Apple Eating Heathen (First Draft)

Suzanne seeks revenge after her husband cheats on her. She loves him too much to hurt him and finds herself killing off men who come to Las Vegas for a fling.

 

Sitting across from – oh what’s his name? Charles? Christopher? Chad? Yes, I think his name is Chad. Whatever it is, I’m sitting across from him waiting for him to die. He’s a fighter for sure, but if he doesn’t call it quits soon I’m going to get more physical. My favorite television show is on at ten and I’m not going to miss it on account of him not wanting to head toward the white light.  

            I tried a new poison on Chad. I read about Botulinum on the internet. It’s supposed to be one of the deadliest poisons on earth. Botulinum Toxin Type A or, as it’s more commonly known, Botox is available in every Dermatologist office in Las Vegas and therefore easy for me to get my hands on. Turns out it’s not a quiet way to die, or fast for that matter. He’s been having violent convulsions for the past two hours and screaming in pain, I keep turning the TV up louder and louder. It’s a seedy Vegas motel behind Fremont Street, where people don’t think twice about strange noises behind the doors. It smells like drugs and sex. The walls are stained with tobacco and God only knows what else. I hope my last hours on earth are spent somewhere less… boorish.

I bet I didn’t spike his drink with enough Botox, which is why he’s taking his sweet time. Damn the bad luck. Now I have to sit here listening to him sob until his nervous system finally shuts down. I’m never using this stuff again, at least not on a Thursday night.

Of course it’s loads better than when I tried Arsenic. What a mess that was. The stench of vomit and urine clung to my hair weeks after I killed Adam Keaton from North Dakota. I even thought about bleaching my naturally red hair hoping to rid myself of the nauseating smell. Luckily the thought didn’t last long. I can’t imagine not being a red head.

"Would you please hurry up? I don’t mean to be rude, but killing you isn’t the only thing I have planned tonight. You’re going to die anyway, why prolong it?" I sit on the edge of the same bed Chad will spend his last few moments.

Chad looks up at me with blood shot eyes and his tear filled face. His already pale skin is practically translucent. He let out a short whimper followed by an ear piercing scream. Botulinum is a b***h.

"Ok, I’m going to give you a choice. You can wait for your system to shut down or I can suffocate you. Normally I don’t give men the choice but I’m sorta in a rush." It’s these kind of moments I wish I upgraded my cable package to include DVR. Hurrying a man to die never seems polite.

"Just…" Chad can’t complete a thought. How obnoxious.

"Let’s play the blink game, shall we? One blink means let the poison kill me. Two blinks means kill me with the pillow. Okay?"

Chad blinks twice.

"Fabulous." I grab a pillow off the bed and hold it against his face. I can’t tell if he’s fighting it or if it’s the effects of the poison. I better not break a nail, I’d be really pissed. Crap! I remove the pillow from Chad’s face and he takes a deep breath. His eyes look at me, they are tired and confused. If he was anyone else in the world his face would have pierced my heart with sorrow, but he wasn’t anyone else. He was a cheater.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I forgot to ask you something. One blink means yes. Two blinks means no. Sound good?"

Chad blinks.

"Was it worth it? Cheating I mean."

Two blinks.

"Are you sorry for messing around on your wife?"

One blink.

"Are you only sorry because you got caught?"

Two blinks.

"Well, lucky for you she’ll never know what you did to her. She will go on loving and missing you and never knowing what a liar you really were." I smile and place the pillow back over his face. He finally stops moving and I check his wallet. Yup, his name is Chad Knox and he’s from Kissimmee, Florida.

 I start my symbolic dismemberment. Every serial killer needs their own thing, even though I don’t consider myself a serial killer. The term sounds so harsh. I prefer the term extreme marriage counselor (the way fat women prefer being called curvy or plump), seeing as I only kill men who are unfaithful to their wives. Their deaths are deserved. Which brings me back to my original point, I have two signatures. First I cut out their tongues then I cut off their left ring finger. Their tongues because of their lies and deceit and their wedding band finger because it obviously means nothing to them. I originally planned ..ting off another appendage but I realized they couldn’t keep it in their pants while they were alive so they can make up for it in death. Plus it seemed a lot of work and I’m rather lazy. After the body parts are removed I place them in a zip lock bag and put the bag in his jacket pocket. I’m not a freak who keeps souvenirs, but I want some kind of symbolism.

I scrub the motel room down, being careful to not clean too well. A spotless motel room is more suspicious than blood stains on the carpet, at least on this side of town. Cleaning up the mess is my least favorite part about the whole ordeal, cleaning and moving the bodies. I’m only five-foot-three inches and moving full grown men has been a real hassle. Especially the overweight b*****d who came to Las Vegas looking for hookers, his layers of lard and oily skin made for a tough transition from motel room to the back of my truck and back of my truck to the bottom of Lake Mead. Once I decided to make this murder thing regular I joined a gym to bulk up. I’ve gained ten pounds of muscle in eight months.

 I prop the motel door open, checking for clearance as I do. I love the old battered part of Las Vegas. Most of the motels down here don’t have surveillance cameras in their hallways. They want to protect their cliental. These are the same places which rent rooms by the hour. Lucky me. I drag Chad’s, finally dead, body out of room 131 and toward the emergency exit door. I always try and get a room on the first floor. A dead body and elevator music seems a bit creepy. I pull Chad by his arms while trying to keep the emergency exit door open with my foot.

"I got that Miss." says a man holding the door open for me. He looks like he just came from the soup kitchen down the street. He smells like body odor and chicken noodle. My heart stops and the dread must show on my face.

"Don’t worry I aint gonna snitch. I s’pect he deserved it." He smiles and displays an impressive six teeth. "If you could buy me a beer we can call it even."

What a lovely gentleman. I relax.

"I’ll do you one better. I have room 131 until eleven in the morning. Feel free to sleep there tonight. I left his wallet on the table I think there is a hundred dollar bill left and a few singles. Help yourself." I hand the man a room key. He nods in thanks and closes the door behind him.

I lift with my knees and not my back pushing the body into the truck bed. Throwing an old tent on the body I climb into my truck. My mouth begins to taste bitter.

Chad is the sixth man I’ve killed and each time it gets easier and easier. Not that it was ever difficult, but the blood did make me feel a bit queasy when I started. However, no matter how many men I kill the drive through Boulder City to get to Lake Mead will always be terrifying. I try to avoid the Boulder City Police as if I’m a chubby cheeked child avoiding their Aunt Muriel. If I go two miles over the speed limit six cops are behind me with their blinding lights flashing. Damn the Boulder City Police, damn them. I set my cruise control to thirty five mph but apparently the radar shows another number. Aunt Muriel has my cheeks in her hands. I pull over.

"Good Evening Ma’ma. Did you know the speed limit on this road in thirty five?" The bored cop shines his flash light into my truck. Please don’t look in the back.

"Yes Officer, thought I had my cruise control set." I can feel my heart in the pit of my stomach beating harder than a toddler with a drum set.   

"Radar shows you at forty. Can I see your license and registration please?"

"I’m sorry Officer, my sister is having her baby and I guess I am in a hurry to get

to Flagstaff before my new niece or nephew is born." Sometimes I have no idea where the lies come from. I hand the Officer my information and he walks back to his squad car. While he fills my ticket out two more squad cars and motorcycle cop have parked behind me. You’d think they found a murder suspect. Well, you’d think they knew they found one.

            "Suzanne Douglas?" The Officer’s voice makes me jump. I’m busy praying no one looks too closely at my cargo.

            "Yes."

            "Seeing as you were only five miles above the speed limit I’m going to let you go with a warning. A family emergency is no reason to drive recklessly." He hands me back my paperwork. He turns his head and focuses his flash light into the bed of my truck. "Congratulations on the new niece or nephew."

            I throw him a coy smile and a fake giggle. "Thank you Officer." My heart makes its way back into my chest and begins beating at a normal pace. That was it? How anti-climatic.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn but I make a damn fine serial kil… I mean extreme marriage counselor. Out of the five men I’ve offed one body has been discovered (I’m not counting Chad because I have yet to rid myself of him). My third kill, Dale McCoy. I blame shallow waters and lack of rain. The cops never came close to suspecting me. Chalked it up to some pimp last I heard.

I dump Chad’s body into the lake. I watch to make sure the body is completely submerged before I even think about leaving. There is another splash not to far away and then the sound tires speeding through gravel. I turn my head and see headlights shine on the clouds. I bet Lake Mead has more dead bodies than it does fish. I look back to the water and see no signs of Chad. I start my truck up and head home. My mouth is not only bitter now, but is beginning to feel like cotton. Murder leaves an awkward taste in your mouth and it’s really hard to get out.

At home I bite into a bright red apple and the juice runs down my chin. I can’t find anything else to get rid of the taste of murder quite like an apple. I take another bite and sit down at my computer and log onto Myspace. Don’t laugh, it’s the best place in the world to find cheating spouses. I sign onto one of my many fake profiles and smile as I open a message from Kenneth Ward residing in Houston, Texas. He’s been married ten years and is coming to Las Vegas for a foreclosure action. He’s forty-seven and at twenty-two years my senior and he wants to meet for drinks. Judging by previous messages which include explicit content, Ken is hoping for more than drinks. Cheating prick has no clue he’s my lucky number seven. I sit back and enjoy the rest of my apple.

            Three months passed since I tossed Chad off a cliff and now I stand outside the Bellagio waiting for Ken to arrive. We have plans to grab drinks at the Baccarat Bar. Men from out of town want to appear more sophisticated. They think choosing a piano bar or some other Bellagio lounge helps create the image. I am not complaining. I won’t ever spend fifteen dollars on a cocktail but have no qualms about them buying me one. It’s going to be his last night alive, why no let him splurge.

            Speaking of his last night, I haven’t decided how I am going to kill Ken. I brought three different types of poisons because I like having choices. If he’s seems to be a decent guy (aside from the cheating of course) I’ll let GHB and alcohol take his last few breaths. I still have two vials of Botox left and no must see TV to watch. I’m curious how much longer Chad would have lived had I not suffocated him. I also have a few grams of Strychnine, which I’ve been too scared to use. The rumor is Botulinum is a day in the sun compared to Strychnine. The body experiences intense spasms and finally dies from asphyxiation. Doesn’t sound pleasant, but if Ken’s a big enough a*s I might have to try it out.

While looking around for Ken I catch a glimpse of myself in the glass doors. I look so wonderfully mysterious. My classic black dress hits right above my knees. A straighter tamed my usually wavy red hair. My eyes were given the smoky effect and my lips are glossy red. I wish I knew how to walk in stilettos, because my round toed pumps don’t have the same appeal. Adding length to my legs would be a bonus but not at the expense of making a fool of myself. Women who parade around Vegas with their shoulders hunched forward and their butts in the air, trying not to fall off their super cute, strappy heels, need to be put out of their misery. Or at least have their shoe shopping privileges revoked. I run my fingers through my hair and I freeze when I see the reflection of Jarah Davis getting out of a cab.

I run into the main lobby and hide behind a huge potted plant. Peaking through the leaves I watch as Jarah holds the door open for, who I can only assume to be, Brianna. Her legs go on for miles and she looks as if she was born with stilettos. I want nothing more than to watch her fall and break her neck.

The two of them make their way through the main lobby and into Tesorini. I hop from one potted plant to another trying to remain hidden. I can feel tourists stare and me I know they are talking about me in some language I can’t figure out. I see Brianna drooling over Cartier watches. Slightly distracted by the Tiffany Co. bracelet staring at me through the front display window, I stretch my arm out and image the delicate sliver bangles hanging off my wrist. I want them.

"Suzanne?" A familiar voice broke my Tiffany Co. daydream and for a moment I forgot why I was ducked by a jewelry story window. I turn to see the face of the man I had previously been hiding from. I panic and search my surroundings for the nearest, fairly attractive, man.

"Um. Hi Jarah." I grab the wrist of a tall yellow haired guy walking by. I link arms with him. "Have you met my boyfriend?" God I hope the blonde plays along. The blonde holds out his hand and introduces himself to Jarah. I’m too busy panicking to hear his name. 

"Nice to meet you." Jarah takes the blonde’s hand, "This is my Fiancé Brianna."

His what? His Fiancé? Kill me now. It wasn’t a year ago Jarah and I were on our honeymoon in Hawaii and now he’s engaged to the very w***e he left me for. I wish I had the nerve to kill him.

I suspected he was messing about by the taste of his kisses. He always tasted like Carmex but a month before our wedding he started tasting like Vanilla. Even now I can smell it; she’s probably wearing the gloss now.

"Well, we have dinner reservations at Olives so we better get going." Jarah grabs Brianna’s hand.

"Lovely. I hope you choke on your rack of lamb." I asked him many times to take me to Olives while we were dating. I’m not paying forty dollars for a rack of lamb was his response.

"Still bitter, I see." Brianna rolls her eyes.

"Oh me? Bitter? Nah, in fact I want to thank you for supplying my fiancé with his weekly quickies. I was far too busy planning out wedding to accommodate his needs."

The blonde looks uncomfortable.

"Let’s go Bri. I’m glad you’ve moved on Suzanne. You deserve to be happy." Jarah’s eyes shine with sincerity. I wish I had a fork to stick in them.

"I was happy."

Jarah and Brianna walk away and I still hold on to the hope she’ll loose her balance and break her neck.

"Can I have my arm back?"

"Quiet I’m trying to will that woman’s death." I let go of the blonde’s arm and he rejoins his group. I will forever be in his debt, if I find out he ever cheats on his wife I promise not kill him.

I say goodbye to the silver bracelets and walk back outside to find Ken searching frantically, I bet he think he’s been stood up. He looks much older in person but I’m not going to sleep with him I’m going to kill him. His outward appearance means little to me. After my little bump in with Jarah my blood boils with a mixture of pain and revenge. Lucky number seven isn’t going to be so lucky.

"Ken?" I tap him on the shoulder. "Sorry I’m a little late, I bumped into an old friend in the lobby and got to chatting."

"Don’t worry about. I’m just glad you didn’t stand me up." He leans in and kisses my cheek. "It’s nice to finally see you in person Charlotte."

Yes Charlotte. The man didn’t need to know my real name. I link arms with him and we head towards the Baccarat Bar. He makes sure to compliment every last inch of my body, the old man is laying it on thick.

"My wife would never be caught in a sexy black dress like yours." There is lust in his eyes. I wanted to say that’s because she’s forty-five and is far too old for such a low cut number, but I refrained. I’m trying to lure the guy to his death not offend him.

He polishes off four Jack and Cokes while I conservatively sip my Pomegranate Martini. His laugh becomes more and more robust the more he drinks. His hands are starting to find their way to my shoulders, waist, back and legs. He is in the middle of telling me his wife never lets him drink, when his cell phone rings.

"Speak of the devil." He shakes the phone. His voice got softer the moment he flipped the phone open. He sat their telling his wife he was out with some other realtors and they were having a few beers. As he tells his wife he misses her, his hand finds its way to my knee. I imagine Jarah doing the same exact thing to Brianna all the nights he called me saying he was going to be late. I feel like such a fool.

Ken hung up the phone. "Fat cow always needs to know where I am."

"Hey. Let’s ditch this place and head over to my motel." I stand up and he follows my lead.

I stick my hand in my purse and slide the plastic bag of Strychnine through my fingers. Poor Ken. He’s in for a painful night all because I don’t have the courage to kill the one man who actually broke my heart. My mouth is starting to taste bitter. Good thing I stopped by the grocery store yesterday and picked up a new batch of juicy red apples.

Author's Note

ingore grammar and all that jazz. it's a rough draft. concentrate on the idea and context of the story. suggestions are welcomed!

Reviews

[mrowepat]

Wow!!! What a great write!!! I really enjoyed this piece!!! The first paragraph was perfect. It not only set the pace and tone of the upcoming story, but the humorous bit about Suzanne not wanting to miss her TV show started the character development (her being a tad nutty) of the anti-heroine protagonist. If you are looking for suggestions..... I think this is great as it stands now, but it SCREAMS to be the first chapter of a novel entitled "Cheating Death" or something like that, and you've the skills to see it through. I'm impressed. I'd like to read more of Suzanne's adventures!!!

[C. Johnson]

I think I love you!
Good thing I'm not attached ;)

[Laoidhigh Uilleag]

i loved this!! i was laughing at times and i agree the beginning is really good! That was the main part that started to cause me to laugh because of her "yea ure dying get over it" type of character... i really wanna know what happens next!!

[Phil R Jacobsen]

It's a very good story and it has some good ideas. One of my problems with it though is you first show us an idea and then you tell us what we just saw. You do a perfectly good job showing us she's a serial killer in the beginning and probably don't need to repeat yourself. It's a great piece, just tighten.

[Haleemaaisha]

Girl! I love it!!!! I didnt have time to read all of it but i will definitely come back to finish I wish there was a way to bookmark this

[Irin Chendale]

That was fantastic! I love stories that are from the viewpoint of what other people would call the "bad person". I wish more people had the courage to write stories like this!