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  She wants to be everything that Matt wants her to be, outgoing and as daring as he is. Her will to mold herself into being Matt's soul mate over rides any fear or moral that she 109

  holds on to. Emma does not see the outline that makes her stand-out and independent is fading, nor does she act like it matters. Everything she does and her every thought is about Matt, this man who she barely knows anything about. Casting caution aside she bends herself to his every whim and his every wish—a slave-like lover that follows his commands without question. No matter what he does or what he says, she will be there for him—forever and ever after.

  Ophelia wears her dark sunglasses as shields over her heavy hanging eyes. Black bags act like gutters, collecting her stress laced exhaustion for all to see. She rides passenger in Mark's pick-up truck as he takes her to see his friend. Too tried to care about how she looks, her hair is pulled back and she is covered up in a faded jogging suit. With the window rolled down in the beat up truck with no air conditioning while Ophelia chain smokes to ease her angst. Mark looks over at her as she stares blankly outside. He knows something is going on but she is not going to tell him. It is not in Ophelia's nature to dump her problems onto other people.

  Choosing the ladder, she would rather hold it in until it slowly poisons her.

  Mark is the only man that Ophelia sleeps with for no charge. He knows how she makes her money and what she does with it, but he keeps his opinions on her personal life to himself. Knowing enough about what Ophelia has been through, he knows better than to try and change her. They are merely friends who have sex and it is not his place to advise her on anything. As friends, Mark is aware of his limitations and keeps himself behind the line that Ophelia has drawn out of respect. After all, there would be a certain level of hypocrisy if Mark ever did confront Ophelia about her lifestyle.

  Before the economy took a turn for the worst, Mark was a licensed construction contractor who dealt in illegal gambling on the side. He started off small by taking bets on 110

  sports games for kicks, but after seeing how much money he could actually make, he turned to running underground poker houses. When the housing market collapsed and left all new construction grounded, Mark turned to his racket as a fulltime gig. Though he is making more money than he ever did as a contractor, he wishes he could have the legal front back.

  Mark is constantly looking over his shoulder and dealing with the bottom of the barrel of society. Watching others fall because of their slip ups, Mark keeps his focus and thinks twice before making a move. Driving around in a beat up pick-up truck and toning down his clothes, he keeps a low profile to not draw attention. His scruffy exterior throws most people off, leading them to believe that he is a lowly construction worker.

  Mark tells Ophelia, "This guy's name is De-Lo... he specializes in drugs but he just happens to have a few hand guns that he's lookin' to unload."

  She nods and asks, "Have they been used before?"

  "For the price he's sellin' these pieces for, I'm sure they have bodies on 'em."

  Ophelia shakes her head, "Is it too much to ask for a clean gun?"

  "No, but those pieces aren't in your price range, Doll.

  And for a new gun in a store there is a thirty day wait. Now, I called around and these are the best prices that I could find in such a sort amount of time."

  Pulling up to the house, Mark looks over at Ophelia and sees the look of dissatisfaction on her face. "Calm down, alright? This guy is cool and he's not going to fuck me over."

  With a sigh, Ophelia nods and replies, "A'ight, I'll see what he's got."

  "That's all I'm askin'… go in with an open mind and just be honest."

  Mark and Ophelia are in the middle of an up-scale neighborhood located off the beach. This is an area where the wealth lives, mostly people from generations of riches. De-111

  Lo's house sits with five others, located in a large cul-de-sac just off of highway A1A, where each house was built to the specifics of the owners. De-Lo's house sits at the end of a long drive way that is surrounded by shrubs and tasteful brush.

  Ophelia looks around at the houses and big and beautiful they are. A woman walking her dog across the street is caught off guard by the rustic bucket of bolts and the sketchy characters who are standing by it.

  Noticing the dog lady glaring at him, Marks asks, "What the fuck are you lookin' at lady? You want to take a picture?"

  She quickly turns her head and scurries up the sidewalk, not saying a word. Ophelia looks over at Mark, irritated,

  "While you're at it, ya wanna draw any more attention to us?"

  "Fuck her. It’s bad enough we're out past A1A in a heap of shit I have for a truck…"

  "Hey, don't talk shit about the ride that fuckin' got ya here."

  Ophelia scoffs, "You have a brand new Lexus SUV!"

  Mark replies in a loud whisper, "Yeah and I'm driving that POS to keep myself off of the radar."

  Getting to the front door, Mark rings the door bell as Ophelia lights another cigarette. De-Lo comes to the door as Ophelia is in mid drag. He opens the door and greets Mark with a smile and a hand shake, "How ya been, man?"

  Mark grins, "I've been good… this is Ophelia."

  De-Lo steps back, "Nice ta meet ya, but you gotta put that stink-stick out before you enter me casa."

  Ophelia looks around, "Where should I put it out at?"

  Pointing over towards the side, De-Lo answers, "Out in the dirt over there. Fuck, who comes up to people's homes smokin' in this day and age?"

  Mark shrugs and shakes his head as Ophelia holds her tongue. Putting the butt out in the dirt, she leaves it and walks back to the front door quickly. When she returns, De-Lo shoots her a smile and says, "There we go… you look so 112

  much prettier without that little white dick hanging out of your mouth."

  Trying not to laugh, Ophelia replies, "That's nice… such a gentlemen you are."

  De-Lo leads the two into his giant house and he walks them through slowly towards back. Taken in by the vaulted ceilings and the plush décor, Ophelia looks on in awe while wishing that she could live like this. This sight reminds her of every trailer home that she was ever confined too and every time she has had to slide her food stamp card—a subtle jealousy courses through her. Her eyes are opened wide under her dark sunglasses at the tasteful beach scene painting on the wall. Robbing quick glances outside from the giant clean widows out to the beach. She carries a secret hatred for anyone who lives this well, especially people who have acquired these well off means by working outside the constrictions of the law.

  Walking down the long hallway, De-Lo leads them into his bedroom. De-lo pulls a duffle bag from under bed and empties the contents on to his mattress. He separates the guns into a line from biggest to small; two nine millimeters, one

  .357, and two snub nose .38's. Stepping aside, De-Lo says,

  "The nine's are 400 a pop, the .357 is 350, and the subs are 300 and 250 bucks."

  Ophelia steps closer with her eyes held open wide behind her sun glasses. She picks up the .38 on the end and grips in her hands awkwardly. Trying to get the feel of the gun, she wraps her skinny fingers around it, holding the handle with both hands. De-Lo watches her getting comfortable with gun and says, "The snubby is probably your best shot, really… it easy to fire, compact, and the perfect gun for a first time shooter."

  Looking down the sights and growing at ease with the weapon, Ophelia makes an offer, "I'll give you 200 for it."

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  Thinking about it for a moment, De-Lo looks over at Mark. Mark shrugs with a nod, giving him a gesture that says,

  "why not?"

  "A'ight… you gotta deal. I don't have any shells so you're on your own there, Sweetie."

  Lost in her own world, De-Lo tells her how to cock and fire the piece, but she does not respond. Mark and De-Lo look at one another in confusion over her stature as she points the gun at nothing. Embracing the pistol, Ophelia is lost in the moment; sh
e imagines herself taking aim at Dillon. Lining him up in her sights, she finally feels the element of control that she has always yearned for. In her momentary dream she feeds from his fears like a rabid parasite. This is the power that she has long since craved, total domination over another living soul.

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  CHAPTER 14

  Kelly punches the time clock and makes her way out of Lots-O-Crust. After making up a lie about her monthly cycle, the assistant manager let her go home early. She was not in the mood to be there, especially after the way Parker was acting towards her earlier. The situation with Parker has been grating on her nerves all day and dumb customers with asinine complaints did not help matters either. A complete stranger in a bad mood going off on her because they were shorted a breadstick more than a month ago was enough to drive her to the point of wanting to quit.

  Leaving behind the pizza place, she calls Parker and asks if she can come over to talk. He tells her is alright, like she knew that he would. As much as Kelly steers away from becoming emotionally attached, at this point she finds herself diving blindly into the arms of another. She cannot help but bite her lip nervously as she drives slowly to Parker's house.

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  There are no doubts that he can make her happy, but what lingers is the fear of what comes afterwards. What if he loves her for a few weeks and then drops her like a stone? Maybe it will last longer, just long enough to make her think that it is a love everlasting before leaving her to wallow in heartache?

  Or worse, what if she is incapable of returning those emotions to him?

  These are the things that she thinks about when confront-ed with the happiness that any potential lover could bring to her. Every positive is countered by a negativity that dwarfs any of the good in comparison. Within moments of meeting someone who tickles her interest, these bad vibes race through her. No matter how much she tells herself that it is all in her head, she falls prey to her own vicious fears. This is her psychosis, and any man who wants to win her affection must overcome these barriers with truth and patience.

  Arriving at Parker's house, Parker takes her to his back porch for quiet as his roommates play video games in the living room. Kelly lights a cigarette and says, "I really want to apologize about this morning… hang over, ya know? It wasn't your fault and it was wrong for me to take it out on you."

  Parker nods, "Don't worry about it… I'm sorry for going off on you the way I did."

  Looking away, Kelly takes a drag from her smoke and says, "Donnie's been acting like prick damn near all day today."

  "What's his problem?"

  "I don't know. He pissed me off yesterday when he told me that Matt guy killed some stripper and got away with it."

  "'Matt guy', you mean the asshole I kicked out of my party the other night?"

  "Yeah, the guy who is dating my sister…"

  Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, Parker says,

  "Donnie needs to keep his fuckin' mouth shut about things he doesn't know about."

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  "So, what really happened?"

  Shaking his head, Parker answers, "No one knows, really. At this point what happened to her is speculation…

  just rumors and gossip. All I can tell you is that he frequented that strip club and used to do some pretty fucked up things to the dancer who was found dead."

  "Like what?"

  "Matt's into blood play…"

  Kelly gives him a confused look and he explains, "He likes to cut girls and drink their blood…"

  "What the fuck kind of weirdo shit is that?!"

  Shrugging his shoulders, Parker answers, "I don't know… the girl that died had a lot of problems with drug dealers who she owed money too so police suspected it was drug related."

  "Donnie told me that they took Matt in for questioning and…"

  "He's full of shit. As far as anyone knows he wasn't even questioned over the phone let alone brought in. Donnie hears something, forgets about it and then gets it messed up when he goes to repeat it to someone."

  Taking a moment to breathe, Parker looks off into the trees and says, "I think he got this stripper story confused with the story about Matt's parents."

  Snuffing out her cigarette, Kelly inquires, "What happened to his parents?"

  "He killed them."

  "Bullshit…"

  "I'm serious… he was eighteen and they were threatening to place him in some kind of institution. That night when the two were asleep he cut the break lines to their sedan. The next morning his parents left for church and were met by an oncoming truck when they couldn't stop at a red light."

  "Wait… how was he not caught? Couldn't the cops tell that the lines were cut? I mean, I watch a lot of CSI and they can always tell."

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  "They couldn't prove it. The damage was too extensive.

  There was a fuel leak somewhere in the car and when the truck hit them the car burst into flames… his parents were burned alive."

  A look of horror is frozen upon Kelly’s face as she thinks about this person who is with her sister. Looking into Parker's eyes, his serious expression tells her that he is not pulling her leg. Uneasiness fills the pit of her stomach and travels upwards, sending cold chills though her body. Confusion collides with reason in her head as she tries to figure out what to do. Wild scenarios play in her head about what this potential mad man could be doing with her sister. Like a patron in a twisted theater, she visions he sweet little sister subjected to the sickest of perversions.

  With her darkest thoughts streaming relentlessly, Kelly closes her eyes and takes a deep breath while counting to ten.

  By the time she reaches to nine, her head is clearer and her heart rate slows, leaving room for her rationale to take over.

  Reaching into her purse, she pulls out her cell phone. She flips it open and immediately calls Emma to check on her.

  One ring is heard before going to her voice mail. Kelly hangs up takes a deep breath and tries again, but still she does not get through.

  When the beep sounds, she leaves her sister a message,

  "Emma, you need to call me back as soon as you get this…

  it's really important… I love you, please call me."

  Emma's cell phone sits in her purse turned off to save the battery life. She forgot to charge it the night before and there is only one bar left on the power meter. Sitting passenger in Matt's car, the two are returning to their morbid camp ground from the store. Drinking a beer, she eases her fears of spending a night filled with lust in a graveyard. The buzz helps her cope and loosens up her from her concerns. Matt loses himself in the harsh tones pouring from his stereo as Emma argues with herself over what is right and wrong. Her 118

  guilt comes back to haunt to her, whispering scare tactics about sacrilege.

  She was raised as a Catholic and though she does not show it, she still holds close to those beliefs inside.

  Conditioned to walk a spiritual line, Ophelia made sure that her daughters knew hell awaited them. That is how Ophelia was raised and that is how she brought up her children.

  Whenever Kelly or Emma committed a "sin" they were forced to read certain passages out of the bible that dealt with that said "sin". As the girls became teenagers, the preaching of Holy Ghost diminished due to the fact that their mother had found a new god to bow to. Though Kelly has left these things far behind, Emma secretly clings to them, out of fear more than anything else. After all, Emma was always the most impressionable.

  Matt parks the car and takes his tent from the trunk.

  While he starts setting up the tent, Emma drinks another beer.

  She takes the beverage down by gulps at a time, barely taking breaths in-between. Her head begins to swim, working her way through three within a half hour period. Finishing off another, she pitches the can on the ground and makes her way to a fresh beer. Walking loosely and dragging her feet on the ground, she makes her state obvious.

  Watching Emma stagger in her steps towa
rds the cooler, Matt comments, “Hey, maybe you should slow down?” Taking in a deep breath, she swallows and starts hiccupping, “Oh… I’m fine… just… a little thirsty… that’s all.”

  Shaking his head, Matt rolls his eyes, “Then get me one too before you drink them all.”

  “Yeah, yeah…”

  Emma takes two beers from the cooler and swaggers over to Matt. Handing him one, she says, “Here you go…

  your majesty…”

  Taking the beer from her, Matt replies, “That’s right…

  and don’t you fuckin’ forget it.”

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  “Oh… you got it, baby,” she says sarcastically, cracking open her fresh brew.

  Looking her deep in the eyes with a serious gaze, Matt stands up. Emma quivers as she become lost in his glare.

  Walking over to her, he pulls her into him and kisses her deeply. Suddenly he pushes her away and opens his beer.

  Taking a swig, Matt says, “When I finish setting up this tent you and I are going in it…”

  A drunken grin comes across her face, “Mmm, Really?”

  “You better be wearing something sexy under those clothes…” Pulling a plastic bag from his pants pocket, he holds it up as it rolls to expose dried mushrooms.

  Wearing an expression of confusion, Emma asks,

  “What’s that?”

  Opening the bag, Matt reaches in and pulls out six mushroom caps. He holds them out to Emma and replies,

  “They’re magic…open your mouth.”

  She opens her mouth and Matt places a cap on her tongue, he demands, “Swallow it…”

  Doing as he says, she takes the mushroom top down her throat and starts to digest it. The taste of bitter soil forces her face to scrunch uncontrollably. Matt tells her to open her mouth again and places another piece in her mouth. This goes on until she has taken all six and chasing the nasty taste from her mouth with cheap beer. Dipping into the bag, Matt grabs a handful and pops them into his mouth. Emma watches in disgust as he chews them as if they were a sautéed steak.

  The day fades and the dark comes on, looming over the forgotten cemetery. A camping light shines like a beacon out of the black nothingness from within the tent. Inside the nylon structure, Matt hovers over a drunken Emma as he kisses her half naked body. He does not notice that she is only partially enjoying his advances. She tries as hard as she can to keep her demons at bay, attempting to lose herself in Matt’s throes. Images of angered souls run through her mind and the more she tries to silence them, the louder they become.