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Authors: Glenn Rolfe
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else as Sarah stepped in front of her. She watched as Sarah stripped off her t-shirt and jumped on Jason like some horny slut from a porn flick. It happened so fast, she didn’t have time to process what was going on.
Tits hanging out, Sarah wrapped her long legs around Jason who made only the feeblest attempts to pull his face away before quickly giving in, melting like butter as Sarah shoved her tongue down his throat. She only stopped to turn and bark at Christina, “Jesus Tina, get out of the way.”
Christina retreated in defeat, flooded with an awful sense of déjà vu watching the salacious act unfold before her. Jason’s face was flushed pink, but his once nervous eyes were now hungry flames desperate to be stoked into full roar. Sarah undid his jeans and slipped them down to the floor, crawling back up to take his exposed manhood in her mouth.
“Oh my God,” he said.
After a minute of getting him worked up, Sarah rose, and then hauled Jason down on the bed with her, spreading her legs for him. “Give it to me,” she said, tearing at his broad back.
Sarah slipped a hand under the pillow by her head and produced something shiny. Christina snapped out of her dead end daydream. Jason’s thick, muscled back tensed. His ohs and yeahs came faster. Sarah swung her arm up; Christina blinked at the flash of light reflected from the object in her hand. Jason’s roar of ecstasy was interrupted–Sarah slid the straight razor across his throat. Blood gushed from the split skin like water from a spilled paper cup. Jason’s face went pale. He sat up, gurgled out in an incoherent sentence and dropped back down atop Sarah lurching and twitching until he fell still.
“What the hell are you doing? Why? Why?” Christina rushed to the bedside, already in tears.
Sarah slithered out from beneath the man, her face and chest covered in blood, murder weapon in hand, and hellfire burning in her eyes. “Stop right fucking there. I swear to hell, I will gut you next.” The threat hung between the two girls as Sarah smiled under a mask of blood.
Christina bolted for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She wanted to purge the gut-wrenching feeling and the guilt that accompanied it to the porcelain god. She wanted to get the sickness that was Sarah Ford out of her system before it set in and took hold. In between her heaving, she cried for what she had done. She cried for the life she had just helped to destroy. She mourned for the wife that was now widowed, and the children now fatherless. Her moment of depthless sorrow was cut short by the horrific series of sick wet thuds–like the sound of mud slapping blacktop–coming from the room beyond the closed door.
She rose to her feet, wiping vomit and saliva from her mouth with the bottom of her t-shirt creeping toward the sickening sounds. Placing her hand on the bronze knob, unaware that she was holding her breath, she pulled the door open wide just as Sarah buried something shiny into the bloody mess on the floor. Blood splatter rained down over Christina’s bare feet. A scream worked its way up from the bottom of her eternally damned soul, tearing through the room like a the wail of a chainsaw.
Before she could stop, she was tackled off her feet by the psychotic girl with the meat cleaver in her hand. They landed hard on the floor. Christina’s breath shot from her lungs halting the scream–the back of her head smacked the solid tub behind her. Stars danced before her horrified eyes as she fell back into oblivion.
When she came to, Christina found herself lying on the bed. Fresh blankets, the second set Sarah had now bought at K-Mart, now covered the scene of the crime. Sarah sat at the end of the bed smoking a cigarette, watching another episode of Three’s Company . Christina wondered if it had all been some sort of bad dream. She tried sitting up, but was hit by a wave of light headedness and nausea that dropped her back onto the fluffy pillow behind
Tits hanging out, Sarah wrapped her long legs around Jason who made only the feeblest attempts to pull his face away before quickly giving in, melting like butter as Sarah shoved her tongue down his throat. She only stopped to turn and bark at Christina, “Jesus Tina, get out of the way.”
Christina retreated in defeat, flooded with an awful sense of déjà vu watching the salacious act unfold before her. Jason’s face was flushed pink, but his once nervous eyes were now hungry flames desperate to be stoked into full roar. Sarah undid his jeans and slipped them down to the floor, crawling back up to take his exposed manhood in her mouth.
“Oh my God,” he said.
After a minute of getting him worked up, Sarah rose, and then hauled Jason down on the bed with her, spreading her legs for him. “Give it to me,” she said, tearing at his broad back.
Sarah slipped a hand under the pillow by her head and produced something shiny. Christina snapped out of her dead end daydream. Jason’s thick, muscled back tensed. His ohs and yeahs came faster. Sarah swung her arm up; Christina blinked at the flash of light reflected from the object in her hand. Jason’s roar of ecstasy was interrupted–Sarah slid the straight razor across his throat. Blood gushed from the split skin like water from a spilled paper cup. Jason’s face went pale. He sat up, gurgled out in an incoherent sentence and dropped back down atop Sarah lurching and twitching until he fell still.
“What the hell are you doing? Why? Why?” Christina rushed to the bedside, already in tears.
Sarah slithered out from beneath the man, her face and chest covered in blood, murder weapon in hand, and hellfire burning in her eyes. “Stop right fucking there. I swear to hell, I will gut you next.” The threat hung between the two girls as Sarah smiled under a mask of blood.
Christina bolted for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She wanted to purge the gut-wrenching feeling and the guilt that accompanied it to the porcelain god. She wanted to get the sickness that was Sarah Ford out of her system before it set in and took hold. In between her heaving, she cried for what she had done. She cried for the life she had just helped to destroy. She mourned for the wife that was now widowed, and the children now fatherless. Her moment of depthless sorrow was cut short by the horrific series of sick wet thuds–like the sound of mud slapping blacktop–coming from the room beyond the closed door.
She rose to her feet, wiping vomit and saliva from her mouth with the bottom of her t-shirt creeping toward the sickening sounds. Placing her hand on the bronze knob, unaware that she was holding her breath, she pulled the door open wide just as Sarah buried something shiny into the bloody mess on the floor. Blood splatter rained down over Christina’s bare feet. A scream worked its way up from the bottom of her eternally damned soul, tearing through the room like a the wail of a chainsaw.
Before she could stop, she was tackled off her feet by the psychotic girl with the meat cleaver in her hand. They landed hard on the floor. Christina’s breath shot from her lungs halting the scream–the back of her head smacked the solid tub behind her. Stars danced before her horrified eyes as she fell back into oblivion.
When she came to, Christina found herself lying on the bed. Fresh blankets, the second set Sarah had now bought at K-Mart, now covered the scene of the crime. Sarah sat at the end of the bed smoking a cigarette, watching another episode of Three’s Company . Christina wondered if it had all been some sort of bad dream. She tried sitting up, but was hit by a wave of light headedness and nausea that dropped her back onto the fluffy pillow behind
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