The Voice

I wake up around noon. Still a bit dizzy from the party last night, and I don’t even know how the hell I got home. But as I start getting up I notice this gorgeous woman lying in bed besides me.

“Wow – I  think – I scored big, last night”

I’m starving to death, so, trying not to wake her up, I get to the kitchen to make us something to eat.

I get to the fridge, and as I start taking out what I need, I hear a hideous female voice coming from behind me.

“Oh, hi, honey, what are you making?”

I turn around, and this goddess-like creature is approaching. I’m about to answer, but she interrupts.

“I’m dying for a coffee, do you have any?”

Wow!, that nasal, high pitched voice really got to my nerves, but not as much as her not letting me answer again and starting to search trough every single one of my drawers until she found what she was looking for.

So, I keep making us some breakfast without saying anything, trying to keep polite.

But then, she starts rambling: “So, how did you meet  Donna and Chris? Funny story, I met them back when I was in highschool and I was walking out to the bus stop and, you know I didn’t have a car back then, so, you know, I needed to take the bus…”

I can’t believe this. She is just talking, and talking and seems like she’s never going to stop. She doesn’t give any intonation, babbles and babbles in just one flat tone that is driving me crazy.

“… and he was like, ‘oh, god, what happened here?’ And I was like, ‘well you stained my dress’, and, you know, he was embarrassed, and…”

In adition, this woman must be at least 30, but she speaks like the dumbest 13 year old in the world… I’m sorry, but somebody must have putted something in my drink… she may be smokin’ hot, but there’s now way, no matter how drunk I was, that I would even think about keeping around someone so annoying for more than 30 seconds, let alone taking her home.

“… so he offered me a ride, and I was like “gee, thanks” so I got… Oh!, do you see, the coffee is ready, where are the cups?.. so I got in and…”

She starts looking through my drawers again, while she keeps babbling about what might be the most boring story I’ve ever heard. What in God’s name did I drink to think that bringing this monster here was a good idea?

“… so this girl passes us by…”

And that voice… that annoying voice..

“.. and what do you know? Their cars were side to side and they were like talking through the windows, with me in the middle, and I was like ‘please, you’re leaving me deaf’ but they kept shouting till the light changed…”

“SHUUUUUUUUUUT UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP”

I just snapped… I can’t take it anymore of that… Is not only the awful voice, is not just the fact that the story is so boring it would put you to sleep even if you where standing in the railroad tracks with the train approaching, it isn’t even the fact that I’ve heard that story like a thousand times – by the way, that’s how Donna and Chris met each other… which  means this must be that Gina they always talk about –, and it isn’t the lack of any inflection on her narration. It was everything. All of those things together with my headache, and the fact that she sounded so airheaded, were what didn’t let me keep composure. And now, in addition, she’s crying. Who would have thought a grown up woman, who surely has driven crazy a bunch of people by this time, would start crying so easily. Well… I guess I should’ve imagined.

Anyway, I just can’t stand her anymore, she’s got to stop crying. I can’t think of anything to say that will shut her up… and her cries are so loud… and maybe even more annoying – if you think that’s possible – than her incessant babbling.

So I stab her. I stab her to death. Well, is not my fault, she should’ve known better than just drive nuts someone while he’s chopping onions. Shouldn’t she?

What do I do now? I recovered my senses and I’m pretty sure now that I have to do something to get rid of the body. Although… What if anyone in the party saw us leave together? But I can’t leave her here… I can’t go to jail… She was a plague! Oh, crap, What have I done? What do I do now?

KNOCK KNOCK

Oh, sh**t. Someone’s at the door. I’ll better shut up and stand still so they think there’s nobody home.

KNOCK KNOCK

I’ll get closer and try to peek through the peephole to know who it is.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Mr. Lewis, this is the police, please open the door”.

I overhear the officer talking to the super.

“Are you sure it came from here?”

“Yes, sir, I’m sure. I heard screaming and then a lady crying and then a loud noise, like something heavy falling on the floor”

KNOCK KNOCK

“We have received complaints from the neighbors…”

I start running towards the window. My feet make loud noises when they hit the floor, damn wooden floors, so the officer hears me and smashes the door open.

“Stay here” says to the super.

He comes in, and starts following me. As I pass through the kitchen I slip in the pool of blood. He’s onto me before I can stand up.

“Sir, can you explain what happened here?”

As he says this, he’s looking at Gina’s body. Something is going on inside his head, I can tell. I see that in his eyes.

He takes his radio and cancels his call for backup – which he did while chasing me around the house – then he grabs me and cuffs me to the sink’s pipe and heads to the door.

“Sir – tells the super – everything is fine now, return to your apartment, we’ll be calling for a statement, if needed”.

Then he comes back.

“Well? What happened here?”

I don’t know what to say… Do I tell the truth? Do I make up something about waking up and finding her like that? No. That can’t be done… I haven’t even cleaned the knife… I watch TV I know they can figure it out. Oh, sh**t… They’ve got me… I’m going to jail… Oh no! I think I’m going to cry.

I spill out my guts to the officer, I tell him everything. He must think I’m nuts or something because he looks at me with a weird grin in his face.

“Here’s what we are going to do, sir. We are going to seal this room and then you’re going to come and take a ride with me.

I sense something strange in going on, and then again, I’m so freaked out it just might be my imagination.

So, I’m now cuffed into my bedroom while he seals the room – whatever the hell that means – until he finishes.

He comes back, after a long while – It seemed like hours to me – with his hands wet.

“Ok, sir, we’re ready to go”.

He cuffs me again, hands on front, and puts a jacket over my hands. I’m thinking how weird this is as he gets me through the back door of the patrol. No partner, no radio report neither before, nor after he starts the car.

A few blocks away from home, he starts talking to me again. Still with that strange grin in his mouth.

“So, Mr. Lewis, What is your name, again? Mark, isn’t it? Well, Mark, Can you tell me again what was it that made you kill that woman?”

“I really don’t know, officer, she was just driving me crazy, She was just…”

“Oh, that Gina – he interrupted me – she had it coming”.

I never told him her name, and she was only wearing one of my shirts when I stabbed her. Her clothes were in the room with me when he "sealed" the kitchen so…How did he know her name?

“So, did you know her, officer?”

“Well, Mark, if you think one morning with her is enough to cut her throath away, you should try spending three years of your life hearing that incessant yapping again, and again and again”.

We got to a deserted alley. Now I’m literally sh***ting my pants. He gets out the door and opens mine and literally drags me out while I cry for him to let me live, but he reaches for the cuffs and takes them off.

“Be quiet and listen to me – he said – it would have been the easiest thing to do to take you to the station and get this over with, but I kind of like you. God knows I know how annoying that woman can be, and how many times I thought about finishing her myself”.

“I… I’m not following”.

“Well, you just saved me my house, my car and half my yearly income. Now, if it was only for that, I would let you rot in jail… but since I don’t ever have to see or hear her again, I’m helping you out”.

Either I’m having a very weird dream, or I’m one of the luckiest murderers in the world.

“Ok… as you should imagine, you will be suspect #1, so I made sure your home was CSI-proof”.

While he was saying that, a second car arrived. And a huge guy got out of it.

“Hey, Bill, what’s up? Is this the guy?”, said to the officer, while pointing at me.

“Yes it is”

“How come this whimp could do what I didn’t have the ba**s to do?”

“I don’t know… and he didn’t have to marry her to get fed up with her either. – then, turning to me – Mark, this is Rob, Gina’s first husband, he’s going to thank you for getting rid of her by helping us out – he turned to Rob again – So, anyone saw you?”.

“Piece o’ cake, no one saw anything”.

“Ok, then, I’ll leave you two ladies alone, I’ve got a report to fill and a lot of stuff to do to keep us safe”.

He jumped into the patrol and left me with Rob, who opened the trunk of the car, revealing the body.

“Now – he started to say – we took care of the clean up and the transport. Now is your job to destroy the body. I’ll help you out, but we have to make sure that Bill doesn’t get the heat, after all, he’s the one with the motive, as far as everyone knows. He really must like you, man”.

Again, I don’t know what to say… I’m in a deserted alley in the middle of nowhere with a saw in my hand, a stolen car with a dead body in the trunk and huge guy besides me explaining how we are going to dispose the parts. I’m shaking like a leaf and about to puke, and still, I feel it is my responsibility to comply, after all, these guys are sticking their necks out for me.

“It was her voice, wasn’t it?”, he asked me.

“Yes”

“Yes, I imagined it would be the voice…I imagined that”.

So he joins me with another saw, winking at me with a grin on his face.

Growing out

I noticed something in my shoulder. It looked like a lump. I didn't even bother to try to find out what it was. I thought, as usual, that It would just go away.

Throughout the week it started to get big. I finally got scared by it, so I made an appointment with the doctor, who seemed to be as puzzled as I was by the thing .

The minute he started ordering tests and building up the bill, I decided I wasn't going to stay around only to later find out that "it was nothing", surely right after my last cent had left my account.

So, over the night, it grew. When I woke up it had transformed in something that looked very much like a head... a human head... actually, MY head.

I got so spooked by the discovery I screamed all my lungs out... and my screams woke up the head (it seems it was sleeping when I woke up). As soon as it saw me, it started to scream as well, so, for a while, the chorus we became made the alley cat's nightly concerts sound like voices of angels.

But that's besides the point... The fact is that, when I looked at myself in the mirror, it was me the one on the shoulder and the other head was in my neck... needless to say, the only logical explanation is that I was the lump and that head was  actually me...

I've always been a somewhat reasonable man... Ok, maybe he was... but I'm him...or... I really don't know what the hell I'm saying anymore... but, I diverging again, the point is that, If I was in his place, I know I'd cut my second head off... I can understand that. But in spite of that, being ME the additional head, my view is now somewhat different: I don't want to be cut off.

And since you may be wondering: Yes, I could think of all that while we were still screaming our lungs out.

After we finished, he said, as I feared: "I'm sorry but I'm not living with you up there".

I pleaded, begged, cried and urged him not to do that, but he was determined, and since I had lost control of every single part of the body as soon as he woke up, I couldn't do anything to prevent my death.

Of course, he called the Doc to ask him for an operation, the guy laughed, gave him (us?) an appointment - but not for another three days - and hung up. I could hear his laughter while he was hanging up (well, my ear is about an inch away of his, so I could hear pretty well what they were talking about).

 So we spent the whole day inside the house. He called in sick and just sat in front of the TV. Didn't even thought of talking to me...I tried to put some sense into him, trying to talk him out of killing me. But nothing. He wasn't listening.

Finally, he went to sleep. It was the moment. I ran out to the drugstore and asked for some sleeping pills. They were so freaked out the second head thing that they didn't even ask for a prescription. I was tired and I was falling asleep too, so I got back home, mixed the sleeping pills with every single thing inside the fridge and went to bed.

The second day we woke up... Now he wouldn't even let me use the toothbrush, so my mouth smells worse than his feet (ok, my feet, whatever). Just a few minutes after breakfast I'm in control of my body.

I wasn't going to wait, I mean, I know he is right and all, after all, it is his body and I'm the invader, but I'm not dying for him, no sir, I'm taking him out.

I went to the store, bought an axe (you wouldn't believe the face of the people there, they looked so stupid!) and tried to cut the head off. Right in there,. As I said, I wasn't going to wait.

Well... turns out that you shouldn't try to wave an axe near your face when you don't know how to use it. I chopped half my... - how should I call this thing I have that attaches my head to my (or his) shoulder? -  well... I chopped half of that along with  only part of his neck.. I'm screwed. He woke up and now he's going to finish me, I'm sur...

 

What is this?...

 

Something... is coming out of my nipple.

 

What...?

 

Oh, my God, I've got an arm. An arm of my own. And it works, too.

 

Well, I'm fighting him with his two arms for the axe. He is still a bit dizzy for the pills, but he can still fight. 

 

I'm starting to feel weak... Something... is wrong.

 

The blood... the pool of blood which we're standing. That's our own blood.

 

I'm fainting.

 

Ups!

 

I overhear the doctors talking - they took us to a hospital after we fainted for the blood loss - they are thinking of a way to cut me off.

I also noticed I have now a leg. It grows right out of his butt, so he smudges it  (you know with what) every time he goes to the restroom... which is not exactly an easy task, either.

But that gives me an edge: I can ask them to wait for a few days, see if I get to grow a whole body, and then they can try to separate us without killing me.

 

...

 

...

 

...

Only took a week... I'm complete. The problem is that I don't look human... one of my arms comes out of his left nipple, the other from his belly button, the legs are one below his spine and the other from his other shoulder... and my torso grows out of his leg... I'm a mess... and they still want to cut me out!

The other problem is that I no longer control his body, not even when he falls asleep... I can only use mine and its parts are in such disposition that it is worthless.

I'd hire a lawyer to sue him, but the bank says I'm technically his twin, so I have no control over the accounts. I have no credit either... everything is on his name... and he changed the PIN on every card while I was sleeping.

 

They are going to kill me!

 

Help! I'm in the hospital trying to explain that I don't want to... What was that?

It felt like a little prick.

 

I'm feeling sleepy...

 

Ouch!

Just a matter of time

So… Here’s what I thought: I thought that maybe, If I hadn’t lost her I’d be OK right now. I mean, all went wrong when she left me and I got depressed, right?, so if she hadn’t, I’d be O.K., Right?

So after some thinking I found my way 'round to the time machine and went back, Piece o’ Cake: I just had to stop the guy from meeting her so I could still be her only choice, right?

Well, turns out that It wasn’t so… Ooooooooooh, man, how stupid: I did everything right, I mean, since I still live in the same house in the future I just had to leave myself a note (warned not to open it until the date of my departure) advising myself to take the time-traveling trip so I could do what I was doing.

So I found the guy and I snatched him and I took him to a place I knew, from my research, no one was going to visit in years, so I was safe to keep him there until she and I were a real item.

It was pretty boring, but I found my way around it… every now and then I snook up to my house to grab some food, after all, I have never changed locks. It couldn’t be easier.

So, finally, engaged and all, I mean, my old me and her, I let the guy go and, since he never met her, he’d never bother me, also, he never saw my face, and even if he did, my old me had an alibi and no motive. Perfect!

So I get into the machine and head back.

Now, I’m expecting to start getting memories like wedding and anniversaries and stuff like that, but nothing happens. I still remember the trip, so my guess is that my old self read the note and made the travel, right? WRONG!

I arrive to my time into my home, the machine stops, I get out of it in the living room and next thing I know there’s a giant guy pointing at me with a gun that seems larger than I am.

First of all, the guy looks at me like as if he had seen a ghost, then he looks at the machine, and then, to me again.

“Honey”, he says, calling someone in the bedroom, “that nutcase of your ex just popped into the living room out of nowhere, just like he said he would, do I shoot him, or you want to bring him the note?”

I recognized her voice immediately: “Wait, darling, let's see what happens”.

Sounds of drawers from the bedroom, while the giant guy tells me that he could shoot me If he wanted to, after all, this was HIS home and I had a restraining order to keep away from HIS wife.

I still have no new memories about what happened after I changed time, but my guess is that somewhere along the line something had to go really, really wrong.

So, now here she is, with a letter in hand. In the front, there’s the note I left myself, but in the back, in my own handwriting, there’s another note that reads: “Man, you can keep her if you want, I’m out, I wanted to be here to see you arrive, but turns out that the F***ng B***ch took the house, the car and the money in the divorce, Thank You Very Much for making my life miserable. P.S.: I’m not making the f***ng travel, but turns out that you were mistaken, as the owner of the machine tells me: you are not in the same timeline, but in a parallel world your travel created, so I’m forever screwed with this life you gave me, and you’re screwed too, because you are still popping up here, with no home, no money and no friends, and I’m not helping you, you bastard”

So I finish reading the note, give it back to them and the last thing I hear the big guy say is: “Pretty good actor this nutcase of yours, honey”. Then, turning towards me, he says: “but once again, man, you’re trespassing”.

BANG!

Smoked

The swift rain falls gently over us while I try to figure it out.

I take a puff. Nothing happens.

I’d thought that I’d be feeling something by now. But no. Not even a single sign of remorse.

Another puff. Still nothing.

Just a minute ago, when I leaned over his dead body to look in the inside pocket of his jacket for the lighter, I thought I was starting to feel it. But no. Nothing at all.

I keep thinking I should be feeling something, Anything at all that resembles remorse. After all, we grew up together; he was the best man at my wedding and the godfather of my children.

One more puff. Still nothing.

It’s pretty clear that he screwed up. I mean, there was no way for him to get away with that. He knew it too, and even then, he didn’t try to run away or hide, or even lay low for a while.

The smoke of the cigarette flows over my head as I puff one more time. Thinking.

It was out of respect that I decided to kill him myself. It would have been an insult just to send “one of the boys” to finish him. It had to be me. He deserved it.

I didn’t even have to look too hard, he was there, at the bar we used to go since we were young, like he was waiting for me. Even though, he looked pretty surprised to see me arrive.

He finished his drink and followed me outside without saying a word. He was afraid, he knew what was coming, but still, he took it like a man. His knees shook a little when he heard me say that line repeated so many times: “It’s just business”.

It really was. He knew it. I’d never use a gun in a personal matter. I prefer my hands. It’s more… personal… But for this, the gun is quick and painless.

He looked at me. In his eyes I could see that he knew I wasn’t going to spare him. There was no hate, though, just a look of acknowledgment and forgiveness. Maybe even gratefulness for being me, and not some unknown thug who might not even know who was he killing or why.

I take another puff while I relive the moment. He was standing right there, aside from the dumpster, just listening to me. He had proven himself worthy of the respect I felt – and still feel – for him.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t plead. He just stood still, looking right into my eyes while I pulled the trigger.

In the end, everyone will know I did it, they’re just not going to be able to prove it. The job is done. The message is sent. I did what I had to do.

I still wish I felt something, otherwise I might start believing I’m the heartless bastard they all say I am.

The cigarette is almost finished, and the police will be here at any moment. Someone must’ve heard the shot and called them. So I just wipe the gun, throw it inside the dumpster and head back inside the bar.

The barman pours me a shot while I light another cigarette.

A puff. I still feel nothing. I finish up the drink, and in one quick move I stand up.

I was right: I can hear the sirens getting to the back alley while I leave the bar through the front door. I fix the collar of my overcoat and put my hat back on, while I walk towards my car.

One last puff while I enter and close the door, and still feel nothing. I guess it’s true: I’m dead inside.

I drive away. The image of his dead body, under the rain, by the dumpster, roams my head while the red and blue lights reflect on my rear view mirror. I reach in my pocket once again for his lighter. Another one for my already crowded collection. Most of them from the times I did this for a living.

I light another cigarette while I wait for the red light to turn green, thinking once again that I should be feeling something by now.

Skinned Children

The smell of rain. The sound of the water running down to the river. The smell of fresh grass getting wet. It is all so beautiful it almost makes me forget about the scream of the children being skinned alive.

I feel... sick... for taking part on it.

But it has to be done.

There was a time when I thought this kind of thing to be unethical, that whole "killing a few innocents for the greater good". But now, knowing what I know, that that creature is among them, and knowing how it would prey on so many people, like the last one did, I know they have to die.

Weird. With all the technology we have, we still can’t find out which one is completely human, and which one isn’t until we skin them alive. At least we were able to narrow it down to ten. Ten children we have to slaughter to find the dreadful one.

The screams were so loud I had to come out to relax. The rain. The rain usually relaxes me, and it almost did for a minute, just a moment ago, but seeing my hands covered in blood reminded me again of what we are doing here. I just hope we find “It”… that… that demon-like creature that hides inside one of them before is too late… Maybe… maybe even before we have to finish the remaining kids. Oh! God, let this be the one.

Although I have no remorse, I almost feel dirty for doing this, but after seeing what the last one did after waking… all the suffering it caused... the meaningless deaths…

Yes. It has to be done. It's for the better. I have to grab that knife again…

And hear the screaming children while we skin them.

Will the sound of rain ever calm me down again?