Come With Me

Chapter 1, Part 4

Again she disregarded me and went to sit on her bed again. "I don't know what I'm in the mood for tonight," she addressed, either to me or to herself. "Hot, or cold?" My heavy breathing created a great background noise.

It felt like I couldn't swallow enough to re-lubricate my throat. "Hot... or cold... what?"

"Hot or cold tea. No- sex, stupid!" Annoyed, she opened the box; the lid was obstructing my view of the contents.

"What'd you... mean?" My neck was starting to feel cold.

"Red or blue, moving or limp..." Then she pulled something out of that stupid little box that I have been afraid of ever since. It flashed in the light of her lamp; sharp, silver, deadly. "Alive or dead..."

I didn't think it possible that my heart could have beat any faster than it did when she was blocking my airways, but it did, and I felt like passing out. My head wouldn't stop shaking back and forth. I was at a loss of words - no, that was an understatement, I actually couldn't speak.

She approached me and made a noise like you would make to try to calm a child. "I know, Matt, but I'm afraid you don't really have a say in this. I want this night to be special, and I know you are a sweet guy, so I won't lose you all too quickly, all right? So let's just start out slow." She took the hunting knife with her back to her bed, threw it on her covers, and removed a smaller, more precise weapon; an Exacto Blade.

My arms were trembling. "Why are you... doing this?" My hand never let go of my belly; it was torture knowing my only ticket to escape was locked inside me.

Her blonde curls bounced as she turned to face me. "Because it's fun, silly! Why else would I do it? And when you're parents are away getting drunk and having sex with every skank in the bar, what else would you do to entertain yourself?" She chuckled and shook her head, tightening the grip the handle had on the blade.

"Certainly not this!" I struggled to get up; my knees were weak. I leaned against the door. "Tiffany, this is crazy!"

She dipped her head, but that tiny smirk never left her lips. "Maybe you're right, Matt." Her eyes started to turn red. "Gosh, I'm sorry. I just need some comfort right now and there hasn't been anybody to give it to me." Her voice became high and squeaky. I was surprised at how quickly tears were able to drip off of her face.

She rushed up to me and brought me into a crushing hug. She started to cry into my shoulder. I didn't hug her back; that blade was still in her hand. I was as tense as coiled snake. She drew away from me and puppy-dogged her eyes. "Can I show you something?" Her voice had lost its venom.

I remained silent as she grabbed my hand and pulled it out towards herself, and as quick as a snake strike, the little blade glided against the palm of my hand, scoring deep.

I cried out and gripped the gash. Blood dripped in thick, sticky drops from my clammy flesh. She sat back on her heels. "Now press your hand against the carpet." Like a beaten dog, I did. Her soft carpet pricked in the cut.

She hopped up and flicked off her lamp. A second later, a big blue light on her ceiling blinked to life. And for the first time tonight, my heart slowed. I guess that there's some point where you just have to accept your fate. I was going to die tonight, and my brain finally accepted that as I examined her floor.