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cinamonqirl · 1 year

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WOUNDS

(a little fluff and a little smut)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Injuried!Kate Bishop x Female Reader

Part II

Summary: Kate comes into your room through the window after a little mission, obviously hurt, hoping you'd take care of her. But while cleaning her wounds, something more happens.

Warnings: cursing. pet names (Kate calling r etc. princess). blood mentions. Kate touches r a little.

A/N: Hi! I wrote it a bit fast, but I hope it came out okay. I was inspired by the scene with Gwen and Peter Parker in "Amazing Spiderman". Because I haven't seen such an idea on tumblr yet, so I did it. Kate is such a boyfriend material. Have a good day/night! 💗

I appreciate every reblog and comment! 💐

*ೃ༄

You were reading a book when a knock on the window interrupted you. You can confirm that you almost had a heart attack, because who would enter your room in the evening through the window that is on the second floor. But you felt relieved when you saw the silhouette of a familiar person, even though you had no idea what she was doing here.

Kate pointed to the window, show you to open it. You immediately got up from where you were and went to the window to let her in. The wind blew into your room as she came in, making you shiver and you instinctively grabbed your arms from cold wind, just having short sleeve top on yourself.

"You need to start using the front door" you giggled remembering how many times Kate burst into your room through the window to see you with the excuse that your parents are at home and can't get in through the front door and it's still easy for her to climb under your window.

"Yeah" she chuckled hoarsely as she leaned her head against the wall. Closing the window you didn't notice that something was wrong then when you turned to her and found her leaning against the wall with a single cuts on her face and stain of blood on her hoodie. The sight and her heavy breathing made you panic a little.

"Kate, are you okay?" you immediately rushed to her with hands on her chest, then to her cut part of the bloody hoodie. But you quickly looked at her worriedly, waiting for an answer because you know an archer needs some time to breathe.

"Yeah, yeah" she panted as she pushed her head off the wall to look down at you. You were a little relieved that she gently grabbed your waist, and only now did you notice how close you were to her. Because out of sudden anxiety, you pounced on her completely ignoring the fact that you were so close, just to make sure she was okay. You blushed, lowering your eyes to look back at bloody stain. While the girl in front of you was catching her breath but couldn't help a small smirk creeping across her face as she saw your blush on your cheeks.

"Um maybe sit down somewhere" you thought as she gripped your waist tightly now for support. She nodded eagerly, and you helped her fall onto your pouffe, leaning against the cornea with her head tilted back and her legs dangling to make a space for you. Sitting on the end of the pouf, you put your hair behind your ear to look at her wound while she is panting. Kate snorted softly under her breath thinking you were cute when you were so worried about her.

"I'm fine" she warned even though she was breathing hard as she saw you open your mouth to say something. You ignored her comment to glance at her bloody hoodie, which had been bothering you since you saw it. You lifted the fabric to reveal a slight gash on her stomach, which (thankfully) wasn't deep. It just seemed to be slightly cut with a penknife or something sharp. But you mentally cursed yourself for staring at her abs for so long. Why does she look so hot even though she's injured? You definitely shouldn't think that.

Kate glanced at the wound, grimacing. "Oh fuck" she gasped, throwing her head back. You carefully slid the fabric back to start asking questions.

"What happened?" You asked, raising your head to look at the archer in confusion. You were clearly stressed out, and playing with the fabric of her hoodie showed it.

"I was on mission, and one of the thugs must have cut me with a knife or something" she replied after a moment of catching her breath. You bit your lip nervously.

"Gosh Kate" you gave her a worried look while picking at the fabric of her hoodie, "Why aren't you wearing a suit?" You noticed looking at her plain gray hoodie and pair of jeans.

"It's damaged, and I was supposed to be on a really quick case" she explained calmly. "So I wear something random" she gave you a meaningful look, knowing you would think her reckless.

"You're such a dork" you announced after staring at her for a while as Kate ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek and jaw twisting, knowing you didn't really mean it.

"Okay" she mumbled, giving you a cocky smile before throwing her head back. You watched her with a slight smirk, biting your lip before you caught yourself staring at her. You grunted, trying to forget about the incident, and tried to ignore the strange feeling towards the archer who felt your eyes on herself.

"Okay, I'll go get something to clean your wounds. So that my parents don't find out" you pulled away from her trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach "So don't move from here" you warned, pointing to which Kate lifted sarcastic hands in defense.

"Sure princess" she giggled at your bossiness as you walked out the door. You won't admit it, but you liked the way she called you.

Kate watched intently as you burst into the room wobbly, with a rag and hydrogen dioxide and a few bandages in your hands. You can't deny that you're a little embarrassed by the way she looks at you.

"Okay I told my parents I'm doing homework, so they won't come here" you said hastily sitting down in the same place you were before. Kate nodded, watching you slightly nervous as you waved your arms around quickly.

You sighed and closed your eyes, relaxing for a moment. Kate raised her eyebrows at you, unable to understand why you were more nervous than she was. After a while you opened your eyes a little reassured "Are you sure you're more comfortable here?" You asked after a moment, noticing that the pouf is quite small. Also, how close you are to the archer It knocks you off track. "You can always lie on my bed" you suggested noting that she would be much more comfortable there.

"No, no, that's okay" she denied immediately pulling herself up to sit up more, so she was even closer to you. She didn't mind lying in an uncomfortable position while you were closer than ever. "I will stain your lovely sheets" she took a look at your sheets in a pattern of flowers which she thought was really cute and very much your style. You followed her gaze to actually snort at her comment. And Kate's smile widened seeing your cute smile.

"Okay. So be it" you giggled, feeling a little shy. Well, you guess you have to endure this closeness. "maybe first the wound on your belly" you said without waiting for an answer and dipping the a piece of cloth in hydrogen peroxide.

"Sure, but maybe I should take my hoodie off" she says grabbing the end of her hoodie to take it off completely, leaving her in black shirt. She quickly threw the sweatshirt next to her, grabbing her shirt, lifting it a little higher than before, probably to show off her form to you.

You looked at her one last time before placing a soaked cloth in substance over her wound carefully. A growl escaped her lips and her jaw clenched tight at the terible feeling. The only thing that calmed her down was your gentle touch on her skin. You noticed that her stomach muscles were now more visible, which knocked you out of your rhythm a bit, so you looked up to see if the black-haired girl had seen it, but she was too busy with the pain with her head tilted back. You bit your lip, trying to focus on cleaning her wound so your thoughts wouldn't accidentally wander elsewhere.

"Oh fuck, it hurts more than it seems" she gasped through clenched teeth.

"Just a moment" you calmed down, bringing her attention back to you. Kate watched intently as you bit your lip in concentration, thinking you looked cute. She could look at you all day without getting bored. You couldn't ignore the strange feeling in the pit of your stomach as you felt her eyes on you, and you made no secret of the fact that it knocked you out of your rhythm.

"Stop staring at me like that, you creep" you put down the cloth to slap her shoulder playfully to hide the red blush on your cheeks that Kate had already noticed anyway. She bit her lip at your flirty slap that so many girls have already used on Kate when she was teasing them.

"Are you really beating up an even more hurt person?" She asked sarcastically, watching you peel off the protective paper from the large bandage.

"Yes" you mumbled arrogantly as you applied a bandage to her stomach wound, sliding the fabric of her sweatshirt behind her to obscure the alluring view of her stomach. Kate looked at you pretending to be offended, then snorted at your arrogance. You looked up to see the cuts on her face with the cloth in your hand, and Kate was so stared at you that she didn't understand your gesture and she just keep looking at you. You noticed this, and your courage dropped a bit, feeling overwhelmed by her gaze, not quite knowing what to do.

"Uhm can you move a little" you asked quietly, gesturing your hands shyly.

"Oh right" she did as you said and pulled herself up a bit to sit down, leaning one elbow on the cornea of the pouffe and the other on the back of the backrest, holding on. You moved closer to the archer, trying to ignore her intense gaze on you. You cleared your throat, trying to focus on cleaning the wound on her forehead. Kate definitely noticed your nervousness, and she was a little amused by it, especially since you'd quieted down when you'd asked questions before and now you're kinda shy.

"Be glad I didn't kick you out, and that I'm helping you, Bishop" you said sarcastically, sticking little piece of bandage to her chin wound. Why do her slits have to be so close to her mouth? It's like she specifically had said to these thugs to hit her face as close to her mouth as possible because she knew she was going to go to you, even though it sounds ridiculous, and she definitely she didn't ask for it.

"You wouldn't do that princess" she murmured, relaxing under your touch. She wanted to tease you a bit, and maybe something more would happen along the way.

"Princess" you repeated, amused. You couldn't hide from yourself that you liked the name she called you again a little more and more.

"Mh" she crooned, sure you don't mind the nickname. And you don't mind at all, you feel special. You snorted in response, a mischievous smile appearing on her face. Sometimes you can't stand the way she teases you. You reached for a bandage to stick it over her slightly split nose. Her eyes stare at you even more, and you can tell she's doing it on purpose.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes" You said smiling shyly, shaking your head blushing. You really can't stand her eyes on you, because that gaze is utterly lustful. Her dark laid back eyes speak for themselves how much she wants you.

"What eyes?" She asked, pretending to be confused. But she knows exactly how she looks at you and how does that affect you. You lowered your head in disbelief, but quickly her hand found its way to your chin, lifting it slightly so that you would look at her. And your gaze finally slid to her lips and you mentally cursed yourself for it. Kate took as a sign that you want to kiss her, so she moved her face closer to you, waiting for the perfect moment, moving her hand to your jaw, tucking your naturally curly strands of hair behind your ear falling out of the messily holding clip at the back of your head. Her charming smile only grew bigger seeing your blush.

The archer knew you didn't glance at her mouth to see if there were any cuts, because it looked like you had been wrestling with yourself for quite some time not to look at it. You knew immediately what she meant when you could feel her breath on your lips. You wanted to kiss her, but you knew it wasn't end on just a kiss. You were confused as you stared blankly at her lips. Kate smiled to herself as she saw you no longer pull away. Fuck it, it's too late to change your mind.

Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed her lips, and the archer almost immediately returned the gently kiss. You placed your hands on her chest, pressing harder against her lips. She smiled to herself as she placed her hand on your thigh, squeezing your skin. She leaned in more and kissed you passionately, and now you know that she kisses well and is experienced at it. You moaned into the kiss, feeling the need between your legs grown, and you thought less and less about the fact that Kate was hurt.

Your kisses became more passionate, and due to the fact that the position was uncomfortable, you quickly swung your leg to the other side to straddle on Kate's lap and during this time, she watched you with lust in her eyes as you carefully sit on her lap, and she gasped at this gesture. Her hands on your hips pulled you closer, and her hands quickly slid under your shirt, stroking your smooth skin that she had longed to touch. You're not sure if it's really happening.

You quickly leaned in, already missing her amazing lips where you wish they were somewhere else. When you ran out of breath, you decided to slide down to her neck, leaving sloppy kisses there to give her some pleasure. The archer threw her head back this time in pleasure, biting her lower lip.

"Mmmm... that's it" she murmured, tightening her hands on your waist, showing you how much she enjoyed it. "good girl, you know how to please me" she praised you, enjoying your every sweet kiss. After a moment you returned to her mouth, and a moment later her hand went to your shorts, slipping her hand into them, which knocked you out of your rhythm. She definitely knows what she's doing to you.

Kate felt the satisfaction of hearing your soft moans as she caressed your clit, feeling how wet the material was. Therefore, seeing that you were more busy with what she was doing down, she slid down to your neck, kissing your delicate skin. And you hope your parents don't hear you moan. You took a deep breath, wondering at the last moment if you really want to do this right now.

"Kate wait" you interrupted to grab her hand which had strayed into your shorts. She looked at you questioningly as she felt you pull her hand out of your panties. You want to continue, but you're afraid your parents will find themselves in your room hearing your groans.

"Yeah?" She spoke cautiously, waiting for an answer from you.

"We can't now. My parents are home" you gave her an apologetic smile. Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise at your answer, because you told your parents you were doing your homework and they shouldn't come in here.

"If you keep quiet, they won't catch us" she whispered wanting to go back to your mouth but your hands on her chest stopped her.

"No Kate. It's not just that, you're injured, you should rest" you explained more seriously this time. She frowned her eyebrows, wondering what might happen to her little wound if you allow yourself a little more. You must be really worried about her if you're concerned about such a small wound.

"Rest? It's just a little scratch" she tried to convince you by pulling herself up higher because during your kissing session she slipped a bit.

"A little scratch that still can make you get bad, If you're not careful" you said wisely, pressing your poiting finger to her chest. You watched her tongue run over her bottom teeth as she looked at you thoughtfully.

"Okay nanny, but you have to make it up to me" she warned joking, and you rolled your eyes sarcastically at her blackmail, which you knew didn't sound innocent. But you're sure the thought of Kate finally making you feel good will haunt you, till she came into your room when your parents are finally be absent one day.

"So be it" you agreed after staring at her in disbelief for a moment, then showering her cheeks with kisses.

After a few kisses and laughs, Kate decided to go home since it was already late, and she don’t want to worry you.

"Are you sure you don’t want to stay?" You asked quietly as you pulling down the sleeves of your sweatshirt because of the cold.

She snort quietly at your tired voice wishing she could stay here with you and watch you sleep in her arms.

"Nah, I have to go to Clint, and check myself to him" she says quietly smiling at you. You nod yawning, and she thinks that’s cute of you.

"But I’ll come to you tomorrow, okay princess?" She walks over to you, running her fingers through your hair admiring you.

"Okay Katie" You whisper smiling at her, and she smiles back at you kissing your forehead. You both feel love for each other. After a few moments of just staring at each other, you snuggled into her chest needing her warm. She immediately wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer. It’s so comforting you almost fell asleep in her arms.

You pulled back still smiling at her which makes her heart melt. You see her approach the window and before she goes out you stop her.

"Kate wait" you say approaching to her, and she immediately looks at you when you call her name. You rise on your tiptoes to catch her cheeks in both hands and kiss her for the last time today. Kate kiss you back smiling like a fool for a kiss.

"That was cute" she whispers softly after you pulled back. You giggled at her comment blushing like a teenage girl who fell in love. Kate finally comes out, and you say "Be careful" before closing window.

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melodrama-ticcc · 7 months

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— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.

𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮�� 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵈᵒᵐᵉˢᵗⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ʳ*ᵖᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘⁱᶜⁱᵈᵉ, ᵐⁱˡᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ.

—

Evocative of the coruscating film stars or prurient women in those blue films he would find rummaging in the back of the cinema house, her striking appearance draws itself in a classy yet promiscuous custom. Golden tresses pushed back by a scarlet headband, a voluminous pouf tailored neatly behind it. Her curls fall loosely down her back and her bangs frame perfectly that intricately carved face. Done up in sultry makeup, the black that smears about her eyes and lashes only accentuate those sapphire orbs. They dazzle in the light of the setting sun, half lidded as they observe him in blasè.

The little white dress suits her womanly figure, Johnny thinks. The tight fitted bodice hangs just off her broad shoulders, her bare neck on full display for his viewing pleasure. The full circle skirt does little to compliment the ass he knows she’s hiding from him, but nonetheless, the idea of her skirt flipping up is all the more arousing. And her wedges perk it up just enough that he can make it out of the shape of her petticoat. Little red flowers are embroidered over the garment, a trivial detail he cares close to nothing about. But they match perfectly the shade of crimson that glosses her velvety lips.

She carries herself as though she’s someone to venerate over, her head held high and her nose tilted upward. He leans against his truck, arms folded over his chest as he watches her kiss her father goodbye. It’s endearing how close they are, redolent of he and his own mother. The man sends a nod and wave his way, a proud smile over his features as he bids them good wishes.

“Have her home by ten, have fun you two.”

“Thank you sir, I’ll have her by nine fifty five sharp.”

He hasn’t put much effort into his look, wearing the same old tight jeans. But he has opted for a shirt with sleeves on it. Free of holes or tears, it’s just a simple black t-shirt. Though, it does look as though he’s made an attempt to slick his hair back more neatly. That same strand that always stuck out in front still falling forward and into his face. She supposed he looked nice, handsome as always. She hated that about him.

He opens the car door for her, offering his hand as aide. As she steps inside she does not acknowledge his offer, instead she shimmies herself in, gathering up her dress and it’s petticoat and slamming the truck door shut. Rebecca won’t so much as glance in his general direction. Her snuffy guise is enough to convince him she’s still huffy about their exchanges the day prior. Not that he can say he’s surprised, he’d half expected this.

Johnny chuckles, moving to get in the driver’s seat. His attention shifting to her for but a moment. She’s stunning, he thinks. A breath of fresh air, a tall glass of cold water. An astonishing refreshment to the girls he met at the bar or on the streets. It’s odd to think of a woman in such a way, beautiful or winsome. Normally he’d fancy the notoriously provocative and salacious, girls he’d describe as hot or sexy. And sure, Rebecca fit the criteria, but those girls were just a piece of meat to Johnny Sawyer.

“You look real nice, all dolled up like that.” She doesn’t say anything, just stares forward. She clutches the small handbag in her lap and ignores his superficial compliments. But he’s as stubborn as a mule, and nothing or nobody would deter Johnny. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though. You’s a looker after all.” He starts up the truck, engine sputtering as it misfires before springing to life. The faint scent of gas fills the cabin.

“You ain’t ever answer me.” She quips up, her gaze unwavering from beyond the windshield. “What is it yer’ after, what’s the point in all this?” Her voice is brusque with the splenetic emotions that had simmered with her all that time.

Her waspish attitude peeves him but he knows better to say something amiss. Instead he begins driving, his own speech levelheaded and collected.

“I’d like to take ya’ out and show ya’ a good time, that so hard to believe?”

Yes, it is. For someone like Rebecca Payne it is. She’s cynical of his motive, skeptical and apprehensive. The entire ordeal seems much too pure for someone as loathsome and devilish as him. She partly believes his version of a good time is getting under her skirt and into her undergarments. Just the thought disquiets her. Her gaze finally darting away from the windshield and towards him in astonishment.

“‘Nd you expect me to believe ya’ and that horse shit answer?”

“Believe what you want darlin’, you’ll find out soon ‘nough.”

The inside of the truck falls into silence. A blistering silence that pangs at the anxieties within her, stretching apart the ever-growing tension she feels. She wonders if he feels the same, it upsets her that he might not. Why should she be forced to suffer? His ludicrous behavior was only ever rewarded, and she felt envious of that to some extent. More so infuriated by his coyness and ability to veil his true intentions.

Before too long she’s realized she’s been staring at him with a pouty face and quickly adjusts her stare to watch out the windshield once more. At least, until it traverses down to watch her thumbs fiddle together.

“Where ya’ takin’ me?”

Finally a normal conversation. He’s pleased it came sooner rather than later. Better late than never.

“It’s a surprise. I ain’t much the romantic type but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

She has to stop herself from saying some backhanded comment, in fretful dismay at her current predicament. Perhaps he’d plotted to kill her just like she longed to do him, drive her out to the the middle of nowhere and cut her up. Maybe he’d behead her, too. Or maybe this had been yet another one of his games. She didn’t know why she though it, she just did. Conceivably it had been her own guilt nipping away at her that caused her to believe such an accusatory claim. She wanted to kill him, so she needed another way to make him into the bad guy. No, he’d shown his crazy. That was reason enough to think him capable of murder.

Whatever the matter she isn’t moronic, so she knows it’s best not to do something drastic. If they’d gone someplace with people around, she’d be able to utilize the environment to her advantage, against him. For now she stays put in silence, sure to keep a cautious eye on his person.

“Yer’ neck, ya’ ain’t got no necklace to wear? Thought a pretty gal like you’d have quite the collection. Daddy ain’t get you nun’?”

“It ain’t like that,” she says dryly. “I gots these here earrings and a bracelet, and I’m quite fine with that thank you.” She gestures to the pearls in her ears and wrapped around her right wrist. They’re slightly discolored with age but their beauty holds regardless, he’s sure they must’ve been an heirloom.

It’s unladylike to lie, and she’d of been lying if she told herself she wasn’t just a little uneasy. The possibilities of the night flooding her conscious at every passing moment. Did he think he was going to get lucky? Did he want to kidnap her and keep her for himself someplace far off? Was he going to kill her? It hadn’t been that she thought she couldn’t handle herself against him, she knew she’d be able to. It’s precisely why she’d kept the blade in her purse. When the going got tough, she’d make a show of him like she’d always wanted to do. Albeit not with the axe, but this would be a close second.

It’s clear she isn’t much in the mood to conversate, so rather than dampen the mood he flicks on the radio. The hand lowers carefully to rest atop her knee and he can feel the sting of her stare burn into his hand, he swears it tingles. But the softness of her supple skin extinguishes the fire she ignites. Therefore he only keeps it there, even when she looks to him in utter disbelief.

The audacity this man had was truly astounding to her. She turns her leg a bit in an attempt to break free from his touch, repulsiveness written in her expression as she squirms rather uncomfortably. She’s sure this is his first move of many, one of his fanciful methods to get her to sleep with him. To seduce her, but she will not be tempted. If it were a man she felt inclined toward, she might’ve liked the sort of protectiveness and possessiveness the notion carried. But not when it came from Johnny. When it came from him, it was just no good.

The trip by car to the nearest city was approximately an hour drive away, that city would be Pfluegerville. In the opposing direction there had been Cypress Hill and Bandera about two hours out. Given the simple fact that Newt hadn’t much as a means of date night spots, Becca figured they’d be spending their “date” elsewhere. The downtown area of Newt spanned over just a few acres and establishments came few and far between. From what she could tell, there’d been a post office, sheriffs and fire station, gas station, and small convenience store that sold soda pop and cigarettes. It was an empty little town with a whole lot of peculiar personalities. But they’d passed through the downtown area long ago.

The gentle serenade that plays softly from the radio tunes in and out of static. The cacophonous buzz interrupting the sweet sound of rock ‘n roll music, a genre Rebecca often enjoyed. Though she’d never let her father know, he may have a heart attack if he found out. The rebellious yet classic sense of the type suited her just well, her traditional values and adherence to the role of a housewife combined with her willingness to get outside and do the dirty work made her a primary muse for such an exhilarating type of music. The suggestive nature of the Raspberries Go All the Way imitates just that, a refined sensibility combined with the wildness associated with the provocative and coquettish. She hums the piquant lyrics benignly, watching out the windshield in an unamused manner.

The susurrating motor of Johnny’s truck rumbles faintly beneath the melody of the music. It’s a comforting sound that soothes and puts one to sleep. In the distance, there is a spectacular display of vibrant oranges, pinks and purples spread about the sky. The sun kissing where the sky meets the horizon as it begins to set. With it, the moon rises and dark is spread about central Texas. A little further, the glow of city lights draws attention from over the hill. Her interest piques as she shifts in her seat and raises a brow. They’d only been on the road about an hour, this had to of been Pfluegerville, she was sure of it.

As though the universe had been reading her thoughts, a sign passes on the right shoulder:

Entering

Pfluegerville

POP 452 ELEV 686’

Rebecca’s brows quirk upwards in a curious way, eyes flickering to Johnny as the street lights shine delicately onto her features through the front of the vehicle. Still uncertain, she isn’t sure what he has in mind nor whether or not it was much good. Though as they drive into the town, they’re met with busy streets full of people young and old. Smiles written in their faces as they walk the strip in a joyous display.

“Never actually been down here b’fore,” observant eyes watch through the window, examining the street developments and miscellaneous buildings, lots of which are still under construction.

“It ain’t much,” Johnny acknowledges, “but it sure as hell beats what we got, I’ll tell ya’ that much.”

A left turn down the next paved road leads to a twisted driveway, to which acts as the entrance to a fenced off lot. In it, parked cars and patrons in chairs enjoy the movies that play on the big screens above. A line of cars finds itself awaiting the ticket stand just shy of the entrance. A line which they find themselves waiting in. The surprise made sense then, ah, she’d never been to a drive in theater before. Let alone a movie theater.

Out on the street corner a sign in flickering lights advertises the names of what she can only assume to be films, the top of the sign reads in neon pink lights DRIVE IN, and the remainder of the sign is filled in with crooked stick on letters that look as though they might just fall off. The overgrown grass makes it appear as though it was just an abandoned lot, if it weren’t for the run down sign and line of cars she wouldn’t have thought otherwise.

1 1776 THE MECHANIC

2 SISTERS IT AIN’T EASY

“What typa’ movies you like?”

“Oh, never been much of the movie type. Momma said pictures was the devil, seent a few scary movies on the television though with ma’ daddy, we both liked Dracula.”

“Well lemme teach ya’ a thing or two ��bout the movies darlin’, they ain’t the devil and they ain’t gon’ hurt ‘cha. Think you’d find some real interest in ‘em, they might just teach ya’ summin’.”

“Always got summin’ to say doncha’?”

“Ain’t my fault you ain’t been taught. Say, I heard that one Sisters is a scary movie, they say it’s the best one since Psycho.”

“Come again?”

“Psycho, ya’ know, the one with that batshit crazy guy who thinks he’s ‘is mom.”

“Ain’t ever heard of it.”

“Ain’t heard of it? My, I think you’d find it swell. Should give it a look when ya’ can. Now, what’s you say to a scary movie? You can hold my hand if you need to.”

“Johnny I aughtta smack you upside the head.”

“How can I help you sir?” An older gentleman works the ticket booth with a sincere smile and fervor. His eyes glowing as he sends a benevolent nod towards Becca in the passenger’s seat.

The side of the ticket booth displays the posters for each movie, listing them off in two separate sections. Screen one shows 1776 and The Mechanic, screen two shows Sisters and It Ain’t Easy. Each double features to play on two separate screens inside. The posters are fantastical and full of color and showy characters. They advertise big names like Ken Howard or Margot Kidder, but also heinous statements involving the devil and things like dozens of ways to kill. It’s puzzling but she need not draw too much attention to it, lest she be caught up in the devil’s work.

She’s surprised to see Johnny knew a thing or two about movies, for what he’d mentioned to her is advertised in bold letters: The most genuinely frightening film since Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho!’. Her gaze narrows and her brows screw up, both intrigued and somewhat off-putted.

“So, what’s it gon’ be girl?” Johnny quirks up, “you too chicken?”

“Oh fooie!” She exclaims, rolling her eyes. “Go on ahead I ain’t scared, you’ll see.”

“Screen two, please.”

Johnny pays a few cents, the man hands him a sheet of paper and he drives off. But she doesn’t pay much attention to the remainder of the exchange. Her eyes were fixated on that poster, examining its contents with the Siamese twins conjoined at the hip. She’d heard of that before, but never seen anything like it. What really has her panties in a bunch is that phrase about it being caused by the devil. It frightens her, and all the while her mind is honed in on that Psycho movie he mentioned. It had to of been good if it had been used as grounds for an advertisement. If it’s really all that well known, how had she not heard of it?

Past the fence there’s a fork in the road, each labeled with signs to each screen respectively. The one on the right leads to screen two, and down it she watches the groups of younglings about her age gather round and head towards the concessions stand in the middle. The large screen up front plays advertisements for miscellaneous things and the noise is quite loud. Across the way she can see the other lot, with the same types of pictures playing about the screen as cars gather in front of it. Johnny flicks off the radio, nestling the car someplace in the middle of the lot. Not too far, not too close. It offers the ideal view of the screen without having to crane the neck a certain type of way or squint the eyes. He parks the car, rolling the driver’s side window down just a crack as he nods his head towards her to do the same.

As she does, she can hear the booming noise of the videos playing above, the contents of the screen becoming much more evident to her. It captivates her, eyes in awe as she watches previews play for all sorts of movies. Comedy, action, horror, the like. It must’ve been a while, but Johnny hadn’t interrupted her at all. In fact, he quite liked her blatant disregard of her surroundings and the way she immersed herself in the show. It was, winning.

The man smiles, chuckling softly as he shakes his head. The act must’ve caught her attention, as she snaps her head back round to catch his gaze in an offended stupor. Her cerulean eyes fiery with aggravation.

“What’s the matter? Thought you was enjoyin’ it, movie ain’t even started yet and you seemed pretty content.”

“You laughin’ at me like I’m a joke, I knows it. Think it’s funny I ain’t seen summin’ like this before.” She frowns, her hands balling into fists as she toys with the closure on her clutch. She thinks about it, just for a fleeting moment. She could slice at his neck right then and there. What was it he said about her having no necklace earlier, bare necked, she’d give him something to look at.

“Nah, it’s cute.” He beams. “Never seen someone so impressed by the cinema. Glad I could be here to give ya’ yer’ first.”

She lets out an exasperated groan, shaking her head as she whips her head back in the direction of the screen.

“Shut yer’ trap Johnny I ain’t here to feed yer’ ego, let me at least enjoy the movie. You toyed with me ‘nough!”

“Oh, I ain’t say summin’ to offend ya’ did I?” He shakes his head. She knows he’s playing his same old game, getting her riled up enough to make a scene in front of all these people. This time when her daddy isn’t around to step in and put a fork in it. She should’ve known he’d set out to do this. “Go on ‘n enjoy it, I ain’t stoppin’ ya. B’fore the shows starts though, you wanna come down with me ‘n grab sum’ popcorn ‘nd a coke? I’m buyin’.”

The way he taunts her with flagrant disregard for her own personal comfort is obscene. She’d never met any man who’d have the courage to do such a thing to a poor woman. But she keeps her composure, sucking in a deep breath as she shuts her eyes for but a moment. When she opens them, she releases the breath and with it returns a pleasant smile. Fine. She’d play his game and use the playing field to her advantage.

“Sounds lovely.”

For the entirety of their rendezvous, he’s a gentleman. He comes around to help her out the car, gives her his arm as they walk about the street to the stand, ensures he walks on the outer edge of the road where the cars drive by, opens the door for her, offers to hold her clutch while she fixes up her makeup in line, tells her to order whatever she likes, and does it all again while they walk back while simultaneously carrying their drinks and popcorn. All the while she glared at him with an embitter look, features contorted in a heinous gaze. A deviant countenance of execration and contempt.

He’s taunting her, she knows this. Utilizing his nubile looks and charisma to get her to fall in love with him. She cannot shake the ominous sensation that something dire was about, lurking in the shadows and waiting for the perfect opportunity to take hold of her. She cannot pinpoint which it is; whether he wants to score her or he wants to kill her. He’d shown that side of himself, the deranged one that spoke of malignant intentions and the mentally disturbed. She knew he had it in him, but what set them apart was his willingness to act and her refined determination to stay true to her life in the dollhouse. He was an uncivil heathen who lacked morality and desirable values. She must remind herself that, don’t fall for his personable behavior. They were nothing but temporary acts of service meant to lure her into his trap.

Yet, the way he holds the truck door open for her and lifts her into her seat by the waist is coitally inducing. His firm touch a burning sin on either side, tingling an intoxicating pleasure within her. It lingers there for a time, not before he lets go and hands her a coke. But then, his eyes. They gaze into hers and she feels transparent once more. Completely see-through, vulnerable and violated. They ravage her inner mind just in the way he had done all those times before, only this time up close. Their dark rings taking her in and spitting her out all at once. She cannot distinguish what way they sway her. Are they disturbing and dangerous or thrilling and spellbinding? They beckon her to come hither but she stays put, entranced by their engrossing tenebrosity. Oh, and the way in which he so gently tucks the fullness of her skirt into the cabin before he shuts the door, nodding his head in a gesture of semiotic recognition. It’s all too quintessential. He is too idyllic.

She catches herself spectating him as he moves around towards the other side of the car, quickly aligning her line of sight elsewhere and shaking her head. She looks to her lap, panic-stricken as she searches through her thoughts for some sort of explanation. This fine illustration of a man is not the real Johnny Sawyer, she’s falling victim to his own game of pretend. It was all an illusion, a facade meant to reel her in. She would not be moved.

Adjusting in her seat she peers over whilst he steps into the vehicle, settling in his seat and meeting her with an urbane simper. To which, she smiles back, in order to mask the intense paranoia that ills her.

“Not so bad after all, huh?”

“Now do not think for one moment-”

“Shh, movies startin’.”

It is a revolting series of images, unborn fetuses and underdeveloped embryos. It serves as the background to a series of titles and credits before the opening act, which, had given her quite the shock. While distasteful and vile, she cannot seem to take her eyes off of it. Baby blues glazed and wide as they are captivated by the story of such a gut-wrenching piece of art.

It’s the very first time she’s heard of or seen a woman kill a man. And as the woman on the screen draws back the kitchen knife to impale the man in the groin and chest it exhilarates her. It’s the perfect combination of the macabre and erotic. Pretty red and horrid screams enticing her into her darkest pleasures.

It is a strange premonition, one that is rooted in both her sheltered upbringing and innermost desires. Of course she’d thought about doing it, considered it. Why she all most even went through with it, but she’d never seen it done before. The scene was just too perfect, it was precisely what she would have liked to do. But it was only make believe.

But what if it wasn’t.

She wonders how it would feel to carry out such an act, how she’d love to do the same to Johnny.

Rebecca imagines it then, fetishizes it. The fantasy playing about in her brain like the fiction it had been. She’d play him a fool, and just when he thought he was going to have sex with her she’d spring out from the sheets like a mad woman and force the knife into his dick. Then back out, and in again. She’d listen to the abhorrent screams that would emit from his mouth, begging and pleading for help. She’d watch him writhe and contort in pain and suffering, his face plastered in hurt. She’d keep going, keep stabbing and slicing. Until his manhood had been mutilated beyond recognition and the blood pooled beneath him in a bountiful heap. Then she’d take that same blade and shove it through his chest, pierce his heart and break it. Like she was certain he’d done to other women, she’d enact their revenge. Then he’d tumble down dead, and she’d laugh and grin over his deceased corpse. It was the only way she’d take back the control he thwarted from her, the power she would hold over him, it would be unrivaled. Oh what a date that would be!

Her leer is unsettling and frightful, spreading across her face as she presents the toothy grin. Her breath hitches in her throat and that harmonious feeling pools in the pit of her stomach, teasing that delightful sensation of sweet release.

A fantasy was only that however, a fantasy. But the idea is both compelling and invigorating. In order to take revenge on the men who stomped all over the hearts of women like her mother, she’d have to kill them. Savor their death and blood before leaving them to die a pitiful death all alone. Just as this woman had. Of course, why hadn’t the thought occurred to her sooner. This was the ultimate form of control!

Again when the woman would take the knife and stab her ex-lover repeated in the genitalia and chest, Rebecca would feel that thrill return to her. The disturbing expression returning to her face as she leans forward and watches in delight. She fantasizes it like she were the woman in the film and Johnny her victim.

Control was the single most important part of life to her. Maintaining control over the household and her faultless little persona was key to her success and happiness. Killing was the ultimate form of control. Especially killing the men who tarnished her ability to act or keep her power. She loved the idea of murdering a man, loved the euphoria it would grant her. After years of observing men and their disgusting mistreatment and power over women, the roles could be reversed. Now she could garner such control over man. She can feel her mouth salivating just thinking about it, the thought just as tantalizing as it is taboo.

Be it the rhapsody the influx of sovereignty gave her through the act of killing or the felicity that seeing someone in such great despair at her own hand caused, the very concept of murder had become an arousing phenomenon that could and would push her over the edge of her pious virtues. It was sinful the way she grind her legs together in her seat, a filthy crime that only a whore would commit. But she can’t ignore the lustrous urges her newfound passion offers her, the transgression of self-indulgence is one she finds difficult to ignore. So she wouldn’t stop, getting off on the image of the dead with a stained blade in her hand. Their cries of anguish enough to bring forth that intense wave of pleasure.

The movie ends just as she aches for more, the credits rolling as she feels Johnny’s calloused hand plant on her shoulder. Through the film’s entirety, she had not once realized his arm had been snaked around her. The action startles her, she jumps a bit as it snaps her out of her daze and shifts her audience elsewhere.

“What’d ya’ think?”

“I quite liked it. Wasn’t as scary as I’d thought it might be.”

“Well you aughtta see Psycho then, you’ll love it.”

Johnny isn’t oblivious. He knows the familiar gleam in her eye and he’s well aware of the pool between her legs. That isn’t the point, though. He knows just how badly she’s itching to kill, knows the way her body craves the gruesome way the blade cuts into the flesh. The overwhelming sense of pleasure and fulfillment it gives them. He knows it because he is just the same, they long for that high. He knows she wants to kill him and knows how powerful it’d make her feel, knows that her epiphany has led her to realize the fullest extent the notion of being a serial killer carries, knows the sense of control it would grant her, knows that she would revel in it, and he knows she’d be damn good at doing it too. Johnny isn’t without strategy or knowledge, oftentimes careless, but not an absolute imbecile either. He knows the game and how to play it. He’d make her into the perfect wife, the foundation had been there, he just needed to inch her forward.

“Well, we best be headin’ out, would love to stay for the second showin’ but don’t want the old man gettin’ on me now, a deal is a deal.” He smiles, removing his arm from her and leaving a cold, empty sensation in its wake. That’s odd, it’s all most as though she misses it. “You finished with ya’ coke? I’ll go on ‘head’n throw these out b’fore we leave.” He glances at the time as he starts up the truck. “There’s a jacket in the back if yer’ chilly, hopefully the truck warms up by the time I get back.” He glances at the time on the dash, 8:45. “We got about an hour, you hungry?”

“I’m finished, thank ya’,” Rebecca nods, watching him and those strong arms as they gather up the trash. She’s not even paying attention to his words, only the soothing sound of his smooth Texan drawl. He’s so, dreamy. “I’m quite fine.” The girl smiles, watching as he laughs and steps out the car. He sends a wink her way before he shuts the door and walks off with their trash. She mustn’t let his cunning manners and striking looks distract from her true intentions. She is only playing to his advances.

Sure, he’s painted himself the ideal man. The type her father would have liked her to marry and start a family with. Johnny knew what he was doing though, and she knew what he was doing too. She hadn’t forgotten how much she hated him, nor how much she longed to kill him dead. His own perfect picture was just one big lie, a lie just as much as any other man had been. She loathed the way he’d made her heart flutter just a bit or her innards heat up. Despised how handsome he looked or how charming that grin was. Detested the way his well tempered personality shines through on their little endeavor. It was so perfect and she hated it. Hated him for making her feel such a way. If she didn’t know any better she might’ve just fallen in love with him.

The briskness of the cold fall air bellows in through the cracked windows, goosebumps forming on her exposed skin. She has to adjust herself, clasping her arms around her midsection to offer some kind of warmth. She’d be damned if she were to take him up on any of his offers. When he returns though he’s akin to her nippy skin and slight shiver, and without a second thought he reaches back to grab an old leather jacket and hand lay it over her shoulders. The leather is freezing at first, yet the coverage does do nicely to act as a barrier to the cold temperature outside.

“You coulda taken it, I wouldn’t of minded. Offered it for a reason.”

She hates how much of a gentleman he can be, it would be much easier to abhor him if he continued to act like he had before. When he pushed her past the point of no return and got her to act out, but now that they were alone it was as though everything had changed. Was he trying to prove a point before?

“I ain’t want ya’ damn jacket.” She huffs, that fire returning once more.

“Really? Seems to me like you do.” He gestures to her arms that huddle in its warmth. “It’s ah’ right, I ain’t gonna tell nobody.” He teases. To which his playful banter is met with a cold glare.

Why is he like this? Why does he think everything is something? Why does he need to make a big deal of every little thing? It’s bothersome and confounding.

The drive home is eerily quiet and alarmingly peaceful. Rebecca pretends to be asleep for most of it, staring out the window into the night with half-lidded eyes as she awaits the perfect time to confront him. She knows he’s crazy. She knows he has malicious intent written in him. She knows he’d take advantage of her if given the opportunity. It’s on her to make the first move, to protect herself. She’d like to weasel all the information out of his pathetic little mouth, squeeze all his secrets out of him while she kept the blade to his neck. For her own sanity, she needed to know what he was after. It was harrowing to live in the constant presence of a predator. She needed to make her point.

“I know you ain’t asleep.” His deep voice beckons her from her cognitions. “Not as clueless as you think I am, darlin’.” His actions and antagonistic words only support her theories. Unsurprisingly they vex her, the scowl returning to her face.

“What’s it matter to you?” She doesn’t move, she can watch his reflection in the glass pane of the window. Her scrutiny shifts from the grass planes outdoors to his silhouette. She can see him smile, shaking his head as he thumbs something in his hand that she can’t quite make out. Her gaze narrows, confusion and paranoia flooding in her when she sees the tip of what she believes to be the blade of a knife.

“Don’t matter,” he sighs. “Just figured you’d have more to say ‘s all.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” She’s only humoring him to keep him talking, it’s a distraction. Lucky for her it’s easy to pinch open the handbag in her lap under the cover of his jacket.

“Well it ain’t no surprise you got a whole lot to say ‘bout everythin’ when it comes to me. I know you ain’t like me. I don’t blame ya’.”

“So you’re admittin’ you’s a piece of shit, that this was all a front?” She’s able to pull carefully the blade from her clutch, gripping its handle in her right hand as she prepares herself to strike. Now, now had been the ideal moment.

“No. I ain’t sayin’ that.” Johnny chortles, shaking his head. “There’s a whole lot you ain’t know ‘bout me girl. Things you ain’t even seen. That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” So he’s lying. This is his own way of getting her to talk. “I really did wanna take you out ‘n treat ya’ right. Ya’ know that? Wanted to show ya’ a good time.” She doesn’t know how, but she’s certain he’s telling the truth. Rebecca wavers for a moment, her look softening gently when it begins to dawn on her. How peculiar, she just knew he was telling the truth just then.

“Shut up Johnny Sawyer.” She lashes out, snapping her head around to look at him. It’s a guise of disbelief and anger. She knows he isn’t lying now, that what he said has been real. But she hated that. He made things so much harder to accomplish. Her heart pangs just a bit and that familiar feeling of affection returns to her. It’s flustering and nonplus, something that causes her face to heat up and turn pink. Rebecca can’t bare the feeling anymore, upset by her own lack of control in her feelings and emotions. Whenever he did this, acted like such a model man, she couldn’t help herself. It made her feel weak inside, and the fleeting sense of control on her own psych would drive her insane. How could he have such a firm grip on her?

In an effort to take back power, she flings off the leather jacket and pulls the blade to his throat in one foul swoop. The thing falls to her feet. Then comes the overpowering reality of her emotions. They crash on her and she feels as though she is drowning, she simply can’t handle it. The sensation is one rooted in fear and trepidation. It plagues her like a disease, a condition of the mind. The thing causes her to shake vehemently, fretful of the amity she experiences. There is a barmy glimmer to her eyes. Wide and discombobulated with lunacy. Much like a madwoman, she twitches and walks the line between what is real and make believe. Unable to make out which is which, her thoughts blend themselves with the truth of reality. It doesn’t matter any longer, it’s all real to her.

She guides herself to kneel on her seat, facing him as she leans in and sucks in a sharp breath. A quick observation of the interaction reveals Johnny’s confident grin, his eyes still unwavering from the road. But the cold feeling of steel presses itself against her throat. Shit.

“Tell me just who the fuck you really are and what you want with me. You tryna get into my pants? Get me out of wedlock? You a killer? You wanna kill me? I’m tired of you not answerin’ my questions boy.”

“You’s real bold for havin’ a knife pressed up against yer’ throat.” He is intoxicating, like whiskey in a tea cup.

“I ain’t know much ‘bout you Johnny boy but I know one thing for certain, you a uncouth redneck with no inklin’ of respect for others.”

“You right.” He laughs, pressing the blade in just enough so that it stings her tender skin. “But there’s a lot you don’t know ‘bout me darlin’. I know everythin’ bout you.”

“Like hell you do-”

“I know you wanna kill me. Wanna take that axe of yer’s and tear me apart. I know you’s loose your composure when you loose control of that perfect lil’ fairytale you made ya self. You got a thing ‘bout that, whenever someone comes and fucks it up you loose your damn mind.”

“You ain’t know shit! Shut up!” Overtaken by paroxysm, her temper becomes her and she shoves the blade into his throat. It isn’t enough to cause much harm, only gets his blood to dribble from it and down to the neckline of his nice shirt. “You don’t know anythin’ bout me boy! Quit it or I’ll kill you!” Her tremors thrash her body around violently, tears brimming at the cusp of her lash line as she struggles to hold herself together. Her head is ringing with rage, an overwhelming buzz that floods her thoughts.

“I know I drive you batshit crazy. Know that I can get you to loose control so quick it makes ya’ head spin. I know you hate the type of men who play women for the fools they are. Know you ain’t like me for that same reason, cause you think I’m like that. But you don’t know a damn about me girl.” He is taunting her with an arcane smirk. “I know that control you love so much, I take that away, ‘n that’s why you wanna kill me so bad.”

“That ain’t true.” It barely escapes her lips in a strained whisper, as she twists the knife in his skin to draw out more of the crimson liquid. She’s gritting her teeth in an attempt to hold back pathetic sobs of defeat, she knows he’s right. But she’d kill herself before she caved to his hand.

“There’s one thing I ain’t know bout you though,” there he speaks up again, eyes flickering to her in absolute delight. “I know you got the urge to kill in ya’, you lots like me, more than you know girl. Your crazy is my own. I know you have needs that can only be achieved through sadistic satisfaction and bloodshed. You want it, I see it in yer’ eyes. What I don’t know is if you’ve killed before or not. Either you have, or you really want to do it.”

Overcome with grief she draws the knife back and cocks it up, letting out a scream of effort as she goes to strike again, this time towards his groin, just as the woman in the movie would have done. But before she can get there, he’s taken his own knife away from her neck and grabbed onto her wrist with that same free hand. Her weak, shaky state makes it easy for him to stop her. That firm grip on her arm enough to make her drop the knife into his lap.

“You’s a fuckin’ killer? You wanna kill me is that it?” She shouts, but Johnny only laughs.

“Nah, not you. You different.”

“Different? Different than who, the other girls you’ve killed?”

“Why, you scared?” He laughs.

Without saying another word she uses her left hand to pick up her knife, stabbing it into his thigh as she yells something incomprehensible.

“I fuckin’ hate you Johnny Sawyer.” She leans closer, driving the blade into his flesh further as she gets real close to his ear. “You ain’t scare me, eat shit and die you backwoods fuck.” Her titillating whisper is just a means of pushing him over the edge. His own composure faltering as he lets out an irritated groan. The knife in his leg doesn't hurt much, he's had worse chasing down victims. But the fact she'd gone and do something so insulting and degrading to him is all the more anger inducing.

Johnny isn’t stupid though, and he wants to best her. So rather than inflicting a wound, he accelerated the truck and makes a sharp left turn that sends her flying back into the passenger side door. Her body flings into into it with a loud thud, her head smacking the glass window with a harsh crack! Rebecca yelps, her eyes scrunching shut for a moment as she falls forward into the center console. She lifts herself up with trembling arms, wincing in pain as she growls between grit teeth. She watches as he pulls the blade from his thigh and laps the blood up with his tongue. Scarlet paints his mouth and white teeth, a cheeky grin shot her way before he tosses it to the back, blood oozing onto his blue jeans as he glared daggers at her.

“Two can play at that game girl.” He grabs a handful of her hair and pulls her up to him. “Now you’ve got me excited. I like a girl who thinks she can just kill me.” His own whisper is baleful and foreboding. Infused with the deviance and hellish energy he exuded.

He isn’t lying to her, she’s given him quite the experience. He knew she had a wild side but he hadn’t expected it to be quite so easy to get her to commit. He enjoyed the way she pissed him off and pressed his buttons, liked the fact she was willing to go through such hurdles to make him feel something. His prior impression still remained true, she would be a perfect wife.

“Now we can keep playin’ this game, but we both know you gon’ end up gettin’ yer self hurt. Or, you can be a good lil’ lady and pipe down. Maybe we can sort this thing out.” His grasp on her hair tightens and she can’t help but groan, glaring at him through her partially shut eyes. He pulls her closer, grazing his teeth over her ear. “I’ll tell you what you wanna hear, just sit down and shut up.” Finally he yanks her hair back, throwing her into the seat with a huff.

Rebecca watches him through her wet lashes, body convulsing as she thinks about all the ways she could kill him right now. She could kick his head in, grab the knife and slit his throat, shouldn’t of held back on her efforts the first time. She wishes she would’ve gone through with it.

“Don’t look so upset.” Johnny smiles. “Prettier when you’re angry.” The tears fall down her cheeks slowly, but she does not move or say a thing. “You wanna know what I am? I’m just the same thing as you are.” Becca’s brow crooks up. “Whatever you think yourself is, the way you see Rebecca Payne, that’s what Johnny Sawyer is. You’s as much of a killer as I am. You’s as deranged as I am. You and me, we’s two sides of the same coin darlin’.”

“Take me home damnit.” Becca mutters through estranged tears.

“Yer ‘fraid of the truth. Always runnin’ from what don’t fit in your lil’ box. Come on, face it. You and me are lots more alike then you’d like to admit.”

Theres an issue with becoming confrontational now, it’s that he enjoys it. He’d said so himself. So rather than feed into his desires she turns in her seat and pulls out her compact, addressing the smeared makeup and wetness that muddles her face.

Johnny watches her and laughs derisively. The man shakes his head, looking back out to the windshield.

I might just fall in love with you.

She remembers the time he’d told her that, as he sauntered up the drive of the homestead. How it disturbed her in many ways since and littered her mind with God knows what. Now this, his confession to his sinful pleasures of her unhinged self. Sure he’d put her through the wringer, but even the lord knows a woman can’t resist an attractive man who had the potential to treat a woman right.

“You mean whatcha say, when you said you’d fall in love with me, you mean that?” Becca questions dryly, dabbing the streaks off her face and the blood from her neck. Her daddy would have a fit if he saw her like this.

“What you think?” That was his answer. “Whatever question you got for me you can answer ya’ self. I told you, you’s just like me.”

“I ain’t take you as the type to settle down. But I suppose any man would for the right woman.”

“We’s almost home, get ya’ self cleaned up ‘fore we get there ya hear?”

She isn’t accepting his bold claims of their telepathy or likeness, but she’s ceased denying it too. For she knew him as well as he knew her, even based off the little details shared between them. The way he was akin to her inner conflicts was the way she could tell his. The way she read him to be some ladykiller was true to a literal extent too, just the way he had known her to be a woman of more obscure interests and desires. Dislike it all she wanted, but she cannot condemn what is fact.

Before long she’s staring up the porch of the farmhouse, watching the carriage lights flicker on and off and listening to the crickets chirp out in the tall grass. Her watch is hollow and obsolete, a shell of what it was when she’d embarked on their little escapade. The truck creaks as it shifts gears to park, but she only sits there staring. She cannot bring herself to move, only to stay there in silence. She doesn’t even notice when he comes around the car to open the door for her, again flashing his courteous demeanor as he lifts her out of the car to carefully plant her on her feet. He even goes as far as dusting the jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm.

Before he departs he snakes a finger under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him as he meets her bleak utterance. His own mirroring her’s.

“I hope you enjoyed ya’ self darlin’, I sure as hell did. You watch ya’ self though, next time I ain’t gon’ go so easy on you.” He brings the fingers over to dust against her cheek, caressing it rather roughly as he intertwines his fingers into her blonde locks. His hand tilts her head to the side to examine the small slice on her neck he’d inflicted, a grin spreading over his features. “Crazy girl, you sure do drive me wild.” He licks his lips. Not before giving her a wink and a quick nod. “I’ll see you real soon.”

Rebecca watches as he and his truck disappears down the dirt road, before turning towards the door and staring at the doorknob. Her hand ghosts over it and her brain works to piece together the events of the evening, free hand clutching the jacket against her shoulder. She shakes a bit, just slightly, confusion and shock dance a tedious dance in her mind. What’s happened, it hasn’t quite been realized, not yet.

Inside is dark, but when she flips the light switch and the electricity illuminates her surroundings she’s quick to find her father sat at the table with a glass of watered down whiskey in hand.

“So, how’d things go kid?”

“I don’t ever wanna see Johnny Sawyer again. If I do, I might just fall in love with ‘em.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! - 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

@yixxes @bdudette @nerdykat101 @kaymarnun