Flash: Death Wish Part 1 – Hair Drop

Rating: Mature

Pietro leaning against the wall outside disturbed me when I opened the apartment’s door. I was about to go to sleep when I heard the knock.  I hadn’t seen him in two months; he always took off the summer from the gas station – convenience store where we pulled third shift. The boss didn’t mind, as summer had plenty of high schoolers to abuse. I figured he had a gig at the shore, but Pietro was looking far from tan.

How did he know where I live? Took me a moment to remember I had invited him over for my new year’s party. He showed up late and left early since he was covering work that night.

God, he looked yummy. We had started grabbing quickies in the back during restocking; hence inviting him over for a party.

God, he looked awful. I knew I was staring at the shorter man, but he had knocked and I still didn’t know why he was here. I didn’t remember it raining, so why was his hair soaked?

Then a drop of liquid fell from his hair to his white T and formed a bright red spot. My eyes suddenly saw his shirt was covered in the red dots and his denim jeans were more black than blue from something other than dye.

I took a step back to close the door when suddenly he was through it, his bloody hand covering my mouth.

“Shush, shush, shush. I am so sorry. I really am. I am sorry.” He muttered using his foot to close the door behind him. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go and the sun is up. Hell, I am so sorry.”

The squeaky toy kind nearly wrecked the ominous mood; Pietro grimaced as he glanced down. Well, may have wrecked what he was creating – but it added a whole other level of fear to me. I tried to take advantage of the broken eye contact to move away, get his hand off my mouth. Anything so I could scream or fight.

“Quiet.” He said and the word echoed through my head cutting off my voice just as the scream was about to break away. Looking again at the toy, he asked “Are they here?”

I nodded as tears rolled down my face. I kept trying to back away from him.

He slowly inhaled as he cornered me against the couch. How had I never noticed the man didn’t breathe? “Where will you like them to be taken?” he asked as he pushed my six foot frame onto the soft surface.

I refound my voice. “Don’t hurt them. Please don’t hurt them.”

“They will be safe. Where do you want them to go?”

God, I should have made a will. But a convenience store income isn’t exactly something you think about dividing. I forgot my most precious possessions also needed assignment. “Not their mother. Please keep them away from their mother.”

He looked at me in the eyes again, his pupils expanding to fill the white. “Any other family?”

I shook my head, unable to look away. His eyes were like a bird’s. A baby bird with its constant hunger, mouth gaping. An adult bird, who remembered that constant bone deep hunger. I wanted to feed it. I needed to feed it. I adjusted my legs as I grew hard. Looking into those black eyes, I knew much of the blood on him was his. He was hunger itself.

”Just take care of them.” I panted as he approached dragging his hand up my leg, over my boxers and finally to my neck. “And don’t ever let their mom have them.”

“I will do what I can.” He swore just before he bit down.

(words 624 – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 11/25/2012 (photo for the prompt of unknown origin so not copied); republished in new blog format 11/26/2017)