Now
My rock hard cock glistens from the layer of saliva I’m rubbing up and down the shaft. The thick head curves slightly back towards me, as though it’s looking at me with its one eye and sweetly saying yes please daddy choke me until I vomit. I start whispering softly to it: “you’re a dirty little bitch aren’t you? I’m not going to give you what you want you dirty little bitch. I’m going to make you wait for her.”
It hardens even more, softens slightly, then gets harder, harder, and harder. Even though I see it everyday, I don’t remember it ever being that big. It’s like it’s trying to show off for my friend. In truth, I am trying to show off. I’m trying to make it appear as big and hard as I can. I want her to look at me and think yeah, that’s a sweet huge cock, and I don’t want to do anything ever again but climb on that huge hard cock and ride it like a future dirty little soccer mom. Next, in my fantasy, she’ll cum twice as much as me, tell me nobody is keeping score, give me a high five, and send me on my way with some orange slices that she cut up the night before.
Note to self: in the future, see if she’ll allow me to bang her in the minivan, SUV, or whatever other abomination against the environment she drives. Oh, hell, what if she has a support our troops ribbon or even worse, one of those god damned Jesus fish? I might actually hate her just because she drives one of those terrible vehicles. This fantasy bone is going to turn into a future soccer mom hate fuck. Suddenly, I imagine myself shoving all those orange slices up the tailpipe of her gas guzzling, war mongering, aggressive driving, off road, pray to Jesus, 4 wheel drive, desertification machine. I’d bend her over the grill, bang her hard, and just before I’m about to cum, I’d whisper in her ear, “soccer is stupid, your vehicle is grey – not silver, there is as much historical evidence to support the existence of Hercules as there is of Jesus, armies cause wars – they don’t stop them, and worst of all, your children will grow up and figure out exactly who you are – hating you for it – they will become you.”
That’s actually a huge turnoff. I slide my boxers on over my embarrassingly soft self. She’s taking forever and a day in the washroom. I’m saddened for a moment thinking how thin she is. Is she naturally thin, or does she just not eat? I’ve only seen her in clothes before, and she doesn’t really have a backside to speak of at all. Now, I’m worried. What if I’m waiting in bed for someone that has an eating disorder? It makes me almost want to vomit thinking about it, but I don’t want her to think that kind of thing is all right. Before you know it, she’ll be inviting me over every Friday for lunch and puking.
I don’t know why I did it, why I came here. I love my wife, and I don’t want to lose her. I grab my pants and start to slide them on, but Jill walks into the room, simply wearing white panties and not one thing else. Her figure is petite; she’s slender and athletic. She has partially visible abdominal muscles with well defined legs and arms. Her ass is trim, but her natural C cup breasts look enormous on her little body. Her long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes add a lot to her beauty, but her smile, her tone, her way is what makes me melt like a forgotten ice cream sandwich on a tropical white sand beach in July.
Jill pushes me from a sitting to a lying position, smiles at me, and says: “I’m going to fuck you so hard that your cock is going to literally explode inside of me.”
“Literally?” I ask.
She slaps my face, hard then places her hand around my neck and begins to eagerly lick the side of my face like a fat kid on a diet who found the forgotten ice cream sandwich on a tropical white sand beach in July. “Yes, your cock will literally explode inside me,” she says confidently.
“That sounds painful,” I mutter.
“It will be the best pain of your life,” she says in her best sexy beast voice.
My shoulders are tense, and I’m mostly lying still. Jill runs her hand through my hair. “Am I getting too crazy with the rough stuff? I thought you might like to play a bit. We don’t have to do it this way, if you don’t want to,” she says, sounding disappointed.
“No, you’re so sexy and beautiful, I’m just happy to have you in the same room. I was just thinking. I…” I’m at a loss for words.
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I promise,” she assures me.
“Jill, I know. I’m just. I’m getting feelings for you, and now we’re here. What about my wife? What about your husband, my friend?”
She kneels down on the floor and begins taking my pants and boxers off. “Right now, it’s just you and me. Nobody else exists, and nobody else will ever know we had this moment. Nobody will ever get hurt. I promise you. Enjoy our moment together, right now.”
That’s the most Buddhist argument I’ve ever heard for why I should betray my wife and friend. Jill can clearly tell as she slides my boxers off that although the upper half of me is complacent and worried, the lower half of me is obviously quite agreeable.
She teases me by licking my inner thigh, up to my abdomen. She begins to take me in her mouth, but she takes me out again to do some strange thing with her tongue where she licks my cock like a dog lapping up water after a run through the desert at noon.
“Turn over,” she insists.
“Turn over?” I ask.
“Now, mother fucker!” she yells.
“Did you hear something?” I ask.
“Don’t stall.”
“I swear I heard the door open,” I say.
She grabs my nipple and starts twisting it. “I said turn over.”
I turn onto my stomach, and I feel her pull my ass cheeks apart and slide her tongue in. She makes a num num noise while she’s doing it, the kind of noise you might expect an old fat man to make when he pays a skinny underage boy to let him suck his cock. Mentally, I’m discussed. I almost feel sick to my stomach, but my body is responding. It feels so good as she reaches around and begins stroking my cock while inserting a couple of fingers up my ass, knuckle deep.
“Now it’s your turn,” she says while gently grabbing my hand.
“My turn?”
“Yes, come with me.”
I follow her to the bathroom where she lays down in the tub. “My turn for what?” I ask.
“To be the dom.”
“Oh.” I kneel down on top of her and start slapping her in the face with my cock, and I say: “suck that you dirty little whore. Suck that.”
“Ow,” she yelps, putting her hand over her eye.
“I’m sorry,” I nervously say.
“The dom doesn’t apologize, and he doesn’t take out a person’s eye because he’s playing with his own penis.”
“Sorry. Oh, I wasn’t supposed to say that, sorry. What am I supposed to do?” I ask Jill.
“You can’t ask. You have to just take control.”
“Oh.” I stand there for a minute thinking while she gives me a funny screwed up face. The whole thing feels awkward, and I start to go a bit soft.
“Look, I’ll help you out,” she says.
“OK, I guess?”
“What do you feel like doing at this exact moment?”
“Actually, I kinda have to use the toilet.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she says.
I look at her nervously and lift up the toilet seat. She slams it back down again and says: “be the dom.”
“The door. I hear the door again.” I say with certainty.
“Are you going to be a little bitch faggot, or are you going to be my dom?”
I straddle her in the tub and start pissing on her tits. She starts laughing and screaming and fingering her clit.
My cock won’t go hard again. It stays soft. I’m actually totally turned off, and I want to leave. Jill stands up, closes the shower curtain, turns the water on, hands me the soap, turns around, and begins rinsing her mouth out in the shower head’s stream. She turns around and wets her hair. I begin to soap her beautiful breasts. She kisses me, over and over again. It doesn’t take long for me to get aroused again. She whispers: “I’ve always wanted to try something new and dirty, and I’ve always wanted it to be with you. Today, you’re making my dreams come true. Now, I’m totally yours. You can do anything you want to me.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” she says with a sexy little smile on her face.
“Can I get you pregnant?” Wow! I don’t even know why I just said that. Could I have possibly said anything worse? Jesus.
She just smiles at me even brighter and says: “you can do anything you want to me, absolutely anything.”
“Can I stab you?” Oh Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me? I keep asking questions, waiting for her to say no.
She looks at me without fear. “Right now, in this moment. I am yours. You can do anything.”
I turn the tap off, take her hand, leading her out of the shower. I take a towel to pat her dry. I suck on my middle finger and begin rubbing her clit while she drys me. I walk her over to the dresser, bend her over it and begin to eat her pussy from behind while I reach around and finger her clit. She moans, but I stop just before she gets there. I lather my cock up with some spit and slide myself inside her. I can see her backside in front of me, and her chest in the mirror that sits on top of the dresser. I put my hands on top of her breasts, and she grabs them. I move into her harder as she lets out louder and louder screams.
I spank her, a bit hard and pull out.
“I swear I just heard the door again,” I say.
“No. No door,” she barely mutters.
I take her over to the bed, lay her down on her back and slide myself inside her. I grab her ankles and place them on top of my shoulders. I take two of her fingers in my mouth to moisten them and put them on her clit. She starts rolling them around quickly like she’s trying to get the high score in a video game. Tremors begin to move through her body as she shakes and screams like a woman who is going through an exorcism during an earthquake. I kiss her lips and say: “I love you.”
I pull out, and at that moment her eyes get all big, almost like she’s seen a ghost. I pull my hard cock out of her and cum all over her abdomen and chest, while a bit shoots up to her lips, forehead, and hair. I feel a great sense of relief, but her bulging eyes are unchanged. I smile at her, but all she does is point. I look behind me to see Jason, her husband, my friend standing there with a gun in his hand.
Jill says nothing. She lies still, covered in my cum. Jason points his gun. I look right at him. “Jason, this was me. It was all me. I did the wrong thing here. You’ve been a good friend to me, and I betrayed you…”
Jason interrupts me, “and your wife.”
“Yes, and my wife, and I’ve also betrayed my friendship with your wife. I understand why you’ve brought a gun, especially after seeing and hearing what you’ve seen and heard.”
“I heard you getting your asshole eaten by my wife, and I saw you shoot your load all over her.”
“Jason, my friend, I won’t beg for my life. Today, I was a terrible friend. If what I did deserves death, you should pull that trigger and end me. If you do, I want my last words to simply be I’m sorry.”
Jill sits up, cum dripping off her face and breasts onto her lap. “You don’t hurt him Jason. I love him. I’m truly in love with him.” She looks at me, with nothing but pure truth in her eyes. “I love you Davis.”
Jason gets all red in the face like a young child who held his breath too long. “You shut up; you fucking bitch!” He unloads 7 slugs into her chest, as though she were nothing more than a paper target on a tree. Her body bounces up and back down 7 times on the bed.
“Jason, what the fuck did you just do?”
“Relax Davis. I was never going to hurt you. The fucking whore never did know when to shut her fucking whore mouth though.”
I place my hand behind her head, as her eyes lose focus, and her breath becomes short and quick. Her chest is almost spraying out blood. I wrap my other arm around her and hold on tightly. I start weeping madly, crying, howling like a wolf who lost his mate. I rest my head on her chest, and I feel my hair soaking up her blood. I just cry and weep more and more. I can almost feel myself starting to fall asleep on her as my face and hands soak in her blood.
“Davis man, I’m bored. Let’s get outta here. It’s just you and me now. Don’t you see? I took care of everything.”
I can’t even respond to Jason. I begin trying to get up, to get off of Jill. I face Jason, while I’m covered in his wife’s blood and vaginal juices, along with my cum and tears.
Jason speaks up again: “look man. I made the choice for you, and I made the right choice. Now, don’t fuck with the man who has the gun. Tell me you’ll help me bury this whore bitch, and we can move on with our lives. Remember man, it’s just you and me now.”
“I shouldn’t have made love to Jill, but I’m broken. I truly love her. I don’t know why. Why? How? How could you kill someone so lovely, so wonderful, someone I love?”
“You’ll see. Now, tell me your choice,” Jason says while rattling the gun back and forth.
I close my eyes and put my arms out to either side, as a sign of embrace, and I say the simple words: “I choose death.”
I hear Jason utter: “you’ll regret saying that.”
Then I hear a single gunshot, and I can swear that I feel my heart stop, until I open my eyes and see Jason laying on the ground with a hole in his head. I grab Jason’s head. “No. Jason, please no. Why? Why? Why? I scream at him and sit there on the floor shaking, vomiting, and whimpering.”
As though it’s some sort of preprogrammed genetic trait from years of evolution, I get up and begin walking home. I have a moment of bliss. I’ve forgotten, suddenly, quickly. I’m just going to see my lovely wife at the end of the day. She’ll be home. I’ll embrace her, and all will be well with the world. As I walk up my front step, I look down to see myself naked, covered in blood and vomit, and perhaps other fluids too, but I can’t remember how I got this way. With a crazed bliss, I go inside, thinking my wife can help, that she can make things better, that I have nothing to worry about. In a moment, I see her lying on the floor with what appears to be several shots to the chest. I grab her hand, kiss it, and I feel myself unable to breathe. Everything gets dark.
Before
“Jill, hey, how are you today?”
She has a big ear to ear smile. The same smile she always has when she looks at me. It’s the smile that makes me want her, makes me nervous to be around her. It causes that new love feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s a kind of grade 7 love.
“Hi Davis, I’m good. How are you?”
She actually looks as though she’s interested in what I’m about to say. She isn’t waiting for her turn to speak. She listens. I could tell her that I’m feeling down. I could tell her that I constantly suffer from depression. I could tell her how most of the time, although I have a great life that I love, I just wish I would die. She would hear the words. She would help me.
“Good, things are good,” I lie.
“The weather is so beautiful for this time of year. Can you believe how warm it is?” she asks.
I don’t remember ever really giving a flying fuck about the weather in my entire life. Why the hell are people always trying to talk to me about it? It’s that dishonest bit of conversation that tries to be an ice breaker. We both share the weather in common, and neither one of us had anything to do with the weather, so I suppose we can safely talk about that, but I don’t want to be safe. I want to be real. I want to be dangerous. I want to live, and for some reason, I want to experience death, early and maybe somewhat painful.
“Jill, I want to be real with you, from now on. I want to be honest.”
“Oh, OK,” she says a bit nervously.
“I don’t mean that I’ve been lying to you. I just don’t want to tell you I’m good and have you ask me about the weather. I want to be honest and upfront about everything, and if you end up hating me for that, well, you’ll hate the real me, instead of liking the me that I’m trying to be to impress you.”
“So, you’ve been hiding things from me?”
That question feels so meaningful. Suddenly she is asking me, almost like a wife would, with a bit of pain in her eyes.
“The first time I saw you, here at this bus stop, I thought you were beautiful, but I never thought about leaving my wife until the first time I spoke with you. That moment was life altering. With both of us being married, I hold onto my feelings, I bury them. There are times where I can’t even speak to you because it hurts too much to be around you, so I pretend to be busy, answering email or working on my phone. There are times when you didn’t even notice me hear, next to you, and that hurts even more. I thought if you and Jason and me and my wife Melissa could be couple friends, my ache for you would turn into a dull want then just a simple friendship. It didn’t work.” I grab my face in my hands, sobbing. “It didn’t work at all. I fell for you. The more I see you, the more I feel. I don’t just want you. Do understand what I’m saying?” I ask.
“I need you,” she says.
“Yes. Yes, Jill. I need you.”
“And, I need you, Davis.”
I look up at her with a sad face, tears running down my cheeks, but she just gives me that ear to ear grin. Without even thinking, I grab her face and kiss her lips. I pull my face away, opening my eyes to see her lips quivering as she exales, opens her eyes, and lets her jaw drop open. Jill stares at me for a moment while her eyes widen. There is a long moment of silence where she just looks at me, saying nothing. I try to extend the moment we had by reaching for her face, perhaps to caress it but perhaps to pull her toward me again for another kiss. She shakes her head at me while pushing my hand away.
“Davis, you’re married.”
“So are you.”
The bus stops, and the door opens. I’m almost afraid to get on, but Jill grabs my hand, bringing me on the bus with her. We sit next to each other, and she holds my hand the whole time with a very firm grip. It feels good to be there with her, holding her hand. I don’t ever want to let go, but it’s my stop. I boldly kiss her cheek.
“Goodbye Jill.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she says with a nervous smile.
I walk off the bus, and into work, but I feel like I’m at the top of a mountain yelling loudly, jubilantly. I’m excited by my achievement. I’ve made it. I climbed the mountain. Now, everyone below will feel the avalanche of what I have done.
Years go by, while I become closer and closer friends with Jason, almost like brothers. Jill and I remain in some weird space. We secretly hold hands on the bus. We sneak kisses when nobody is looking, but nothing materializes until she says: “I won’t be on the bus tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Will you be driving?
“Davis, I could drive everyday. We got a second vehicle years ago. The only reason I take the bus is to see you. I’ll be at home tomorrow, by myself, in my bed.”
“Uh. Are you not feeling well?” I ask
“I feel great, and you will too when you join me, in the early afternoon.”
I stare right into her pretty blue eyes; she doesn’t even look away for a moment. I just kiss her and say nothing, but she smiles, very confidently. Even though I don’t feel like I’ve decided yet, she seems to already know the answer.
After
“Austin, hey.”
“Hey, hop in now, you don’t have to wait for an invitation you know. You’re family now.”
Everytime I see Austin pull up in his big black truck, I feel like the person I used to be would have never got in. I feel like I shouldn’t get in. Who am I to be hopping into a huge truck anyway? I climb into the behemoth, look over at Austin, nod, and say: “thank you.”
“Let me ask you something man,” Austin shouts. He has one of those voices that seems to come in two levels, loud and louder.
“Ask me anything.”
“How come I never see you checking out my wife?”
“Ah, what?” I ask
“My women. She’s hot, right? I mean, her ass and tits are a little too big for her skinny little body, and she’s real pretty, has nice teeth and all that.”
“She is a lovely human being,” I add.
“Yeah, I know that, but my question is why doesn’t your mouth water when her sweet fat ass bends over in front of you? You never stop to look at her. Doesn’t she make your cock hard?”
“Ah, Austin, this conversation is going to a really weird place.”
“No, no man. Look, I don’t want another man’s meat in my woman’s taco, you know? I just wonder why you don’t have dirty dreams about her every now and again. I mean, when I’m not rubbing my naked ugly bits against her naked ugly bits, I’m thinking of doing it.”
“She’s your wife. I couldn’t think that about your wife, especially not after what you guys have done for me,” I explain.
“Look, I don’t even know your real name yet Sappho. How do I know you’re not some kind of homo? I mean, women don’t get hotter than my wife Tanya. Are you a gay?”
“I don’t know. It’s like you said, we don’t even know my real name. Sappho is the only name I could think of, but when I researched it, well I don’t think it has anything to do with me.”
“All right Sappho, if you are a gay, I’ll understand. It might make my skin crawl a bit, but at least you’ll know, and we’ll know, and it will just be out there. Besides I know a gay.”
“Really? I would have thought that you would run away with your hands over your backside if you ever thought anyone was gay,” I say while laughing.
“No, for real. The fellow who works down at the pharmacy. He’s bald with a beard. He’s a good looking fellow too, but he just acts like one of them gays,” Austin says.
“He acts like one of them gays? I don’t even know what that means.”
“You know how those gays act. Always acting all gay. He’s always really polite, soft spoken, and clean.”
“Austin, man, I’m polite and clean, and that guy at the pharmacy is married to a woman.”
“That’s what those gays call a beard. He has a fake relationship with a woman, so people think he likes women. Oh, and Sappho, you’re really not all that polite, and you’re definitely not soft spoken.”
“I guess I’m not gay then.”
“Well, my friend. There is only one way to find out.”
Austin pulls his cock out of his pants and begins fiercely stroking it.
“Austin, what the hell are you doing?” I ask.
“Do you like that?” he asks, while swerving all over the road.
“I would like it very much if you would put your wang back in your pants, please.”
Austin starts laughing out loud and says: “you’re just saying please cause I said you weren’t polite.” Austin tucks his member back in his pants and continues, “you’re definitely not a gay.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s cleared up, so I won’t be seeing your cock again, correct?”
“Of course not. I just wanted to make sure. You know, cause if you were a homo, you would have to grab my monkey.”
“Because you’re so irresistible?” I ask
“You may not think so, but the gay mind works differently. If you were a gay, you’d have to pet my monkey. It’s what gays do. That’s why they are always fucking each other and having orgies. It’s because they can’t say no.”
“Well, that is good to know. Thank you for clearing that up for me,” I say with a chuckle in my voice.
“Anything for family,” Austin says.
We arrive at Austin and Tanya’s place. I guess it’s my place too, but it doesn’t quite feel like home. They treat me like I belong here, like I’m their family, but deep down I know I must have a home somewhere. There has to be somewhere I belong.
I walk into the kitchen to see what sort of amazing food Tanya is cooking, while Austin wanders off to the living room, shouting at me: “Sappho, the game’s on.” I don’t care, at all, for sports, but I watch them with Austin because he enjoys it, and it gives him something to talk about. Plus, he’s never whipped his dick out at me while watching sports.
“Tanya, I’m making money now, and I want to start paying rent around here.”
“No. You should save your money,” she says with a look of serious concern on her face.
“I appreciate you guys taking me on for so long like this, and I promise I won’t stay here forever and burden you guys, but I have to pay my way now, at least until I move out. I promise I’ll move out.”
Tanya just stares at me blankly, so I continue, “I know it’s been about a year since I lost my memory, and I know you guys were hoping I would remember more by now, but I promise I won’t be here forever.”
“Sappho, that’s not it. I wish you would stay forever. We love having you here. You’re family now. If you want to pay rent you can, but I think you won’t want to stay much longer.”
“What? Why?”
“You have a visitor,” she points with her knife to the dining room. Her eyes have a tired sort of fear in them.
Austin walks into the kitchen. “What’s up guys?” he asks, seeing that we both have the fear of god in our faces.
“Someone has come to visit me, in the dining room,” I say.
“Who?” Austin asks.
I shrug my shoulders up to my ears and look at Tanya.
Tanya looks at me saying: “she claims to be your best friend’s sister, says she heard about you from that news story they did a while back on amnesia. She didn’t tell me much, but she says she knows everything.”
I swallow, as though I was trying to force my very own adam’s apple down my throat, but it just won’t go. I walk into the dining room, closing the doors behind me.
“Hey, they call me Sappho around here.”
“Interesting,” she says.
“What’s that?”
“Well, it seems that you’ve picked up a bit of an accent. This whole forgetting thing is real, is it?”
“Painfully real, yes,” I say.
“Have you seen a doctor about the memory loss?” she asks.
“Yeah. There’s no brain injury there. The docs think that I’ve lost my memories because of a traumatic event. I didn’t have this accent before? Did I have your accent? I’m from the city?”
“You’re definitely from the city,” she says.
“So, did you come here to help me? You came here to tell me who I am?”
“I don’t know why I came here. Perhaps a demon was talking through the neighbor’s dog and telling me what to do. I wanted to see if you remembered anything. The police have mostly pieced together what happened that day, because of a video camera that one of you setup,” she uttered while moving her gaze from my eyes to the floor.
“The police. Oh, no! Look, I don’t know what kind of person I was back then…”
She quickly interrupts: “I suspect the same kind of person you are now. How is Tanya between the sheets?”
“Why would you even ask me that? These people are like family to me. I would never stab my friend in the back by sleeping with his wife. If I did something in my past, if I hurt someone, if the police are involved, I will pay for whatever crimes I have to pay for. I’ll go to the police, but I don’t even know you’re real. What did you say your name was?”
“I’m for real, and I didn’t say my name. Your name though, it’s Davis.” She pauses for a moment and continues talking. “You don’t even have a slight look of recognition on your face. You really don’t know who you are?”
“No.”
“I believe you. Look, I know everything, and if you ever want to know, I’ll tell you. First, I’ll tell you this, the cops mostly know you’re innocent, so it’s not likely you’ll be in any sort of trouble.”
“Uh, OK?” I question.
“Have you ever heard of the nine circles of Hell?” she inquires.
“Yeah, that’s Dante’s Inferno, right?”
“That’s right. So you remember literature but not yourself?”
“Literature and history mostly. I remember skills and education, but no specific personal details about myself.”
“Well, if you recall, the first circle of Hell is Limbo. It’s not quite Heaven, but it’s a close as you’ll ever get to Heaven. You’ve sinned, and now you’re trapped here, in Limbo, forever.”
“Look, I love literary reference as much as the next guy, but I really want to know who I am.”
“The only way to know who you are is to jump all the way down to the ninth circle of Hell. I promise you, things will get much worse for you. There is a reason your mind shut down on you. There are three reasons, actually, four,” she says.
“I don’t understand.”
“Understand this. There is nobody waiting for you in city. You did a bad thing, nothing illegal, but something bad. That bad thing you did was a catalyst for a series of great evil. If you hadn’t done that one bad thing, it’s possible none of this would have ever happened, but then again, if you had of been given another chance to do the right thing, you might have. Do you really want to trade not knowing who you are with living the rest of your life in complete misery?”
“Ignorance is bliss, right?”
“Look, Davis… uh Sappho. Be Sappho, and good luck to you. May God bless you in this life and in the next and for now I say goodbye and goodnight.”
She walked out of the dining room, out of the house, out of my life. That night I couldn’t eat. So many questions came from Austin and Tanya, but I didn’t know the answers, and ultimately they were happy knowing that I’ve made a family with them, and I hadn’t done anything illegal. I slept well that night, the first night in a year. I slept so well that I woke up late.
“Austin, hey Austin.” I shout and continue “Tanya. I’m late for work. I overslept. Guys?”
The vehicles are still here, but I don’t see them anywhere. A note sits on top of the kitchen table.
“Dear Davis:
I wanted to help you make the leap. You were nice and sweet, and you were living a nice sweet life, but I haven’t forgiven you, so understand this, you can be Sappho forever, but you have to leave. Take the truck and don’t ever look back. If you keep reading this note or don’t follow my instructions, you will be doomed to be Davis once again.”
I continue to read.
“Your best friend is Jason. The two of you were close, almost like family. You started fucking his wife, even though you were married. He walked in and heard you guys breaking your marriage vows, but you didn’t know it, so he went over to your house and killed your wife, shot her seven times in her pretty little chest. Then he came back and shot his wife, Jill, right in front of you, seven times. Then he shot himself, while you watched him die. The best part of all of this though, the best part, Davis, your wife was pregnant.”
Tears come running down my face. I’m starting to lose focus. I’m balling, screaming, “Austin, please, Tanya.”
There is more to the letter, so I keep reading.
“I just couldn’t forgive you, and I wanted, I needed you to suffer more. I’ve been in such pain, and you’re just off in the boonies living a happy care free existence. It didn’t seem fair, so I broke into your perfect little house last night, and I drugged you while you slept. I drugged Austin and Tanya too, but just so they couldn’t move. I’m sorry that you missed my clues earlier, but I know you remember literature and history too. See if this line is familiar to you. Yours in murder Mr. Monster.”
Oh no. “Austin, Tanya?” I shout, running towards their room. I walk in, collapse to the floor, and everything gets darks.