Slip Into Madness
Voices keep resounding
In my dazed bewildered head
'Mirror Mirror' ~ Kamelot
The small bar was full on this rainy Saturday night. All the low-class residents of Toronto were gathered there, drinking their sorrows away over old metal music, scents of rain, alcohol and smoke hanging over them like some dark cloud.
A lone man stood at the bar's counter, drinking an imported beer, his back turned to the happy chattering of the customers. His dark eyes observed the bartender's movements, as a wolf would for a lamb, after being caged too long. Fat, dirty and unpleasant, he served drinks without a smile, his rude behavior driving the customers away from the counter. Only he stood there.
Can't stand that kind of people. Not enough place for them. Gotta get rid of them. Gotta get rid of all of them. They're a burden. They don't deserve to be there, but you do. You have to get rid of them. You have to.
He took a sip of his beer as the bartender went to serve a drink to a man who had approached the counter. A smile began to form on his lips. Hungry. He was hungry. For blood. His blood. But not right now. He was a patient man. Waiting made everything more exciting, more…worthwhile. He would stay with those fools, drink his beer and wait until the right time. He knew when the time would be right. They always told him when it was time.
A throaty female laughter interrupted his thoughts. He briefly turned his head and noticed a blond woman sitting at a table just behind him, talking with another blond woman. Her cheap perfume filled his nose. He gripped his beer tighter, feeling his control slipping away. That bitch had the nerve to distract him from his thoughts and to annoy him with her awful scent. His earlier smile faded away and his eyes hardened. All the thoughts about the bartender were forgotten. He focused now on the woman.
He would teach her not to behave this way when he was around. Oh, he would teach her, and she would learn. He couldn't wait to make her learn. But again, he would wait. They agreed with him. She had to pay. They will know when to act. They always knew. So he kept on drinking, trying to ignore her high-pitched voice.
Think she looks so cool in that red dress of hers. She probably bought it in some cheap shop, thinking no one would noticed. What a fool. She's just a slut, hoping to catch the attention of a man. A slut, a slut, a slut…just like her.
He closed his eyes, trying to shut them down. He felt the headache coming. The damn headache. Taking care of the whore would make it go away. They would be please and will make the headache leave.
His eyes opened and he immediately noticed that the other blond woman was gone, leaving the slut all alone. His smile returned. That was good. The wait was almost over. He watched, as she pushed away a drunken man. She may be pushing the drunker away, but she would not do the same with him. No one pushed him away.
Of course not. You're too good to be pushed away. We are too good to be pushed away.
Finally, after two more beers, the woman stood up and headed toward the exit. Excitement rushed in him. He threw money on the counter and discreetly followed her. It was still raining outside, but it didn't matter. The night was cold and the streets empty. His smile grew.
The hunt began.
He followed her for awhile. Not because he had to, but because it was fun. She didn't know he was there. She walked, without a worry, thinking she was perfectly safe. Fool, fool, fool. Not only a slut but also an imbecile. They were all the same. How could he ever think of living in peace if this damn world was filled with her kind?
He suddenly grew tired of following her. He was too hungry.
Time, it's time! Teach her! Teach her what we do to sluts like her. Teach her…very painfully.
He grinned. In a jump, he threw himself at the woman's back and pushed her in a dark alley, taking her by surprise. She never had a chance.
No one was around. No one would interrupt him.
He pushed her against the hard wall and smiled as she whimpered pathetically. Women were so predictable. Never able to defend themselves, always thinking some brave fool would save them. Didn't they know that no one could save them from him?
He brought a knife to her throat, close enough to draw blood. Very slowly, he licked the blood off the knife. Intoxicating. "Don't scream," he whispered to her in her ear, like a lover whispering sweet words. He felt her nodding slowly, her eyes wide with fear. He felt her heart beating fast. He smelled her fear. She had every reason to fear him. She was shaking. His smile grew. He began to teach her.
Blood, blood, blood! More blood!
She didn't scream. How could one scream without a tongue?
She didn't struggle much. How could she when she was frozen with fear? The kind of fear that that tells you that your life is fading away.
And he taught her about respecting him. And she learned.
Too bad she would never be able to make use of his teachings.
He finished his work soon and left the dark alley, leaving behind a dead body, pieces of this body scattered a little everywhere around the alley, surrounded by a pool of red blood, eyes opened and empty. Looking up at the sky, no life in them. Nothing.
The rain had stopped. It was a beautiful night.
She learned. She learned, like so many others. But still, your quest isn't over. Many others need to learn. Many, many others. But you'll get them. You'll get them all one day. They will all end up paying for their sins. Everyone does.
Yes. That was his mission. He will not disappoint them. He would fulfill his mission. His destiny.
He had to control himself not to run back and roll himself in the pool of blood. They wouldn't like it. But they did promise him, after the mission, to buy him a big house with a pool. Yes, a pool. But not with water. With blood. And dead bodies floating.
What a perfect life he was going to have!
He walked back to his small apartment, whistling an old Bob Dylan song, hands in his pocket. He would come back tomorrow for the bartender. They knew he was working tomorrow. So he would come back. No worries.
And deep in the night a low and hysterical laugh could be heard, making the rats ran away.
Notes: Liked it? Too twisted? Not enough twisted? If you read it, please send me your comments. Constructive comments are more than welcome.
Written:July 19, 2002