Twisted Desires | Teen Ink

Twisted Desires

February 18, 2021
By Anonymous

Author's note:

This was originally an idea for a short story to submit in class, but I feel I could make it into more than that. I'm very determined, and might continue even if it doesn't really go anywhere in the future.

The author's comments:

The lines of "-----" are separations between each scene. We could make them stars or something, but that's what I'm using for now.

The day started slow with an overcast sky and a sweet, ice-cold macchiato. I sipped the coffee gingerly as I waited for the customers to roll in, but Tuesdays were always slow going, and it was almost useless to wait.

Carly Rae Jepson sang quietly in the background as the cars on the street rushed by. It was about noon when the first customer finally showed -- a skinny man, perhaps in his late twenties, with thin-rimmed oval glasses and a white collared shirt tucked into beige slacks. His thick blonde hair was parted in the middle which complimented his asymmetrical, chiseled jawline. Not bad for a first patron.

The bell jingled as he entered, and he was quick to shoot to the women’s t-shirt section. Doing my cashier-ly duties, I walked up to him with a smile. “Hello, I’m Robin, and welcome to Robin Steele’s Fashion Deals! Can I help you with anything today?” I asked, making sure to slip my name in there.

The guy shook his head without looking at me, his eyes still browsing the selection. “I’ve got to get my girlfriend a gift for our two-month anniversary, and I don’t have the time to make conversation.” His voice, although brisk and somewhat rude, intrigued me. His tone was hurried, almost worried, but something in his eyes told me his anxiety wasn’t towards finding the perfect present.

“We have a lovely selection of cardigans if you’d like to get her something more elegant,” I suggested sweetly, trying to be as helpful as possible.

He nodded his head. “Yes,” he said shakily, “yes, that’ll do, I suppose.”

I led him to our cardigan section, and together we picked one out -- a pure white, long sleeve, cotton cardigan with pockets that was perfect for a woman on the move, for when you have dinner at 5 and work at 6.

“This’ll do,” said the man, and he ushered me to the cash register. “Now check me out.”

“Mind your attitude,” I mumbled under my breath, but reluctantly scanned the price tag. “That’ll be $24.50.”

He got out his credit card and inserted the card to the reader. “Have a good-” but he was already gone, the door jingling and his receipt still in my hand.I casually threw out the piece of paper. No use in keeping it if he didn’t take it. 

The rest of the day was okay. Two more customers, one plump man and one thin, fit woman, showed up before my lunch shift, and each purchased clothes over $50.00. Gonna meet my quota today, I thought to myself. When the clock struck 12:30, I clocked out for lunch, grabbing my coat and heading towards the bakery across the street.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------

The smell of fresh bread and savory sandwiches wafted through the parlor. In the corner was a group of teenagers working tirelessly on schoolwork, and on the other side of the room sat two elderly women, gossiping about whatever old people gossiped about.

I walked up to the counter and took a gander at all the baked treats that I could afford. “Hello,” said a kind barista, “welcome to The Tasty Trance. What can I get for you today?”

“I’d like a medium iced caramel latte and a chocolate muffin, please!” I smiled brightly at the barista, who took my order quite fast. 

“Alright,” she started, typing the last of the information into the computer, “just sign here and your order will be out in a jiffy!”

I signed where she told me to, then took a seat near the door of the cafe, watching the cars pass by and periodically checking my texts and social media. Kim Kardashian and Kanye split. Monica got a new car. Happy birthday, Raine… After reading through half my feed, another barista, a man this time, called my name. “Robin Steele, your order is ready!” I grabbed the bag he held out to me, then made my way back across the street to my store, sipping my third cup of coffee for today. 

In the back of the store, I ate my muffin and looked at the television, but my mind was preoccupied with other thoughts, like when would I get off work, and when would I be able to retire from this recurring hellish nightmare that is capitalism. Probably not for about forty years, seeing as I'm only twenty-four. The thought made me queasy, and I almost lost my appetite.

After half-finishing my lunch (and losing the rest of my appetite after pondering retirement that felt almost too far away), I sat back at the register. The sun had quickly set, and the sky had turned to a collage of bright reds, oranges, pinks, and purples. At 7:00 pm sharp, I flipped the sign from “open” to “close,” clocked out, and locked the door behind me. I made my way to my black Honda Civic and drove fifteen minutes to my apartment on the other side of Providence, Rhode Island. 

My roommate, Gracie, greeted me with a plate of steaming macaroni and cheese and a lukewarm hotdog, a usual late-evening meal. “Thanks,” I said as I took my plate and sat on the floor in front of the television. Gracie had turned on Jeopardy!, which was always playing around this time.

She and I took turns guessing the answer, and I, more often than not, got them wrong. Gracie, on the other hand, was a total whizz. She got almost every single one right, like a grandma who had nothing to do with her days. “Gosh, you sure are smart,” I said casually.

“Oh, I just study a lot for my morning classes,” she smiled. Gracie was almost a college graduate, and she was also my sister’s best friend. I offered to take her in a few years ago when my sister had to move to Idaho for university, and we’ve grown quite close ever since.

“What are you majoring in, general knowledge?” She and I had a small laugh at that, even though it wasn’t even remotely funny.

I finished my meal and, after a few episodes of Two Broke Girls, saw Gracie off to bed. “I have a test coming up tomorrow, so I got to get to sleep,”  she said through a loud yawn.

Waving her goodnight, I put my plate on the counter. I could hear the news from the living room, which was so boring. “And in other news, a murder of a girl in her early twenties. Police spotted a white Corolla-” and I shut it off. I don’t want to hear about any murderers tonight.

I walked back to the kitchen and loaded the small stack of dishes that were piling up near the sink in the dishwasher, then washed my hands, and sat on the couch, propping my feet up onto the ebony table. I stared out into the city, all the lights still brightly lit, and the sky starlessly illuminated. It was a beautiful night. Too bad it had to go to waste…

Until one text made my phone buzz. Robin! I read in my friend’s, Monica’s, voice. There’s a mixer tonight at Barry’s Bar! It’ll be good for you to meet new people after your last boyfriend, Duke. Come over NOW!!!

I typed back a reply, then grabbed my purse and made my way to her apartment downtown, a good twenty minutes away. When I got there, I didn’t even have to knock on the door, as Monica was already ushering me inside. “Okay, I have the most absolute perfect dress for you to wear tonight. It’s in the bedroom on the chest. Don’t be long!”

As she went to her bathroom to perfect her makeup, I walked down the corridor to her bedroom. On the chest lay a beautiful black dress, the collar covered in shiny rhinestones. It had long sleeves and was see-through and laced with a silhouette of flowers. The bottom part of the dress hung down to my ankles, and I saw that Monica had put a pair of black pumps beside it. 

When I put it on, I was surprised at how much it fit me just right. It perfectly shaped my body to look the best it has ever looked, and suddenly I was Jennifer Lopez. I admired myself in the mirror, then did my brown hair in a half-up-half-down style and put on some mascara.

Monica gasped as I walked out of the room, her hands cupped over her mouth. “Robin, girl, you look AMAZING!!! You’re not going home alone tonight.” She winked, then turned to go back to her kitchen-living room blend. I followed close behind.

She grabbed her purse and off we went to wherever this mixer was. I wasn’t quite looking forward to it, and my social anxiety was screaming at me to go home and get some sleep, but we were already in the car, and I wasn’t going back now.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The bar was lively with bachelors and bachelorettes of every age, all over 21, of course. Monica and I claimed a corner booth at the other end of the establishment, cozy and out of the way of other singles mingling in the middle. I waved down a waiter and ordered my drink, a diet coke. Monica ordered a margarita, but she left the booth before it was even delivered. 

Monica wandered into the crowd, the loud pop music mixing with the conversations of others. I watched silently, slightly uninterested and immensely bored. Checking my phone every now and then, I was almost finished with my coke when someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I turned my head around to see the man I had helped earlier at work.

“Oh, hey!” I exclaimed in gleeful surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see you here, seeing as your two month anniversary was today.” I gave the guy a playful smile.

He just grinned awkwardly and scratched his head. “Yeah, that didn’t go too well. She wanted too much from me, I guess.”

We both stood there awkwardly in silence for a moment. “So…” I started, “I’m sorry, I just remembered that I never caught your name.”

His eyebrows perked up in realisation. “Oh, of course. How rude of me. I’m Neil Timothy.”

“Oh! From Timothy Motors?”

“The one and only.”

“Dude, you’re probably like, super filthy rich!” I suddenly adjusted myself and cleared my throat. “Sorry, I forgot that it’s rude to talk about money unless you’re with your grandpa talking about corn prices.”

Neil gave a slightly uncomfortable chuckle. “No worries, and you’d think I’d be rich by now, but I’m only making six figures.” He said it so casually, like just anyone could make six figures.

“Oh, that must be exhausting,” I said with half-hearted, slight sarcasm, but he tugged on his collar like it worried him nonetheless.

“Sorry, I must sound so arrogant right now. The truth is, I don’t really want to be here. I was dragged along by a buddy of mine.”

“No way, me too!” We laughed together at the coincidence. “Who’s your friend?”

Neil pointed to a man in a black tux who was drunkenly arguing with the bartender. “That would be Gabe,” he smiled apologetically.

I suddenly switched to a country accent to make myself seem more funny. “Don’t worry, my friend ain’t doing herself any favours either.” I gestured to Monica, who was dancing crazily in the middle of the room, obviously taking one too many shots that other men had ordered for her.

Neil had a hardy laugh at that. “So we both have crazy friends too, huh,” he snorted, and I giggled a little laugh too.

“I guess so!”

We then suffered in silence for what seemed endless but was really probably three seconds. “Say,” started Neil, “wanna go back to my place and watch a movie? Beats being here.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Anything to get me out of here.”

The author's comments:

I'm wondering if I should make, "Here's Johnny," into "Here's Neil-y" for comedic effect, but I'm not sure if it's right for the mood. I'm trying to come across as comedic yet serious, you know?

I gathered my things and together we headed out into the night. Neil led me to his car, a white Corolla. This car seems familiar, I thought to myself, but I couldn’t remember where I saw it from.

I shrugged those thoughts off as he opened the passenger door for me, then got into the driver’s seat. The car was warm, and the seat warmers were greatly appreciated; my dress didn’t trap heat like I wanted it to. The engine roared to life and the stereo suddenly started playing slow folk music. “Mumford & Sons,” I deduced out loud. 

“Yeah,” Neil assured me, smiling, “I’ve never met anyone else who listens to them!”

We rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence with only music between us, and yet it spoke for us. Eventually, Neil pulled into a long driveway which led to a secluded house in the woods. Looking around, a shiver ran down my spine. It was dark, and there was obviously no one around for miles.

“You live here?” I asked, raising a VERY concerned eyebrow.

“I mean, yeah. Is there something wrong?” he asks, giving me a nervous smile.

He’s hiding something. Something unsettling, I thought, but I simply said, “Oh, no. It’s just… spiders, y’know.”

He nodded as we finally pulled up to the house, which was humongous. The roof was A-framed, masked in dark oak wood and trimmed with thin strings of gold. You could see the foyer from the outside because the front wall was see-through, and the porch was fixed with a white swing, cushioned with decorative blue pillows.

I sat in the car, now turned off, gaping in awe. Neil pocketed his keys, got out of the car, then turned to look at me from the other side. “What’s up?” he asked bashfully.

“Oh, nothing.” I brushed him off and got out. What else did I expect from a wealthy car salesman?

He walked me up to his porch and opened the door for me. I was greeted inside by a comfortable heat and a small spaniel, eager to jump up and lick my hand. I aw’d. “What’s his name?” I asked, bending down to pet the fido.

“Frisky, named after-” he cut himself off then readjusted his jacket.

“Named after what?”

“A… dog food brand,” he said, more in a questioning tone, like he wasn’t sure either.

“Oh.” I gave out a little awkward chuckle then stood back up. Frisky sat on my foot, tongue sticking out. He looked hungry as his eyes wandered to meet my gaze.

“Well, the living room’s around the corner. I’ll go pick a movie!” Neil strode to a different room, probably the office seeing all the books and the desk with a computer. 

I walked the other way, toward the living room. The walls were mostly bare, with a few moose heads hanging on each side. There was one picture in the room -- a boat out in sea, surrounded by the deep blue. There was nothing else in the picture. It unsettled me almost as much as the forest did, but I kept quiet because Neil was so nice.

I sat down on the cushioned orange couch and looked at the objects on his fireplace shelf. They seemed to be randomly selected, for each had nothing to do with the other, and it was honestly quite gross. There was a toothpick, a necklace made of teeth, a wedding ring, and a wilted rose. I pet Frisky quietly as I observed the rest of the room. Nothing else seemed weird, just your normal, everyday living room. But the things on that fireplace put an uncomfortable lump in my throat.

I pushed my negative thoughts to the back of my mind as Neil waltzed into the room holding up a disc proudly. “I hope you like Jim Carrey.”

He threw me the DVD, and I barely caught it. The Mask read the title. “Oh, I’ve seen this! My grandpa used to play it for me when I came over.”

Neil nodded absent-mindedly, like he didn’t care unless the conversation was about him. He went over to the DVD player and inserted the disc. “Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.” The TV, a 110-inch flat screen HDTV, turned on, the lights dimmed, and the title screen showed itself. Neil pressed play, and jazzy music started to play.

Jim Carrey appeared on screen and suddenly Neil got up. “I’ll go make some popcorn,” he said over his shoulder, walking into the kitchen.

I sat there for a few minutes, watching The Mask dance on screen. Sure is some silent popcorn. I was about to get up when I heard a creak in the floor behind me. “Oh, Neil, I was wondering-” I turned to find Neil two feet from me, a knife in hand.

Getting up quickly, I backed up to the fireplace. “Neil, what’re you doing? Put the knife down…” I knew that wouldn’t do anything, but always good to try, I guess.

“You know what my mom said to me when I was little? She said, ‘Timmy, you ain’t never gonna get a girlfriend if you keep being yourself.’” He was monologuing. This psychopath was monologuing. Right before he kills me! The audacity. He continued, “At first, I didn’t listen to her. I was naive. A young son to a rich entrepreneur didn’t need to fake it to make it with the ladies, right? Tell that to my first ex, Kimberly. Teenage me was crushed, but now I know what to expect. You women are all the same.” He took a step closer.

“It’s all awkward until I mention my business, then suddenly everyone is interested in the son of the richest man in the greater area of Rhode Island, huh?” Another step.

I backed up, hitting the shelf above the fireplace. The teeth fell, and I realized they were just recently taken from something’s -- someone’s mouth. “Wait, Neil, it isn’t like that at all!” I pleaded.

“Oh, yes it is. It’s always been about the money. You even asked, on the first date, about my salary. Pathetic. Desperate. You have no dignity. Just like Amanda.” I looked back at the fresh teeth. Human teeth. “I had to end it tonight. She never seemed happy until I got her some shiny ring or some silver necklace. And you’re just the same. Just like Amanda, just like Kimberly. Just like them all. And I don’t want any other man going through the pain I’ve gone through. Women are shallow. And you’re all gonna pay.”

Suddenly he was barreling toward me, the knife held up over his head. I ducked instinctively and ran to the kitchen. “Neil, you don’t have to do this! You’ll find someone! I promise! Someone just as twisted as you! Won’t that be fun?”

He let out an enraged scream. Yeah, maybe that last snarky remark wasn’t the best option. “Come out, Robin. Don’t make this hard!”

I looked around the kitchen. There was a hallway to a white spiral staircase, and I could see Neil’s shadow coming closer each second. I made a run for the stairs as quietly as possible -- fortunately, I took my shoes off by the couch. No way could I run with those pumps up these slippery stairs. Neil’s heavy footsteps trailed me, and he was so close. But I was pretty fast for someone who hadn’t ran track since high school.

I made it to the second floor and looked for any doors I could enter. I went with the last one on the left because who chooses the last door on the left? Me, that’s who. Closing the door as quickly as possible, I looked for a place to hide inside of the room. I chose the closet.

It was magical. If I hadn’t been running for my life, I would’ve admired it for at least five more minutes. But I had no time for that, for Neil was calling. “Where are you, Robin?” he asked in a sing-songy voice. If he wasn’t a murderer, he’d be a good musician. Why was he a car salesman? 

In the corner of the closet sat a chest, perfectly human-sized, no doubt bought to store bodies. Probably to eat, that psychopath. Before entering the chest, I looked around for a sharp object to protect myself with. This guy had to have some form of sharp object everywhere.

And I was right. In a jacket pocket lay a swiss army knife. I didn’t hesitate to take it, then stuffed myself in the chest just as Neil opened the bedroom door. “Here’s Johnny! Where are you? Hiding from me? I can give you anything! Money…” I heard a step. “Fame…” Another step. “A car for 75% off!” The closet door opened.

I stifled my breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. “Come on, Robin. It’s just you and me. I’m not gonna kill you. Yet.”

He stepped closer yet, and I could hear him take in a wavering breath. “I’m getting frustrated. You want my money? I’ll give it to you! And then I’ll kill you of course, but I’ll let you buy yourself something nice first!”

I could hear him getting closer to the crate I was trapped in. It was dark and cramped, but I could almost see him walking in the closet. “Maybe you’re behind the clothes. Or on the second shelf…” I could hear him chuckle maliciously. “Or maybe…” The chest started to open. “You’re in-”

Before he finished his sentence, I shot up and stabbed him in the chest. He let out a groan and stumbled back, falling to the floor, shocked and in pain. The knife he was holding dropped to his feet, and I quickly kicked it away. He was choking on his blood, which was spattering from his throat. It was oddly satisfying.

“Robin, help me,” he moaned in a raspy voice. I forgot about my thoughts and looked back at him. He was bleeding out quickly, and I could tell it’d be over soon. I watched in a weirdly sadistic way. What was wrong with me today?

He begged for help for 10 minutes, but eventually he took his last breath. His last word was, “Robin.” Isn’t that cute? I was his last breath! I blinked. That shouldn’t make me gleeful. I focused on cleaning up the body, stuffing it into the chest. I took the knives and headed to the bedroom bathroom.

I cleaned the knives with bleach so there wouldn’t be any fingerprints, then set them aside to take a shower. Something about taking advantage of a dead man’s house put me in a good mood, and I was starting to wonder what was happening to me. I got out and put on some of Neil’s clothes, smiling at the thought that I was wearing a dead man’s closet.

It was twisted and somewhat satanic. I looked at myself in the mirror for  a long time, trying to come to any conclusion besides that I was an insane lunatic. But I couldn’t come up with anything other than it was a wicked satisfaction of watching someone die. I smiled maniacally at myself, then quickly shook my head. No, I can’t think like this. Get your head straight, Robin. It was self defense. 

I went downstairs to clear my mind and make some food. Exploring the house, I found more body parts from more women. It was disturbing, and maybe I’d done some good ridding the world of that man. I ate my oatmeal as I walked through all his rooms, taking inventory. There was a big red room full of paintings, mostly just sailboats, which was weird, but he couldn’t paint anymore of those. 

The library near the back of the house was gigantic, like Beauty and the Beast size, but less multi-coloured.  I browsed some of the shelves and found many books from my childhood: Hansel and Gretel, Black Beauty, To Kill a Mockingbird, and other classics.

 The office was small, with only a computer desk in the middle of the room and one bookshelf to its right. I was about to head upstairs when I heard a knock on the door. “Neil? It’s Jane.”



Similar books


JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This book has 0 comments.