The Lonely Night

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
A woman defends herself against an intruder.

Submitted: July 01, 2016

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Submitted: July 01, 2016



The Lonely Night

By Joseph Logsdon

Kelly knew that her life, her very way of existence, was in danger. It was her fear, together paired with the knowledge that she could die, possibly at any minute, any second, that made her fight for survival. The door was locked, the windows were closed, and in spite of that, there was still a tremendous amount of anxiety, a large part of it ranging from her own insecurity, her own selfishness and depression. Consumed with a great amount of irritation, Kelly continued to gaze out the window, desensitized to such an extent, that she didn’t even bother to flinch. It was as if, suddenly and all at once, she had been depleted of not just one emotion, what she had thought all along, but many emotions.

Not yet midnight, Kelly continued to pace back and forth, still very uncertain of herself, and even more uncertain of everything around her. She breathed in and out, back and forth, in desperate need of fresh air, of which there seemed to be very little. She continued to pant, the room itself playing a much larger role than even she, someone who always appeared to be very independent, could cope with. With the passing of every hour, every minute, the light grew dimmer and dimmer, finally reaching the point of almost total blackness. Kelly kept sighing and gasping, continuous pounding within her heart. She kept one eye on the window, the other on the corner, seeing as both sections appeared to be potential threats.

Kelly heard someone knocking at the door. She appeared to be quite frustrated by the continuous pounding, much more so than she wanted to admit to herself. The knocking became constant, almost monotonous in the way that it shook the house, and to say that it actually frightened her, would be a very laughable understatement. Kelly stared at the door, dignity and pride absent from her pale face, which had become paralyzed with unremarkable fear. She knew that just one false move, just a little one, could result in the end of her life. She leaned against the sofa, terribly weak, uncertain, and utterly speechless.

“Open up, this is the police,” a man said, authority in his voice.

Kelly dashed towards the door, relieved by the fact that she had been mistaken. Upon opening the door, her eyes as wide as they had ever been, Kelly realized that she had made the right choice. The man stared into her eyes, ambiguity within his heart. He looked normal, he even sounded normal, and with very little reason to suspect otherwise, he was normal. He stared passionately, fixated on a small detail that couldn’t be seen.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Help me? I came here to help you,” he replied, taking his hat off.

“What for?”

“This late at night, we often have to deal with a lot of, shall we say, just to put it bluntly, crazy people, if you’ll forgive me for using such a term. I was in the neighborhood, you know, just doing what I always do, when suddenly, just out of nowhere, I saw a man trying to break into your house. Tragically for me, by the time I could get to the door, he had disappeared, no footprints or anything left behind. I was thinking about, just in case he tries to come back, maybe taking a look inside your house,” he professed.

“There’s nothing here, nothing but dust,” she replied, trying to shut the door.

“Let me come in, just for one minute,” he said, pushing against the door.

“You have one minute, then you’re gone,” she huffed, reluctantly opening the door.

The man walked into the room, a cold breeze touching his face as his feet landed on the carpet. His eyes, when observed closely, appeared to be devoid of all emotion and feeling. His demeanor, the way he carried himself, at first seemingly normal, took on a life of its own. He appeared to be, upon first glance, emotionally distant from just about everything around him, neither one of his eyes, despite their seemingly warm nature, showing any signs of kindness. He stared at the wall, perhaps just a little too aggressive in the way that he scowled and huffed.

“You have a nice place, fancy wallpaper and everything,” he remarked, walking in a circle.

“My wall is the least of your worries,” she said.

“You know, time to time, more often than you’d think, I will meet a woman like you. You’re frustrated, you’re angry at the way the world has treated you. I could add, boringly I admit, that women just don’t seem to care about anything honorable, in particular because of their sense of entitlement, their sense of moral superiority that can’t seem to be stopped,” he grunted.

“Not even two minutes into the conversation, you’re already judging me. You said that there was an intruder in my house, potentially a man who could do me harm, and yet, from where I’m sitting, there is only one person who could harm me, that person being you. I know things are probably rough, you being a cop and all, but believe me, things will get better for you. They always have; they always will, I would like to think,” she remarked.

Angered by her statement, the man stomped his feet, unbalanced and unhinged in just about every way imaginable. His eyes, constantly in a state of anxiety, by which everything seemed to be tied together, moved back and forth, right to left, in a very unbalanced manner. Silently and delicately, he grasped the sofa with his hand, on the verge of actually losing all sense of worth.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Whatever it is I don’t know, you must have guessed, I easily find out, not unlike how I found out about that fake badge on your chest. You’re not a real cop, are you? I’m finally waking up from a dream, a bad dream no doubt, but a dream nonetheless. Well, you’re not a cop, nor are you a soldier, so what does that make you?”

“Do you think I’m going to answer you, nice as you please, just like that? I’m many things to a lot of people. I can be a cop one moment, a killer the next,” he grunted, grabbing her by the throat.

He slammed her against the side of the sofa, nothing except hatred in his eyes. She struggled and struggled, unprepared to fight against a man who, given his tremendous size, seemed to be more animal than human. He wrapped his arms around her, lustful to the point of pure, everlasting madness. He pressed his lips against her throat, overwrought with a sensation that could not, circumstances aside, be controlled by any method, through any form of persuasion, intense or otherwise. She desperately attempted to reach for the gun in his pocket, gasping while doing so. Tears poured down her face, isolated tears that had been trapped for so many months, often without the slightest sign of release, that there ultimately had to be a breaking point, lest she suffer a mental breakdown.

His mouth touched her lips; in response, she did the only thing she could do, which was patiently wait for it to end, her remaining reluctance slowly slipping away from just about everything. Her fingers lightly touched the gun, sweat pouring from just about every direction, every viewpoint even remotely thinkable. Kelly was trapped between a very powerful man, a very real threat, her own reluctance, her fear of everything unknown, put to together with everything she did understand, and between her own insecurity. She was afraid of her own determination, her own sense of worth, as she continued and continued, always failing in the end, to reach for the gun. He kept her firmly against the sofa, all sound minimized to just a few grunts and groans, compared to which most groans would seem insignificant.

She kept feeling them, one lick after the other, each one more disgusting than the last. The tears were the most tragic part of the entire thing; they were begging for some type of release. Kelly kept gasping for air, a fragmented shadow of her former self. She kept stroking the gun, gently caressing it, at the most inches away from being able to finally grab it. Through some miracle, better still, by the act of God, she finally managed to hold the weapon in her hand, at long last accomplishing her mission.

“Maybe we should slow this down, you know, just to be safe,” he remarked, licking her cheek.

“We should slow it down, all the way down,” she hissed, pressing the gun against his side.

Straight to that specific point, Kelly had felt powerless, so very weak and helpless. She glared at him with pure contentment, happier than she had been in the past. She kept a close eye on him, always careful to never make any sudden movements. His eyes, normally confident, more confident than most eyes, appeared to be full of desperation.

“One minute at a time, perhaps unfairly so, life goes by very slowly. You thought that because you were bigger than me, stronger than just about everyone, that you had the right, more like the audacity, the perverted audacity, to actually try and attack me. At the very last minute, you saw some attractive woman, one that you wanted to fuck, so naturally, you thought to yourself, ‘Hey, she’s all sexy and freaky, I have to have her,’ in order to satisfy your sick needs. You can tell me I’m wrong; I’d like to see you try to correct this,” she huffed.

“Your story is correct, word for word, minus the part about me being perverted. I’m just like any man: horny and desperate. It’s all about the biology of it, strange as that might sound to someone like you,” he retorted.

“You’ll be just as dead, biology aside,” she hissed, wrapping her fingers around the trigger.

“Will you just go ahead and shoot? It’s getting pretty boring, this waiting and all that,” he chuckled.

To no end, she continued to shake and shake, one moral thought after another on her mind. She tried to focus on the task at hand, anger and vengeance excluded from her new found liberty. Seconds behind schedule, Kelly managed to overcome her apparent nervousness, which seemingly threatened, though not all at once, the very mission of what she, as a helpless woman, was trying to accomplish, so as to say that when she pulled the trigger, half exhausted from all of the tension, torment that knew no end, nothing actually appeared to happen, dead silence filling the broken, albeit forgotten air, to the point that she finally realized, without a shadow of a doubt, that it had been some kind of trick. He smiled at her, satisfied beyond belief.

“I don’t understand it. You should be dead,” she cried.

“Absent of any alternative, I decided that it would be best, you know how it is, just for my own safety, to not carry a real gun. My unusual plan, silly possibly, crazy for sure, actually worked out. It’s a very realistic gun, created and authored for the purpose of aiding sexual deviance, depravity that knows no end. We’ll do it together, two steps at a time,” he hissed, squeezing her breasts with force.

“This thing that you think we have, whatever you think this is, this twisted thing that you’ve created for yourself, can never be. They’ll catch you eventually, somehow or other,” she cried.

He violated her lips repeatedly, once again with a great amount of force, all courtesy of his drive and appetite. She lost control of herself, almost giving in for a brief moment, before returning to a terrified state of mind. Her resistance dissolved into nothingness, lust taking the place of aggression. She had, all in one moment, surrendered herself to a force more savage, virtue all but eliminated from her heart. Once a strong and independent woman, some girl that no man would even attempt to push around, Kelly had been reduced to a simple object, her value worth practically nothing. She kept crying and crying, among those tears a sense of loss, entitlement, and despair that knew no limits. She had very little to say, only faint gasps escaping her tormented lips. She finally stopped struggling, overwhelmed by the powerful feelings that had, strongly and harshly, taken complete control over her life, lowered her sense of self-worth, practically to the point of obedience, for the purpose of total alienation.

“I could get caught today or tomorrow, you’d still be just as doomed. You know, not even all that many months back, you’ll be surprised to hear this, I was a real cop. I’ve planned this moment for weeks, no problem too impossible to overcome. It’s time you learn what being a woman truly means. If you had been a little smarter, had you only seen through my disguise, you know, actually used your brain for once, you wouldn’t have bothered to let me in. It’s just you and me, alone for the night,” he declared, pulling her into the darkness.

The End




















© Copyright 2018 JL reaper. All rights reserved.

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