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wiltingredroses · 5 months ago

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Venomous: An Extreme Horror Novella Chapter 4: Daugherty Farm: Part 1

This chapter got too long so I had to split it in two. This is actually Chapter 4: Part: 1. The adult adventures of Maeve and Evelyn will continue in Chapter 5. Until then, enjoy this wholesome detour where everything is fine and nothing bad happens at all!

Evelyn and I stand outside of a convenience store, counting what little cash we have left. We have gone almost three days without eating at this point, forgoing food in favor of filling up the truck. We had befriended a group of people back in Minneapolis, one of whom told us about an uncle that lived on a farm in Oklahoma. He said that he'd be happy to let us stay, and even pay us to work for him. Being in pretty desperate need of money, we eagerly accepted the offer. The money Shane gave us lasted us about three months due to my aggressive budgeting. We pulled the lost girls con many times, which worked more often than not. Evelyn was good at finding a couch to sleep on whenever that failed. Worst case scenario, we could always find a cheap motel somewhere. Now, we've found ourselves with five dollars to our name, which we can't afford to spend on anything but gas.

We have become desperate. The hunger pangs are so intense we can't sleep anymore. We need something, anything, to keep us going until we get to Oklahoma. We've done our best to refrain from committing crimes thus far, if only to prevent an encounter with the police. It looks like that is about to change.

“Okay, you distract the clerk. I'll grab what I can.” She says. That's all there is to it. Nothing too complicated. She won't need long, anyway. All I have to do is give her a minute or two.

“Alright, let's do this.” I say. The bell above the door dings as we step inside. Evelyn hurries into a nearby isle before the clerk can spot her. The apathetic long-haired boy lifts his head just as she disappears from view, before his attention drifts back to the comic book in front of him. I smile my friendliest smile as I walk up to the counter. It's just him, as far as I can tell. No other customers either. This should be easy.

“Hello!” I greet the bored-looking clerk behind the counter. He looks up, disinterested.

“Hi. Can I help you?” He asks with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

“Oh, well, I'm a little bit lost. I was wondering if you could give me directions?” I ask.

“Don't you mean “we're a little bit lost”?” He asks.

“I'm not sure what you-”

“The girl that came in with you, that's your friend right?”

“I'm not sure-”

“The girl currently stuffing potato chips into her backpack? That ring a bell?” He asks. I panic, immediately trying to think of an exit strategy. How did he even notice? He barely spared us a glance when we walked in.

“Lucky guess.” He says, noticing the panic in my eyes.

“Look, I don't care. They don't pay me enough to. You two are homeless, right?” He continues.

I nod.

“Take whatever you want. I'm not a nark.” He says and returns to his comic once again.

“Really?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yeah. Really.”

I look up at the surveillance camera on the ceiling. Even if he doesn't stop us, we'll still be caught.

“Doesn't work. Don't worry about it.”

I stare at him for a few more moments before turning and beginning to search for Evelyn. I find her towards the back, stuffing granola bars into a backpack. She looks up as I approach.

“What are you doing? You're supposed to be distracting the clerk!”

“He knows what we're doing. He doesn't care.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well, shit, help me out then!”

Quickly, we fill our bag as much as we can. I keep glancing at the guy behind the counter, just to be sure he doesn't call the police while we're not looking. He doesn't move the entire time, except to flip a page. As soon as we have taken as much stuff as we can carry, we hurry out the front door. I climb into the passenger's seat with our stolen goods and Evelyn peels out of the parking lot. Regardless of what the clerk said, we aren't going to stick around to get caught.

We drive for a while before pulling into an empty field. Seeing as this is going to be where we are staying for the night, we do our best to make the bed of the truck comfortable. Thankfully we have a few pillows and blankets with us to help. Once we have semi-successfully cushioned the truck bed, we empty out our bag to see what we made off with. There wasn't a whole lot of logic when it came to what we took. We were just blindly grabbing and stuffing whatever looked passable into the bag. Thankfully, we have plenty to get us to Oklahoma without having to ration it out.

We immediately begin stuffing our faces. I'm halfway through my second candy bar when Evelyn stops me.

“Slow down, bunny. You're going to make yourself sick.” She pulls a bag of trail mix out of the pile and hands it to me.

“Eat this. You need something with actual nutrition.” She says before returning to her protein bar.

Once our stomachs are satisfied, we try to get comfortable. I lay next to Evelyn underneath a blanket, but I can't seem to relax.

“What's wrong?” She asks.

“I feel exposed being in a wide open space like this. What if someone finds us? We're probably trespassing.”

“Then you sleep and I'll keep watch. We'll take shifts, okay?” She says. I would feel guilty having her take the first shift. She's probably far more tired than me, seeing as I'm not the one driving.

“You sleep first.” I say.

“Yeah, and have you fall asleep on me? I don't think so. Shut up and sleep.” She says, tossing a pillow at my face. I don't bother to argue further. Once she's made up her mind, there's no convincing her otherwise.

I don't know how long I manage to sleep before I am awoken by raindrops falling onto my face. I look over to see Evelyn hastily packing up our stuff.

“Of course.” I mutter under my breath.

“Looks like we're spending the night inside the truck.” Evelyn says.

Together, we gather our stuff and cover it with a tarp to protect it from the rain. By the time we climb back into the truck, we are dripping wet and freezing. We try to get some sleep, unconcerned with being confronted by any strangers now that we are safely locked inside. Neither of us manage to sleep for very long considering the uncomfortable position we found ourselves in. With the promise of a roof over our heads waiting for us in Oklahoma, we waste no time getting back on the road first thing in the morning.

It takes us another two days to reach our destination. We get very little sleep as the rain seems to follow us, forcing us to sleep in the cramped conditions of Evelyn's truck. When we finally drive up the dirt driveway to the farmhouse we are exhausted and filthy.

We spot a man on the front porch of the house. I can only assume this is the uncle we have been told about. He is younger than I expected. I doubt he is any older than forty. As we climb out of the truck, I become instantly aware of the fact that we haven't showered in about two weeks and our clothes haven't been washed in three. God only knows what is running through that man's head as we approach the house.

“Can I help you girls?” He calls out to us. I decide to take the lead for once, as Evelyn doesn't always leave a good impression on this type.

“Hello! We met your nephew about a week ago. He said you would be expecting us?” I say as we walk up the front steps. Recognition falls over his face almost immediately.

“Why, you must be Maeve and Evelyn! I was starting to think you were a couple of no-shows!” He says, practically jumping to his feet in excitement. He hurries over to us, grabbing my hands and shaking them enthusiastically before doing the same to Evelyn.

“Come in, come in!” He says as he pushes us into the house. The inside is about what I expected. The décor seems to have been pulled straight out of the 1940's, which tells me that he probably inherited it from an elderly relative. I don't see anything resembling modern technology other than an ancient radio perched on a side table. The air is musty and stale like the room had sat empty for a decade before we arrived. Despite this, the room is remarkably clean. While a bit cluttered with relics of the past, I don't see a speck of dust of dirt. You would expect a farmer's home to be a little dirty. I would assume it is simply an unavoidable result of the profession.

“As excited as I am to give you the full tour, I think you girls are in desperate need of a bath and a meal first.” He says. We glance at each other briefly. Our faces are dirty and our hair is slick with grease while our clothes are stained and torn. I'm sure that our combined stench is overwhelmingly foul, but we've long grown blind to it. We've found that people are increasingly unkind the more homeless you appear. So many people were happy to help us when we were well-kept and nicely dressed, but that help soon dried up when it became obvious that we were not prim and proper girls that just happened to take a wrong turn somewhere.

“That would be appreciated, thank you.”

The man shows us to our room where we drop off our meager belongings. We learn that his name is Wayne Daugherty, and that he inherited this farm from his great aunt and uncle about a decade ago. After we properly introduce ourselves, he hands us each a stack of clothes and points me towards the bathroom just down the hall. He then goes to show Evelyn the second bathroom upstairs, leaving me by myself.

I enter the bathroom and set the clothes down on a nearby stool. Much like the rest of the house, the bathroom features are quite old and outdated. There's no shower, just a slightly elevated clawfoot bathtub in the middle of the room. I let the water run while I get undressed, inspecting my clothes as I do so. It used to be my favorite dress, having been a Christmas gift from my aunt. The once mint green dress had turned brownish after not being washed for as long as it had. It was covered in rips and tears and missing a button or two. I clutched it for a moment, sighed, and tossed it into the waste bin.

I test the water before stepping into the tub. It feels weird to be taking an actual bath for the first time since leaving home. Evelyn and I have become used to doing things as quickly as possible, never slowing down long enough to do something as simple as having a bath. These days it's mostly truck stop showers and skinny dipping in rivers. Every once in awhile Evelyn and I can sweet talk some horny guy into using his shower before leaving him high and dry. The hot water is comforting, like an all-consuming hug. The aches and pains from weeks of poor sleeping conditions are relieved almost instantly.

I scrub down every inch of my body, not leaving a single crevice untouched. I wash my hair with probably three times the amount of shampoo required, watching as the water turns a disturbing brownish color as I do so. Suddenly disgusted by the realization that I am sitting in my own filth, I rinse myself off and get out of the tub.

I grab a towel from a nearby shelf and press my face into it for a moment. It's a pure, clean white color and doesn't smell like mildew. I bet this guy actually washes them more than once every three months. I dry myself off and start going through the pile of clothes. They consist of a yellow short-sleeve t-shirt and denim overall shorts. They certainly aren't my style, but they are my size weirdly enough. I get dressed and look at myself in the full length mirror in the corner of the bathroom. I can't help but wonder why he just had this stuff sitting around. In the moment though, I can't find it in me to care all that much. I'm just content to not look a Victorian street urchin anymore.

I leave the bathroom and return to the room we'll be staying in to find Evelyn is sitting on the bed, waiting for me. I almost don't recognize her dressed in bell-bottom denim jeans and flannel.

“How goes it, cowgirl?” She asks with a smirk. I laugh. We barely resemble ourselves dressed the way we are.

“You're missing a vital part of the look, though. C'mere.” She says, gesturing to the spot on the floor in front of her. I have many questions, but in lieu of asking them, I give into her request without a fight. I sit on the ground, my head resting between her knees. She grabs strands of my hair and begins braiding it.

“How do you even know how to do that?” I ask.

“I was in just as many braiding circles in scouts as you were. Now sit still.” She replies.

Eventually, she decides that she is done and allows me to stand up. I walk to the mirror and admire her look. She had tied my hair in a loose braid that hung over my shoulder, fully completing the farmer girl look. Honestly, it kind of works.

“You like it?” Evelyn asks, draping herself over my shoulder.

“I love it.” I reply. She leans in for a kiss and I happily accept. A knock at the door startles us and she jumps back.

“Dinner's ready, girls! Come down to the dining room when you're ready.” Mr. Daugherty calls through the door. We look at each other. We are absolutely desperate for actual food. I don't know how good this guy's cooking skills are, but I'll take unseasoned potatoes and tough overcooked meat over another convenience store snack. If I eat another potato chip I might actually die on the spot.

We eagerly head downstairs to the dining room to find Mr. Daugherty seated at the table. He gestures for us to sit and we do so. Noises in the kitchen imply there is another person living in the house. Just a few moments later, a girl emerges from the kitchen, carry a tray. She looks to be around our age, if maybe a year or two older. She's a tall, skinny girl in a simple blue cotton dress underneath an apron. For a moment I think I've found an answer as to why Mr. Daugherty has girl's clothing on hand, but I quickly realize that we are not the same size at all. She does not make eye contact with us, simply looking forward with a vacant stare.

“Evelyn, Maeve, this is my daughter Mabel.” He says, introducing us.

“Hello!” I say with a wave. Endearing ourselves to the homeowner's daughter is probably the smart move if we wish to stay longer than a few days. I don't know about Evelyn, but I'm not particularly eager to hop back into the truck after the last few weeks we've had.

Mabel does not respond, however. She simply places the tray onto the table and begins handing out our portions. Her gaze is unwavering and for a second I wonder if she can hear or see us at all.

“You'll have to excuse my daughter. She's been a mute since birth.” He says dismissively. After everyone has been served, she grabs the tray and retreats back into the kitchen before returning a few moments later. As much as I want to dive into the bowl of stew and devour it like a feral dog, I manage to restrain myself out of politeness. Evelyn does too, but only because I shoot her a look. Once everyone is at the table, Mr. Daugherty says grace while Evelyn and I pretend to go along with it, sitting awkwardly in silence while shooting each other uncomfortable glances. I sneak a peak at Mabel once, only to catch her piercing eyes staring back at me, forcibly diverting my attention back down to my hands.

Finally, after what seems like forever, we are allowed to eat. I try to maintain an air of courtesy and grace, but the second the taste of food hits my tongue I begin shoveling it down like I'll never eat again. I can't help but feel slightly embarrassed at how quickly I manage to wolf it down. This is somewhat alleviated when I glance at Evelyn to find she had finished long before I had.

“Well that's about the highest compliment you can give a cook, isn't it, Mabel?” He says. Mabel looks at him and nods, acknowledging that she was spoken to for the first time since we've met her.

With my hunger now sated, I decide it's probably a good idea to start asking questions about this strange man and his farm. Inviting teenagers that you've never met to come stay at your farm several states away is a bit... suspect... to say the least.

“So, have you had guests like us before?” I ask, trying to hide my skepticism.

“Oh, many times! I help young people like yourselves whenever I get the chance. If you take a look at the pictures on the walls, you'll see my many, many success stories.” He explains.

“Success stories?” Evelyn asks.

“The ones that are able to get their act together and learn skills that will help them get out the situation they've found themselves in. I don't turn anyone away; whether they be addicts, unwed mothers, prostitutes, runaways, or some combination of the four. Hell, I adopted Mabel as my own so that her mother could get a college education without having a child to worry about.” He says. I find it odd that he talks so openly about the circumstances of Mabel's adoption in front of her, to complete strangers nonetheless, but she doesn't seem to care.

“What about the not-so-successful ones?” I ask, curiously.

“Usually they just up and leave in the middle of the night. As much as it pains me, sometimes I have to ask them to leave if I feel they're making a negative impact on the others.” He says.

“But I never get discouraged! No matter how many refuse my helping hand and go back to their old ways. That's why everyone I know has my permission to send me any strays that cross their path.” Mr. Daugherty says with pride in his voice.

“Sorry to change the subject, but exactly is it that we'll be doing here?” Evelyn asks.

“Oh, just helping me out around the farm. Nothing two strong-willed girls can't handle. Maeve, you seem like the more domestic one out of the two of you, so you'll mostly be inside helping Mabel out around the house. Evelyn, you'll be working outside with me. Does that sound okay to you? If not, you can just stay here for the night and be on your way tomorrow, but I won't have any freeloaders just laying about.” He says.

Evelyn and I look at each other. We don't really need to discuss it. At this point we'll do just about anything to have a bed for the night. When we get bored of it, we'll leave, just like we always do.

“Yes, of course. Whatever you need from us.” I respond.

“Wonderful, just wonderful! Now, you two seem like you're in great need of a rest, so you two can sleep in tomorrow and we won't get started until the day after.”

Evelyn and I exchange glances once again. A real bed, in a real house, that's clean and pest free, plus free food and a salary? We really owe that guy back in Minneapolis big time. Come to think of it, I should really give him a call tomorrow to thank him.

This could be good for us, being able to live normal lives again, even if just for a little while, before we move on to our next adventure.

#creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing #extreme horror #horror #venomous #lgbtq

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wiltingredroses · 5 months ago

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I've convinced myself that finishing my current writing project is the key to finally getting back to my other works.

Now I'm in a race to finish it before I completely lose interest and it becomes the latest victim of my withering attention span and joins the graveyard of abandoned writing projects.

Surely this will end well!

#creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr

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wiltingredroses · 5 months ago

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Venomous: An Extreme Horror Novella Chapter 3: Depraved

Warning: The story ramps up considerably in terms of explicit content from here on out. This chapter in particular contains graphic depictions of torture, sexual violence, and death. This is where the "extreme" part of extreme horror comes in. Proceed with caution, and don't say I didn't warn you.

I sit atop my suitcase outside the garage. The previous night had been blissfully uneventful. We spent the past twenty-two hours shut inside a shitty motel room, watching garbage television until our brains had started to rot. The place was a huge downgrade from our previous accommodations. Thankfully, while outdated and dingy, the room appeared to be free of pests and mold, which is more than could be said about some of the places we've stayed in in the past.

There is nowhere to go in a town like this, thus nowhere for Evelyn to find a victim. Besides, I had reminded her that we need to keep a low profile until we are no longer driving a truck that is easily identifiable as belonging to a murder victim.

A truck pulls out of the garage and drives up next to me. The blue paint underneath had been hastily- and poorly- covered up alongside some other superficial aesthetic changes. Most importantly, the license plate had been swapped. We will still need to get rid of it at the first opportunity, but it should get us to the nearest city without arising suspicion.

"Hey pretty lady. You wanna go for a ride?" Evelyn calls out from the window, honking the horn as she does so.

I roll my eyes at her antics.

"Shut up and help me load the truck."

Just like that, we're on the road again with all of our worldly possessions in the back of the truck. One of the things I've grown to hate most about our lifestyle is how light we have to travel. I have three dresses, one pajama set, and two pairs of shoes in my bag. It's all I can afford to carry, given how we might have to pack up and skip town at any given moment. It would be nice to have a safe house of some kind, just so we have somewhere to put our things instead of tossing them when the load gets too heavy. Just, somewhere, anywhere, that we could return to.

I glance at Evelyn. She doesn't have a care in the world. She never does.

Just over two hours later we find ourselves seated at the end of a hotel bar. It had taken a considerable amount of makeup to make myself presentable enough to be seen by the general public. I'm nursing my fruity pink cocktail while Evelyn downs her third vodka and Redbull. I can't help but wonder if we can really do this forever. Evelyn could. I'm sure of that. What about me though? I find myself feeling perpetually exhausted these days. We never seem to stop long enough for me to fully rest. Our lives are nothing but murder, mayhem, partying and running. Is a relaxing day at the beach too much to ask for? Well, night at the beach anyway.

“Maeve, are you even listening?” I snap out of my thoughts and realize Evelyn has been having a one-sided conversation while I've been in my own little world.

“Sorry, I'm just tired. What were you saying?”

“That couple over there has been checking us out since we got here.” She says, tilting her head towards the pair at the other end of the bar. I look over just in time to catch the woman's eyes. She smiles and gives me a little wave before whispering to her partner. Evelyn leans in close, pulling down her sunglasses as she does so.

“So... how about it?”

“There's no way you're thirsty already.”

“This one will just be for fun.”

“It's too risky. The hotel staff will be able to identify us.”

“C'mon. We're in disguise, paid in cash, and used fake Ids. They'll have nothing to go on.”

Before I can voice any more concerns, the couple begins to approach us. I guess this is happening after all, regardless of my input. It seems that one night without bloodshed is asking too much.

“Good evening ladies. My wife and I couldn't help but notice you two across the bar. Do you mind if we buy you a drink?” The man asks.

I look the two of them over, cautiously. They aren't bad looking, especially by swinger standards. The woman appears to be in her mid thirties while the man is a few years older. They are both in good shape, clearly having found time to hit the gym. She has long, straight blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail. She wears a little black dress and strappy black heels. He has brown hair that is in the early stages of graying. He wears an expensive looking suit and an even more expensive looking watch. It looks like we hit the jackpot with these two. If nothing else, this would guarantee us financial security for the foreseeable future.

Evelyn grins at me before turning to the couple.

“Not at all.”

Several drinks later, the four of us stumble into the couple's hotel room. We had not bothered to learn each other's names. Evelyn and the wife are already all over each other. They fall back onto the bed, their hands exploring each other's bodies. The husband takes a seat on the coach opposite the bed, too occupied with watching them to pay me any mind.

I stand awkwardly by the door, uncertain of what to do. I've never been very good at this part. I really wish Evelyn had taken the husband instead. I know my way around women fairly well, but I always feel uncomfortable in the presence of men.

To my great displeasure, the man catches my eye and beckons me over. I gather myself. I shove down all feelings anxiety, save for a little bit. I have to look a little nervous to make my part convincing. We both have a role to play. Evelyn is the confident, aggressive one. She's done this so many times before she's lost count. I'm the timid, inexperienced one. I've never done anything like this before.

I walk over to join the man on the couch. Before I can sit down, the man wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap. I seize up at the sudden invasion of my personal space. The man either does not notice or does not care. Before I can speak, he places his mouth on mine, silencing any protests I might have. His hand travels to my backside and grips it forcefully. I am not enjoying this. Every touch makes me feel dirty. With every fiber of my being I want it to stop.

He removes his mouth and I have a moment of reprieve. That is, until his teeth graze my collarbone. Panicked, I look over to Evelyn. She doesn't seem to notice my plight, completely engrossed in her prey. I would be jealous if I didn't know what was coming. He bites down, hard. I lose my composure.

“Ow! Stop!” I shout as I attempt to pull away. Evelyn finally looks up.

“I don't think my friend is having fun.” She says. Her words are calm, but I can see the fury in her eyes. The man lets go of me.

“Too bad for her.” He replies. In one swift motion, I find myself lying on my back with the man looming over me. Again, I try to wriggle my way out of his grasp. He pins my wrists above my head with one hand, while the other digs into his pocket. His large hand holds my wrists in place with ease. No amount of struggling will make him budge. I try, regardless, but he only holds them tighter. It is then that I notice what he pulled out of his pocket.

A knife. A small one, but a knife nonetheless. It dawns on me that this encounter was never meant to be consensual. I look to Evelyn, begging her to skip to the end already. She however, just watches. She watches the man in the same manner that he watched the two of them. She almost seems to enjoy it. The women grins. She's in on this too. They've done this before, maybe as many times as we have.

“Now, this isn't going to be fun for you, but if you behave like good little girls you'll make it out of this alive. Which one of you wants to go first?” The man says, twirling the knife in his hand.

“Well, isn't this an interesting turn of events? I'm sorry to say, but you've picked the wrong victims this time. You'll be nothing but a pair of rotting corpses by morning.” Evelyn purrs. Before the man can even register the threat, she has her fangs deep into his wife's neck. She drops onto the bed, alive but unable to move.

“Vanessa? Vanessa! What did you do to her?” He shouts, releasing my wrists and leaping off the couch. The knife in his hand does little to protect him as he meets the same fate. Evelyn looks more excited than I've seen her in a long while. “Oh I knew this was going to be fun.”

It has been several hours since Evelyn had overpowered the couple. We have since tied them up and raided their room. I was right. We hit the mother lode with these two. I wanted to kill them and be done with it, but Evelyn wants them wide awake for what she has planned for them. We have occupied ourselves with emptying the mini bar while waiting for the venom to wear off. It's not like it's going on our bill, after all.

She is lying next to the woman on the bed, while I sit in the armchair in the corner, seething. Evelyn is so eager for what is to come that she didn't seem to notice that I am absolutely pissed. I can't believe that she allowed that man to touch me like he did. She could have put a stop to it immediately, but she was too absorbed in the foreplay to even notice. We would be having a conversation later, but right now I just want to drink myself stupid and forget what happened.

“It looks like they're finally waking up.” I say, noticing the husband had begun to stir. Evelyn sits up with a look on her face like a child on Christmas morning. She springs up off the bed and practically skips over to the couch where the husband is tied up. She grabs him by the hair and smacks him across the face.

“Wakey wakey! You don't want to sleep through the best part, do you?” She sings. His eyes snap open and he tries to say something, but the gag prevents him from doing so.

“Now, I know you like to watch, so I'm going to do your wife first.” She says. He struggles against his bindings, but it is no use. I may not be very useful when it comes to the actual killings, but my knot tying skills are top notch. Unlike Evelyn, I actually paid attention in scouts.

She returns to the woman on the bed, ignoring the man's muffled protests. She is lying on her back, tied up by her wrists and ankles. She is still out of it, but Evelyn has grown tired of waiting. She climbs on top of the wife, straddling her legs. She turns to the husband and flashes him his own knife.

“I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed your knife. It's a bit small for my taste, but it will do the trick. For this part, anyway.” He struggles some more and grunts something unintelligible. Evelyn pays him no mind, however. She takes the knife and cuts the women's dress down the middle. She rips it open, exposing her bare breasts and stomach.

She traces patterns on her skin with the knife, twisting and twirling, but not hard enough to cut. She teases the woman like this for several minutes before finally piercing the skin, making a small cut along her ribs. The wife comes to life, gasping from behind the gag. Evelyn smiles and slices her flesh again, a little deeper this time. Blood trickles onto the bedspread as the woman cries out. The husband struggles harder, more desperately in a vain attempt to rescue his wife. She makes a few more cuts, a little deeper each time. She carves something betwixt the woman's breasts, though I cannot see what it is from this angle. When she finishes, she beckons me over. I roll my eyes and reluctantly raise from my chair. I stumble slightly on my way to her, obviously far more intoxicated than I had previously thought.

A heart.

“How original.” I say, flatly.

“Grumpy tonight, are we?” She says. I narrow my eyes in response.

“Would you hurry up? It's almost four in the morning.”

“Let me have my fun. I promise this will be the last one for while. I just need to get it out of my system.” She says. I've heard that one before but, I don't bother arguing. I might as well wait this out. I'm starting to get really tired though.

Feeling a sudden wave of dizziness, I drop to my knees on the floor, resting my head on the mattress. I can see the woman's face up close now. Tears stream down her face, and I feel nothing but disgust.

The nerve of her, to cry while receiving her comeuppance, after what she and her husband had planned for us. How many young girls have come before us? I may not be a good person, but I'm better than her. Sure, we have the same role: sit idly by while our significant other commits atrocities beyond the comprehension of civilized people, but I would never allow Evelyn to that to an innocent person. Rapists are below even people as despicable as us.

Evelyn drops the knife onto the bed, having grown bored and desiring a new toy. She glances around for inspiration, until her eyes land on the husband once again. She saunters over to him. He hasn't given up yet, continuing to fight against the ropes that bind him. Her hands go to his hips and she begins undoing his belt. I raise an eyebrow. Just what is she planning?

She slips the belt out of his pants and, satisfied with her new toy, joins us back on the bed. She takes the belt and raises it above the women's body. She turns to me.

“You might want to move out of the way. I can't guarantee you won't get caught in the crossfire.” I oblige, and, too dizzy to stand up, choose to lay on the floor. I try not to think about how filthy the carpet must be as I stare up at the ceiling.

I see the belt come down. I hear the woman's muffled scream. I watch Evelyn do it again. And again. And again. Blood sprays the walls and ceiling every time she brings the belt down. The woman cries out with every strike.

“Stop being a baby. We found your stash. This is nothing compared to what you had in mind.” She chides.

An overturned suitcase lays on the floor; toys, tools, and implements spilling out. Amongst it all was a camera filled with photos of their past exploits: all young women and girls, some looking to be as young as fourteen. What we saw in those photos rivaled anything we ourselves have done before. At least Evelyn has an excuse, being a literal monster and all. These people are just sick in the head. They are the rare deserving ones.

It is quiet for a moment. Evelyn has stopped hitting her. All I can hear is a gurgling sound. I sit up, resting my head on the bed's surface once again. She has the belt wrapped around the woman's throat and is pulling it like a leash. She pulls and holds it just long enough for her to almost lose consciousness before letting go. She allows her just a few moments of relief before doing it all over again. After a few rounds of this, she once again grows bored. She picks up the man's knife once again.

“Hmm hmm hmmm...” She hums to herself as she once again raises the knife toward the woman. I wince and look away as she brings the blade to the woman's right nipple. She wails, louder and more desperate than ever. I close my eyes tight, and feel nausea building in my stomach. I don't need the visuals to be revolted. Eventually the screaming stops, replaced with hopeless sobs. I open my eyes and immediately regret it, seeing the open wounds where her nipples used to be. I put my hand to my mouth and just barely hold back the urge to vomit.

“Okay, I've just about had my fun with you. Time for the graaaand finale!” She sings, dropping the knife once again. She goes to the suitcase on the floor and digs through it for a moment.

“Aha! Now this is what I'm talking about!” She exclaims as she pulls a hunting knife the size of her forearm from the suitcase. She jumps back on the bed, eager to finish the show. She uses the knife to cut the woman's underwear from her body. It didn't show much resistance, given how little material there actually was.

I don't register what Evelyn has in mind until it is far too late. She cuts one of the ropes and raises the woman's left leg in the air, putting her delicate bits on full display. She places the knife at her vaginal opening, and before I can voice any protests, she plunges it inside. I don't even hear the woman's screams at that point. My eyes are fixed on what is happening before me, unable to look away no matter how badly I want to. She pulls the knife out. It is slick with blood. She penetrates her again, and again, rhythmically. It is slow and steady like she is making love to her, rather than killing her in the most cruel and depraved manner humanly possible. I can hear Evelyn moaning as she does so, lost in ecstasy. Blood pours from the gaping wound between her legs, thoroughly soaking the bed.

The vomit I had previously suppressed begins to find it's way back up. I stand and run to bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet in time. Bottled coffee and fruity pink cocktail spew from my mouth and splash against the porcelain. I'm suddenly grateful for not having eaten solid food since yesterday. I retch a few more times but nothing else comes out. I tune out all noise from the other room and focus on my own breathing. I lay down on the cool tile floor, praying for the room to stop spinning.

I must have passed out, as the next thing I know Evelyn is gently rousing me from my slumber. I open my eyes to see her crouched over me. Her hair is dripping wet and she is wearing different clothes than she had been before.

“It's time to move baby. The sun is coming up soon.”

She helps me to my feet. I notice the mess I had made has been cleaned up. The pinkish tan vomit that had painted the toilet has been scrubbed away. My face has been wiped clean and I notice several wet spots on my dress where puke stains had been before.

She guides me out of the bathroom and I nearly hurl again as the stench of the room hits my nostrils. The smell of blood, urine, and feces mingle together and hang in the air like a thick fog. I can't help but glimpse at her handiwork. Blood covers every inch of the room; splattered on every surface and soaked into the carpet and furniture. The woman is mercifully deceased, her legs spread wide exposing the mangled flesh that was once her genitalia. Her body is painted with purple bruises and red gashes. The man had gotten the same treatment, though thankfully I wasn't around to see it. He is bent over the arm of the couch, pants around his ankles, the same knife used to mutilate his wife sticking out of his rectum. His severed penis is now laying on the floor, leaving only a bloody stump where it had been previously. I wondered if she had finished them off, or simply left them to bleed to death while she cleaned up.

A suitcase sits by the door. I can only imagine it is stuffed with stolen items. She props open the door with her foot and picks it up with one hand, guiding me with the other. She makes sure to flip the door sign to “Do Not Disturb” before letting it shut behind us. The two of them mentioned they would be staying for several more nights, meaning housekeeping wouldn't find them for a few days at least. We will be states away by then.

I am horrified. Disgusted. It has never gone this far before. Murder and torture are one thing. That was... something else entirely. I can't say they didn't deserve it. They were equally as monstrous as Evelyn. Surely, the world is a better place without them in it. But knowing Evelyn is capable of something so depraved... sickens me. I can't even look at her.

“Careful. You never have been good at knowing your limits, have you?” Evelyn says, catching me with ease after I stumble entering the elevator. I can't believe that sweet, loving voice belongs to the same woman that raped a married couple with a hunting knife to death not even an hour prior.

I fear what the love of my life has become. I fear what I have become by enabling her. Am I really any different than that woman after all?

#creative writing #extreme horror #horror #venomous #writers on tumblr #writing #lgbtq

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wiltingredroses · 6 months ago

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Venomous: An Extreme Horror Novella Chapter 2: Runaway girls

I wake up to the morning sun shining in from the window. Fear kept me awake for most of the night. Well, that and the springs of the pull-out mattress stabbing into my back. Today is the day that we get back on the road. We have been staying with Shane, a 25 year old man that Evelyn had befriended on the internet, for the past several days. It's not as sketchy as it sounds, though. Shane is gay. They met in a chatroom a few months back. He had gone through a similar situation when he was younger and was sympathetic to our plight. He has repeatedly told us that we're welcome to stay as long as we want, but Evelyn and I are beginning to grow restless. He only lives about an hour away from our hometown, which is a bit close for comfort. Not to mention, as Evelyn pointed out, it won't look good for him if he gets caught harboring a couple of underage runaways. The last thing we want is for a good guy like him to get into trouble because of us. He's the only one to have been kind to us since we were forced out of the closet.

“You awake already, bunny?”

I roll over to see Evelyn, wide awake, staring at me.

“Yeah, I couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither.”

Our hands intertwine and we lay together in silence for a moment. Despite everything, I can't help but feel grateful for being found out. For the first time in our lives, we don't have to hide what we are. Our feelings for each other can finally be on full display, with no fear of being caught.

“Where do we go from here?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“I was thinking California.”

“That's a long way to go. We'd have to cross a whole lot of states just like this one to get there.”

“That's true, but it'd be the same for just about anywhere else. We're surrounded by bigots on all sides.”

“Well, okay. If you think it's a good idea.” I relent.

“No, no. This is our future we're talking about. If you aren't totally on board, we're not going.”

“Well, why do we have to pick? Wouldn't it be safer to keep moving?”

“So your idea is just one big road trip? Forever?” She asks, and I worry I just suggested something stupid.

“Well, at least until we turn eighteen.”

Evelyn smiles.

“I'm in.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? Fuck it, let's see what this country has to offer. We've never seen anything outside of our shitty little town. Besides, how are we supposed to settle down if we've only seen one little pocket of the whole country? Not even a good pocket at that.”

“Amen.” I say, before thinking better of it.

“No, scratch that. Religion created this whole mess in the first place.”

“Give credit where credit is due. Our families would still be assholes even without religion. It just gave them an excuse.” Evelyn says.

“That's fair. So I guess you're going to join a church now?”

“Maybe. If it involves lesbian nuns.”

We both laugh. Despite everything, we have each other. Wherever we go, we'll be just fine. Even if we end up living in a tent under an overpass, it will still be preferable than living back home, where we would undoubtedly be forbidden from seeing each other.

For the first time since we left home, excitement overshadows fear. Our future doesn't seem so scary now that we have a, admittedly vague, plan. We can go everywhere and see everything, together. No one will be able to stop us.

We pack our bags and clean up the apartment, save for Shane's bedroom and office. Once we finish, we go to the kitchen and start cooking breakfast. It's nearly noon, but that's around the time that Shane wakes up. He's a freelance programmer and doesn't answer to anyone. His schedule is whatever he wants it to be.

Considering I was brought up to be a good little housewife, I am pretty adept at household tasks. Evelyn is capable enough with guidance, but she is much more proficient in “masculine” chores. Her mother died when she was five, leaving her to be raised by a single dad. Not that he ever bothered to teach her anything. Her uncle was more of a father to her than her real dad was. He's the one that taught her everything she knows. He taught her how to drive alongside basic mechanical skills. He even left her his truck in the will. She technically only has a learners permit, but that doesn't mean a whole lot around here. Besides, Evelyn has always looked a few years older than she really is. We'll have to figure something out once we get out of hillbilly country, though. City people tend to be sticklers for that sort of thing.

Her uncle sadly passed away last year. She regrets never telling him about us. She believes he would have been the one person to accept us. I, on the other hand, believe that's probably just wishful thinking on her part. He grew up in the same town that they all did, after all.

As the last piece of french toast is stacked on the serving plate, Shane appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He face tells me he already knows today is our last day living here.

“Today's the day, huh?” He asks, his voice sounding melancholic.

“Yep.” Evelyn responds. Her words might seem curt, but it's obvious to me that she is hiding a similar feeling. We have come to enjoy each other's company in the few days we've been together. Had we been just a few years older, we would have stuck around longer.

“Well, I don't want you kids starting your journey penniless.” He approaches the kitchen table and places down an envelope. Evelyn picks it up and slides out a wad of cash.

“Shane, we can't-”

“You can. You have to, for my sake. I won't be able to sleep at night knowing you two are out there without food and a roof over your heads.” Evelyn wants to argue, but relents.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Don't mention it. Knowing that I was able to do some good in this world is enough for me.”

“Yeah okay, turn it down a notch buddy.” Evelyn says, playfully punching him in the shoulder. Shane feigns being wounded. In the short time that we've known each other, he's become like an older brother to us. Evelyn has one already, but she's never gotten along with him. Given that he's a full decade older than her, they don't exactly have a lot in common. I'm an only child, a “miracle baby” as my mother used to call me. The doctor had told them she would never be able to carry a child to term. They claimed I was a gift from god. Too bad for them, seeing as how their “gift from god” turned out to be a deviant queer.

We all sit down for breakfast. We plan on leaving as soon as we finish cleaning up the kitchen, but for now, we enjoy each other's company for the last time. We tell him about our plans.

“That sounds pretty dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than sticking around here.” Evelyn replies.

“Fair. What do you plan to do for money? What I gave you will get you started, sure, but you'll need to find a source of income.”

“Odd jobs, I figure. People that need something done aren't exactly hard to come by.” Evelyn says, pretending she's put any amount of thought into it whatsoever. Shane looks unconvinced, understandably so. I know very well that this isn't going to be an easy life.

We finish our breakfast and begin to clean up. I start collecting our plates but Evelyn shoos me away.

“We've got it. Why don't you go collect our things and set it by the door?” She says. I oblige and go to the living room to retrieve our bags. We didn't bring a whole lot with us, given that we left in hurry. We already rid ourselves of what we stole from my parents. It wasn't worth much, in the end. Most of my mother's jewelry was fake, save for a necklace she inherited from my grandmother.

I lug our bags to the front door and give the living room a once over to make sure we didn't leave anything behind. Evelyn and Shane are just finishing with the cleanup when I return to the kitchen.

“We're good to go.” I say.

“Well, I guess that's it then.” Shane says.

“Yeah.” Evelyn says. Shane pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket and hands it to her.

“Here. It's got all of my contact information. If you need anything, just let me know. Remember, you're always welcome here.”

“Thanks, Shane. We'll keep that in mind.” Evelyn says.

“Yes, thanks Shane. For everything.” A few moments pass. Nobody speaks nor moves. That is until, Shane pulls us both into a hug.

“Good luck out there, kids. It won't... can't be like this forever. Things will change. We won't always have to run and hide.” He says. I can't help but get teary eyed. Evelyn is silent, which tells me she is just as affected by his words as I am. He lets go, and I wipe my eyes while Evelyn turns away, not allowing us to see her be emotional.

“Goodbye, Shane. We'll see each other again someday.”

On our way out of town, we stop to get gas and pick up a few essentials for the road. While Evelyn fills up the truck, I decide to take a peek inside the antique store across the road just for fun. Most of the items for sale, while pretty, aren't things we have the space for. I can't exactly carry a bunch of porcelain teacups in my suitcase across the country, after all. I pause to look at a floral gold locket in a glass case near the front of the store. It's beautiful, and only costs fifteen dollars. Still, that's money we can't afford to part with right now. It's not like I need it, anyway. We counted our money in the gas station parking lot. Evelyn and I had a combined savings of $50, and we managed to get a little over $100 from selling my parent's stuff. With what Shane had given us, we have roughly $450 to our names. We need to make it last, and not spend it on stupid things. I turn away from the necklace and occupy myself with some silly looking figurines. Eventually, Evelyn catches up with me and we go on our way.

We want to cover as much ground as we can before finding a place to rest. We need to cross state lines, at least. If our parents bothered to report us missing, we could easily be recognized this close to our hometown. Evelyn drives carefully, not wanting to attract any attention. I end up dozing off pretty early on. When I wake, I find that we've traveled about 380 miles east of where we started. When darkness begins to fall, we consider where to rest for the night. We find ourselves in a small town, not much bigger than our own. We haven't passed a hotel in a long while, and this place doesn't look promising.

“Hey, I've got an idea.” She says.

“Do I even want to know?” I ask.

“Just follow my lead.”

She parks the truck in the street and climbs out. I reluctantly do the same. I follow behind her as she walks up to a nearby house. It looks like a nice little family home, with a white picket fence and toys littered across the yard. She knocks on the door, and after a few moments, a well put together woman answers. She appears to be a few years younger than my own mother, with kind, blue eyes and wavy blonde hair.

“Hello, can I help you?” She asks.

“Hi, I think we're a bit lost. Do you know the way to Pine's Bluff?” She asks, far more politely than is normal for her.

“Oh dear, you two are lost. Pine's Bluff is two and half hours northeast of here.” She answers.

“That's quite a ways away. You wouldn't happen to know where we could stay for the night, do you?” She asks, and I begin to understand where she is going with this.

“The closest hotel is about half an hour away, but it's not the kind of place a couple of nice young girls like you should be staying. Why don't you stay here for tonight? We've got a spare room and my husband won't mind.”

“Thank you so much, ma'am. That would be greatly appreciated.” Evelyn says. The woman leads us inside and calls for her husband. She explains the situation and asks him to retrieve our bags from the truck. She then shows us to the room we'll be staying in. It looks like it used to belong to a grandmother; Floral everything, from the curtains to the bedspread. The shelves were lined with dusty knick-knacks and the walls were covered with old photographs of long dead loved ones.

“There's only one bed, but I assume you won't mind. You seem like good friends, after all.” The woman says.

Evelyn and I exchange a knowing look.

“Not at all, Ma'am.” Evelyn says.

“Wonderful! Well, you two get settled in. Dinner will be ready soon.” She says before retreating back to the kitchen.

“I can't believe that worked.” I say in disbelief.

“You have got to trust me, Maeve. I know what I'm doing.”

Not long after, we find ourselves seated at the dinner table with the woman and her husband, along with their two children. We learned the woman's name is Hannah and her husband is John. Their two kids are Lily and Josh, who are currently preoccupied with making volcanoes out of their mashed potatoes. They seem like such a nice little family, much nicer than either of our own. Hannah is a far better cook than my mother, as well. She seems to understand what seasoning is, and that not all ingredients have to come from a can.

“So, what are you girls doing this far from home?” Hannah asks.

“We're on our way home from college for spring break.” I lie, effortlessly. I've been thinking up answers to any possible questions they might have since we stepped though the door.

“Is that so? Well, I'm glad you came to our door. It's dangerous out there, these days. Especially for a couple of young girls.” She says.

“We can handle ourselves just fine.” Evelyn says. Her tone of voice is noticeably annoyed. She's always hated being considered weak.

“It's a good thing we found you though. We've been on the road all day and I don't think we would make it all the way to Pine's Bluff.” I say in an attempt to divert attention away from Evelyn. My efforts prove to be successful, as they don't seem to notice her change in tone at all.

“Have any exciting plans for spring break?” Hannah asks.

“Oh, not really. We're just excited to spend time with our families again. We haven't seen them since Christmas.” I say.

“How lovely. We can only hope our children are so eager to come visit us once they're all grown up.” She says. John grunts in agreement.

Having stealthily lied our way through the conversation, we enjoy the rest of the meal in peaceful silence. After dinner, we retire to the spare room. I get ready for bed immediately, as we don't plan on sticking around long in the morning. I climb into bed while Evelyn brushes her teeth in the bathroom next door. After a few minutes she returns and gets into bed next to me. Before I can turn off the bedside lamp, she holds something out to me.

“What's this?” I ask, taking the small paper shopping bag from her hand.

“A present.” She says. I slide the contents of the bag out into my palm. It's the very floral locket I saw in the antique store earlier today.

“How did you-”

“I saw you looking at it. I bought it while you weren't paying attention.”

“Evelyn, we can't afford things like this.”

“It's just fifteen dollars! We can make it back in no time. Besides, think of how much money we saved by getting free food and a place to stay for the night.”

I realize there's no point in arguing. Besides, I really do love it. It was a really sweet gesture. No matter what kind of situation we find ourselves in, she's always thinking of me.

“Thank you. It's beautiful.”

Evelyn smiles and plants a kiss on my cheek.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

I carefully set the necklace on the bedside table and turn off the lamp. I roll over to face her, grasping her hand in mine.

“Goodnight, Evelyn.”

“Goodnight, bunny.”

#creative writing #extreme horror #horror #venomous #writers on tumblr #writing #lgbtq

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wiltingredroses · 7 months ago

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Venomous: An Extreme Horror Novella Chapter 1: House Guests

Leaving a toxic relationship is always hard.

It's even harder when you've known the person since you were in girl scouts together.

It's harder still when they are currently draining the life out of some poor bastard on the living room floor.

The man's screams had long since been reduced to low, pained moans. Now he only stares up at me pathetically, silently begging for help. Not that I would, even if I didn't fear the monster hovering over his soon-to-be corpse.

I would not be losing sleep over his death. Had we not made him our victim tonight, he would have made one of some other poor girl. I'd caught him slipping something into his date's drink at the bar earlier tonight. Thankfully, I was able to warn her in time. Her swift exit allowed the two of us to swoop in and take her place. He didn't put up much resistance. How could he complain? Two willing girls offering to take him home instead of one that he'd have to drag back to his. He had no idea what was in store for him.

She prefers girls, so do I, but men are so much easier. They'll follow you just about anywhere so long as there's a chance, no matter how small, that you will sleep with them.

I'm Maeve, and the monster masquerading as a human being is Evelyn. Or we were, at least, once upon a time. Today I am Diane, and she is Abigail. Last week, we were Chelsea and Mary Anne. Tomorrow, who knows? We concoct new identities for every town. We are Maeve and Evelyn only to each other.

Evelyn straightens up, wiping the blood from her mouth. She smiles at me in a way that tells me she wants me, here and now. The body on the floor twitches. I am unsure if he is alive or dead. She has a tendency to take her time with her food. She had been drinking him bit by bit for the past hour or so. If she likes a victim especially well, she can take days to finish them off. She must love me if that's the case. She's been draining me over the course of fifteen years.

Despite the unappealing company, the lust was mutual. She pounces on me, pinning me to the couch. One hand grabs my wrists and the other slips under my dress, trailing between my legs. She puts her mouth to my neck and bites down. She doesn't drink. She doesn't need to. The waste of human flesh growing cold on the floor will keep her sated for a while. A few days, at least. She rarely drinks from me. Only on a handful of desperate occasions has she ever needed to, and only enough to hold her over until we could find someone else. Each time she made me hold a stake to her heart for the duration, in case she found herself unable to stop. The biting was for another reason entirely, well, two really. For one, It was her way of marking her territory. She was always possessive, even when she was human. Secondly, because it felt so good.

The adrenaline rush from the kill fades in an instant as the venom from her bite takes over. It has a drug-like effect that acts as a sedative; Typically used to keep prey from running away. In large amounts, it paralyzes them. In the early days it was a necessity. I wasn't always this blase about watching my girlfriend kill people in front of me. After the first time it happened, I was overcome with anxiety twenty four seven, unable to go outside or even sleep without a significant amount of xanax. Once, during the midst of a particularly bad panic attack, she tried it on me out of pure desperation. It worked like a charm. She was more or less permanently attached to my neck for awhile. Whether it began to have long-term effects, or I just became used to the bloodshed, I'm still not sure. Either way, it is used almost exclusively for recreational purposes nowadays.

Any and all pain ceases to exist in this moment. Bad memories and trauma were forgotten. The all-consuming guilt that eats me alive every moment of every day is replaced with pure euphoria. What Evelyn is doing to me becomes nothing but background noise as my eyes roll back. A photo hanging on the wall stares back at me: a happy couple on their wedding day. They really were a beautiful couple. We hadn't known they were expecting until we discovered the half-decorated nursery, but it was far too late by then. The wife died quickly, at least: a rare act of mercy on Evelyn's part. The husband on the other hand... well, they're together now, at least.

It happened at a house party about four years ago. We had gotten into a fight and I stormed off back to our shitty motel room early. She didn't come back that night, or the next day. She finally stumbled in after dark, several shades paler with an insatiable thirst for something warm and crimson. Evelyn was the only survivor of a full-scale massacre that broke out shortly after I had left. The whole thing was a trap by the hosts themselves, luring in the local youths with the promise of booze and drugs. She never saw the monsters that turned her ever again. They changed her life forever and discarded her like trash on the side of the road.

Why did I stay, knowing my girlfriend was now an undead creature of the night that requires regular human sacrifices to sustain herself? Well, we have history. The kind of history a petty little thing like that can't even hope to overshadow. We've been friends since we were eight years old and started dating when we were in middle school. In the ass-backwards town we use to call home, this was not an accepted thing. We were outed at school pretty early on. It was hell, but it was nothing compared to what happened when the news got back to our families. My own parents were discussing the possibility of using my college fund to send me to one of those "pray the gay away" camps, whereas all Evelyn's family could spare was a black eye and a split lip. She showed up at my window a few nights later with all her worldly possessions stuffed in a duffle bag. It didn't take a whole lot of convincing for me to join her, stealing what few valuables my parents had laying around on my way out.

We spent the next several years drifting from city to city, crashing on stranger's couches, cheap motels, and occasionally in Evelyn's truck when no other options were available. We had been offered more permanent housing over the years, almost exclusively by men, but we always declined. Their offers never came from the goodness of their hearts. They would usually accept just being allowed to watch as payment for a night or two, but eventually they would want in on the action. As long as we weren't having sex with them, we could pretend what we were doing wasn't really prostitution.

It was a difficult and scary life, but we were willing to put up with it as long as we were together. Besides, what a life on the road lacked in security and comfort, it made up for in fun and excitement. We made friends with strangers in every city. Within an hour in a new place Evelyn would score an invite to a party or the address of an exclusive local night club. One of her many talents was her ability to spot a dealer within minutes of arriving. We never had much money in those days, but somehow we always had money for drugs. That was what we were fighting about that night four years ago. I voiced my worries about her developing a drug problem, but she insisted she was fine despite spending what was suppose to buy us another two nights in an motel room on coke.

Eventually, we would both turn eighteen and were no longer on the run. We tried to settle down a time or two, getting what low-paying jobs a couple of high school dropouts could get. We were still struggling, without any of the benefits we use to enjoy. We decided if we were destined to be poor, we would at least make it fun. Then, Evelyn, love of my life, became a monster. The changes were subtle at first. Then her morals shifted even further into shades of gray. She became more aggressive, and her jealousy issues reached a fever pitch. I couldn't even make eye contact with the opposite sex without her trying to lure the guy into a dark corner and draining him of his life force. Slowly she went from killing out of necessity to killing for monetary gain, and eventually, just for fun. All the while I was too strung out on vampire venom to even care. It turns out I'm a hypocrite as well as a coward.

When I was finally able to be sober for more than a hour at a time, Evelyn had already racked up a body count comparable to that of civil war battle. Still, I stayed. What other option did I have? I've never known anything else. Besides, we have the best of both worlds now, right? We're never strapped for cash now, and we don't even have to work. We get to sleep in an actual bed every night and we don't even have to worry about bedbugs and cockroaches eating us alive as we sleep.

I hope that makes my current position understandable, if not excusable. The position being lying in the bed of a married couple that is currently decomposing in the basement, while my vampire girlfriend stares lovingly at me.

"Maeve, my love, It's time to wake up." She purrs. She sits on the ground next to the bed, her head resting atop her crossed arms on the mattress.

"Already?" I groan and look at the clock on the bedside table. It is only 5:00 PM. The sun hasn't even gone down yet. It is odd for her to wake before me. She was never an early bird, even when she was alive.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome here, darling. It's time to move on."

As reluctant as I am to be on the road again, I know that she's right. It has been a week already. We had made sure to tell the couple's respective workplaces that they would be out of town due to a family emergency, but that won't be sufficient for much longer. Messages on the answering machine have begun to pile up in the past few days. Concerned friends and family members are beginning to grow suspicious. It won't belong until they start showing up to the house. It is a shame. I was really getting use to the place.

Reluctantly, I sit up in bed and glance around the room. Our stuff has been strewn haphazardly across the floor, the dresser, the bedside tables and even the lampshades. When you never stay anywhere longer than a week, you don't really get into the habit of putting things away. Evelyn kisses me gently on the cheek before standing up. She begins combing through our stuff and picking out what was hers to pack into her bags. I yawn and stretch before joining her, working as quickly as I can this soon after waking up. We are on a time crunch to find a new place to stay before dawn.

"Remember to grab anything valuable!" She says, stuffing a watch into her suitcase. I know the drill. We have done this countless times already. After I am sure I have gotten the last of my stuff from the bedroom, I empty out the jewelry box sat atop the dresser. I grab anything that looked remotely valuable before discarding the rest. I have no way of knowing if any of it is even real. Surely some of it has to be.

Together, we make quick work of the place. We have our bags packed and sitting by the front door by sundown. We were going over the place for a third and final time when we hear a knock at the door. I look at Evelyn. She gestures to a ray of light from the setting sun shining on the carpet. It's all on me.

I grab a knife from the kitchen before approaching the front door. Evelyn stands a mere few feet away, hiding in the corner. It's not often that I'm put in charge of the kill, but it is sometimes necessary. I grip the knife behind my back as I open the door a crack to see a man on the doorstep.

Please don't be a cop.

"Hello? Can I help you?" I ask. The man seems familiar. I am sure I've seen him in a few pictures around the house. He must be a relative.

"Hello, are the Stephens home? My brother hasn't been returning my calls lately. Anyone's calls, actually. His family is getting really worried about him." He said, looking me up and down. Thankfully, I have a lie locked and loaded for this exact scenario.

"He didn't tell you? They're out of town at the moment. There was some kind of emergency with his wife's family. I've been house sitting for them while they're away." I respond in my signature sugary sweet singsong voice as I open the door wider.

"And you are?" He asked, still apprehensive.

"I'm Diane. My family lives next door." I responded. I don't know why I bother with a fake name. It won't matter in a few moments. I look behind him, at the truck parked in the driveway. He came alone. Good.

"Do you want to come inside?" I ask, stepping aside. He hesitates for only a moment before walking into the house. I have no ill will against this man, but I have no other choice. I'm in far too deep to back out. If only he had arrived half an hour later, he would have lived.

I quickly shut the door behind him once he is a good distance inside. Giving him no time to assess the situation, I lunge at him. He screams bloody murder as I plunge the knife into his back, which, given that it is bloody murder, is appropriate. Before I can pull it out, he spins around and backhands me across the face, knocking me to the ground. I lie there, ears ringing, vision blurred, too dazed to react.

"What the fuck did you do to them, you crazy bitch?" He yells, reaching down and pulling me up by my hair. With his other hand, he starts to pull the knife out of his back, grunting in pain, but too determined to stop. I don't even notice Evelyn stepping out of the shadows. He raises the bloody knife and for a few seconds I genuinely believe that these will be my last moments. Alas, before he can put an end to my miserable life, he is interrupted.

He never had a chance. Evelyn sinks her teeth into him before he even registers her presence. He falls into a heap on the floor before me. He is still breathing, but unable to escape as the venom flows through his veins. I feel Evelyn's soft fingers running through my hair as she gently whispers into my ear.

"Shh, baby, it's okay. The bad man won't hurt you anymore." Her words are of little comfort. In that moment, I wish she had been slower. I deserve whatever the man would have done to me. I know that I'm not the hero of this story. Evelyn may be a monster, but I'm her willing sycophant. I will do whatever she says, for no other reason than I can't imagine a life without her.

With little effort, she picks me up off the ground and cradles me in her arms. With a gentleness you wouldn't think possible of a creature like her, she carries me to the couch. I shut my eyes tight to stop the room from spinning. I can taste blood in my mouth. After a few moments, I hear the sound of a body being dragged down a flight of stairs, a sound I have become uncomfortably familiar with. The man's muffled screams travel up from the basement. I can't even begin to imagine what she is doing to him. Considering the kinds of things she did to innocent strangers that had never so much as looked at her the wrong way, I do not want to consider the fate of the man that had raised a hand at me.

I'm not sure how long the torture lasts. Eventually, the dizziness overcomes me to the point that I pass out. When I come to, Evelyn is standing over me, covered in blood and viscera. She smiles softly and kisses my forehead.

"We have to go now, baby."

Quickly, we shower and change out of our bloody clothes, stuffing them in a bag to be disposed of later. We have no way of knowing if the neighbors heard the screams. For all we know, the police are already on their way. We throw our stuff into the man's truck and peel out of the driveway, leaving the little suburban home behind. Switching out vehicles on the regular is necessary to avoid being tracked. We'll have to abandon it as soon as we can. It won't be long until the police are looking for it.

We drive for an hour straight before stopping. We want to get a good amount of distance between us and the rotting corpses in the basement before even considering our next moves. Eventually we stop at a gas station in a particularly sketchy part of a particularly sketchy town. I stay in the truck while Evelyn goes inside. I don't want to be seen by anyone in my current state. Were anyone to come around asking questions, my battered face will stick out like a sore thumb. She is gone for a good ten minutes before climbing back in the truck and dropping a paper bag in my lap.

"I just talked to guy inside that told me where we can go to fix our truck problem."

"That's a surprise." I respond, opening up the bag to find the painkillers and half dozen bottled coffees I had requested. Evelyn has a knack for identifying the seedy types. If someone is operating outside of the law, she can spot them quicker than the most seasoned of detectives.

"There's an auto repair shop not far from here that accepts cash and doesn't ask a lot of questions." She says, ignoring my comment.

"That's one problem solved. Where are we headed after?" I ask, unscrewing the cap of one of the bottles.

"We'll have to find a place to stay for the day while they work on the truck. Next we'll head to the nearest city and sell as much of the shit we took as we can. Then, I'm thinking New Orleans."

"Yeah okay, Lestat." I scoff, taking a drink. The coffee has the viscosity of syrup and is just as sweet. It is hardly gourmet, but it will have to do.

"Careful, or I just might make my very own Louis out of you." She says. I roll my eyes at the empty threat. I pop open the pain killers a swallow a small handful.

"Since when do you read?" I ask. In the fifteen years that I've known her, I've never seen her read a book that wasn't required for school. Even then, she usually just looked up the cliffsnotes online.

"I saw the movie. Well, most of it. I fell asleep. It had a happy ending right?"

"Yeah, Louis and Lestat make up and open a bed and breakfast in Vermont. The last ten minutes are just hardcore gay sex."

"I acknowledge your sarcasm, but choose to believe you regardless."

"It's true! Well, according to the fanfic I wrote 7th grade anyway." She laughs. Her laugh is one of the precious few things about her that hasn't changed. Every time I hear it I remember once again why I ran off with her in the first place.

The shop is just minutes away. Once again, I wait in the truck as Evelyn goes to talk to the men inside. Not that I would be of any use in this situation anyway. This was her expertise. It always has been. I never would have managed on my own without her.

After only a few minutes she returns with a man following after her. I roll down the window as she approaches.

"Well?" I call out to her.

"Frank here says he can do the job - and quick." She replies. I open the truck door and hop out, keeping the bruised and bloody side of my face hidden. Evelyn helps me unload our bags, making sure we don't leave behind anything incriminating.

We watch as he gives the truck a once over. It doesn't take him long before he finishes and walks over to where we are standing, wiping grease off his hands with a rag.

"Yeah, I can have it done by tomorrow night. Assuming quality is not a concern of yours." He says.

"It is not!" Evelyn replies, tossing the keys to him. Frank catches them and nods. Without another word, he climbs into the truck and drives it into the garage.

"Where are we staying until then?" I ask.

"A buddy of Frank's is going to give us a ride to the nearest motel. It's not gonna be luxury, but it will keep me from going up in smoke in the morning." As she says this, an old rusty pickup truck pulls out from behind the building and drives up next to us.

"Get in, ladies!" A bald, grungy man wearing mud covered overalls calls out. I exchange a glance at Evelyn. I suppose we don't have much choice. We let out a collective sigh, grab our bags, and climb inside.

#writing #creative writing #horror #extreme horror #horror stories #writers on tumblr #venomous

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