Sunday, 8 April 2012

"Last Stop"

Last Stop

I’ve been talking to him for days and days online; I’m so excited to finally meet him. After all, he’ll be my first.
It all started in an online chat-room; well, if you want to be really technical, it all started when a friend told me about him... He’s a friend of a friend that a friend told me about. My buddy told me about all of his accomplishments and experiences and truth be told I simply coiuldn’t wait to meet him.
I introduced myself to him online and told him all about myself; short brown hair, blue peepers and a body as thin as a pin. He told me all about how lonely he was and I almost mirrored exactly how he felt. The guy has a wife, but she doesn’t understand him like I do, I’m not sure she really could.
His name is Benjamin Flint, such an oldies name; it really makes me think of one of those old cop shows... He’d be the bad cop with one of those biker moustaches. Benjamin tells me that he works with kids and that they love him to bits. I really like that; I love a man who gets along with kids. We talk and talk and we grow to desire each other more and more until our fingers can no longer express the desire.
Eagerly, many preparations had gone into meeting my new found friend, it was mostly things like: make sure he is who he says he is, make sure the cat is fed, make sure I look good for him, carry protection, have a shower, smell desirable. I just wanted to make myself into this image for him, no matter how painted on it was.
It’s probably about ten-thirty PM when I arrive, my jacket fastened tightly around my slender body; the cold is quite uncontrollable and vicious, like a cornered fox. My headphones gently play a classical piece of music into my ears; piano keys being brushed up against as the snow pitches on the floor, heavily contrasting the tone of the cold world around me.
For a second I stop and wonder if this is the right thing to do, if this is really going to be my first. I clutch my bag and then rub my hands together in contemplation. The classical piece is just reaching its climax and a choice needs to be made.
His voice still rings clear in the back of my head;
“Room thirty-seven, I’ll be waiting.”
The big motel sign is easily the most visible thing in the snow, it reads;
“The Last Stop.”
My watch ticks a time of thirty-one minutes past the tenth hour; ten minutes late. The rush makes me make my decision; it’s going to happen.
                Door thirty-seven stands in front of me; daunting and chilling, almost at the point of mocking me for even considering not doing this.
I knock on the door and the world compresses tight around it for the few seconds it takes to hear signs of life.
Eager footsteps stutter towards the door and the door coasts open, sure enough, there stands Benjamin.
“I’m glad you could make it, I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up, Mike.”
“Wouldn’t miss this chance, Benny.” We hug and take a moment to take in the fact that this is actually happening.
“Do you want a glass of wine?”
“No thanks, I don’t drink. Do you mind if I use the bathroom real quick?”
“Sure, not a problem, go right ahead.” I nod in acceptance.
My coat brushes past him, as if we’re not even there yet, just ghosting around the small motel room.
The door closes behind me, the ghost quickly making sure to keep up.
“What a fucking coward,” the door howls at me.
I run a tap and sit down on the toilet, the cold surface giving my ass a few Goosebumps that quickly spread. My hands sweep over my face, cupping it and caring for it for the few faint seconds that I sit.
Standing up, eyes scan the bathroom and notice that mug peaking at me... He grins and laughs, until I want to reach out and strangle his throat; tear his windpipe from his neck and make him truly sorry for laughing at me.
But it doesn’t come; calmness washes over my face in unison with a chill splash of water that brings back into focus.
My bag becomes comparable to a safe point; inside is everything I’ll need to ensure it’s all going to run smoothly, there’s also a little something, just to make sure all is safe.
A knock at the door.
“Hey, you ok in there?”
“Fine thanks, Benjamin, just fine.”
When I look at the mirror again, the man has stopped smiling; he now looks at who I am and pulls a dead-pan face.
He straightens his shirt and breathes out; the mirror steaming up slightly. I wait for it to fade and take one final look at him and turn to the door.
“Take your time, it’ll be ok...”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
What comes next? I take my protection from my bag and hold it close to my heart; it stays positioned behind my back, so I can surprise Benny.
The door opens and Benjamin stares me up and down, he smirks...
“You look even better than your pictures.” He smiles... That smile.
“How did it feel to kill those kids?”
“What?”
The gun shares two fatal secrets between me and Benjamin.
Almost immediately, his hands embrace his bare chest; you could just tell that he was collapsing more and more under his own gravity, like some sort of black hole.
Breathing thick the gun rises an additional time and fire once more.
Eyes beaming white like spotlights. Benny’s breathe grows thinner, thinner and thinner, he collapses.
“You’re going to disappear here, Benjamin.”
He lacks the simple energy to fight back with the only thing he has left; words.
Claret begins to leak onto the floor; eyes trying to maintain contact with the man that just took his last years in one final swoop.
Benjamin raises an arm in an attempt to grab my leg, but I step away and aim once more.
The gun whispers again and Benjamin is gone.
Seeing the blood startles me at first and my heart races, but it’s not long before I realise; there is no cavalry coming to bring justice down on me for what I have done. Not for awhile yet anyway.
Sitting down, my mind tries to settle down and bring the camera back into focus, just so things can be made much clearer. Can’t waste too much time.
“Get to it.” The bed whispers.
What’s next? Clean the scene of my existence. I patter around at a steady pace and pick up all of my casings and ensure I rub down the surface of the door handle inside and outside the bathroom.
Next up, we’re going to go to work on Benjamin; I have to try and slow down the identification and or discovery process... cleaners come every day, so dissolving his body in a bath of Lye may be a bit useless, but we can always make it difficult to put an identity on him... I’m going to assume that he used a fake name to rent this room, at the risk of his wife finding out.
From my bag, emerges a hammer; anyone who possess a squeamish nature, may want to look away now.
A crunch when I first strike him, then another, slightly less bloodcurdling and the third is just...  uncomfortable.  It becomes increasingly difficult to keep smashing what was once a face, mainly because it keeps getting wedged into bone. Occasionally, my wrist flicks of some plasma and flesh off, just to make sure I can see what I’m working with.
The smell gets right up the nostrils and I jump back, almost gagging, but managing to hold my stomach; I smile... smiling suppresses the gag reflex.
                There isn’t much left of the Benjamin that anyone would remember, but this can still be made real by his and laptop; of course he brought both of them with him; couldn’t resist filming us with his laptop, I’m sure. Of course, the hammer goes under the tap, just so we don’t end up taking too much brain matter, bone and blood with us.
I pick up his hold-all and sling it over my shoulder, then my bag and head for the door.
It’s time to leave; Benjamin can stay where he is... It’ll be sometime before he’s identified.
As for me, it’s time to catch the bus home; time to disappear into the night.
I’m going to have trouble sleeping tonight... and tomorrow and the day after that, but soon the guilt will creep away in the middle of the night and I’ll wake up and realise; the world is still turning, I’ll still be in the free world and there are a lot of people willing to sell people’s lives at a good price.
It’ll get easier and easier.
It’ll become just another job that pays for the bills, the food, the drink, the decent life.

A piece of work that I ended submitting for my 'almost-end-of-year- portfolio'.
Hope you guys have fun with it.

2 comments:

Ryan Taylor said...

Fucking shit :U
Is there more to this..?

Lava Lamper said...

I'd never really though about doing anymore to it.
Not sure if I could try and work it a lot, but I do like the character, so I may have to give it a go at some point in the future.

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