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Okay, I toned it down a little bit.
Cory licks his lips, the sight of his tongue churning my stomach, then reaches inside his coat, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Let’s see… You’re twenty-seven. Your work experience is minimal and sporadic. You have no college education or personal transportation, and you’ve never held a job with a cleaning position before. Why should I hire you?”
I realize now he’s reciting what’s on my application. “Why not?”
Good one, Rory.
I try to deflate a little bit and let down some of my guard to level with him. “Look, Cory. I know I don’t have experience or a fabulous résumé. But I really need the money. Besides, how hard can cleaning actually be? If you have availability for this position, I’d love to work for you. Please, give me a chance. You won’t regret it.”
He blinks slowly, eerily, and a smile stretches across his face, revealing tobacco stained teeth and rampant tooth decay. “Perhaps I can give you a job, if…”
“If what?” I can’t help the frustration in my voice.
“Well…” He fingers a button on his jacket, the threads loose, as if he does this often. “You have the worst résumé I’ve ever seen. But you are a beauty. Perhaps if you give me something, I can give you something in return.”
I know where this is going, but I hope I’m wrong.
Taking care to watch his body for any sudden movements, I respond, “Okay, I’m listening.”
He bites his lower lip, a move that has bile rising in my throat as he shrugs out of his coat and tosses it on the bed behind him. He leans back on his elbows, spreading his legs, and I notice an obscene erection poking at the brown, shit colored fabric of his ancient suit. “I’ll give you a job if you give me that hot little body of yours.”
He grips his pathetic little wiener and squeezes.
What a fucking asshole.
I’m surprised my eyes don’t roll right out of my fucking head. “Fuck this job and fuck you!” I push off the chair and stomp toward the door, gripping the handle in my hands. But when I try to turn it, the fucking thing won’t budge.
Seething, I spin to face Cory, anger turning my vision red. “Open the fucking door.”
He prowls close, the offensive stench of his cheap cologne burning my nostrils. “No.”
My fingers tremble with adrenaline as I calculate how to get the fuck out of this place. I see the bars on the windows and rule them out. I know the keys are in his pocket, but how do I get them?
The door is my only way out. I have to get the keys.
Eyeing my opponent, I change tactics. Tilting my head to the side, I cock my hip and rest my hand on it, schooling my expression into a more sultry look. “You sure you can’t let me out? I’d be forever grateful.”
“That depends on what you can do for me.” My stomach twists as I move away from the door and strut toward him. He doesn’t stop me when I wrap one arm around his waist and trace the line of his puny fucking dick with the other. His breath hitches as I move my hand, squeezing his thin, pencil dick tightly. I gaze up at him, eyes hooded. With my other hand, I slide my touch up his chest, to his neck and…
In a quick move, I chop him in his fucking throat, shove my hand into his pocket, and pull out not only the keys but a switch blade, a weapon I’m quite familiar with. He makes a gurgle sound, but his meaty hands reach for me again, and fat or not, he has more strength than I do. I’m locked in a room with him with no other escape. I know in that moment if I don’t do something, I will either end up raped on these sheets or worse—dead. The blade snaps open, and I charge as he falls back onto the bed. Like a fucking ninja, I fly through the air and impale the blade right through his Adam’s apple.
For a moment, we’re both stunned.
What the fuck did I just do?
I stare into his gaze from inches away, his eyes blinking in shock and draining of life as I watch. I stumble back, accidentally ripping the knife free, and all I can do is watch as blood pumps steadily from his neck. I swallow hard, frozen to the spot, and slowly lift my hands into the air as if expecting to find them clean. That this is all a bad dream. But when they hit the light, the red of his blood shines. It coats them, dripping from my hands to the floor below. I expect bile to rise, I expect to scream and cry…but as I stare at the blood, something happens to me, something I didn’t expect.
Not fear, not horror…but a sudden burst of pleasure.
My pussy clenches as the warm, crimson liquid trickles over my fingers, my panties dampening between my legs. Cory’s eyes widen, his voice gurgling, and blood foams on his mouth as he chokes on it.
A grin curves my lips, a crazed one. I’ve been the victim for too long. This was a split-second decision here, to become one again or take control. I chose the latter. The strangest urge to taste the blood hits me, but I squash that down because I don’t want any part of Cory inside me. He begins to shake as I watch, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, and all I can do is stare with rapt attention, fascinated as his body finally stills and the life leaves his eyes for good.
It wasn’t as quick as I expected, I think idly.
“Suck a dick, Cory,” I spit, needing to voice the anger in my head at what this foul man almost did to me…and has probably done to other girls. He got what he deserved. I’m sick of men thinking they can take whatever they fucking want just because they have a cock. Just because they have more power, more money. I am not something that can be bought.
Knowing I need to get out of here, I walk calmly forward again and stop just before his body. I wipe the knife across his offensive suit jacket and tuck it inside my skirt as a keepsake. As a reminder to myself that I will never bow down to a man. As a reminder I can use what I was given to get what I want. As a reminder that doing so does not make me a bad person, but a smart person. That this world isn’t made for the weak, you have to be strong to survive. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes, and today, in this motel room, I realized I am willing. I will survive. No one will hurt me ever again. I don’t need Mitch-bitch or Donny to save me… I will save myself, bitches.
Today, I took my first life, and I’m not even sorry about it. Maybe I should be. Maybe I should be filled with horror and revulsion at what I did to another human being. But death happens every day. Life is so easy to snuff out, just look at my parents. Why should a cunt like Cory live when my parents could not?
I’m not the hero of my own story, but I sure as shit am not the villain. The world is filled with shades of gray. I’m just realizing now how deep into that dark side I am willing to go.
I leave this shit hole the same way I came in, taking my résumé with me, welcoming the blisters on my heels as I walk with a pep in my step, a stolen switchblade in my pocket, and excitement between my legs.
I may not be rich, powerful, or even a man, but I am something better. I’m a survivor, and I am finally taking control of my life instead of sitting passively by, waiting for things to get better.
I am going to make them better.
