This was the best part. Taking them was fun but this was better. Outside the Red Room he had to hurry; he had to be careful. He couldn’t let them scream like this but inside he could do as he pleased. No-one would hear them and they were always ready and waiting. He had them forever. He didn’t know who cleaned the Red Room when he was gone but when he returned they were always waiting again, neatly aligned on their hooks. Always ready for his revenge.
But as he made his way to the bench and played a hand over the lined up tools, he knew something was wrong. As the delicious screams played out, as enjoyable as any choral arrangement, his eyes kept drifting back to the shiny, new meat hook and when they did it sent quivers running through the Red Room’s walls.
He shook his head to clear it and reached across for the bloodstained hacksaw, his free hand reaching beneath the leather apron, clenching around his cock as he imagined the coming spray of red…
…But when he turned back, the far wall was gone and instead he was in front of a window, its blind half-raised, peering in at the lady on the bed.
Rachel… He whispered it as he stroked, his eyes drinking in her curves beneath the flannelette of her pyjamas. His mind imagined the whispers as he cut them free of her body. She was obviously a restless sleeper as she’d kicked back the covers and was sprawled, tangled slightly in the fitted sheet that had lifted from the corner of the mattress. She was so beautiful and in the dim gloom, her resemblance was even greater than number three’s had been and Ben both hated and loved her at the moment. He could see the vibrator lying near the foot of the bed and it was transporting him back to the calls of his mother. Benny, mummy needs you, Benny, mummy needs you… and he’d always go, even though he knew he’d later be punished for it and as the washing flapped gently against the back of his head, Ben was cumming.
He stiffened as his ejaculation spattered fresh ropes over the congealed ones of yesterday. Unaware, she slept on, her legs splayed lewdly, as Ben’s eyes gradually refocused and his desire ebbed back to a controllable level and suddenly she wasn’t quite so beautiful, she was hideous and he was panicking slightly because he had been a bad boy – he shouldn’t do that to mummy – and he knew he would be punished for it. He felt a strange urge to head for the bridge again, to climb up and tuck himself away safe beneath its girders.
Rachel didn’t stir as he clambered back over the fence and lay back panting against the other side, his panic already receding and a slow, burning anger growing back in its place.
He was older now. He was older and stronger.
And he could stop her…
The thought brought a smile to his face and as he pushed himself to his feet, the image of her hanging limply there in the Red Room played tantalisingly across his mind.
DAY 3
When Ben’s eyes sprang open he immediately knew he had done something stupid. The problem was, he couldn’t figure out exactly what. There were only fragments of it floating around his brain and he had the feeling that maybe he might have just dreamed the whole thing. He certainly hoped he had.
He tried to think back but the last thing he remembered was having a smoke on the lilo. The rest was just snippets: images of him in the Red Room, him wanking outside her window as he watched her sleep, his cum spattering her window pane.
Surely it was a dream. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise. Wouldn’t have done anything so dangerous… Would he? No, he thought as he pushed himself to his feet. But he couldn’t help staring at the wall that separated them as though he could somehow penetrate its depths and see what was transpiring on the other side. Was she at the window now? Was she bent over, peering at the glass, her confusion turning to anger and disgust as she realised what was spattered on the pane? Would she call the cops? Maybe they were already there now, taking notes, collecting samples, collecting evidence. The urge to go and peek over the back fence was almost irresistible. Just a quick look; see if he had really done it…
But despite its tempting nature, Ben resisted the urge. What if she was in the backyard now and saw him peeping over the fence? It wouldn’t take her long to put two and two together… No, he’d just have to wait; hope she didn’t notice it before she went out, then he could slip next door and clean it up…
What time was it? Has she already left? Ben walked over to the window, peeled back the strip of tape a little and peered through. His stomach was gurgling strongly as he pressed his eye to the crack and Ben realised he hadn’t eaten for a few days. That he should probably get some food into him; keep his strength up. But he couldn’t do that until he’d cleaned up his mess.
That’s if there was a mess at all…
Ben watched the Indian cabbie a few doors up kiss his wife good-bye and head to his taxi. He assumed it must still be early. Along with the hunger, there was a jittery feeling in his stomach as he settled in to wait.
* * * * *
Rachel stared at the stains spattered across the window, her brow furrowed and her hand frozen half-way to the clothesline. The sopping underwear was sending drops of water snaking down her arm and wetting the sleeve of her work-shirt but Rachel barely noticed. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked at them there on the window.
Was that cum?
Rachel stared. It certainly looked like it but it was just so unexpected that Rachel was having difficulty believing it could be. It wasn’t everyday that you went to hang out your washing and found someone had sprogged on your window. Rachel wasn’t entirely certain as to what she should do. She was already running late for work as it was and had only been out because she forgot to hang out her second-best pair of underwear last night. Fuck knows what had happened to her best pair. She could have sworn she’d washed them with the last load but when she’d brought that in last night, they hadn’t been present. She’d just assumed they’d disappeared into the abyss that was her over-filled laundry hamper. Now she wasn’t so certain.
She felt dirty just thinking it. Violated but… No, surely not, she told herself. It just seemed so ridiculous that someone would have been standing outside her window, wanking away. Oddly it seemed more bizarre than creepy to her at first: why would they want to? But it wasn’t long before irritation began to creep in. How fucking dare they? And why did they have to take her best underwear? There were a couple of grandma-pants pegged out as well. Why couldn’t they have taken those?
Rachel mused on the thought for a while before it dawned on her that she wasn’t thinking at all clearly about this. That she should really be more alarmed by it and well, she sort of was… There was alarm bubbling in her gut but she supposed it was being held back by shock.
Surely it can’t be jism, she reiterated it, snapping back as she realised her work-shirt was now sodden to the elbow.
‘Fuck it,’ she hissed and pegged up the underwear. But as she shook off her dripping hand and the water splashed down next to the stains, she couldn’t think of anything else it could be. And instantly her mind jumped to her new neighbour. And just as instantly her anger burst through all the other conflicting emotions.
… Fucking hell, that’d be right. Fucking three in a row. What was she? Fucking cursed? Why did she always get the fruit-cakes next door? First the fucking old bitch with those fucking cats whining about the fucking key. Whining about fucking Thea. Then the fucking tool with his music and parties and now this fucking pervert. And it was the same in the last place too. It was like Mrs Stephenson moving had triggered some sort of curse. Four different neighbours in four months. All of them fucking selfish pricks. It was why she’d moved in the first place. Not that it had done her any good. The fuckers were just as inconsiderate wherever you went. None of them gave a fuck if they were interrupting you, disturbing you. As long as they were fucking happy everything was peachy. It fucking made her blood boil. It fucking made her want to put her fist right through the fucking window. It made her want to…