UM(1) Creative Writing Club (Activity)

Hayley Faye

"By all means, point your gun at me if it helps you relax. It's not like you're going to use it."

Michelle cocked her head back and laughed hysterically.

Kyle watched her in confusion. What is this lunacy? He thought.

"Go ahead. Shoot me. You don't have the balls to anyway," she said and smirked till her dimples popped up. Normally she would've looked stunning.

Now, she just looked crazy.

"Look, M, I don't want to do this anymore. You said you'd figure it all out and something tells me this wasn't part of the plan. And now I'm in this big fat balding... mess." Kyle let out the last words one by one. He meant it literally and figuratively for the big fat balding mess was lying dead on the blood-soaked mattress next to his mistress.

His mistress whom he was going to have to kill.

Michelle got up nonchalantly from where she sat as if Kyle wasn't going to blow her brains out any minute now. One look into his eyes and she knew, she didn't have to be afraid of a measly coward like him. But she was well aware of what fear was capable of doing to humans. With that in mind, she decided to lay it down carefully and logically.

"I can't do this on my own if you don't help me, K. I'm sorry this happened. You know how he's like... and I... I just lost it. He hit me, K. I can't take it anymore...," Michelle's voice wavered as she pleaded him with her ravishing green eyes, her best asset.

It wasn't easy being a woman when you're born in a suburb where fishnet stockings, chapped red lips and cheap perfume were a norm. Although she was blessed with divine beauty and impressive persuasion, flowing through her veins were the manners of the neighborhood she grew up in, and a common hatred for men.

"Besides, the gun's got all your fingerprint on it." She added as she awaited his response. That should seal the deal.

Sure enough, Kyle's eyes clouded with doubt. The gun dropped to the floor with a thud. He tore his hair out in frustration.

"Fuck."

The corner of Michelle's lips lifted up only slightly.

"So tell me, how are we gonna get rid of him?" Kyle asked.

"There's a reason I brought him here. I know this motel's owner personally," Michelle said, emphasizing the word 'personally', "He owes me a favor and he can cover our tracks if we give him 10% of our share."

"That's settled then," Kyle let out a sigh of relief. "Let's get the money so I can get out of here and go back home to Lucy and Tommy."

"Go back home?" Michelle asked.

"That was the plan, wasn't it? You give me what I need and we part ways eventually." Kyle said, wiping the sweat off his face.

"Me? Give you what you need?" Michelle scowled.

"What? You think we're gonna run away together and start a family of our own?" Kyle scoffed,

"Or would you like to think I was gonna tell my wife I was fucking you in our secret hideout?" He added sarcastically.

Michelle put on her clothes abruptly. Her face was calm but there was something to be said about the way she moved. Like an ocean before a storm.

"The money's under the bed." She told Kyle as she picked up the gun to wipe out the fingerprints. She placed it on the dressing table and started fixing her hair. The softness in her voice was gone now and was replaced by a cold, ignorant tone.

True, she loathed Kyle. True, she only used him to get out of the relationship she had with the dead man on the bed. True, she didn't have a plan to run away with him after this little coup. But she didn't like being abandoned or being reminded of the life she lived. Especially by a jerk and a coward like Kyle.

Kyle walked towards Michelle, dropped his duffle bag now filled with stacks of money and pressed his body against hers, shaking the dressing table. He tried to give her a goodbye kiss but Michelle avoided it. She was just simply disgusted.

"It was a pleasure to spend time with you, M. You're pretty and all but I can't marry a whore, can I?" Kyle grinned. The words were revolting to Michelle's ears.

Michelle plastered on a smile on her loosely powdered face.

"Of course you can't. Now shoo. I have another customer coming in." She said.

Kyle walked away, towards the door.

"Oh, and Kyle?" Michelle called for him.

He looked back.

"This is for you."

A loud gunshot echoed the room. Michelle smiled, teeth bearing and maniacally wiped the blood off her face.

"Now I'm mad because you just ruined my mascara." She pouted.

A door opened.

"Not again, Michelle." John whined.

"Just take all the money, John. And do what you do best." She stepped over the dead body and walked out the door.  It wasn't in her intention to kill him but he had to go and push her limits.

"Where are you going? Help me out here. It's a two man job."

"Customers. Gotta love 'em." Michelle sneered, as she strutted away in those six-inch heels and a satin nightgown, belted scars showing on her back.