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| Subject: The Attraction- short story | |
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Author: Gina Z. |
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Date Posted: 23:02:28 07/07/02 Sun my mom challenged me to write a story with no relation to NSync, and she gave me a title to work with as well. I just did it tonight- so here ya go... The Attraction By Gina Z. My watch read 4 A.M, and as I slowly took my key out of the ignition, the rain poured like it never had before. The night was heavy, and the air was thick. My car shuddered beneath me the minute I removed the small brass key, and a crack of lightning split the sky clearly in two. I propped my elbow up on the headrest behind me and began to curse myself when I didn’t see my umbrella. Oh well, I thought, I intended on doing this anonymously anyway. Before finally exiting the car, I inhaled deeply. It was now or never, I knew that if I didn’t do it now I would never muster up enough courage to do it ever again. I opened my door and stepped out. Before closing it, I grabbed the white plastic bag sitting in the back seat. I stood in front of my door for what seemed like a few minutes. Taking in the humid South Carolina air, I allowed the rain to pelt me mercilessly. There was nothing I could do to keep myself dry, and I knew that the rain would jeopardize my plans severely. I thought about it at least ten times as I stood in a growing puddle. My wet body would leave footprints. I guess the only thing I could hope for was nobody was awake. By this time, I was done pondering the worst and surveying the landscape I’d visited only ten thousand times. I glanced at my watch. It was 4:06. In my free time, which I’d had a lot of in the recent days, I’d thought about this. Time and time again, I saw myself pulling up, walking up the stairs, and actually doing it. I’d seen it in my head over and over, but that was as far as it went. After the breakup, my buddies and I had joked about it. Just like my actions in the present, I could see the stone cold look on their faces once they’d see that I’d actually done it. They’d be floored. If they supported it, I didn’t know, but at that point, I didn’t care. Nothing was going to stop me on this night. The bag sat comfortably bunched up in the palm of my left hand. I’d concealed it well enough so the naked eye could see a fist and only a fist. The neighbors knew me, and if they saw me out here at four in the morning, in the rain with a bag in my hand, they’d be suspicious. Why do you think I parked four buildings away? At least four buildings away, not all the neighbors knew me. Only one or two. I decided it was time to move; at this point I hoped my mind would just tune everything out and shut down. I knew my mind well enough to know that if I thought about it anymore, it would just remain a thought in my mind. A very sadistic thought in my mind, if I must say so myself. And so I walked, the rain sloshing beneath my boots. I could feel the ankles of my baggy jeans getting damp. Of all nights for the weather to be bad, right? At this point, I could only envision what my mother would say to that comment. See why I wanted my mind to shut down? I worked my way around two buildings by now. The rain was picking up, falling in solid sheets instead of just sheets. At times it felt like thirty-pound blocks were simultaneously falling on my head it was that bad. The ankles of my jeans were soaked as were the shoulders of my white t-shirt, but I still remained as anonymous as I could. Nobody had seen me yet. Hopefully nobody was awake, but who would be awake at that ungodly hour? Hell, I was tired, but it didn’t stop me from doing anything now did it? I cracked an evil smile as that thought crossed my mind, but immediately clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh. Evil, I’m just pure evil. I crossed in front of the third building, building twenty-eight. She lived in building twenty-nine. That was the building I needed if I was going to go through with it, which at this time I had every intention of doing. Every ounce of blood in my veins, and every bone in my body were driving me to just do it. I’d already thought about the worst-case scenarios. She wakes up, or the alarm goes off (does she even have one?), or a neighbor sees me. I had everything covered. My bag and me would do the work. It was up to him to do the rest. I glanced at my watch again, and by the 4:11 reading of the face of my watch I was standing at the stairwell. This stairwell, this very set of eighteen stairs that I stood in front of so many times brought back many memories. There were so many times that I could remember walking up and down these stairs. Sometimes these were good walks, other times (more bad than good) they were bad. It was a long walk up. She lived on the second floor meaning thirty-six steps all together. I couldn’t complain. Better start climbing, right? For a year and a half- that’s eighteen months all together; for eighteen months of my damn life she was my everything. No matter what I did; every breath I took, every step I walked, and every blink of my eyes was all centered around her. I did everything for her, and I guess in some ways it could be said that she manipulated me. I was wrapped around her little finger, but this was because I was crazy for her. In fact, I was more than crazy for her. I was obsessed. We were together nearly every hour of every day, and for a few months there we were actually in love. She loved me and I loved her, but the problem was that I didn’t love her. I adored her. Actually, any word stronger than love could fit into that blank. I couldn’t necessarily be her stalker being I was with her twenty-four hours and she was okay with it, but I’m not quite sure what you would call it. She and I fell in love towards about the thirteenth month. We were head over heels for each other, and were not afraid to show it. I don’t mean it like we were doing bad things or anything. It was innocent and sweet, and never went any further than kissing. Love doesn’t quite work like a Nicholas Sparks novel, or at least it doesn’t on the other side. I just loved everything about her. Her long blonde hair, her innocent blue eyes, her beautiful figure, her carefree personality and love for everything. I’ve had previous girlfriends, and with each relationship I’ve seen new things. We spent a good eighteen months together, but she made me see something that I never thought existed. Something my divorced parents spoke about time and time again. I never thought it was true, but she made me see it. Love had two sides. It had its good side; the angelic, sweet, innocent part where everything is great and nothing can go wrong. But on the flipside, love has its dark side. Everything on the dark side is depressing and gloomy; where everything that can go wrong will. Nothing about anything is positive, and emotions are like a roller coaster. Some say this side can even be violent. What do I say to that? Damn right. In the middle of our last month, everything was going great. We were both trapped in quicksand on the happy side of love, and not one thing could go wrong. Nothing could go wrong; at least until my phone rang. I remember the day like it was yesterday it is still so clear in my mind. The pain and the agony still stays in my heart today, and Lord only know when it will go away if it ever does. I stood in the kitchen at my own apartment and picked up the phone. I said hello and she returned the greeting, but my smile soon faded the minute she uttered the words that I never wanted to hear. “I’m breaking up with you.” The words stung. It felt like somebody had just stabbed me in the heart and pulled it out just as fast as the knife went in. My heart sank to my stomach, but while I hoped it was only a dream, it was sheer reality. “I need time away from you. You’ve done nothing but smother me. Actually, I’ve found someone new.” That was her excuse. What a good one, right? She’d met someone. This meant she met someone who she liked more than me. Whoever he was, he had something that I didn’t. That didn’t make me happy at all. I was her lover, I was her everything. It seemed like a bad horror movie. Since then, I’ve had no reason for living. She was my reason, she was my reason for everything, and just like that she left me. In the blink of an eye, in a heartbeat she was gone. All because of somebody new she walked out of my life just like that. Oh no, I was not going to leave it at that. I do not lose; I was going to get my revenge. Like I said, call me a psycho or a hopeless romantic, either one fits. You know what else fits? Psycho. Killer. I’d seen her with this new guy a few times, and for the life of me could not figure out what I was missing. He was tall, with darker hair than myself and slightly less built. Not to say I’m a muscleman, but he wasn’t puny either. I can’t remember his name but I’m quite sure it began with a D. Up until a few weeks ago I began not to care about what I was missing. In my eyes, no matter what he had to go. I’d spoken this over with my buddies a few times, but all of them regard it as a joke. Nobody thinks I would do this for real; to quote my friend, he said I wouldn’t have the nerve to do it. Oh boy, was he ever wrong. I stood at her door, with my key in my hand. That’s right, I had a key to her apartment. That’s what you get when you’re in love with somebody: a key to the apartment. After six months I’d figured out how to make a quiet entrance. Honestly, I never thought it would ever come in handy for anything other than surprises, but this was a surprise in itself. My nails dug into the palm of my hand as I held the bag as tight as I could. The door opened without a squeak or a noise to be had, and the rain-shadowed moonlight began to flood into her darkened living and dining room. I tiptoed in, hoping my damp boots wouldn’t squeak on the tile floor just before the carpet. I shut the door behind me, just as a rumble of thunder roared its way through the sky. The way to her bedroom was just down the hall, and oh had I made this trek many many times. Her kitchen lay to the right, and her bedroom a few pace ahead. Her apartment was quaint; nothing special but it was quite cozy. I entered the hall like a mouse in the shadows; I didn’t want to be seen yet I saw my silhouette dancing on the wall adjacent to me. I was only two steps away from her bedroom door. I glanced at my watch. It was 4:16. According to my research, this’d only take two minutes. He would be dead by the time the clock struck 4:19. Sadly enough, I’d looked this up on the Internet. After four hours of research I concluded that suffocation would be the most effective way to kill him silently. On a whim I found the plastic bag tucked behind my refrigerator, and I guess it could be said that on a whim I was here in my ex-girlfriend’s apartment. At 4:16 AM, I entered her bedroom. She lay fast asleep on the left side of her queen-sized bed. I breathed easy at the site of her; her hair was draped over her face, and her left arm hung over the side of the bed. He slept on the right side, his pillow neatly tucked between his arms as his body faced the closet. Lucky for me was the first thought in my head, his head was looking straight up at the ceiling. I inched my way in, this time being more careful in the bedroom than I was in the hall. It only took three seconds before I stood beside his sleeping body, an evil twinkle to my eyes. This was it; this was my moment. I’d had enough heartbreak and despair for the past few weeks to last me a lifetime. To me, she had nothing to do with it. He was the root of all my evil. He had to die. One second later my hands were on his face. The bag was sandwiched between the two, but all I could do was smile big with my eyes wide as he flailed his limbs all about. He dare not move his neck for I had him pretty good, and within all of his struggling I’d managed to get the bag over his head. For a quick, satanic second I thought about all of the warnings on different types of bags all about children and their suffocation. At this point, who needed stupid children to have accidents with perfectly good plastic bags? Plastic bags were great for killing people with. After a good few seconds of struggling frantically, it died down. After what seemed like forever, he’d stopped moving all together. Though inside I knew he was probably dead, I held the bag on his face for a few moments, sucking any last bits of joy out of him and into me. I know it sounds cruel, but this is what the dark side of love is like. It’s the cold truth; ask anybody who feels the same way I do and I’m sure they’ll give you the same answer. I stood there for a few seconds and just stared. I stared at everything: the room, the dresser, the way the one silver picture frame on her dresser looked different without our picture in it. I glared at him for the longest. In one way, I was shocked that I’d just gone through with it. On the other side, I just wanted to keep looking at him and make sure he was still dead. I had a deep feeling that she’d wake up soon. There was no specific reason, but I remembered when I used to be in that place next to her. If she had even the slightest inkling that something was wrong, she would wake up. She wasn’t a very sound sleeper either. One could only imagine how thankful I was that he gave me a silent struggle. Once I was sure that he wasn’t just sleeping next to her, I sighed, satisfied with my job. Not wanting to leave any evidence, I grabbed my bag, and exited the room through the same way I’d entered. I trekked the four building distance back to my car, and as I sat in the drivers’ seat, my hands shaking from the adrenaline rush, I glanced at my watch. It was 4:17. I started the car, and drove off. [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
| Subject | Author | Date |
| Re: The Attraction- short story | Chipmunk | 20:04:25 07/11/02 Thu |
| Re: The Attraction- short story | kimmie | 19:53:26 07/12/02 Fri |