Loveless

A man holds a fake audition as a way to scout for a girlfriend. The one he chooses should've remained Loveless

Panic has had such a mighty grip on me for so long, I've grown numb to it, yet it's still there. My head is stuck staring at the exposed and rusted network of pipes choking the ceiling. As far as I can tell, I'm in a neglected basement of some kind of building or big house. I lay lifeless with my back to a hard work bench; the kind you'd see in some high school shop class. My hands are over my head cuffed to the bench to prevent escape, but they aren't necessary; I still can't move. A drop of dirty water drips on my face from a leaky pipe. It reeks of iron and tickles my cheek, but my paralysis keeps me from itching it. To tell you the truth, if I could move, wiping away the droplet would be pretty far down on my list of things to immediately do.

 

I hear a large rustling sound from a part of the room above my head that I failed to see. Out of the corner of my eye I can spot the faintest clue as to what was rustling. It's a huge dirty brown sack that had been jolting around from time to time as if some kind of animal is in it.

 

The situation I found myself in is so extreme, so desperate, I have a hard time remembering how I ended up here. I chase my memories like a hungry cat after a mouse, trying to piece together the events that led to my current predicament. Perhaps something I missed can help me in convincing my captor. It had all started with my job.

 

I'm Michael J. Simon, you know; Mike Simon. In case you are unfamiliar with me, I had gained quite a bit of notoriety as a producer of the great theater. I produced Night's In the Orange Grove, Marks of A Madman, and The Life of Norman Armstrong back to back to back, and all were big hits. That's when all the trouble began.

 

Now I'm not trying to complain about my success, but I did suddenly become a very busy man. So busy, that it left little time to meet a significant other. I was lonely, but I couldn't put my career on hold to find a lady. I mean, everyone needs money. Then Sid Speary came up with a great idea.

 

Sid Speary was also an up-and-comer in the business, making his name known as a stage director. We rubbed shoulders with the same people, rode the same wave of success, and were similar in age: so obviously we became close acquaintances.

 

We were chirping to each other over lunch seated outside a classy coffee bar on a bright day. He asked me how I was adjusting to life as a hot-shot producer and I asked the same to him as a director. We bantered about our expanding dreams and possible collaborations until the conversation shifted to my relationship woes. As I poured my aching heart out to him, he began to giggle.

 

"What is it!?" I said outraged he could be so insensitive. "Here I am, bearing my soul and you're laughing at me."

 

"No, it's nothing like that." Sid explained, "I just got an idea to hold auditions for your next love."

 

"What do you mean auditions?"

 

"It's simple, we hold auditions for a leading lady in some upcoming play, but in actuality we're scouting for your girlfriend."

 

"Fake auditions?" I concluded with some disdain to the blatant dishonesty.

"Yeah," He squealed. "think about it. We send out a casting call for the new Speary-Simon extravaganza, and you'll literally form a fleet of women which we can subject to our own screening process.  Heck! It comes equipped with its own first date. You meet up with your pick over dinner to discuss the part. It's perfect!"

 

"I don't know," I argued, "there is one fatal flaw in your plan. THERE IS...NO...PLAY."

 

"That doesn't matter." Sid assured. "Something happened during production and the play was scrapped. It happens all the time. Meanwhile, you show her what a great guy Mike is, savvy?"

 

"Ha ha," I chuckled. "You know what, we should do it!"

 

"All right!" Sid celebrated. "Now you're talking."

 

I thought it was just playful banter, so I was a little surprised to see Sid the next day show up to the suite I was staying at. He had a giant wad of blank paper and a pen ready to jot out all the details of our fake play. Sid said we needed everything ironed out like it was a real play, so we sat there and planned.

 

We ended up calling our play Loveless,  a story of a woman who was desperately seeking true love, but lacked the emotional strength to sustain one. It was perfect. We could describe the leading lady as any type of woman we wanted. Maybe describing my ideal woman would attract more actresses with similar attributes. She had to be smart, kind, and good with kids because I like the prospect of perhaps having a family some day. She obviously had to be beautiful, but we could determine that on sight.

 

We made all the proper arrangements. We rented a stage at the Fai Fo Theater to hold the false auditions. We posted a casting call online and in the paper. We even asked Jeremy Miles to act as the casting director.

 

We sat in the auditorium auditioning countless gorgeous women. One was more breathtaking than the last, but looks was only one factor in making the grade. There was no real way to judge a woman's character on the inside, making it impossible to know if they had unfavorable personalities. No woman is fair enough to mask the ugliness of greed, vanity, or desperation.

 

As a tall attractive auditionee butchered her lines with a thick southern accent, we realized we're getting tired of the whole proceedings.

 

"Am I doomed to be without a partner?" She recited off her script with a shrill voice echoing throughout the auditorium's excellent acoustics. "Was I forgotten the day God chose soul mates!? Why does it..."

 

Sid snapped his fingers at her and yelled, "Ann Marie! Ann Marie!"

 

With her concentration broken, she gazed up at us three with hopeful eyes. "Yes?"

 

"That'll be enough, Ann Marie!"

 

"Thank you, and can I say just one thing?" She insisted.

 

"Make it quick," Sid ordered.

 

"I will." She assured. Her eyes lit up like a spotlight and set me in its sights. "Michael Simon, I just wanna say I've seen all your plays. There's a certain level integrity that comes to your plays and I think they're all magnificent."

 

"Why thank you." I said graciously. "It's always great to hear from a fan."

 

"Thank you," She repeated with a wave before walking off stage.

 

When she spoke to me, she was looking at me longingly. She was tall with long curly red hair. I could've easily ended my search there and lived my days out with Miss Southern Belle, but I didn't.

 

"Well, I'll put her down as a no go." Said Sid as he placed a blue line through her name on the roster.

 

"She was pretty," Jeremy said trying to bring to light any redeeming qualities he could find in Ann Marie.

 

"Yeah, but something about southern accents screams that she's a moron. What do you think, Michael?"

 

Perhaps I was being fickle, but I couldn't just settle on anyone. I was waiting for some indescribable spark to occur to let me know my decision was the correct one. Sadly, I hadn't seen one yet. "Lets keep going."

 

"Ugh," Jeremy whined. "Lets just be done with this. You have a stack of head shots over there of girls we already saw. Lets pick your favorite and go home."

 

"This is big, Jeremy." Sid scolded, "We can't just throw names in a hat and pick one. This is who Mike intends to potentially be with for the rest of his life."

 

"Yeah, such a big decision." Jeremy mocked. "I'm the only one here who is married need I remind you."

 

"Maybe you're just too nonchalant about who you decide to get hitched to." Sid joked.

 

"I'm just saying we're never gonna get it done at this rate." Jeremy clarified.

 

"Michael?" Sid's head twisted to me to hear my views on the matter.

 

I made my decision. "Next!" I yelled out queuing the stagehand to let in another auditionee.

 

Then from behind the curtain she came. A dainty fragile angel made her way to the center of the stage. She seemed bright like a warm sun. Her long Sunday skirt and white sweater let me know that she was not only cute, but not very promiscuous. She appeared timid and shy as she pulled back locks of her silky blonde hair away from her eyes. They were fixed to the ground almost fearful to look in our faces. She was like a delicate flower sprouting out the side of a mountain from between two rocks. She was precious and the tiniest gust of wind could destroy her.

 

I instantly wanted to scoop her up and nestle her in my arms. I wanted to tell her everything was okay; that I was going to take care of her. I wanted to see her everyday. I needed her in my life.

 

"State your name, darling." Sid abruptly blurted out.

 

She quietly mumbled something we couldn't decipher.

 

"Speak up, dear!" Jeremy demanded.

 

"Amora Daniels," She said.

 

Her name was like a stamp that defined love and her voice rang like a singing newborn baby blue jay.

 

"Amora Daniels," I whispered to myself as I leaned forward in my seat to focus in on my new found angel.

 

"Begin please," Sid requested.

 

So she read her lines, not very well I might add, but it didn't matter. I was head over heels for her before she even uttered a word. I simply sat there with my mouth gaping open mesmerized by the sweet woman in front of me. She finished her audition and looked upon us with uncertainty.

 

"Thank you," Sid said quite unceremoniously. "We'll keep in touch."

 

She walked off stage and my eyes followed her until she disappeared behind the curtain.

 

"Talk about plain Jane." Jeremy commented.

 

"Guys, I think we found the one." I said with my eyes still glued to the curtain.

 

"Her?" Sid questioned a bit baffled with my attraction to her. "Well, whatever. Different strokes for different folks I guess."

 

I always thought Amora was as cute as a button since the first moment I saw her, but she wasn't the most drop dead gorgeous woman we saw that day. I didn't want just a hot girlfriend. I wanted to feel that certain special something and Amora had it.

 

The rest of the plan went smoothly. I called her up and set up a date to discuss her part. We met at a restaurant slightly too romantic for a business meeting, but I made my true intentions known soon enough.

 

I told her the plans for the play had fallen through days earlier and the real reason I asked her to dinner was I couldn't get her out of my head. I remember the smile she then gave me. Amora wasn't even mad about the part. She only seemed excited to get to know me.

 

The dinner quickly turned into a relationship as planned. We began to see each other frequently and exclusively. She was mainly quiet and let me talk a lot. The only time she opened her mouth was to ask a question about me. I shared everything about myself, but she was much more reserved.

 

When I asked about her life she said there wasn't much to tell. She told me her father left when she was a baby and her mother died a few years ago. Shortly after that, she moved to the area for a fresh start. Amora said I was all she had in this world.

 

For months I was lost in a love daze. I showered her with love and attention, taking her out on lavish dates nightly. Amora was growing accustomed to the lifestyle my prosperity could afford to offer. Sadly, I couldn't sustain that dream without taking on more projects. Ignoring my work and pampering Amora was sucking my funds dry.

 

My finger moved! It was just a smidgen, but I had just managed to wiggle one of my fingers. This means whatever drugs causing my paralysis are wearing off. Even though my head feels as heavy as cement, I am able to arch my neck so I can look down at my body.

 

Both my legs have been severed off from above the knee. I already knew the right one was gone, but the left one is new to me. The unclean stumps are turning new shades of red, black, green and purple as the infection sets in. Belts have been fastened tightly around the rim of the stumps to prevent me from bleeding out. I'm not intended to die yet. I can see blood trickling to the ground off the work bench from the viciously open wounds. I realize some of the droplets I hear is my own blood hitting the floor.

 

The sack flails around for a moment and my skull slams against the bench. The weight of my head was growing far too heavy and I just couldn't hold it up any longer. I try to calm myself and continue to mentally recount the events that brought me here.

 

I let Amora know my situation. That I wouldn't be able to spend as much time as I had been with her for awhile. She said it was all right, but I could tell by her face she was disappointed.

 

I then scouted for new play writes to get into, and as my time with her dwindled, Amora was slowly but steadily getting upset. I didn't give it much thought. I'd simply make it up to her when my schedule was less hectic.

 

It all came to a head when I met a few writers one morning to talk about a promising script. I forgot my phone in my car and Amora had been texting me. I got back to my vehicle and the notification light on my phone was flashing like crazy. Imagine how overwhelmed I felt when I came back to seventy-two missed text messages.

 

"What the...?" I uttered in bewilderment.

 

As I scrolled through my messenger, I saw seventy-one of them were Amora. They were short little check-ups that gradually transformed into mad frustration. The polar extremes ranged from, Why are you not answering me? to, If you don't want to be with me you should have the f*****g balls to tell me. Why even come at me with your love if you were going to destroy my f*****g life with it! It got harsh. I then realized what the date was.

 

"Tch," I snickered. "Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. That's probably why she's so angry."

 

I was about to send a message back, but then I got a better idea. Just show up at her place tomorrow with chocolates and flowers and take her out.  Make her feel real special.

 

I then noticed the other message Amora did not send. It was from a strange number and it read, Hello, my name is Ophelia. I'm friends with Amora and I'd like to talk to you about her. It's kind of urgent.

 

The message could have just been an acquaintance of Amora who recognized my name and wanted a script looked at, it happened all the time, but something felt odd about it. It planted an unsettling curiosity within me, so I responded. I arranged to meet up with her at my favorite coffee bar; the very same one I went to when I dined with Sid.

 

I sat there several minutes before an attractive brunette cautiously approached my table.

 

"Ophelia?" I investigated.

 

"Mike Simon?" She answered.

 

"Hello," I said with a friendly smile and a hug.

 

We introduced ourselves, ordered our coffees, then talked about Amora.

 

"How long have you been seeing her?" She asked.

 

"About two and a half months."

 

"Hmmm, did she ever talk about her ex-boyfriend?"

 

"Ex-boyfriend?" I scoured my mind for any mention of one. "Uh-no, I don't think so."

 

"I'm gonna be blunt with you, Mike. Amora should be loveless."

 

"What?" The statement caught me off guard.

 

"I mean, I don't think it's wise for Amora to be in a relationship." She reiterated.

 

"I don't think that concerns you."

 

"I know how it sounds, but please just hear what I'm saying." Ophelia begged. "She can't handle the pressures that inevitably come with being with someone. She used to have a boyfriend, John, and that ended oddly."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Well, everything was going all right until he had to start leaving town a few weeks at a time for his job. She was constantly blowing up his phone, telling me he was really leaving to have an affair with some girl; just making his life miserable. So he broke up with her and that's when things got really bad. She didn't go anywhere, lost her job, would stare at pictures of him for days, started following him around. I thought she was lost forever as a person, but then one day she was suddenly her old self again."

 

"I get it, but I don't think it'll be like that. We love each other a lot and I have no intentions of hurting her." I reasoned. I should've listened, but all become blind under the grip of love.

 

"I also never heard about John or what happened to him since then." She added.

 

"I see." I said, but that wasn't true.

 

I didn't know what she was trying to convince me of. That Amora loved too hard? Did she want me to break up with her? That's ridiculous. Should she be punished because she's a little bit of a love fool? Maybe I was a little bit of a love fool too.

 

I showed up at Amora's small apartment with the roses and chocolates in hand and knocked on the door. Amora answered it in a skimpy red dress and she was glowing.

 

She smiled. "Baby,"

 

"Hello, honey. These are for you." I gave her the flowers and chocolates.

 

"Thank you, babe." She put the gifts down and picked up two full glasses. "I poured some champagne for us." She handed me one.

 

"Thanks, Hun. You're the best."

 

She grabbed the flowers and said, "I'm gonna put these in water. I'll be right back."

 

She trotted off to the kitchen.

 

I stood there dumbfounded over how incredible Amora was with the champagne and all. As I placed the glass to my lips, I began to think. Amora didn't know I was coming, how did she know to have champagne ready?

 

My eyes went wide after my first sip. I had completely lost control of my body. I collapsed to the floor landing on my side with some force. It was then I discovered that pain was a sensation I could still feel.

 

Someone kicked me onto my back and I saw Amora standing over me. She had fishing line in her hands and the look of a thousand spiteful dangerous demons on her face. All her delicate and fragile beauty was gone. All that was left was a deranged monster.

 

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? You're leaving me. You're leaving me." She ranted.

 

I tried my damndest to fight the effects of the drugs and was able to shake my head from side to side.

 

"Don't you lie. Don't you f*****g lie! You didn't answer me at all yesterday and then I saw you with her. Remember? At the coffee bar with Ophelia when you were all hugging up on her."

 

She must've followed me the day before. Ophelia was right; Amora should be loveless. If I had listened to her I may have avoided being ensnared in the trap of a psychotic beast. I tried to explain and tell her it was all a mistake, but it was useless. I lacked any control over my mouth or tongue, so desperate gasps were the only things to pass my lips.

 

She continued, "But I love you. I love you so much. I'm gonna show you how much I love you."

 

My heart raced as she stood above my right leg. She wrapped the fishing line around my leg and held the ends firmly in each hand. She slowly pulled the line from one side to the another and the tension of it began to dig into my leg. The line slowly got tighter until it cut through my pants and started slicing into my top layers of skin. She tugged the line more vigorously and the line sawed into the sensitive muscle of my leg. Blood spewed out the sides of the deepening gash and it flooded the floor. The pain was immense and unbearable, and if I had control of my body, I would have fled that apartment at all costs. Muscle and severed tendons flung around as the line was finding its way to my bone. I was sure Hell could only hope to match such a level of torture. I then heard a snap.

 

Amora picked my severed leg off the ground and shoved it in my face. "See?" She mocked as she pushed my own crimson soaked leg against my cheek.

 

I then blacked out from the horror and woke up here.

 

The door creaks open and Amora steps into the dank chamber. She has more fishing line in her hands and a sinister smirk across her face. I feel doom looming all around me.

 

"You tried to leave me, but I won't let you."

 

"Amora...you're making...a mistake." I try to reason with the limited amount of movement I have regained in my jaws.

 

"Shut up!" She screams. "I'm going to show you just how much I love, then you'll never leave. You just need to know how much you mean to me."

 

She walks over to the side of the bench and motions to grab my head. I jerk back as her hands near me, but she forcefully clasps onto my head and adjusts it to face the large sack in the corner of the room.

 

She heads over to the sack and explains, "I once said I couldn't live without him. That he was my world. So I kept him."

 

As she unties the top of the sack I'm frightened to see what's inside. The flap comes down and reveals what's left of a man. The man had his arms and legs cut off and sown up. The man's eyes and mouth were sown shut as well. His head is shaven and his body is covered in bruises and gashes. I know that has to be John.

 

"But I don't need him anymore. He was nothing compared to what you mean to me." She then ties the line around the neck of the severely deformed man.

 

"You don't...need...to do this, Amora." I plead.

 

"I know babe, but I want to show you."

 

She pulls the line from side to side and blood flows down John's naked chest like a raging waterfall. John desperately tries to escape and break free. He clings to whatever morbid and twisted existence that had become his life. The helpless broken man thrashes his severed limbs against the floor, but to no avail. The severed flailing limbs cause little resistance to Amora's torture, and the invisible line continues constricting John's neck. Blood streams squirt wildly as most of the flesh in his neck is sluggishly being separated. His head bobbles up and down with Amora's last few jerks as the head is only attached by a few pieces of skin. Tears race down my face as I close my eyes to reject the nightmare.

 

I hear a thud and my eyes shoot back open. John had been decapitated and his head and body lay near each other in the same pool of blood. Blood also covers my once dainty angel as she makes her way to me. How could I have got this so wrong? How come I was blind to all the signs? Did I want to love so badly I couldn't even realize how damaged she is? The woman who stands before me has no resemblance to the shy flower I met at that audition. What stands before me is something truly wicked and ghastly.

 

"Now to make sure you never leave."

 

God help me.

Author's Note

This is a pretty long story. I'd describe it more as love horror. A cute love story that spirals into madness. This story is featured in the horror anthology, Hearts Asunder. A Valentine's themed horror anthology. Enjoy yo!