again.
“What offer? What are you talking about? Please tell me why you’re doing this?”
Jerry swayed to the music, almost in a hypnotic trance. Suddenly snapping back, as if her questions had just registered, he could hide his anger and disgust no longer.
“What offer? Why, to be your boyfriend, of course. But you didn’t want that. You only wanted to be friends, the same thing that all women say. Just like the one before you. She didn’t want to be my girlfriend. She chose to reject me, so she chose to commit suicide.”
He walked around to the back of her chair, running his fat fingers over her lips, his overgrown nails sliding up her face and through her hair. The crying intensified. She felt him lean forward, put his nose to her hair, and inhale deeply. Then he moved in closer to her neck. His scalp had so much dry, dead skin that his head smelled of decay. She trembled as he untied her hands.
“Please,” she begged. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Please let me go home. My son needs me.”
Jerry bent down, untying her ankles.
“I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll pay you.”
“You think I want your money?” he said. “I only wanted you. I chose you. You should have been the lucky one. I would have given you anything you asked for, had you chosen to be with me.”
He stood her up, the blue satin dress swishing as he walked her over to the middle of the floor, escorted by the smooth desperation of Bobby Vinton. Taking her hand into his left, he wrapped his right arm around her waist. She sobbed while they danced slowly around the cold, empty warehouse. Jerry whispered the lyrics in her ear.
“Lonely, I’m mister lonely, I have nobody for my own.” His hot breath stunk.
“Please, my name is Sarah. I have a three-month-old son. His name is Tyler,” she said, her throat hurting from so much crying.
Jerry and Bobby sang in unison.
“I could be your girlfriend. We could go on a date, and see how it goes.”
The dancing stopped as the music continued.
“You’d be my girlfriend?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, we could give it a try, and see how it worked out.”
“See how it worked out. Why wouldn’t it work out? You’re already planning your breakup with me?”
The angel in blue suddenly spun around and back into Jerry’s waiting arms. And a five inch blade.
Sarah felt her knees give under her, but was unable to fall. Jerry held her up, continuing their slow dance. Another stab in the left side. The blade slid in and out with ease.
“Please, my son,” she whimpered, the tears and blood streaming out simultaneously. “I’m his mommy.”
She felt the knife enter her back. She pictured Tyler, his birth, and all the special times in his life she’d miss as Bobby crooned.
They continued dancing in circles, Jerry propping Sarah up throughout as the blood and the life flowed out. Her blue dress was now streaked with red. She slowly laid her head on Jerry’s shoulder as he serenaded her, the words he sang seeming to fit the moment just right—“I’ve been forgotten, yeah forgotten, oh how I wonder, how is it I failed…I wish that I could go back home.”
Sarah barely cringed when her throat took the final cut. There was no sound, just as steak makes no sound when cut. One could only hear her labored breathing.
“Tyler,” she said, gurgling. “Mommy loves you.”
Sarah suddenly went limp, dying in Jerry’s arms. He continued dancing with her lifeless body.
A moment later, Jerry let her body fall into the puddle on the floor, smiling. Then, bending down, he laid beside her in the pool of blood. He wrapped his arm around her and caressed her skin. He leaned in and kissed her lips. Still warm and moist. Then, kneeling over her, he took the knife, and, quickly and crudely, removed her heart.
“Looks like you gave me your heart after all.”
Jerry stood, gathering his equipment and Sarah’s formerly beating heart, walked out of the warehouse to his car, and
“What offer? What are you talking about? Please tell me why you’re doing this?”
Jerry swayed to the music, almost in a hypnotic trance. Suddenly snapping back, as if her questions had just registered, he could hide his anger and disgust no longer.
“What offer? Why, to be your boyfriend, of course. But you didn’t want that. You only wanted to be friends, the same thing that all women say. Just like the one before you. She didn’t want to be my girlfriend. She chose to reject me, so she chose to commit suicide.”
He walked around to the back of her chair, running his fat fingers over her lips, his overgrown nails sliding up her face and through her hair. The crying intensified. She felt him lean forward, put his nose to her hair, and inhale deeply. Then he moved in closer to her neck. His scalp had so much dry, dead skin that his head smelled of decay. She trembled as he untied her hands.
“Please,” she begged. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. Please let me go home. My son needs me.”
Jerry bent down, untying her ankles.
“I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll pay you.”
“You think I want your money?” he said. “I only wanted you. I chose you. You should have been the lucky one. I would have given you anything you asked for, had you chosen to be with me.”
He stood her up, the blue satin dress swishing as he walked her over to the middle of the floor, escorted by the smooth desperation of Bobby Vinton. Taking her hand into his left, he wrapped his right arm around her waist. She sobbed while they danced slowly around the cold, empty warehouse. Jerry whispered the lyrics in her ear.
“Lonely, I’m mister lonely, I have nobody for my own.” His hot breath stunk.
“Please, my name is Sarah. I have a three-month-old son. His name is Tyler,” she said, her throat hurting from so much crying.
Jerry and Bobby sang in unison.
“I could be your girlfriend. We could go on a date, and see how it goes.”
The dancing stopped as the music continued.
“You’d be my girlfriend?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, we could give it a try, and see how it worked out.”
“See how it worked out. Why wouldn’t it work out? You’re already planning your breakup with me?”
The angel in blue suddenly spun around and back into Jerry’s waiting arms. And a five inch blade.
Sarah felt her knees give under her, but was unable to fall. Jerry held her up, continuing their slow dance. Another stab in the left side. The blade slid in and out with ease.
“Please, my son,” she whimpered, the tears and blood streaming out simultaneously. “I’m his mommy.”
She felt the knife enter her back. She pictured Tyler, his birth, and all the special times in his life she’d miss as Bobby crooned.
They continued dancing in circles, Jerry propping Sarah up throughout as the blood and the life flowed out. Her blue dress was now streaked with red. She slowly laid her head on Jerry’s shoulder as he serenaded her, the words he sang seeming to fit the moment just right—“I’ve been forgotten, yeah forgotten, oh how I wonder, how is it I failed…I wish that I could go back home.”
Sarah barely cringed when her throat took the final cut. There was no sound, just as steak makes no sound when cut. One could only hear her labored breathing.
“Tyler,” she said, gurgling. “Mommy loves you.”
Sarah suddenly went limp, dying in Jerry’s arms. He continued dancing with her lifeless body.
A moment later, Jerry let her body fall into the puddle on the floor, smiling. Then, bending down, he laid beside her in the pool of blood. He wrapped his arm around her and caressed her skin. He leaned in and kissed her lips. Still warm and moist. Then, kneeling over her, he took the knife, and, quickly and crudely, removed her heart.
“Looks like you gave me your heart after all.”
Jerry stood, gathering his equipment and Sarah’s formerly beating heart, walked out of the warehouse to his car, and
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