Satisfaction

Erin McAllister feels unnoticed, as usual, as her sister and the boy of her dreams come into the house, already beginning the mating dance and tugging at one another’s clothes. Erin lets the boy’s letterman jacket hit the floor before she coughs, playfully dangling the knife from a finger and thumb. “Hey, guys.”

“Erin?”

Her sister’s voice, though full of fear, carries with it the sound of irritation. The sound of interrupted plans and stifled longing, the sound of wishing Erin would just go away.

Familiar sounds, all. Erin responds to them in an unfamiliar way. The knife edge gleams as she swings awkwardly for her sister’s midsection, simultaneously rushing past her target to slam the front door. The blade pulls almost out of her hand, tangled in her sister’s knit sweater, but with a yank, it comes free. A rivulet of blood, searing hot, traces a line down her knuckles.

Over her sister’s scream, the boy yelps in fear, backing away from Erin and towards the kitchen. Sister falls to the floor, clutching at her chest, blood seeping from a long wound across the lower part of her ribcage.

“Erin, stop!” The boy cries, really cries, tears on his face. Erin grins maniacally.

“You know my name…” she murmurs, stepping ever closer, raising the knife high. “I’m truly surprised.”

“Of course I know your name!” He shouts desperately, the sister forgotten in his own terror. “You’re Erin! Erin McAllister! You’re in some of my classes!”

“A-plus so far!” She cackles, taking a swipe at him and missing on purpose. He shrieks in a way that she finds somehow amusing. “And for extra credit, why do you suppose I’m doing this?”

The boy’s eyes widen even farther, straining his face. He struggles to speak through a grimace of fear. “I… I don’t know!”

Slash. The boy’s palm, raised in defense, splits open like the reddest pair of lips.

“That’s incorrect, I’m afraid.” Erin smirks as the boy clutches his hand in agony, and turns to face her sister.

A sizeable pool of red has already spread across the hardwood floor, and Erin steps lightly to avoid slipping. “Dearest sister, do you perhaps know the answer? Do you know why you’re both all cut up just now?”

“Erin, stop it please, I won’t tell anyone, just stop-“

Stab. The knife skitters across something hard, probably her sister’s collarbone. When Erin pulls it back out, there’s a notch in the blade. Shoddy workmanship. She wonders if the knife is under warranty.

Sister, meanwhile, seems to be on her last legs. Gasping more and more quietly, she thrashes weakly, a diminishing trickle of blood pouring from the ragged wound next to her neck. Erin rolls her eyes. “It’s just like you to drag things out. You always need to be in the spotlight.”

Crouching next to her victim, Erin whispers into her ear. “I’m gonna do the most painful thing anyone can do, since you all did it to me so often.”

Her sister’s eyes, losing focus, meet hers, full of tears and confusion.

“I’m going to ignore you.”

Erin stands again, feeling tired. The boy is trying to escape, crawling on knees and one hand, trailing crimson smears. Every few seconds, he casts a panicked look back at Erin, more panicked now that she’s approaching.

“Erin, no, please, I-“

Slash. The boy thrashes and collapses, the crucial tendon in his lower leg sliced in two. Slipping in the pools of blood, splattering the walls to Erin’s dismay, he still struggles to reach the back door.

Erin laughs mirthlessly. “I don’t see the point in running, now. Not like you’ll be much use on a football field anymore.” She kicks him in the ribs. Normally, a girl her size wouldn’t be able to budge the all-star running back, but in his weakened state he flops over, obedient.

She straddles him, sickeningly amused. “I’ve been wondering what this would feel like. Thought about asking my sister. Say, sis-“ She calls towards the front room, where a small gurgle can still be heard every few seconds, “What was it like, being on top of this guy, after you knew how much I loved him? I never got to try it, myself.”

No response.

The boy, a light coming on in his head, nods frantically. “I understand now! I understand! You liked me, and you found out she was sleeping with me! But I didn’t know you felt that way, I’m sorry! I understand now!” He begins to weep, pathetic. “Please let me go. I understand now…”

Erin regards him dispassionately. Lowering her face to his, looking him straight in the eye, she murmurs, “Silly boy. You don’t get any credit when I basically just GAVE YOU THE F*****G ANSWER!”

And presses her lips to his, fiercely, as she pulls the blade across his throat. He gags a torrent of blood into her mouth, hot and salty and not at all unpleasant. The pulsing flow ceases almost instantly. Erin gasps into his twitching mouth, her tongue against his, feeling his teeth feebly move, the reflexes of the dying.

It takes her a few minutes to pull herself away, wiping her face on an already-sopping sleeve. “They say the first time is never pleasant,” she remarks to no one.

Standing on shaky knees, looking around, surprised at how much blood is in two people, Erin realizes she’s still clutching the knife in a death grip. Dropping it so that the point sinks into the boy’s motionless abdomen, she staggers towards a phone.

Nine, one, one.

What’s your emergency, the tinny voice inquires, and Erin lets it know that she’s just carved up a w***e and her john. It’s a mess and I doubt they’ll make it, she muses, and here’s the address.

The wait seems endless. Erin flops down on the surprisingly clean couch and sighs, gazing at her deeds, which are incidentally beginning to stink. This house is rapidly becoming unlivable.

She feels let down. Where is the rush of vindication? Where is the satisfaction of vengeance, of saying what she wanted to say and doing what she wanted to do?

Why, she wonders, do I still feel empty?

And alone…

She wonders how much of his blood she’s swallowed. Must have been a lot, she decides, since she’s beginning to feel nauseous. She notices her hands shaking, as well. A wave of misery overtakes her, making her other ailments seem as nothing.

I’ve just killed my family, she realizes, shocked that it hadn’t occurred to her before. My sister. And an innocent boy. There was really no reason for that. There are plenty of fish in the sea.

Maybe my sister just didn’t know he was the one I was talking about. Maybe I overreacted.

Of course I overreacted. Nobody does what I just did. Nobody but a monster.

I want to die, Erin decides. But just like before, she’s afraid to do it herself.

There’s a knock at the door, finally. Must be the police. “Come on in, I don’t feel like walking through this mess. Don’t really feel like doing much of anything.”

Muffled, a voice comes wafting in through the window. “Miss, are you alone? And are you armed?”

“All alone, empty-handed, mister.” Erin wonders why she feels so light, when the world seems so heavy and hopeless? “Come on in and shoot me up.”

Struck by an idea, she stumbles over to the bodies and yanks the knife, with a horrible sucking sound, from the boy’s flesh. Posing in a threatening manner, she waits, knife raised, for the door to come crashing in.

Seconds later, it comes. With a surprisingly loud crunch, a pair of armored policemen rush into the room, spot the skinny, blood-drenched girl, knife raised, insane gaze leveled on them, and reflexively open fire.

The bullets crash into the wall, behind the spot where the hopeless Erin McAllister had been standing just an instant before.

The knife clatters to the hardwood floor, unwanted.

* * *

Somewhere in the Universe, in a place called Fallen, an every-color flash lights the serene forest floor. With a crash of displaced air and a burst of light, a skinny girl lands heavily on the leafy ground, naked and disoriented, but alive.

Erin scrambles to her feet, covering herself as best she can, peering around at the dark, silent woods. A glare to her right elicits a squeal, but turns out to be nothing more than a softly glowing leaf, drifting down from the towering trees to brush her ear.

“Hello?” she calls, her voice bouncing back off the endless trees, but nobody answers.

Perhaps this is her punishment.

Erin McAllister is alone.