Chapter 1. RAGE
I am awakened by the sounds of a telephone, ringing off the hook, and I realize I'm in an old motel room. As I lie there trying to remember the previous night, I catch a glimpse of a woman’s naked body, lying motionless on the floor. She is face down halfway between the bathroom and the bed; her honey blonde hair matted and stained in a magenta hue of what I assumed was her own dried blood. Suddenly I began to feel nauseous, quickly stumbling out of bed while running to the bathroom, brushing up against her on my way. She felt cold and frigid, making me vomit instantly into the bathroom sink, releasing the steak and eggs I can now recall eating last night at a local truck stop. Looking down at her again, I started to notice she had several bite marks on her back, as well as a healthy dose of bruises and scratches. I swirled my tongue around in my mouth and I could taste her remains, suckling free a piece of her flesh that had been caught between my teeth, before consuming it. Turning on the shower, I jumped in without hesitation and began frantically washing away the sins of the night, trying to recall the nightmare that had obviously unfolded here in the hours prior.What exactly had happened? I guess I killed this bitch, assuming she was even one to begin with, otherwise why would she be lying dead on the floor of an old seedy motel room? These thoughts plague my mind for a minute or two before settling into the back of my subconscious, where they are quickly absorbed like a distant fog swallowing up a ship on the horizon. I continue to scrub away the filth of my anger, watching the remnants of my latest victim cascading down the shower walls before eventually swirling down the drain. I finish up and wrap a towel around my waist, seeing my clothes balled up on the floor; I realize I have nothing to wear that isn’t soaked in her blood. I think, “What the fuck should I do now?” and decide to call the front desk for assistance, improvising the whole conversation. On the third ring, I hear what appears to be a middle aged woman answer the phone, “Hello, front desk.” I reply, “Yes ma’am, could you send someone right away to clean my room and possibly bring me some fresh towels?” “Sure, she replied, “I’ll send someone right down.” Her last sentence sends an eerie chill down my spine, as the adrenaline now coursing through my veins makes its way to my heart, giving birth to an evil grin that now splashes across my face at the mere thought of more bloodshed. I can feel my hands start to tremble as I wait patiently behind the door, pre-meditating what was about to occur, all the while entertaining the darkness of my imagination. There is a brief knock at the door that seems to freeze time, but I’m quickly brought back to reality upon hearing the words “Housekeeping!” I yell “Doors open, come on in!” waiting for an opportunity to change her life, and a chance to escape the confines of the horrors in this room. As the door opened, I caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror over the bed, before balling up my fists and sending a shocking blow to her unsuspecting mouth. The startled look on her face had said it all, as her screams became replaced by the sounds of choking; her choking on the three front teeth I just knocked down her throat. I send her writhing back in pain, her hand clasped around her mouth in an attempt to stop me, but it only further enrages me as I continue to repeatedly smash in her face. I am careful enough to keep mainly focused on her head, so as to not stain the sweatpants she was wearing too badly in fresh blood, thus eliminating the reasoning behind the call in the first place. I just needed something to wear to get out of the parking lot, so these would have to do. I think to myself,"I'm just happy she isn't wearing a mini skirt!" The thought of this makes me snicker a bit, but a stream of her blood splashing across my face brings me back to reality, and the deed at hand. I can barely recognize her anymore, since I've broken just about every bone in her face, my knuckles now dripping with my own blood from the gashes her teeth caused during the process. Aside from the twitches the muscle spasms in her body occasionally make, she hardly even looks human anymore. I finally stand up and look down at her, before raising my steel toe motorcycle boots over whats left of her head, and driving all 6'7 265 lbs. of me on top of her. I could feel her skull give way before cracking open, sending pieces of her brain to splatter the orange shag carpet, and popping out one of her eyes. It almost looked as if she was still looking at me through it, because it still posessed the same glazed over look she had when she realized she wouldn't be home for dinner. I wash off in the shower again, before stripping her of her black sweatpants and extra large t-shirt and finally get myself dressed. I begin to rummage through my first victims purse, and find a set of car keys marked "Mercedes", but I don't get my hopes up too high because I'm far from looking like Brad Pitt! I snatch up the pack of marlboros off the desk along with my sunglasses, and fish a fresh cigarette out of the pack, before lighting it and the curtains on fire. Putting on my sunglasses I opened the front door, causing rays of sunlight to instantly blanket the room and reflect off the freshly stained blood on the walls. I notice an old beat up 1989 Mercedes convertible, and it figures, but its a way out so who gives a fuck, right? I hop in and adjust the rear view mirror, seeing that the smoke has now begun to billow out from under the door. I start her up and give it some gas, before letting out the emergency brake and slowly pulling out of the parking lot. I turned on the radio and proceeded to drive away, never once looking back as I began singing to the cassette tape that had been playing the night before; "Proud marrrrry keeeep onnnn burrrrrning, and we're rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling down a river."
© Copyright 2016 jon bladez. All rights reserved.
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