Glen

Chapter 2

Monica was her name. She was all body and no brains, believing, like most girls of her caliber, that she was a brilliant humanitarian. She was willing to tend to the misery and refuse of the lonely elderly and vomiting children. She had the couth of an old sailor and the unbridled wit of a potato. It was obvious that she gained entry to the college through the jostling of cleavage and a well-placed name. Her tuition was likely paid by an absent father and scholarships won through beauty pageants.

I often watched her shuffling her immaculate chest at our balding, divorced teacher, hoping to seduce her way through. The longer it went on, the more nauseated I became. When selling her immaculate carcass to the professor didn't yield results, she would waggle her goods at the other students. She would trade "favors" for completed homework and cheat sheets in all classes. I was her chosen target for Anatomy.

I was quiet, studious, and unassuming in every way. She felt that someone like me would crumble beneath the weight of what she offered without hesitation; that I would be her willing puppet. That's exactly what I wanted. I was the serpent beneath the lily.

After class, one day, a group of students were standing around, smoking, discussing the results of our first exam. I was sitting, quietly, off to the side.

"Jesus H. Christ," she yelled, lighting a cigarette. "That bastard failed me! After all I've done for that flabby asshole, this is what I get?!"

"Did you ever think about earning a good grade, instead of blowing your way to one?" Another girl asked.

"That's how ugly girls pass, Jenna," Monica sneered. "You have to work for it because nobody wants you."

Jenna walked away, instead of starting a fight. Monica took a trailer-park style drag off of her cigarette and caught sight of me. Cigarette hanging from her lip, she adjusted her breasts and came strutting over to me, exaggerating her movement for effect.

I had the power of pity on my side, and I had no problem applying it wherever it was needed.

She squatted down in front of me, drawing special attention to her assets. "Hey, honey! How's it going?"

"Fine," I said, sounding ridiculously sheepish. Reign it in, over actor, I griped at myself. We're going for innocent and awkward, not Southern Belle!

"How did you do on that exam?" Her cigarette dumped ash on my pants.

"I passed. Is there something I can help you with?"

She smiled, practically purring. "Could you help me study for the next one? Maybe make me a cheat sheet? We can go somewhere private and really get down to some real anatomy."

That was all it took! Everything my father had raised me to believe flooded me like bile. I had to eliminate her poison from the world.

I flashed the smile my father gave me, sweet and beautiful, like a spring afternoon. "I'd like that. My father left me a cabin by a crystal blue lake. We can go there, have some drinks, maybe relax on the water? You can take it easy, and I'll breeze through a cheat sheet just for you."

"I love that idea," she smiled, delicately biting her lip. "I'll have to find some way to repay you."

"I think I have an idea," I said. And I did.

When Monica and I reached the lakefront cabin, the day was in rare form. The sun glistened off the water, creating blue diamonds. Birds sang, softly, in the trees, as though to serenade my guest. She showed her appreciation for everything around her by texting a selfie to her friends, further cementing my desire to remove her.