Aftermath - TBH Short Story 4

Aftermath

Charlie

It was never meant to be like this. Jessie was just my partner in crime, a dirty cop who had the inside info I needed to stay out of trouble. That was how it started anyway. Now, here at the abandoned Lotus Hotel, with nothing to distract us but the sound of passing cars from the 701, Jessie had his firm hand on my shoulder. My breath was heavy, only made more evident by the echo from inside my mask. Jessie's chest rose up and down roughly. He was out of breath too. My head was starting to swim, and I couldn't tell if it was the adrenaline, or the fact that this other man was so close to me. Unlike the hours before, I now felt completely powerless. Jessie was big, after all. His arms and legs were twice my size, and he had a good 10 inches on me. If he turned on me now, I knew my razor-sharp tongue would fail to save my life.

"Charlie..." He broke the silence, and my breath caught in my throat. His voice was low and sultry, so different from his usual loud mouth and playful attitude. My hand gripped the dusty bed sheets beneath us in response. Flashes of what we'd just committed flooded my vision without end. Jason's youthful voice still sounded in my ears. The desperation, the pain, the final pleading cry that lurched from his throat so strongly just to trickle slowly into an exhausted and defeated squelch. Would it stop? Would it ever stop?

Jessie didn't say another word. Instead, he reached over and pulled off my pale white mask, revealing the heavily reddened cheeks I was trying so hard to hide. I wanted to appear tough to The Hornets, but it had exhausted me. Jason's death. The image of bright brown eyes losing all depth and meaning was burned into my skull. How quickly they dulled and became milky with unlife. It happened even before the body ceased struggling. I never knew how instantly stiff it became. I never knew how difficult it was to pry the fingers of a lifeless arm from around your own neck. My thick digits traced the purple and blue blotches on my throat. I flinched. My tattoo was still so fresh. His sharp nails had pierced the flesh right in the center of the image of a waxing moon. The eldritch tendrils that coiled around either side and circled my neck; they were heavily scratched as well. Was it awful that I was thinking about the touch-up? Maybe that was just how I coped? It was easier if I only kept focused on myself.

Jessie removed his own mask. The same opaque white, eyeless with a stitched mouth, and three red, drop-shaped jewels on the left cheek. Suddenly I was staring into his blue eyes, studying the pink scar he had running down the left side of his face. His chocolate skin wasn't flushed, but he was sweating. Was that because of our first kill, or had another sickening thought wormed its way into his twisted mind?

First kill? Had I already decided we would do it again? I felt myself falter for a moment. He'd deserved it. He'd had it coming for quite a long time. Maybe I had others on my list. In fact, I knew I did. In spite of myself, an arrogant smirk perked up at the edge of my lips. My fingers flinched in anticipation, in excitement. I could still feel the knife clutched in my hand; so tight my knuckles were white. I could feel the texture of ripping flesh, the surprisingly small wash of blood that splattered onto my light grey hoodie. I'd expected more.

"Charlie..." he said again, and I forced back the need to flinch as his commanding, deep voice echoed off the yellowed wallpaper.

My green eyes locked onto his. A contest. A show of dominance. I won within seconds, his gaze faltering and landing somewhere on my legs. We must have spent a good thirty seconds like that; him, avoiding eye contact, me, challenging him to rise and meet my stare. He showed another force of dominance however. His hand, almost bigger than my admittedly thick thigh, squeezed my flesh lightly.

"Jessie. I've told you before." My voice was nothing more than a whisper, but held stern weight all the same.

"Then tell me. Say 'stop'. " His tone tested me. I quickly closed my eyes to avoid looking into his again. This time, he would win; because he knew better than anyone how to make someone melt. He knew how to make someone's heart flutter, their knees weak. I'd seen him do it so many times with the other officers, men, women, or anyone else who came snooping too close to our business. He had this signature smirk: eyes lidded, eyebrows raised, head cocked to the side, and body relaxed. He'd casually lean on something with his arm up, knowing his tight shirts would slip up to reveal his toned abs. He'd toss back his bouncy black hair with a soft laugh. He'd give a casual swish of his hips. I tried my best to keep myself from picturing it.