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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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He Deserved It
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I sat limp on the chair staring at his body. The blood was still flowing
and I didn't have enough energy left to clean it up. Feeling as if I was
looking through a twisted mirror in a traveling circus Fun House, he looked
different somehow, peaceful. I looked down at the blood on my hands. His
blood. Damnit! He deserved it, didn't he? After all, this time he went too
far.
It all started one glorious evening. I got dressed in my finest outfit. We
were going to a concert and I was really excited. He was picking me up at 8
PM and we were going to dinner first at my favorite Italian Restaurant,
"Bistro Italiano". Watching the simple Henry Miller Clock sitting on my
mantle, I knew it was only minutes before I could finally see him again.
We'd both been working alot and hadn't had a chance to see each other for
the past week. My ambition has kept me from relationships before, work was
always more important than whomever good-looking idiot I was dating. But,
this time, somehow, it was different. It was his soul that caught me. He
was a little boy stuck in a man's body. He was the nicest person I ever
met. The phone rang at 8:15 PM "Hey Babe" he said sweetly "I'm gonna be a
little late". I know I shouldn't get upset. He did call this time. Last
time he didn't show up or call. So, I'm thankful that he at least called
this time. I heard stories from his friends how he was seeing another woman
but I didn't believe them. I know my man, I know that he would never do
that to me.
Pain Killers, meds, prescription drugs, whatever you call them. They help
calm me down. I know that maybe I took a few too many that night. But, it
kept me from getting angry. It kept me balanced. Some say that I should
seek professional help, my agitations are natural and there are drugs out
there to cure it. I don't need any of those doctors, I only need my pain
killers and sometimes a martini if it really gets bad.
I sat on the couch, waiting. 9 o'clock rolled around. He wasn't going to
show up. I decided to get undressed and put a movie in the VCR. Another
Saturday Night alone, it figures. I considered going to the concert by
myself or calling one of my girlfriends. But, I wasn't in the mood and a
martini mysteriously appeared in my hand. I remember the days of High
School when boys wouldn't even talk to me. Glasses, with braces for your
teeth and legs aren't exactly a turn-on. In college, men started paying
attention. The braces, both of them, disappeared and the contacts made my
eyes even bluer then their natural color. I turned from an ugly duckling
into a beautiful swan. I wasn't used to the attention at first. But then I
realized I could do all the things I wanted by having these guys take me
out and pay for my company. They were all good looking, dumb and rich. But,
this guy was different. He had something none of the others had. He didn't
fall at my feet like all the other men. I found this frustrating and
intriguing at the same time. At the time, I didn't know ... I didn't have
any idea. I started watching the movie and fell asleep on the couch. I woke
up the next morning, never changing out of the clothes the night before.
The lipstick so carefully applied to my lips the night before stained the
ivory pillow on the couch a deep streak of red. My mascara ran making me
look like an Alice Cooper look alike. There was a knock on the door. Knock,
Knock.
He stood at the door, daisies in his hand. His face looking like a lost
puppy begging for forgiveness. "Hey babe, you'll never believe what
happened". I wanted to punch him. He put his arms around me and I melted
into his body. How could I resist him, after all he did bring flowers. I
was always a sucker for flowers. "What Happened"? I whispered it so softly,
I could barely hear myself. I didn't realize his answer would change our
lives forever.
We spent the day together and that evening rented the movie Scream. The
lights turned off and the volume turned up. Easing into the couch, he put
his arms around me, all had been forgiven as we fed each other popcorn.
About an hour later, we hardly heard the crash of a window breaking.
I looked at him, he was staring intently at the television. Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw a shadow. It must be a reflection from the
Television, I thought to myself. Then I heard another noise. This time, I
realized it wasn't the television. Someone was in my apartment. Though
seconds only passed, it seemed like an eternity. A man ran across the room,
in front of the movie scene of Drew Barrymore screaming. The man had a
knife and it was poking the neck of my boyfriend. We didn't even have time
to get up before the knife was at his neck.
"Don't give me any shit mother fucker or I'll kill you" He said drawing a
small amount of blood "Give me your fucking wallet".
"Take what ever you want, please don't hurt us". My boyfriend produced his
wallet, watch and a necklace I bought him.
I looked at the attackers eyes. They were wild. This was a bad situation
and I knew it wasn't going to get better anytime soon. I just sat there. I
didn't do anything. I just sat there.
"Thanks for the cash, loser" said the attacker as he slit my boyfriends
throat.
Oh my god, he just cut my boyfriend and I knew I was next. He looked at me
with those wild drug induced eyes. This wasn't good. This really wasn't good.
"You're a hot piece of ass, bitch" He put his fingers in the shape of a "V"
and wiggled his tongue between them. I realized then he was about to rape
me. He threw me on the floor and cut off the buttons of my blouse exposing
my bra. Blood from my boyfriends neck was still on the knife and stained my
white shirt where the buttons previously were. While pinning down my arms,
he cut the middle part of my bra exposing my breasts. I could smell the
alcohol on his breath. I could see the missing teeth as he laughed
unbuttoning his pants. Turning my head, I saw my boyfriend, he was still
breathing but blood was pouring from his neck down chest. It was only a
matter of time. I saw the phone on the counter. How the hell could I dial
911 while this bastard was on top of me.
My mind went back to the time of when I was a child, playing in the fields.
So secure laying in the grass making pictures out of the white fluffy
clouds in the blue summertime sky. So different from laying here on the
cold hardwood floor while a man I've never met was forcing himself upon me.
All I could think about was that I had to go to work the next morning. If
this guy kills me I won't make it to work and I'll lose my job. It's
interesting the things you think about when a man is about to rape you. The
attacker put the knife beside my head, his breathing increased, sitting on
top of me, pinning my arms down with his knees, he pulled out his penis,
hairy, smelly. The man hadn't showered in days. There was blood matted in
his pubic hair, he smelled of sex. I knew I wasn't his first victim that
evening.
I gave the attacker my most sultry look and said "Thanks for getting rid of
that guy for me, I really want you to fuck me, baby."
"You want me to fuck you bitch? You want me to fuck you? You're just like
all the other whore bitches wanting a real man to fuck you. Aren't you." His
words continued and swirled in my head until it became just mumblings like
the "Wa wa wa wana wa wa" of parents speaking on the Peanut Specials I
watched as a child. I shut him out and couldn't hear what he was saying
after a while.
The attacker smiled and removed his knees from my arms going down to pull
off my pants. That was exactly what I expected him to do. I grabbed the
knife and kicked my foot into his groin as hard as I could.
I don't know where the strength came from. He doubled on the floor with his
pants around his knees. I grabbed his head, looked into his eyes and said
"You fucked with the wrong bitch this time" He grabbed my hair and head
butted me. I plunged the knife into his body. A look of terror came across
his face. He tried to fight back so I withdrew the knife and plunged it
into his body again, and again and again. There was blood everywhere. "No
one calls me a Bitch" I said as I plunged the knife into his chest. His
breathing shallowed. There was resistance from his ribs that I didn't
expect. I had never cut through bone before and quickly learned it was
easier to push the knife in between the ribs. Normally I didn't have enough
strength to cut open the plastic on a new CD and here I was pushing a knife
through a man's ribs.
"You fucking whore, I'm going to kill you" he screamed. The "you" never
fully came out. I heard a gurgling and then all the air left his lungs in
one breath. I knew I had killed him. I knew he was dead. I felt like I was
above the situation viewing myself on the floor below still plunging the
knife into his body, his sides, his back, saying "I'm not going to die, I
have to go to work tomorrow". Tears were pouring down my face. I pulled the
knife out and saw the blood on my hands. Dammit, the bastard bled all over
my new carpet.
Looking at my boyfriend, his eyes were open but he was immobile. I grabbed
a towel from the bathroom and applied pressure to his wounds. I then put
his hands on the towel so he could apply the pressure to his own wounds. I
knew he would be OK. It was only a superficial cut. What an asshole. He
wasn't even hurt and he just laid there not even trying to help. I guess
people react differently to stressful situations.
I sat limp on the chair staring at the dead body. The blood was still
flowing and I didn't have enough energy left to clean it up. Feeling as if
I was looking through a twisted mirror in a traveling circus Fun House, he
looked different somehow, peaceful. The anger had left his eyes, now they
stared blankly at the ceiling fan spinning in slow methodic circles. I
looked down at the blood on my hands. His blood. Damnit! He deserved it,
didn't he? It was him or me. I calmly got up from the chair holding my
bloodied white blouse together to cover my nakedness and called 911.
Valerie P. Rella
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