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