She was looking at me as though she expected something. Her lips a bit parted, her chin up. The defiant glare of her eyes told me she was determined. They burned with passion and ferocity. Her right fist was clenched, her knuckles white. She looked as though she were made of ice, with a murderous face.

I didn’t know the girl. But something about her told me I was interested. Something about her made me hungry for her. There was something else, though. Something else that repulsed me, made me feel physically sick. My blood boiled with disgust and attraction at the sight of her. Her tights ripped, right up to the thighs; her child-sized skirt, glittering appealingly up at me; her fake lashes, her ruined face – full of ugly splotches, a red stain around her lips, greasy black shadows around her eyes. She was calling for me.

She was high as fuck, though surprisingly erect and sturdy. Something in her eyes enticed me. Something in her eyes made me grab her and pull her to me. I don’t know how I’d traveled across the room. I felt blank, empty, apart from the need that filled my body and my heart. A rough hand behind her long, tender neck. Another clutching at her waist.

She seemed to melt to me. As limp as a rag doll, moving her limbs like the living dead. Her leg rose around mine. Her eyes closed. Her expression vacant. She kissed me fiercely, stupidly. I ripped the tights partly from her. Her hand fumbled at my belt.

I froze. My hand drew still about the inside of her thigh.

I pushed her from me. Hard. I sent her backwards into the wall. She hit her head and fell to the ground, after making a noise somewhat resembling the whimper of a hungry puppy. I watched impatiently for a movement. Her eyes flickered open and she stared, dumbfounded, into mine. That was satisfactory. I turned back to the spot where I had seen those golden eyes, but they had gone. Those hallucinations I’m so often afflicted by. My brain, so unlike any other, working in mysterious ways. Unclear why, unclear how. Sometimes golden eyes, sometimes fucking angels in the sky.  I’m a mad man. A lunatic. A danger to society.

I hear voices in my head, telling me to come. I want to go, but I know it’s not fucking real. I know.

The End

0 comments about this story Feed