Hunt

How is your love story going to end?

Like two cars speeding along the same road in opposite directions, we eventually had to collide. I just never thought that it would be like this.

We were friends for years before we started dating, in and out of each others lives at least a dozen times, but it’s the little things that eventually catch up to you. For me it’s his eyes, those deep dark spaces that are impossible for me to read, I can never tell what he’s thinking. They are steel blue, physically they are perfect, he melts hearts as he walks past them and me, of all people, were able to keep him as my own. Though it’s that perfect that hides what he truly is, a monster. Not with fangs or grotesque features, I think I could handle that, he is a monster in the way that he conducts his private, the terrible things that he does for sport and entertainment.

Perfection is only a façade, something that society tells that we should aspire to be but in saying that, perfection leaves no room for faults, something that no human is without. So as a result these faults are bottled up and kept inside, with the lights shut out on them it allows it room to grow, to continue to change until a monster is born within the soul of an angel.

I spy on him from the other room, I lie to myself and say that I’m waiting for him to finish his meal but in reality I’m too terrified to move. The desk that I’m leaning on shifts under my pressure, groaning and causing him to abruptly turn around in his seat. I hide around the corner but there’s no use, he’s already seen me. With a broad smile spread across his face he says, “What’re you doing honey?”

With that I’m forced to walk into the kitchen and confront him, I sit down at the table beside him and stare into those empty, soulless eyes.

I keep my cool, presenting my case as if he has room to justify himself, which he doesn’t, but regardless of that it is how I sound.

“So I was paying the bills the other day.” I freeze, his accusatory face forces me to continue, “I was paying the bills… and nestled at the bottom was a separate electrical bill, you weren’t home so I opened it without a second thought, it was for a factory a few towns over. I assumed that it must have been some kind of mistake so I got into my car and drove over to check it out.”

He freezes up, his fists clench and his body stiffens but he doesn’t say a word. I can see it in him, how hard he is trying to swallow all of his rage. He shakes, in his violent attempt to keep himself sane. I know that I should run away, maybe give him some space or even arm myself but I don’t. I feel empowered so I continue.

“How long have you run a dog fighting ring?”

He contemplates his thoughts for a moment, knowing that he has no way out of this he attempts to explain himself, “It’s my release.”

“Murdering dogs?”

“Look, my job is stressful okay, everybody expects everything from me and I’m one man, there is only so much that I can do. It’s my release, without it I’d go insane.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“I’ve never heard you complain when I come home with all of this extra cash.”

“I would have turned it away had I known it’s origins.”

“Don’t sit here and act all high and mighty, what you’re wearing now was bought with dog money.”

I look at what I’ve got on and am repulsed at the thought, I’d tear the clothes off my body right now if I didn’t think it would fill me with a different kind of shame.

“Are you going to hand me in? Is that what this is, some desperate power grab before you hand me over to the police?”

I nod, feeling stupid that I’ve even attempted it, he’s too smart for that.

With a sudden jerky movement he reaches his hand up and grips me by the back of my head, slamming my face down onto the table, blacking me out instantly.

Blinding light flashes into my eyes, I attempt to stand up but my hands and feet have been bound. I’m kneeling down in the prisoner of war position, a wooden pole pressed into the back of my knees. As the soft figures harden and take shape it allows me to take in my surroundings, dirt floor covered in blood and torn off pieces of flesh. A one metre high corrugated iron fence circles me.

In the distance I can hear a metal cage being hit back and forth, barking, growling and finally footsteps slowly walking in my direction.

The cage is lowered into the circle, blank steel with only small slits for oxygen to pass in and out. The man I once loved beams across at me, that perfect face that initially attracted me so naturally. He leans forward into the circle and lifts up the lid.

A bulking dog jumps out of the cage, snarling at me as he does so, he circles my quivering body as I cry out for mercy. Finally, I stop, almost as if to accept death. This dog isn’t the one to blame for what it is about to do, it’s simply fallen into the unavoidability of conflict.

I stare deep into the steel blue eyes of the dog as it readies itself. With it’s own fear being conveyed through it as aggression it bares its teeth and lunges for my face

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I've read accounts of domestic abuse, but nothing even comes close to the vivid reality of this telling. The dogfighting aspect makes it very intense, first becuz I hate it, so there's a built-in rage the moment you reveal the first idea of it, and secondly becuz the caged abused dog is a parallel for how this lady probably feels in her relationship with this monster. This is one of the very few times I've ever seen domestic abuse described in a way that shows every aspect of how horrible it can be, from the self-loathing one feels for being fooled by perfect appearances, to the irrationality of it & how the abused person can never get the upper hand in any situation. You've revealed many deep truths about it, rather than just relying on some superficial drama scenario. That makes this telling brilliant.

[Laura Almeida]

Thank you very much for your appreciation of my work.

I really try to build scenes in a more unique way without being overly dramatic... Is jsut not my style at least in writting. I was trying to capture both sides.. And to make the dread the love of your life can make you feel..
I never been in a situation like this so I was reall trying not to fall in a cliche. Thank you for reading

[barleygirl]

Exactly! I hate when writers draw on clichés . . . you've expressed this message in a very fresh & startling, yet balanced way.

[Chris]

A taut and tense story. Seems to have a few "missing" words.

[Stephen Kim]

Real emotions, original So true about abuse of dog fighting. Excellent work.

[Mikael Malmberg]

Veery nice! The conversational tone makes a great storytelling device for this arc. It starts off innocently enough, but very quickly you turn that tone on its head and this becomes horror. Enticing, captivating, brutally realistic horror. It's the monsters that hide in broad daylight which you should be afraid of the most.

A powerful story, well written. I wish I had your skill at crafting a story with such apparent casualness - for me, drawing out the plot onto the paper is usually an arduous process.

[Lorry]

Wow. I guess we should never be surprised at just what one human being can do to another, but we are...constantly. Great write, powerful piece that packs a mighty wallop. Great job.

[Jacob Clifford]

Wow. How sick people have to be... Dogfights have always made me mad, and the people who arrange them: even more so. I really wonder what kind of person that man is to put such little stock in human and animal life.

[Laura Almeida]

To be truthfull, this story was inspired by a homicide that happened in my country where a man set the dogs free on his wife.