Jane

"You know what?! I'm leaving this fucking house! I'm sick and tired of listening to the constant screams between you and Richard!", I shout as I thrust the door open and leave my aunt's house. I get inside my pickup truck and start the car before Christie has the chance of coming after me. I cry as I drive, but I couldn't deal with the fights over nothing. Aunt Christie and my little brother Richard are constantly fighting, and I just can't deal with this. I have to get away. Maybe I'll go to Lake Charles for the weekend. I have a bag with some overnight products hidden in my car, because since my mom died and my dad left, I knew there would be days when I couldn't handle it anymore and just had to escape. Thank whoever's up there for driver's licenses.

I reach a stop. There's a Motel on exit 68. "Come Inn? Why the fuck would a Motel be called 'Come Inn'?", I say out loud, without even noticing my anger over such an insignificant thing. As I leave the car, I notice lights shining from an alley. Out of curiosity, I decide to walk over there and just figure out what it is.

Great. If I told you, you'd never believe me. A bar. A bar called Get Out. It's at these times I tend to believe that someone's actually fucking with me. "Well, it couldn't hurt to just go in", I say out loud again.

I kneel and reach inside my boot to check if my knife is still there, and it is.

I push the door and it opens to reveal your typical abandoned town bar. Next to a Motel, filled with very distinct people. Cowboys running away from their wives, men in suits meeting with possibly other men, hiding their secret identity from their fake happy marriage. Girls, boys, young adults. All with different lives, but all here with the same purpose. Taking a break from their fucking horrible lives.
I sit down on one of the bar stools, right in front of the register. I'm right next to one of those business men, and a cowboy who lost his fight to alcohol and decided to rest his head on the counter. I look over to my left and see a group of youngsters standing in front of the bathroom door, probably waiting for their turn. When I look over my right shoulder, I see another group, this time made up by boys, who seem to be the same age as me. I can clearly see one of them eyeing me, trying to flirt. Maybe tonight I can get what I came here for. I mean, he is cute. I think he'll serve for tonight. He's blonde, has blue eyes, and honestly didn't pick the best outfit, but that will certainly not be important. I look back at him to reassure him that I want the same thing as he does. Well, maybe not the same thing entirely, but some sort of that. And I am not embarrassed to show that. Everyone knew I was a force to be reckoned with. I was strong, brave, and a little bit psychopathic.

He finally gets up and comes in my direction, and I make sure I have everything ready. "Can I buy you a drink?", he asks as he rests his arms on the counter. "Why don't you stop with the good boy act and just pay for a room at the Motel? That would be a better place to invest your money". He was scared and turned on at the same time. I guess men like that.

"So, whats's your name?", he asks. "Katie. Get undressed and lay down on the bed", I shoot back, and so he does what I demand. Never tell your real name to a stranger. Well, do it if you're killing him right after, but personally I prefer not to. "What's your name babe? I ask him, and he lets me know his name. Kyle. "Well, Kyle... Do you like being tied to a bed?". His facial expression shows me that he's about to have an orgasm, and I haven't even started having fun. "I take my clothes off and leave only my red laced underwear. I tie up his feet to each end of the bed, and proceed to sit on top of him. I tie both his hands and check to make sure I brought my knife hidden under my panties, and I do indeed. "Well, Kyle, are you ready?", I ask, obviously a rhetoric question, which he decides to answer anyway. "Yeah, more than ready".

I start rubbing myself on him, and put my arms behind me discretely. However, he sees what's happening and asks what I'm doing. "I'm doing something I should've done a long time ago Kyle. I'm going to kill you". When I say this, his face goes whiter than his normal caucasian skin. I draw my knife out of my underwear pocket, and take the first move. A small cut right under his nipple. "What the fuck are you doing? You crazy bitch!", he shouts. "Yes, baby. Scream", I say, clearly excited. I keep cutting, and cutting, until I reach my breaking point. There's blood everywhere. Finally, for the final cut, I puncture his neck, and his tears and hyperventilation transform into faint breathing, blood squirting.

As he takes his final breaths, I get up and put my clothes back on. I look at myself in the mirror and see blood behind my curls, on my neck. I decide to leave it there. I look back at the scene I just left behind, and as I pull the door to open it, I get this feeling of relief. Finally, I was able to get rid of the weight on my shoulders.

When I reach my truck, I just get inside and drive away, with no regrets, hoping someone would find poor Kyle, whose situation was just the result of a bad decision.