Horror and Thriller Fiction posted October 2, 2024 |
Cream rises to the top.
Who Comes Out on Top?
by Jake P.
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
I know what I am. The current terminology would classify me with having an Antisocial Personality Disorder. In my high school days they just called me a psychopath. I prefer the latter. It doesn’t try to dress up the truth. That label clung with me for just one year after my eighteenth birthday when I changed my identity to Malcolm Hendrix.
The previous owner of that name was a young man about my age who became a millionaire over night by inventing a video game that Nintendo bought with all the rights. Young Malcolm’s name was never attached to the game, and he became quietly rich in the basement of a foster parent’s basement.
Fortunate for me, he turned eighteen and left the guardianship of the social service system and leased an apartment in Houston, Texas to continue to quietly play video games.
I lived next door and charmed my way into a friendship by pretending to like video games myself. We would play, he would continually beat me, and he shared the dreadful details of his life. I can show sympathy as well as the next guy.
Research explained that bones do not melt— like in a furnace, but the minerals, when exposed to 1,472 degrees, like in cremation, are turned into ashes, making them easily disposed of.
The mortician explained how, under duress, and the ashes of both bodies now are incorporated in the topsoil of the Houston Botanical Garden. It was there, among vibrant flowers and serene paths, that I met her.
Her name was Elise, and she was as stunning as the garden around us—dark hair cascading down her shoulders, eyes that sparkled like the sun through the leaves. We bumped into each other near the rose bushes, both admiring the blooms. She smiled at me, her lips curving in a way that felt like an invitation into her world.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” she said, her voice smooth and melodic.
“Almost as beautiful as you,” I replied, channeling the charm I’d honed over the years.
Elise laughed, a light, airy sound that made my heart race. We talked for hours, wandering through the garden, sharing stories about our pasts. I told her just enough about my life as Malcolm, carefully omitting the darker truths. She spoke of her dreams, ambitions, and a longing for adventure.
It was intoxicating, this connection we forged. Each encounter left me craving more, and soon we were meeting every weekend, exploring the city.
But there was something about Elise that intrigued me. Beneath her charm lay an edge—an intensity that flickered in her gaze when she talked about her past. I couldn’t help but wonder what secrets she kept hidden beneath that radiant surface.
One evening, while we strolled through the park, she suddenly grew silent, her mood shifting like a cloud overtaking the sun. “You ever feel like there’s something inside you that just wants to break free?” she asked, her voice low and conspiratorial.
I nodded, feeling the thrill of the conversation. “I think everyone has that darkness lurking within them,” I said, my heart racing at the thought of revealing my own truth.
She turned to me, her eyes narrowing. “What if that darkness takes over? What if it consumes you?”
Before I could respond, she reached out, her fingers brushing my arm, sending a shiver down my spine. “You know, Malcolm,” she said slowly, “it’s not just about the darkness. It’s what you do with it that defines you.”
We stood there, the tension thick in the air, and for a brief moment, I felt as if she could see right through me, peering into the chasm of my soul. I was drawn to her—captivated by the thrill of our shared secrets, the unspoken understanding of our darker natures.
One night, Elise invited me over to her apartment. As I stepped inside, I was struck by the stark contrast of the warm, inviting exterior and the chill that hung in the air. The walls were adorned with photographs—an odd collection of smiling faces, each one marked with a date.
“Who are they?” I asked, nodding toward a picture of a woman with bright blue eyes and an infectious smile.
“Oh, just friends,” she said casually, her smile never reaching her eyes. “People who came into my life… and then left.”
A chill ran down my spine as I took in the other photos—each one more unsettling than the last. I was suddenly acutely aware of the unease creeping into the atmosphere.
“What happened to them?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Elise stepped closer, her expression playful. “You see, Malcolm, I have a way of keeping my friends close… and my enemies closer.”
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was dangerous. A psychopath, just like me.
As she leaned in, her breath warm against my skin, I felt a rush of adrenaline. Two predators dancing in the shadows, each ready to ensnare the other. The question was, who would come out on top?
She pressed her lips to mind, and I discovered the answer. Her knife pierced the skin under my jaw and plunged into my brain.
Horror Writing Contest contest entry
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