The Space Between A Killer's Ears

He dropped to his knees and clutched his throat. He emitted a liquid rumble and maggots and roaches spilled from his open mouth. He clenched his teeth beheading the passing vermin and the beetles' antennae poked out fringing his startling white teeth in a face of deep violet. A rush of insects exploded from his mouth knocking out his teeth and they were carried on top of the live flow. His eyes bulged and he gagged and clutched his throat much tighter now and fell to the floor, his head made a sickening thud as it came in contact with the hard, cold ground. He lay still and she stood over him with tears streaming down her flaming cheeks and his head burst into a crimson mass of pulp and insects. He lay still now. She watched in horror as they began to make their way up her legs. And she screamed. Did she ever scream...
She shot straight up in bed bathed in an icy sweat. Her heart pounded and her head dropped into her open hands and she began to cry great salty tears. She took a deep breath and remembered she doesn't feel, she can't feel, therefore she can't cry. It stopped as soon as it started and her heart stilled once more in her chest. She realized that she had left the radio on again and turned it off. It was only late night-early morning techno anyway. She went to wash her face and she stood in front of the mirror for a while. The air felt stale and the linoleum cold under her bare feet. She stared at herself. She looked as she felt... empty. Void of emotions, no feelings at all. She had been staring at a stranger for a long while until she broke eye contact with her and dipped her head to the sink and her eyes stung from the soap.

She stood outside in the field between the vast woods and her house. The trees swayed in the gusty wind of the time before the storm. The sheer violence of the pre-storm thrilled her, the way her hair whipped and swirled around her. The way the moisture in the balmy air settled on her skin. The birds were ecstatic and trilled in the trees. Great flocks of them cloaked the sky and blocked out the little light that penetrated the leering sickly gray clouds. She stood out there until the birds left their high perches to cower elsewhere and the rain pelted her. She stood out there until the sky closed up and blackness hovered there. She stood out there until her tears of sorrow matched the stinging rain. She turned and went inside then.

7:30 a.m. the radio informed her of a traffic jam somewhere... She didn't really listen. She was stuck in traffic and her car glided slowly along, greedily eating up the occasional inches, almost by itself, which she would have believed if she didn't know that it wasn't possible. She changed the channel to FM and a song came on that she liked. She nodded her head to the music. She turned her head and looked at the car next to her. Nice Corvette. She didn't know what year. She wasn't much of a car person but she knew an expensive car when she saw one. Her eyes followed the sleek length of it. The silver flashed in the brief light. She looked at the driver. He sat there, his leering eyes focused on her. When she met them, his red fat lips smirked. She tore her eyes away and stared ahead, knowing that he was watching her. Her eyebrows lowered over her narrowed eyes and she slightly inclined her head. She turned up the air-conditioning. It was pushing eighty degrees today which was unusually warm for so early in the spring. She forgot about him as the traffic picked up.


Nine o'clock. Finally at work. She settled in to her desk chair and closed her eyes and swiveled in a half circle and back and again. She imagined herself as a child sitting in an ice cream shop spinning round and round at the bar. That was a long, long time ago, before things started to go so very wrong. She picked up her work... and stared at it for about a minute. "Damn it," she said out loud. She really didn't feel like doing this right now. She just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. To hibernate in her cave of blankets, pillows and warmth. Sleep eludes her only during the night, but she could sleep all day.
Son of a bitch! She thought as she watched her boss outside her office door window. Here we go...
He stepped into the door way, leaning against it with his arms crossed and that ever present idiotic simper plastered to his face. "How you doin' sweetheart?" He asked her. She grimaced when he said sweetheart. She isn't sweetheart to him. She's not sweetheart to anyone anymore. What right does he have calling her that?
"Okay Ted," she said. "I'm just finishing this report on the upcoming hospital charity auction. Did you want to see my layout for the interview with the director?"
"I know you'll handle it fine... Was it easy getting the interview?" He asked her.
"Actually he was out of town on business; I had to call his office five times just to schedule an appointment. Getting the interview was pretty God damn fucking difficult." She didn't know exactly why she threw the awkward curse word into that statement. Not really concerned but curious, she waited for his reaction. He seemed to mull it over for a second or two and started to say something but stopped and just nodded. She thought that it was pretty interesting that she was able to unsettle him, even if it was just a little bit.
"You know…," he began. "My wife is out of town. Why don't you swing by after work? We'll have a few drinks, maybe watch a dirty movie and then maybe make one of our own. I just bought a digital camcorder, its great!" He grabbed for her chair, meaning to pull her to him but she scooted away.
She knew something like this was coming. It wasn't the first indecent proposal or unwelcomed physical advance. It was just one of the many he made when no one was around to witness it. She stared down at her desk studying an ink mark until he gave up and left. She felt angry then oddly empty inside. It was like her body was a shell and all that there was inside was nothing.


She stepped out of the shower. It was cold and her hair dripped on the floor and down her bare back. She crossed the hall to her room and laid down on the bed, soon she fell asleep. The water from her hair seeped into the pillow and rapidly darkened the burgundy Egyptian cotton.

Why did she wake up? Was it another dream? No... No, it was the doorbell. She shrugged into her bathrobe and went to the door. She half considered looking out the side window to see who was there before she opened the door but she discounted that on the grounds of any indifference to possible danger. So she swung open the door.
"Oh. Hello Ted," she said. She frowned at him until a dawning possibility occurred to her. Her frown curved upwards into a smile as the sheer thrill of what was to come overtook her. She realized he was smiling too. Poor, poor Ted, she thought as she contemplated that what they had in store for each other were two very different things. "Won't you come in?"
He stepped over the threshold surveying his surroundings, probably looking for the bedroom, she thought.
"What brings you to my home tonight? To what do I owe the pleasure?" She smiled indulgently.
"Well, I told you the wife is out of town. It was lonely; I was drinking and sitting there all alone thinking about you. I thought you and I could have a little fun and get to know each other outside of work."
"So no one knows you're here?"
"Just you and me and the walls." He chuckled at his weak joke.
She thought his speech was a little slurred. She wondered if he ran over any stray cats on the way over. "Can I get you a drink? Some vodka and juice? Some scotch maybe?"
"A scotch and water would hit the spot nicely."
She made him his beverage and mixed a vodka and cranberry juice for herself. She purposely brushed his hand with her fingers while she handed it to him. He smiled pleased that things seemed to be going just as he had hoped. She sat down on the black leather sofa and folded her legs underneath her. She really liked the sofa; it was buttery soft and showed no dirt. You could spill anything on it and you'd never see it. She patted the cushion beside her and he sat down. He flashed what he hoped was a seductive look her way. She smiled and looked away. She picked up her drink and swirled it. It was about the color and consistency of freshly spilt blood. She imagined it turning into blood and overflowing her cup, spilling onto the floor and spreading into a thick, gelatinous puddle as it dried. She imagined swimming in it, shrinking down and fighting against the red tide but getting swept along with the current until she stopped struggling and just went with it. Too many drinks cause bloodshed, she mused. Getting drunk was such a naughty, nasty thing. We've learned that the hard way she reflected.
She looked back to Ted. He was showing all the signs of inebriation. His eyes were heavy lidded and his nose was red. The alcohol did nothing to help his looks. He wasn't an ugly man though, he was just ordinary. He had a balding pate that was pale and sometimes reflected the light. His hair must have been a rich chestnut in his youth but now it was peppered with gray, most of the discoloration gathered at his sideburns. He had a broad, bland face. His nose was always a little darker than the rest of his skin. Broken capillaries, probably from years of indulgent drinking probably lent his nose its coloring. His mouth was unremarkable, not too big but not too small. His lips were neither pouty nor too thin. He had a rounded jaw but it wasn't creased with any fat. He wasn't exactly fit and he wasn't exactly fat though he did sport a stout midsection. She ran her eyes up and down his figure taking note of his crisp camel colored slacks and his blue and tan striped Ralph Lauren polo shirt. His mahogany tasseled shoes were shined and his socks were black. She surmised that he had a housekeeper or his wife occupied that role.
Abruptly she took the empty glass from him and set it on the table. "How'd you like to play a game Ted?"
"A sexy game?" he asked hopefully.
"Sure. You sit right there while I change into something more comfortable." She'd never used that line before though she heard it on television and in movies all the time. She disappeared around the corner into her bedroom. She changed into some ratty old sweats that she used the time she painted the living room. They were stained with Heavenly Clouds white. She stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of her door. She smiled at the stranger and the stranger smiled back. Go on, it told her.
Instead of coming back to the living room, she opted for the kitchen. She called to Ted telling him to find her in the kitchen. He shuffled in with some trouble; he had to put out a hand to the wall to steady himself and he sank into a chair. There was classical music playing on a radio on the counter. She went to him with a length of rope and tied his wrists behind his back and to the chair, then she produced another rope and proceeded to bind together his feet and secured them to the chair. She made sure that she did it thoroughly; she wouldn't want any slip ups to ruin her fun.
Ted smiled anticipating what was to come. "I always knew you wanted me."
"Oh Ted, you don't know just how much!" She went to a drawer and pulled something out. Ted thought he saw light glint off of a metallic object before she quickly concealed it behind his back. She approached him and pulled out a monstrous butcher knife. She swiped at him and cut his shirt in twain.
He giggled nervously. "Uh, maybe I should get going. You're busy… And my wife will probably call. I should really be there to wait for her call. "
She shook her head violently and her hair whipped her face. She laughed, quietly and gently at first but the volume and exuberance grew into a boisterous riot.
She lashed out at him with the knife, slicing downwards causing long valleys of gore in the knife's wake. Hot blood splashed on her clothes and face and warmed her. He screamed. It felt like white hot heat branding him and tearing at his flesh. "No one can hear you!" she shouted shrilly and joyfully. "There are no houses for miles!" The alcoholic stupor helped to dull the pain but the intensity was so great that the little that it helped wasn't nearly enough. Ten times the knife came at him, thirty five times; sixty times it flayed his body. She lost count and dropped the knife and she followed it to the ground exhausted. She breathed deep and caught her breath. There was still work to be done.

"Hi Dad," she said. "I know it's pretty late, sorry for waking you. Thanks for the advice on taking Rt. 42 this morning! It really saved me a lot of time. Yeah, there was traffic on it but not as much as the way I usually take. Oh! Remember how I was talking about planting some blueberries a while back? I did and they're growing like weeds. I know they're your favorite. I'll try a new recipe I found for pie."
"Where are my manners?!" she chided herself. "Dad, I have someone I'd like you to meet. I really think you'll like him, you guys are so much alike!"
She gestured to the bones with the flesh slipping off in the bathtub of acid.
"His name is Ted. I knew you'd like him! You both have the same taste in women. The both of you just couldn't keep your hands off me!" She laughed.
"Well, you two get to know each other, k?" She pecked her father's skull on the cheek and gave his skeleton body a hug before skipping away.