from the pain. The sound of liquid in metal sloshed as a cold solution fell on top of him, the fluid dripping down from his locks up until it soaked his entire frame, searing the open wounds. The smell of gas wafted up, as red-hot blinding pain exploded all over. He started screaming profanities left and right. This bitch would pay for what she was doing, he’d make sure of it. A few seconds later, a warm presence appeared to his right, whispering into his ear. 

“This is for all the women you’ve raped and tortured.” The blindfold came off at that moment, revealing a scar-ridden woman. Cuts appeared across her face and arms, masking a beautiful girl. “You tortured me you sick fuck, and now it’s your turn to suffer.”

He was momentary stunned and confused, until the moment she produced a match. Attempting to scream one last time would be the last act he ever did. The fire raged across the floor until it crept up his legs, burning everything in its path. This was his fate.

Everything he had done in life had led to this.