Bloodletting

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


Lilian is a high-school student who winds up in a tricky situation when her boyfriend dumps her. Unfortunately, a broken heart is the least of her worries.

Submitted: May 24, 2018

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Submitted: May 24, 2018

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I watch a coil of my intestine peek out from the slit in my gut. I try to push it back inside me, but it only sloshes back out. I appear to be playing an unwinnable game of peek-a-boo with a shiny segment of my digestive track.

The thought of bleeding out here, toppled over in this frigid alleyway, it makes me gag. And wiping my mouth with my sticky hands doesn’t help.

Now I know what sausage is made of. I make a mental note to myself: Never eat sausage again. Though at the rate I’m going, with my guts uncoiling, I soon won’t have a digestive system to eat anything with.

A low voice echoes from across the narrow passage. “Somehow, Lilian, you’re still a beautiful girl.”

Right. Kyle’s form melts out of the shadows and towers before me. I cringe at the smell of his fresh sweat, then clear my throat. “Excuse me. I’m a woman. Not a girl.”

He shivers and chuckles at the same time, and I hear him rustle as he rubs his hands together for warmth. The clouds unshroud the waning crescent, and moonlight streaks across his face. All I can see is one eye. Shimmering.

“You know, I didn’t think I’d enjoy watching you die.” He paces to my side and twirls a strand of my hair between his fingers. “Boy, was I wrong.”

I groan. “Yeah me too.”

I expect him to laugh, so his eerie silence takes me off guard. His face turns to stone, and he drapes his hand across my neck. He runs it along my collar, then down the outside of my ruined blouse. It tickles.

I’d laugh, but I’m dying.

His fingers tighten around the switchblade I know is lodged between my ribs, and my stomach burns. I guess I’m too weak to scream. Then he pulls it out, with a deafened slurp. Kyle admires the knife for a second, then shows it to me, and a raindrop of blood flings itself off the tip and onto my face. I smell it now, metallic and tangy.

Pull yourself together. I’m shaking. I don’t want to shake. I want to be strong.

I feel my tears gush down my face. Blood and tears. Man’s bane. Life’s purpose.

Kyle’s breath reeks of booze and smoke. And he whispers to me, “You deserve this.”

 

 

Mr. Kasich hands me back my math final. Face down. I had doodled spirals all over the back page, so I space out for a few moments gazing at the concentric shapes. My eyes drift off to the side and to my left, sneaking a peak at Anna the Bitch and Kyle the Traitor.

Disgusting.

Their hands droop across their desks, linked together, spooning each other.

I flip my test over. 69 percent. Hilarious.

Kasich saunters to the front of the classroom. If you look close, you can see the fatigue clouding his eyes. I heard his wife just left him. Poor guy. I bet it’s karma from this shit test.

The bell rings, and I shut my notebook. Kyle pecks Anna on the cheek, and I curl my lips. She turns to me and grins.

Amid the rush of students, I see her strolling toward my desk. I fiddle with my papers, but she blindsides me with a hug. I stand rigid.

“I hear your tires got slashed last night.” She pinches my cheek. “When you gonna fix that?”

I sneer at her and turn away. I watch her pout out of the corner of my eyes for a second then clomp to the door. She slams it shut behind her.

“Long day?” Mr. Kasich’s eyes glimmer from behind his this spectacles. “Everything alright?”

I sweep up my books and try to brush by him.

“Wait.”

I narrow my eyes, but linger next to him as the rest of the class drains out of the room.

He watches me with his owl-like eyes. “You’re much more insightful than your peers.” His wrinkled hand drapes over my shoulder. “But you don’t need to isolate yourself from them.”

I wonder how often that hand had gotten off his ex-wife. Not often enough, apparently.

I force a smile and shuffle to the door.

I know Kasich’s smile is genuine. Why is mine always fake?

My phone buzzes as the door clicks shut behind me. “Meet me in town tonight—Kyle.”

 

I open my eyes to glaring white and ceaseless beeps. I hoped I’d wake to heaven, but apparently a hospital is the best I get. I struggle to sit up, and my joints creak like rusted hinges.

Somehow I survived.

I drag my frail hand up my leg and lift up my light gown. Obsidian wire strains to hold me together. Looks like there won’t be any more peek-a-boo for me.

I clench my teeth. Someone found me after I passed out.

Someone took pity on my torn soul.

Kyle. I sneer, and my stomach tightens, sending a tsunami of pain flooding through me. I need more anesthetics.

Yeah, that’s exactly what I need right now, a substance addiction. 

I blink the sleep out of my eyes. A curtain surrounds my bed, hiding me from peering eyes. Except for Kyle, whose pervert face stares at me from the puke-colored armchair.

He gives me half a nod; I flip him off.

He shrugs.

I glare, in the hopes my eyes will shoot lasers, incinerating his ugly face and leaving charred remains for everyone to see.

“You should’ve left me to die.” I cough, and my head spins. Even those few words took my breath away.

He rubs his jawline as I recover. “You’re right.”

A sharp, whining voice screeches from the bed next to me. “Who in God’s name are you talking to?”

Kyle rolls his eyes.

I clear my throat. “Why the change in heart?”

He bites his lower lip, then shrugs.

I try to keep my stone face. “I’d rather have your hate than your apathy.”

“Shut your miserable trap!” The grouchy woman one bed over tosses something at the curtain, and it clatters onto the ground.

Kyle ignores her and clasps his sheening hands together. “I care about you.”

“You care about normal people: Anna, your friends,” I spit. “You’re afraid of me.”

“You’re afraid of yourself.” His mouth twitches.

I bare my teeth. “You abandoned me when I needed you!”

“Lilian, I can’t help you.” He pulls himself to his feet, lithe yet indestructible. “And you never needed me.”

I scowl. “You only want to hurt me.”

“Then make me leave.”

I drag my nails across my leg, leaving pale red scratches. “Go.”

He smiles. And when I blink, he disappears.

 

His soft lips leave mine, and I open my eyes. He slouches against the car’s driver door, hand cupping his face. Crimson light from the dying sun coats the car in fresh blood.

“Kyle, why can’t I tell Anna about us?”

He doesn’t respond.

I pull my sweatshirt back over my head and stare out the car’s windshield. A drop of water plops onto it and rolls down, leaving a comet-tail streak. Then the machine gun fire as more plummet onto us. Gashes across the windows. Line after line of upwelling blood, congealing and rolling down the side of my arm. Again and again the blade strikes from the heavens, bringing fiery justice to the holy who have sinned.

I throw myself toward Kyle, but he shoves me away.

I pick at my lip, holding back the rush of tears. “Kyle, please.”

“You’re disgusting.”

My hand lashes out, and smashes into the dash. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe deep. My tears sneak out of the corner of my eyes and march down my cheek.

“Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming.” His eyes wander off in the distance, and he shakes his head. “No one could possibly love you.”

I slam my fist into the dash again, wince as my fingers dig into my palm. It won’t draw blood. It takes much more than that to break skin. Trust me, I know.

His eyes flicker to me, locking onto my face, then my arms. “How can you do that to yourself?”

My lip trembles, and I blink again and again. I sniffle. “I can’t help it.”

He sneers. “Can’t help what?”

“Look, Kyle, I love you. That isn’t enough?”

“Lilian, let me see your arms.”

I wrap my arms around myself and turn away, pressing myself against the window.

“You are so fucked up, you pathetic—”

“Shut up!” I spin to him. Scowling, I roll up my sleeves. “Happy?”

“Attention whore.”

“Excuse me?” I laugh. “I think you’re the perverted one here.”

He smiles. “Get out of my car.”

I throw open the car door and step out, heave it shut behind me. I pause for a minute, then pull out my switchblade—don’t ask. I kneel, and drive it into edge of the car’s front tire. It slides in with a satisfying hiss.

Kyle gapes at me from inside the car, then holds his hands up.

Family heirloom, bitch. You never know when a blade will come in handy.

 

 

“I came as soon as I heard.” Her voice flows over me, and nudges me awake.

I sit up, ignoring the pain in my gut. I’m surprised I can move now; it seems like only a minute ago I was struggling to speak with Kyle. Anna’s electric blue eyes seem to plead with me. 

I curl my lip. “Go away, Anna.”

“Are you alright? What happened?” She wraps her arms around her petite frame.

I shake my head and try to sink back into the dark. “Why does everyone say that? I’m sick of it, Anna.”

“Then what should I say?”

“Stop with this act.” I hunch my shoulders, then dip my head. “You suck at pretending to be nice.”

Anna bites the inside of her cheek. “I’m worried about you, Lili.”

I sneer at her. “Like you really care.”

She leaps to her feet, and the armchair skids back a couple inches. “Lilian Levesque, what the hell is wrong with you?”

I chuckle, and Anna cowers, collapses back onto the chair.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“I’ve never seen you lose your temper before, Anna.”

She wrings her hands. “Why do you hate me?”

I refuse to look at her. “You know why.”

Her lip juts out. She seems to be on the verge of tears. “Lili. Please tell me why.”

“How are you such an idiot?” I scream. “It’s so obvious, you bitch!”

She sniffles, eyes glued to her feet. Her lips quiver, but she says nothing.

“You stole him.” Something seems to break in me, and I feel weightless, like I’m plummeting into the depths of hell.

Anna looks up and purses her lips. “Stole who?” A tear dribbles down her trembling cheek; she flicks it aside.

I let my jaw drop open. “Kyle. Kyle Skinner.”

She gulps, bloodshot eyes glistening. “Who?”

“Your goddamn boyfriend.”

Her lips hardly move, voice timid. “Lili. I haven’t dated anyone before.”

I shake my head, but somehow I know she could never lie to me.

Anna reaches out with her hand. Her pale, sweaty hand. She grasps arm, and clenches tight. “I swear, Lilian. I have never heard of Kyle before.”

 

 

I walk into town, against my better judgement. I should’ve blocked Kyle’s number the instant he left me. Come to think of it, I didn’t know Kyle had a phone. Why am I here, walking past these dim streetlights?

You still want him.

“Still alive, Lilian?” Kyle leans against the side of the brick alleyway.

I slip my hand into my pocket and grip my switchblade. You know, like, just in case.

He chuckles and holds up his hands. “Twas but a jest.”

“What do you want, Kyle?”

He waves me closer.

I take a step toward him, and he raises an eyebrow.

Another step, and underneath my sweatshirt, my grip on my switchblade loosens from my sweaty palms. I hold it tighter.

I glare at Kyle and pace the rest of the way.

“Cut recently, Lilian?”

I lash out with the knife, and Kyle stumbles back. He ducks low and then scrambles away.

“Classic Lilian,” he laughs.

I grin. “I’m gonna cut someone tonight.”

“How long have you suffered this hell? Nine months?” He gasps in fake surprise. “Maybe you’re pregnant! Did you fuck satan?”

I lunge forward, and he dances to the side. I spin toward him. He ducks, and the blade whizzes over his head, clipping off a strand of his hair.

He creeps back. “Trying to ruin my hairdo, eh?”

“You can go die in hell.”

He tilts his head. “What’s to say this isn’t hell?”

I pass the switchblade to my other hand as Kyle strafes around me. “You can’t die in hell.”

My foot hits a rock, and I stumble. As I regain my balance, Kyle dashes toward me. I flail at him, but he shoves my arm aside and rams me into the alley wall. “Have you tried dying yet?”

I cough at his acrid breath, then spit in his face. He doesn’t flinch. “Like you’d know, asshole.” I grimace.

His eyes light up. “Oh, but I do. You’re the coward who won’t kill herself.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You cut every night. You wander alone. Always alone.” He shakes his head. “You choke yourself with a rope from your closet.”

My hand trembles, but I wrench it free from his iron grip and drive my blade forward. It resists as it pierces skin.

“Why don’t you take that final step, I wonder?”

I scream, and tear the knife across his gut.

He reaches down to the wound, and pulls away his hand sticky. “Blood is thicker than water, Lilian.” He licks off one finger.

Bile rises in my throat, and it burns like acid. Panting, Kyle backs away from me, knife embedded in his abdomen. I slide down the wall, collapsing until my knees are bent.

I lie there for a minute, eyes closed, letting the warm blood soak its way through my blouse.

I open my eyes when my guts shift. I push my intestine back inside me, but it keeps popping out of the wet gash.

Kyle’s voice pierces the shadows. “Somehow, Lilian, you’re still a beautiful girl.”

I snarl at him. “Fuck you.”

“You know, I didn’t think I’d enjoy watching you die.” He appears at my side, eyes blank. “Boy, was I wrong.”

I claw at the pavement, and wince when one of my nails snaps in two. “I’m done with you.”

He removes the blade with a slender hand, and examines it for a second. A ray of rising sunlight reflects off the switchblade’s razor edge, but he doesn’t appear to notice.

This time, his empty eyes find mine. “Lilian, I’m sorry.”


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