#/he thinks its quite funky that they can mimick colors just like that

[hiruinonai]

    ❝ I think chameleons are quite cute ❞

[writers-clique]

Heartless

This is a horror short story I wrote. It’s a bit inspired by the TV show You. If you like a bit of horror, stalker, creepiness or just enjoy reading short stories from time to time, this one’s for you. Happy reading >:)

Heartless

I have been waiting for five years to return it. The fist-sized box sitting neatly in the passenger seat next to me. Its intricate red bow matches the black leather of the container. I listen to the AC’s cacophonous rumble as I look at the endless road in front of me. Normally, I prefer to have silence during long journeys like these. I can ponder about life, the sheer cliché of how meaningless it is and how unimportant each person is, no matter what their mothers, teachers or other equally unimportant individuals have told them before. But alas, the scorching desert sun is too powerful for the little heart inside my box so I turn up the cold air and try to ignore it.

At this point, you may be wondering if you read that last line correctly or you may have missed that specific minor detail entirely, doesn’t matter. Jhona is the only one who has to see it, right there on his kitchen counter, in all its veiny glory. It will be splendid! Watching the color drain from his face the way Mia’s blood gushed onto the tiles. Oh, who’s Mia? She’s just the girl who stole my heart.

*********

Five years ago, a senior going into school for his last day—that’s when I met her. I was walking towards the main doors when they suddenly opened and hit me in the face.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Is your nose alright?” she said, covering her mouth and trying to hide a smile.

“Uh, yes. At least I think so.” I felt a bit of blood drip down my nostril onto my lip. It tasted delicious.

“You’re bleeding! I’m really sorry! Let me help you with that.” She snatched the books from my hands and, for a brief second, I felt her skin upon mine. Warm and tanned against my cold and pale arm.

She insisted on walking me to class, even though she didn’t have to. And whilst we walked, we talked. She turned out to be quite brilliant in ways I didn’t think someone at our school could be. She was into old literature, but wasn’t too picky, listened to good music and looked quite good as well. I knew her soul was bound to be interesting. And so, that same night after graduation, I went online and searched for “Mia Darlington”. And a darling she was. The whole of her Instagram and Tumblr was open for anyone to look at. I mean, it was like I had struck a golden mine of disposable information, all just a swipe and a tap away. That’s where I learned about a party that would be happening to celebrate the fact that half of these morons managed to scrape up enough IB points for a diploma of some sort, while the rest of us would actually succeed to some degree in life (pun intended). It would happen in a fortnight at Braden’s parents’ lake house. The whole thing would last for two days. After that she’d be mine.

In the fortnight that followed, Mia and I got closer than ever, which of course she didn’t know. I followed her around from a distance. She had quite the schedule. Guitar lessons, fitness, drawing, meditating. She had it all. Her bedroom window was conveniently positioned towards the road so my view from a bush across the street was perfect. By the time the party happened, I knew her better than she knew herself.

It had been three hours, fifty two minutes, twenty seven seconds and counting since the start of the party and she still had not arrived. I was growing rather impatient and, dare I say, worried. I decided to strike up a conversation with one of those buffoons who knew her, that way when she finally appeared, I’d have a head start for a conversation. I saw one of the guys from her Instagram. He was peculiar, but simple, one of these football goons. And yet, there he was, staring into his punch cup, looking depressed and out of place. Peculiar. I strategically placed myself near the refills and soon enough he approached. He filled the glass up to the rim with Jagermeister. Pathetic.

“Rough night?” I asked, mimicking his movements.

“Ha,” he took a swig of his drink, “you couldn’t have said that better.”

“Oh, really? Why so?”

“What do you care man? Who are you?” he drunkenly yelled and stumbled forward.

This would be harder than previously imagined. “Look, I’m sympathising with you. This party sucks.”

“It wouldn’t suck if . . . if she was here.” He whispered that last part, but I was closer than his drunk mind let him know.

Just then, his phone rang. The picture was of Mia, one I hadn’t seen before which was once more peculiar. I had gathered pretty much every picture of her, down to the ones she was too small to remember. At this point, he started muttering things to himself, obviously in no state to speak to her. That’s when the dots connected and I decided to use this particular lamentable moment of his to my benefit.

“Hi, who’s this?” I picked up the phone. I decided to play dumb and let her fall for me, believing it was her choice.

“Umm, I could ask you the same thing. Where’s Judah?” She didn’t sound pleased and the fact she didn’t recognize my voice admittedly hurt me.

“He- he’s having a bit of a rough night. It’s Adgar speaking by the way.”

“Adgar? Oh, wait aren’t you that guy I smacked into two weeks ago? I didn’t know you were friends with Judah.”

“Well, you don’t know a lot of things about me.” I thought that was a good line, so I made my voice husky at the end. I imagine that’s what James Bond would do.

She laughed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“So umm, how come you’re not at the party?

“How did you know I was going there?” Suspicion slipped into her voice.

Crap, think Adgar, think you idiot.

“Oh, well Judah’s been crying that you haven’t come all night, so I figured you were going to come originally.” I tried to inject a smile into my voice the way some people do. It worked.

“He has? Well, doesn’t matter. I’m almost there so since you’re taking care of him I trust he’ll be OK.” She sounded distant and didn’t even let me reply before she hung up. That annoyed me.

I looked back for Judah, except he wasn’t there. Great, now I had to babysit a drunk blockhead instead of preparing for Mia. The plan was to find him and then tie him up somewhere in the woods where he wouldn’t cause any trouble. Finding him turned out to be easy. All I had to do was go for a leak, and there he was lying on the bathroom floor in his vomit.

Now how would I get him out without causing involuntary attention? The answer came from a shout of ��CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” downstairs. That’s right, his equally stupid drunk friends wouldn’t remember a thing either, and they were loyal to him, like a golden retriever to its owner. All I had to do was spin a little white lie about the “unimaginable awesomeness” of them pulling the “greatest trick” in party history - tying Judah to a tree whilst he’s unconscious. I mean, it was honestly laughable how easily they agreed. Good thing they were drunk.

It took three of them to carry him downstairs and into the forest. I mean, I didn’t even touched him. All of the evidence pointed to them. They were so wasted they didn’t notice me drifting back to the house, leaving them in the darkness.

By the time I came back, Mia was there. She was something to see. In her own world. Dancing along to whatever indie song they had put on, drink in one hand. She looked like she’d floated down straight from heaven. A beautiful gift just for me, all wrapped up in a tight red dress, beach curls slightly bobbing up and down.

Now the hardest part was approaching; I had to approach her. I decided to rip that bandaid straight off and just went for it. Confidence after all, is key.

“Hey, you’re the girl who smacked me in the face.” I tried the James Bond voice again.

“Hey, you’re the guy I smacked in the face.” She smiled.

Good, that’s good. Smiling is always a positive thing.

“Care for a refill?” I reached towards her cup.

“Yeah, sure.”

Like taking candy from a baby. People reading this, I’m going to give you a pro tip. Never. Ever. Give your glass to someone you don’t know at a party, bar or wherever. They may just put something funky in there. Sad thing really, she’ll never get to read this.

I had prepared an excuse just in case anyone was to give me trouble: “Oh she was just so tired, poor thing fell asleep.” But, as predicted, they were all too drunk and too self absorbed to notice. She was a bit heavy I must admit, heavier than I imagined. Of course, though, she fit perfectly into the trunk of my car. I was not staying for the remainder of this party and neither was she. What happened next was a two hour long, silence filled car ride in which every speed bump I hit I worried about her. I mean, I loved her. If she got even a single bruise, I swore not to forgive myself.

Once we had arrived home, I placed her in the basement where she would be staying until I knew that her love for me was eternal. I had already prepared the room: soundproof door, mattress, chains on the wall. I laid her down gently and put on her shackles, then I sat on a chair and waited. Waited for her to wake up and for our souls to connect, our love so powerful.

As you may have guessed already, that did not happen. What ended up happening was an intense conversation and double murder.

“Wh-where am I,” she muttered sitting up.

“You’re home,” I smiled. I wanted to reassure her.

“Home? I’m not home! You-you took me here! Why am I chained up? Somebody help, help!” She started screaming. Shaking. Tugging at the chains. Going rabid.

“Now, now. There’s no need for that. No one can hear you anyway.” The effect of my words didn’t convey what I wanted, as she didn’t calm down and become rational, but started throwing herself on the floor, sobbing and yelling harder than before. I decided to give her some time.

One day later, as predicted, she had calmed down. She was also starving and I used that to my advantage, as I did with many things. I brought her a plate of her favorite food - seafood paella - which I’d learned to make specifically for her. She took the plate and started gorging on the warm food. I found that curiously arousing.

“So you’re ready to talk like humans?” I tried a smile, but her cold stare disapproved.

“You’re no human! You’re an animal.” Rice grains fell out of her mouth as she yelled, and I couldn’t help but point out the irony by raising an eyebrow. Once more my humor was not appreciated.

“Let me go! What do you even want from me, you nutcase!?”

“I’m glad you asked me. See, Mia, darling, I love you, and I know that if you give me a chance, you’ll love me too.” I said that with what I thought was my most convincing and confident smile, and yet her eyes widened and her eyebrows formed an angry looking V on her usually beautiful face, turning it into something quite displeasing.

“I. Will. Never. Ever. Love. You!” She threw the plate at the wall, smashing it. The meal splattered on the ground.

“I don’t think I like your tone.”

“I don’t care what you like! I hate you! I only love Judah!”

“Silence! I will NOT let myself believe these lies you are utterring!”

“They’re not lies! I will never love you. Judah is the only person I’ve ever truly loved.”

There it was. The first murder. She plunged deep with her nails into my chest and stole my heart. Devoured it even! For the next several days, she tried everything to escape and I tried meaninglessly to make her mine, but she would not have it. And on top of that, her phone would not stop buzzing with messages from her family, friends and, irritably, Judah. I was losing hope as all she would talk about was Judah. That’s when I finally realized she had destroyed my heart, absolutely pulverized it. No more of that. An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart.

I think she knew the end was coming the moment I walked into the basement. The dark gloves probably gave my intentions away. I decided I didn’t wish to waste any more of my time. I advanced towards her, wordlessly. Silence was the way I liked to do these things. Just like a car ride, slow and enjoyable. She once again started one of her intense screaming sessions. A wailing, powerless shriek. Left on the front door of Mr. Death. At his mercy.

I smacked her into unconsciousness and dragged her towards the bathroom. No blood would be spilled in my basement. Once in the bathroom I decided on a barbaric sort of death for her, the way she killed my heart. I gently opened the toilet lid and placed her head on the seat. What followed was an intense upper body workout resulting in a broken toilet lid and smashed skull. I sprinkled the little bone fragments into the toilet bowl and flushed. I had decided on selling what was left of her on the dark web.  Everything except her heart. You see I needed it. Heart transplants aren’t cheap and since she was the one who’d stolen mine it was only fair she gave one back.

So now that you’re all caught up, let’s go back to present times. I have recently met a girl, even better than Mia. She’s given me back my heart in ways I could never have imagined. We met a week ago. She dropped her purse and I gave it back to her. Her knight in shining armor. I love her. I no longer need Mia’s heart, but I know someone who does.

Coincidentally, once people knew Mia was not coming back, Judah fell into depression. Or at least that’s the theory. Supposedly, he got back from the party, but he didn’t really get back. He left poor innocent Judah behind. He was going to be a football player at some top university but now he spends his days drinking away whatever life is left inside of him and scaring the kids in our little old town.

So I’m giving him a present. Something he’ll cherish and remember forever.

I hope you appreciate this, Judah. I know how much you loved her with all your dying heart.

Love, Adgar.