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My cock grows, and something stirs in me. This is my forte. I can do this.
Cherry cries and twists.
Taking one look at her tear-drenched face, I realize with a stab to my chest that I’m not doing this as a warm-up for a fuck. I don’t want to fuck her. I’m punishing her for not being Kerry.
I jump up, sick with myself. Looking around the room, I grab my bag and head for the door. I’m ruined for life. I’ve always been a cold fuck. Kerry opened a door to something I’d never felt before. Now that she’s gone, I’ve closed it, and closed everything else.
Cherry’s eyes are wide and frightened and in a moment of pity, I drop the bag and walk over to her, untying her hands. I collect the ropes, as I stare down at her. She’s not moving, her whole body is stiff, terrified.
I’m sorry.
I think it, but the words can’t seem to pass my lips.
I leave and stalk off in the night, so fucking tired of myself. Cherry will be fine. A little tender, but fine. She probably won’t go with a stranger to a hotel ever again, and that’s a good thing.
I find a motel on the outskirts of Winnipeg and get a few more hours of sleep, then I head back south, back home.
I don’t fucking like complications There was a kid It got messy, got rid of the bodies. Don’t ever fucking contact me again
Putting the blame on them should do it.
I drop the phone on the passenger seat, rev the engine and leavefuckingWinnipeg behind.
They break the nondescript music for a traffic announcement. I lean forward and turn up the volume. There’s been an accident up ahead and the heavy traffic is already forming mile-long queues, so I take a sharp turn to the right on the exit I’m just about to pass and find myself, funny enough, on the route back toward whatever the name of the little place was.
Middlebro, was it? I guess I’ll soon find out.
According to the latest updates there’s a storm approaching, and as I glance in the rearview mirror at the sky in the north, I believe the forecasts. The clouds are heavy, a dark menacing gray, and chase each other ferociously across the canopy. I frown. I’m homesick and it looks as if the weather is going to bring me some unexpected trouble.
When twigs broken loose from the surrounding trees start whipping around outside my windows, I almost feel the rage of nature’s forces inside me. It unites itself with my pounding heart and makes it quiver and swell. Winter will be here soon. There’s an almost electrical tension in the air, and with all I’m leaving, and with nowhere to go, it makes me feel more alive than in a long time.
Sometimes I believe I thrive on chaos.
Chaos. I live it every day. I think of Kerry Jackson. I never could control her. She’s one of very few people in my adult life who has dared to oppose me and gotten away with it. Alive.
Fuck!
It stings somewhere deep inside. Somewhere where there probably should be a heart. I curse my life. I curse my lack of control.
Suddenly I’m sick to the core, disgusted with myself for touching some random girl when the only thing I crave is a little redhead I once fucked, and then hurt worse than I’ve hurt anyone else in my life. I’ve never played with my prey before Kerry. I didn’t intend to play her, but that’s how it turned out, at least that’s the only way she can interpret it.
I aim my focus on driving instead. The clouds darken the sky, the wind rocks the car. I might have to make a stop soon. I’m beginning to hope the shithole I passed on the way up isn’t too far away, and then I almost fucking miss it. Middlebro. I never saw the sign, and I almost drive right through it when I see the well-known yellow sign for the gas station. Shitty little place, blink and it’s gone. I almost cringe at the thought, but it actually seems like a rather good idea to call it a day and find a place to sleep. Sliding into the curb on black, invisible thin ice, I have to put all my driving skill into not crashing into a trash bin. Itisa good idea to let the weather clear before I continue.
Inside the gas station it’s almost quiet, only a faint sound from a radio can be heard. The sharp stench of oil lies thick in the air. It seems completely abandoned and I stroll past a couple of shelves to see if I can find someone, anyone, doing their job. The interior design is kind of wacky. Nothing has been done with this place since the fifties or sixties, except for the wearing and tearing. Had they taken care of it, it would’ve been an architectural gem.
I try my voice on the emptiness. “Anybody here?”
“Yeah, yeah coming, I’m coming!” The response from the back of the store is immediate and out comes a tall and gangly teenager with a really bad skin problem. The same guy as last time. “Well, hello again, what can I do for ya?”
I don’t like being recognized. Especially not here. His badge says ‘Dan’. I smile. “Hey. Weather got the better of my driving. Is there any decent place to stay around here?”
He scoffs. “Wouldn’t say ‘decent’.” I grin inwardly. A soulmate. “But there’s a motel if ya go back to the cross-section and then take a right. You’ll see it. It says ‘Pond’s’. If ya’re looking for decent, though the best would be to go back to Sprague.”
I smile again and say some appropriate thanks. I’m sure Pond’s will make do.
‘Ponds Motel & Restaurant’
My stomach growls threatening. It’s late for lunch, but I hope the kitchen’s still open. This will do. I find a bored, middle aged woman behind the desk. She perks up when the door slams shut and smiles. I’m sure she was pretty twenty-some years ago. Life’s been rough on her, a front tooth is missing in her lower jaw, her skin looks like old worn leather.
