Blood Red

Her eyes looked at his again, reflective in a way that didn’t seem possible. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she had lights burning deep in the back of her skull. Her expression was calmer now, but he was finally beginning to understand that even if he lived through this night, he would never be whole again.

“Thing is, if I did that, I’d have to see parts of your body that disgust me even more than your face.”

Her fingers pinched down and ripped at Tom’s little finger. His nail came free in a sudden, brilliant lance of pain.

Tom writhed, pulling with all of his strength in an effort to free himself from her grip. She reached out again and tore off the nail on his ring finger, even as he was thrashing around and howling out broken obscenities.

“You’re a sick bastard, Tom. You could have let me go and I would have left it all alone.” He wanted to puke his guts out and the bitch was still talking. “You were going to let them pull a train on me? What was I supposed to do, be grateful?”

He swore he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of hearing him scream again. By the time she pulled the thumbnail away from his hand, he was begging for mercy and praying to God that she would let him just die.

When she was done with his right hand, she let it go and he rolled away from her, weeping silently. In all his life he’d never expected it was possible to feel that much pain.

“Okay. That was for Liz.” Maggie looked him over and smiled. “Everything else is for me.”

Then she got inventive.

Tom learned more about pain. Oh, so very much more.

IV

Maggie came out of her fury like a deep sea diver rising to the surface: it was a slow process and, while she could see the air high above her, it was distorted by waves of anger. The pain she’d been feeling was gone, but the memory of it lingered.

What was left of Tom wasn’t very appealing. What made it worse was that he was still alive. His fingers looked like they’d been attacked by rabid pliers. His face was a mess. She could remember pulling at his nose as if she’d been dreaming; but she hadn’t fully realized how hard she’d caught him. One nostril hung by a tiny shred of meat; the rest of it flapped loosely. His mouth was the worst. Somewhere along the way, she’d started breaking off his teeth.

Tom was alive, and he was conscious. His eyes reflected nothing of sanity, but he was there, awake and in agony.

The anger was gone. All that was left was a vague sense of pity. In the end, she punched him hard in his throat and watched him choke to death on his own blood.

His death was a loss to no one. He would not be mourned.

A car pulled into Tom’s driveway. It was a Crown Victoria, and the crappy shade of brown made her think cop car as surely as wailing sirens and flashing lights would have.

She backed away as the two men got out of the car.

Maggie shook her head, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened to her. She knew what she had done, knew why she had done it, and now, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember how she had done it.

The two men had cop written all over them. They looked around for only a moment before heading toward Tom’s Camaro.

It wouldn’t take them long to find the trail of blood he’d left behind and from there they could easily spot Tom’s body.

She didn’t have a mirror, but she didn’t need one to see the blood all over her clothes.

The two men were looking over the car and talking, but she couldn’t make out the words. She just knew she had to move, and fast, if she wanted to get the hell away from the scene of her crime.

Just as the cops would have been looking her way, she heard the racket. There are few birds that can make as much noise as crows, and the ones coming her way seemed intent on deafening the entire planet. They cawed and heckled and screamed as they flew, a seething mass of feathers that spread out over the entire area, flying low and circling around the two policemen. Her car was still in Tom’s driveway, and if she was careful she might be able to get to it.

Even as that thought occurred to her, she heard the familiar sound of her Ford Focus starting up. The two men were surrounded by the crows and dodging desperately, but they weren’t so stupid that they stood still when the car started forward and trenched Tom’s yard in an effort to get around them. They got out of the way and damned fast. Neither of them drew a weapon, and she was very glad for that.

Her car stopped two feet away from her and the passenger’s side door opened. One look inside and Maggie could have sobbed with relief.

Ben had never looked more handsome. Or more desperate. “Come on! Let’s go!” Even with him yelling, she could barely hear him over the crows. She climbed in as quickly as she could, and he gunned the engine as soon as her door was closed. He steered off of the lawn and back out onto the driveway, narrowly missing the cop car.

Maggie shivered, the chill of the night suddenly overwhelming, as Ben drove toward the apartments.