ScaryPlace Original Fiction - Rita (sarx:three)

by Sean Matthew Howard
TheAmazingTumnus@MSN.com
Copyright 2002 All rights reserved

Rita strained against her front door, which had been jammed for nearly a week. The door creaked three or four times before the frame released the door and let it swing open.

"Can't even get him to fix the door," Rita muttered to herself. She stepped carefully across her darkened living room, which was littered with beer bottles and other random trash. She faltered as she leaned over to turn on a table lamp and nearly fell.

"Watch your step." A voice came from the darkness. "Most tragic accidents happen in the home."

Frightened, Rita flicked the lamp switch and spun to face the recliner across the room. Sarx grinned as their eyes met. "Oh," she sighed, relieved. "You scared me."

"I covered part of Darla's shift for her. Figured I could pick up some extra tips." She began emptying the contents of her apron on the table by the couch. "Anyway, didn't see much reason to hurry home. Its not like Scott's going to be here."

His tongue darted out and seemed to dance on his lips for a second. "Have a seat. You look dead on your feet."

Rita dropped on to the couch, which she and Scott had bought a week after their wedding, those many years ago. Its lumpy overstuffed cushions nearly swallowed her. She kicked off her shoes and curled her bare feet up underneath her. Instinctively, she picked up the remote and turned on the stereo. She was a die-hard music fan, whereas Scott was strictly a TV guy.

"I told you that you'd see me soon. It looks like you're in need of my help here."

"Not hardly. But I can assist in a housecleaning of sorts." Sarx reached over to the end table and picked up a silver picture frame which displayed Scott and Rita at the wedding altar. "What a lovely dress. Let me guess. Handmade?"

"Yeah. My Nana sewed it for me. It was the last thing she made for me before she died."

"Yeah. That's him. My knight in shining armor." She laughed quietly. "It's funny, I don't think I've looked at that picture in at least a year. It's been sitting there. I just forgot about it."

"Now that's a shame. Such a beautiful picture should be admired regularly." Sarx leaned across the coffee table and handed it to Rita. Reluctantly, she took the photo. It was one of the posed shots taken after the ceremony. The train of her gown swirled around in front of them both as they stood hand in hand on the altar steps. She could remember the feel of the taffeta against her skin, the smell of Scott's after shave - and the sound of her father's grumbling somewhere off to the right of the photo's view.

Her father had been complaining since a week before the ceremony and didn't stop even as she and Scott were climbing into their car for their honeymoon. He had always been a harsh, critical man but had become even more acidic as her wedding date approached. He was displeased with the cost of the reception, the church they had picked and most importantly he thoroughly disapproved of Scott. Her father's low but well-voiced opinion of Scott only served to propel her to marriage.

She hoped to escape his tyrannical reign and begin a new life with her husband - her knight in shining armor. Scott would never yell at her or hit her like her father had. Scott wouldn't do all of the terrible things her father did. And soon, as time wore on and familiarity grew, Scott would barely even speak to her. And there were times - times that she would never admit to anyone - that she would wish that Scott would just hit her, just so she knew he was paying attention. At least then she wouldn't feel invisible...

"Yes, my dear. What a lovely couple. What a lucky young girl." Sarx slid back in the chair and settled in. "So, what time will Scott be joining us this evening?"

"He won't be. He has some paperwork at the station to work on. It may be an all night thing."

Sarx clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Now that's a damned shame. That young man works far too hard. That must put an incredible strain on you as well."

"Yeah. But you know he's really dedicated and he wants to get promoted. We don't get to spend much time together, but one day that will change. Until then, I'll just need to hang in there..."

Ring! The cordless phone interrupted Rita and she stopped in mid thought and dove to grab it. The phone skittered across the glass coffee table and tumbled to the floor.

"Dammit." She grabbed the phone and fumbled at the talk button anxiously, barely waiting for it to connect before she spoke. "Hello?"

Sarx watched the excitement and anticipation drain from her countenance in that silent moment as the other person on the phone responded. "Oh, hey Gina." She poorly masked her disappointment. "Yeah, I just got home from work." She flipped her head to the side and held the phone to her ear with her shoulder. "Nah, I'm not in the mood to go out, really. I want to be here when Scott gets home."

Sarx's razor blade slash of a smile spread across his face. "What the heck, you should go."

"What the heck," Rita quoted excitedly, "I'll go. Meet you there in forty five minutes." She hung up the phone.

"Oh, yeah," Rita responded as if she had forgotten Sarx had been there. "We're gonna have couple drinks up at Roscoe's. You know, listen to music, blow off some steam."

"Sounds like an excellent idea. I think I'll tag along, if that's okay with you."

"Sure. Why not?" She pushed herself off the couch with a renewed sense of energy. "I think tonight might end up being fun after all."

"I think you're right." The tip of his tongue darted out, flicked and retreated behind his teeth. "Actually, I'm counting on it."

Roscoe's Bar and Grill was one of the more popular places in the area in which to waste an a perfectly good evening. The beer was cold, the food was cheap and the atmosphere was undemanding. It didn't apply the pressure that the typical sports bars did with their understood dress code of khaki chic. But it was, on the continuum, above places where patrons spat on the floor. The unassuming charm of this hole-in-the-wall kept the tables and dance floor active, if not busy, nearly every night of the week.

Rita breezed through the swinging front door of Roscoe's almost exactly forty five minutes after she had spoken to Gina. After the phone call she showered quickly and selected an outfit that she might have called "sassy" if she had to find a word for it. With her nearly twelve-hour old waitress make-up rinsed deftly down the shower drain, she actually took a few thoughtful moments in the bathroom mirror to add some color to her lips and eyes. When she was finished she stared at her reflection and started to let herself believe she was pretty again.

With her renewed energy she scanned the bar looking for Gina, whom she found sitting in a corner booth near the square of linoleum which served as a dance floor. Rita waved to Gina and looked behind her to Sarx who had just slipped in the door behind her.

"No," Sarx responded, his eyes scanning the crowd as well. "I think I'll just watch from here for now."

"Okay. Have fun. " Rita weaved through the crowd, her hips swaying to the country music pouring from the jukebox.

Gina slid into the horseshoe shaped booth as Rita made her way over to the table. She pulled her beer bottle and cardboard coaster in front of her. "C'mon girl, we got fun to have tonight." She stubbed out her cigarette and slid another out of the pack.

"I don't know how you talked me into coming," Rita said as she was sliding across the vinyl seat of the booth, "but I'm sure am glad that you did."

"Hell, girl, I knew you needed a night out. That husband of yours sure ain't gonna do it for you."

Rita stiffened up at Gina's comment. "Don't start in on him now. I haven't even warmed my seat and you're already started."

"I'm sorry Rita, it's just that it makes me crazy the way he treats you. You might as well be invisible."

"I appreciate that you care, Gina, but just let it go tonight. We're here to have fun."

"Alright. But just for tonight. " Gina took a deep drag off of her cigarette and looked around for the waitress. "What the hell? Is it self-serve in here tonight? We need a couple more beers." She slid out of the booth. "I'll be right back. Sit tight and donÔt run off with any cowboys before I get back."

As Gina left the table, Sarx, who had been watching their conversation, turned to around and leaned on the bar. Roscoe, owner and head bartender of RoscoeÔs Bar and Grill, was filling a bus pan with dirty glasses while watching the television above the bar. The ten o'clock news was covering some particularly grisly story that had Roscoe engrossed.

"Wha'dya think about this mess?" He asked no one in particular while motioning to the TV. "Looks like some suit took a swan dive off the roof of the Blackmon building downtown."

Sarx's eyes traveled across the room from Roscoe, who had some morbid fascination in the report on the news, to the twelve or so others, who seemed to neither notice, nor care that a young man plunged to his death just a few miles from where they were now sitting. Somehow, Sarx was pleased by both.

"Hey Roscoe!" Gina's shrill backwater voice sailed over the bar's hum of noise. "Your waitress on strike or something?"

"I need a couple more beers. And how about an order of onion rings for my inconvenience?"

"Alright on the beers. I guess Rachel stepped out for another break without telling me." He reached into the cooler and pulled out two longnecks. He popped the caps and handed them to Gina. "Here ya go."

"What?" Roscoe gestured grandly to himself. "Do I look like the Salvation Army here?" He then turned back to the kitchen door. "Jason! Get out here!"

The kitchen door swung open and a wiry framed college kid appeared, a stained apron hung carelessly around his neck. He stopped in front of Roscoe who had turned his attention back to the news story. Without breaking his gaze he spoke. "Jason, get these dishes to the back. And go find Rachel. She's off wasting my time somewhere."

"Yeah, like she'd listen to me when I found her." Jason turned to make eye contact with Sarx. "I piss her off for some reason."

"You piss everyone off," Roscoe said and he finally looking away. "Probably your fault this guy killed himself. Watch the bar and I'll go find her." As Roscoe hobbled off, Jason removed his apron from around his neck and ran his fingers through his black tousled hair.

"Not for long, I'm not. I'm about six hundred dollars from getting out of here. I figure that if I can endure another week here and not kill the assholes at my other job and I'll have enough to be able to take off and never look back."

Jason laughed. "Oh no, not me. One thing I'm not gonna do is die in this town. I'm out of here come hell or high water."

"I like a young man who knows what he wants." Sarx looked over his shoulder at Rita. "I'm sure I'll catch up with you before you leave. However, now, if you'll excuse me I've got some business of my own to attend to."

"Sometimes," Sarx pushed himself off of the bar stool and smirked, "it's almost too easy."

Rita sat passively attempting to listen to one of Gina's stories of sexual conquest, however she found herself glancing at her watch every few minutes, wondering if Scott had gotten home yet. He would be worried if he got home and she wasn't there. Her attention drifted across the room to a pay phone between the restroom doors. Just one quick call...

"So, I told him, 'are you gonna just sit there and stare down my blouse or are you gonna do something about it?'. Well, that got his attention real quick and so he got up... Rita? Are you listening to me?" Gina snapped her fingers across the table in Rita's face.

Rita jerked back to the conversation. "Yeah, I was listening. Sorry." "Now, if you don't want to know about the rest that's fine with me. I thought maybe you'd like to hear about some nastiness, since I know that man of yours isn't given you any."

"Please, Gina. Give it a rest." She glanced back over to the pay phone and Sarx passed into her view as he crossed the room. He mouthed the words "Call him" and though he was still quite a distance away from her and the music was incredibly loud, she could have sworn she actually heard the words themselves. He nodded. "You better. He'll be worried." Again the words rang in her head above the din of the bar.

"Actually Gina, I need to go to the ladies room. When I get back you can finish telling me your story."

"Ok, you want me to get you another?" She held up Rita's beer bottle which was nearly empty.

Sarx edged into the booth across from Gina and they both watched Rita make a path across the dance floor. Gina broke her gaze first and turned to Sarx. "I know that she's not going to pee. She's going to call home and check to see if that son of a bitch is home yet. Which he won't be."

Gina exhaled a sigh and picked up her beer bottle like it was a pointer. "You know, it crawls underneath my skin. Here I sit acting like everything's all right when actually I know that son of a bitch is whoring around right under her nose. And she's completely blind to the whole thing."

"You're not exactly know for being discreet, you know. Why the sealed lips now?"

"I guess I was just hoping that either he'd quit or she'd find out by now without me saying something." Gina looked over at Rita with the receiver to her ear trying to hide in the ladies bathroom doorway. "She's really a tough old girl. There's just something about him that's just got her all screwed up."

She pursed her lips and nodded as she thought about the situation. "You're right. I'm gonna tell her. Its gonna kill her, but she needs to know."

Before their eye contact was broken, Rita returned to the table. "Hey! You two know each other?"

Sarx stood up and let Rita slide into the booth. "I get around. I know lots of people."

"Well, just sit back down. I'll buy you a beer." She glanced over at Gina. "You okay with that?"

Sarx interjected before Gina could answer. "Actually, I've got something to take care of, right now. Anyway, I'm sure there are plenty things your girls have to talk about." His eyes locked on Gina's again. "You know, secret girl stuff."

Gina looked nervous, but still determined. She nodded and forced a smile. "Yeah. You're right. You're always right, aren't ya?"

"That's what I've heard said." And with that he turned and left, blending into the crowd and disappearing.

Gina decided that her only hope was a direct approach. "So, Scott wasn't home yet, huh?"

"No, he wasn't, but..." Rita flushed and looked down at the table, embarrassed. "You knew I wasn't going to the bathroom."

"Of course I knew. I also knew that Scott wasn't going to be home when you called. I actually know even more than that."

"So, what else do you know, then, smarty?" Rita said this attempting to be funny, but it just came out hurt and irritated.

"I know that Scott isn't at work, either. And I know..." She paused just to build up the inertia that it would take for her to get the whole story out in one breath and compact all of the hurt into one quick moment, like ripping a bandage off quickly. "I know that Scott is seeing someone else. Actually he's been seeing her for quite some time. She's a college student with long blonde hair and a huge rack. Every night that Scott tells you that he's working late, he's with her. Rita, Scott is cheating on you."

Despite the fact that the music was still blaring and the revelers were hooting and hollering, it was perfectly silent in Rita's world for a moment. She could hear nothing from the outside, only the Gina's rapid-fire words echoed in here head. And suddenly the silence was swept away and the noise of the bar swung back and Rita, who had been holding her breath during the silence, exhaled and began to laugh. "Gina! You're hilarious! I know you don't like Scott, but come on..."

Denial was her only recourse and Rita used it vehemently. "No. No. No. Its not true." Her laughter had shifted into frustrated sobs.

Reluctantly, Rita stood and followed Gina across the dance floor to the telephone she had just used moments before. Gina picked up the receiver, dug into her pocket and pulled out a handful of change. She plunked the correct amount into the slot and ordered Rita. "Dial the cop shop. If he's there, I'll shut up. If he's not, then maybe you should listen to me."

Still heaving from trying to control her sobs, Rita wiped her eyes and dialed the phone number of the police station. She leaned her ear toward Gina, who had the receiver placed to her own ear already, and listened. When the switchboard girl answered, Gina shifted her voice to an even deeper country drawl and spoke. "Hi there, sugar. Could you connect me with Officer Scott Holmes?"

"I'll connect you with that extension." Rita sneered, her arched eyebrows gloating I told you so. Gina raised her finger telling Rita to wait and be quiet. A husky voice answered. "Scott Holmes desk."

"Probably not, Officer Holmes came out to my house last week for a domestic disturbance. My husband gets a little swingy when he gets liquored up. Anyway, Officer Holmes said he wanted me to call him this week and let him know if things were going okay. You know, to see if he needed to come out and talk to Bobby Joe again. I just wanted to tell him that things been fine. Will he back in t'night?"

"No, he won't ma'am. He left for the night." Gina looked at Rita with the same I told you so expression that she gave just moments before, but Rita answered with a shrug and whispered. "Doesn't prove anything."

"Well, now, he wouldn't still be hanging around would he? I'd sure like to at least thank him for being so helpful last week."

"No ma'am, he left hours ago, to tell the truth. Said had a date for dinner. I doubt he'll be back in until his next shift. Could I leave him a message for you?" Rita went pale and slid down the wall between the bathrooms. She began to heave and Gina didn't know if she was going to go hysterical or throw up. "Ma'am, you still there?"

"Officer, one of the kids just got sick all over the place. I better go." She dropped the phone on its cradle and knelt down beside Rita.

"Hon, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to be the one to tell you, but I guess you had to know. I'm so so sorry. Are you gonna be okay?"

Rita heaved once or twice more and then stopped quite suddenly. She wiped the tears from her face and looked up from her lap, fire seemed to be burning behind her eyes. "Yeah. I'm gonna be fine. Lets go back to the table. I want a drink."

Rita drank without saying much for a while. Generally, Gina was the heavier drinker of the two, often to the point that Rita would begin to worry and suggest that Gina slow down. However, that night Rita downed almost two beers for every one that Gina drank. At one point, after not being able to get Rachel to wait on their table fast enough, Rita finally spoke. "Screw this. She's too slow. Let's move up to the bar. Maybe Roscoe can keep them coming a little better."

So they did move, and they stayed at the bar, drinking to beat the band for at least another hour. During that hour, Rita loosened up and began to laugh and shout like the other bar patrons. She and Gina watched the TV above the bar, making fun of the people who were acting absurdly on some late night trash talk show. They laughed and talked bad about men and flicked peanuts across the bar at Roscoe when he turned his back.

Then suddenly, as if someone hit a switch, Rita said, "I don't feel well," and fell face first into the bowl of complimentary peanuts.

Roscoe called cabs for both Rita and Gina and sent them to sleep off their revelry at their homes. Having a couple cars sit in his lot would be far less troublesome than the lawsuit that might occur if he sent them out as drunk and they caused an accident. He gave the driver money and stealthily added it to their tabs.

Rita arrived home a few short minutes after leaving Roscoe's. The cab driver wasted no time getting her to her destination before she felt the need to evacuate the contents of her stomach in his back seat. She climbed out of his cab backwards, having regained a modicum of consciousness, and slowly made her way to the front door. The door, still jammed, nearly knocked her down as she tried to open it, Her second attempt, which involved running her shoulder into it, succeeded in opening the door and depositing her in her living room floor.

She lay face down on her floor, feeling the nap of the rug against her cheek. She didn't move or look around but spoke anyway. "You're here aren't you?"

She finally stirred from the carpet and raised herself up on her elbows to face Sarx. "Damn it." She shakily stood and maneuvered her way to the kitchen sink.

Sarx followed her, pushing the front door closed and locking it as he passed. "You look like shit."

"Thanks, a lot." Rita leaned over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. "I can't drink like this anymore. Maybe you should go, I need to be alone." She attempted to stand completely up, wavered and then fell to the floor.

"I can't leave you like this. I'm sure there's something more I can do." Sarx extended his hand and helped her to her feet.

"ItÔs funny how many people say that." Sarx pulled her close to his face. "I insist." He led her to the living room and lowered her into Scott's recliner.

"This has been a long, stupid day." She mumbled. "My heart hurts. My head hurts and I'm tired."

"We can fix that. Can't we?..." Sarx pulled a ceramic vase from the bookshelf beside Scott's recliner and turned it over. A brown prescription bottle fell out into his hand.

"When are you going to learn, dear Rita? I'm everywhere. In your closets. In your bottles. In your head. I am everywhere." He twisted off the cap and poured the contents on the coffee table. Brilliantly colored pills and capsules danced around the glass top. "Now, what will you have my dear? Red? Blue? Pink? You've got quite the palette here."

She seemed to not hear him for a moment and then leaned out of the chair toward the coffee table. She picked two pills and grabbed the stereo remote control. She pressed the play button it on and started whatever disc happened to be cued at the moment. There was the faint whir of the CD spinning followed by the low, hypnotic beginning of Alice Cooper's Welcome to My Nightmare album. Alice's sickly calm voice poured from the speakers, "Welcome to my nightmare, I think you're going to like it...."

Rita laughed weakly as she watched the lights of the stereo's equalizer dance with the music. "Now that's appropriate." She sunk back into the chair and held the pills in a tight grip at her chest.

"We all knew. And I bet if you did a little soul searching you'd find that you knew it too."

She bowed her head in shame. Sarx was right, she knew it. "I just didn't want to believe it. I really thought I chose differently. I thought I did okay. That's why I had to keep lying to myself. I didn't want to know that I had married someone as equally vile as my dad. Its easy to rationalize to anything if you want to. I've mastered it I think. And now I don't know who I'm angrier with. Him or me."

She reached behind her to the cabinets at the bottom of the bookcase and pulled the door open. Inside bottles of liquor stood like glass sentries. She grabbed blindly and pulled out a sealed bottle of tequila. She spun the cap on the tequila, cracking the seal and launching the cap across the room. For a moment she considered getting up and getting a glass, but then reconsidered. "Screw it," she said as she popped the pills into her mouth and tipped the bottle taking a deep swig. The sting of the liquor made her wince and she swallowed it deliberately.

"My sentiments exactly, my dear. Screw it. Screw him. Screw her. Screw them all."

She nodded and parroted him. "Screw them all." Another swig, not quite so deep this time, yet still as deliberate. She then stood up and raised the bottle like a wedding toast. "Screw 'em all!"

She walked over to the silver framed wedding photo, picked it up and spat out a cynical laugh. "Screw his little college girl with her bleach blonde hair and adolescent figure! Screw him and his weekend football! Screw his '52 inch television..." She threw the frame at the television, it cracked the vinyl screen and bounced off.

A mischievous grin grew across her face. She stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed a dining chair in her free hand and dragged it into the living room. She set the tequila bottle on the top one of the speakers and hefted the chair into the air by its back. She swung the chair in a wide arc and nearly toppled over in her drunkenness. The legs still connected and then ripped through the screen. The tone of the music shifted sharply as Alice and his band kicked into Devil's Food. "Getting ready for the lady, she's going to be a treat..."

Rita dropped the chair, leaving it hanging from the hole she had just created, and turned to face the rest of the living room. She lurched toward Scott's recliner. "His precious husband throne!" She kicked through the fabric in the side of the chair, it opened wide with a satisfactory ripping sound. "Long live the king!" She bellowed and grabbed the back of the chair, pulling it forward and toppling it over on its face.

Sarx stood back and watched her ranting as she opened the liquor cabinet again and pulled out his cache of adult magazines, which had been strategically hidden under a few copies of Sports Illustrated. She dropped them on the end table and took them one by one, ripping pages and throwing them around the room. She was moving so frenetically it soon looked like a blizzard with huge Technicolor snowflakes.

"I knew about these too, you bastard!" She screamed, meaning it for Scott, despite his absence. "I knew about everything!"

After destroying the stack of magazines, she grabbed the bottle of tequila from the speaker and drank again. This time she was nearly oblivious to the burn and swallowed heartily. The music hissed just beneath her, "Our thoughts are hot and crazed... our brains are webbed with haze... mindless, senseless daze..."

"You see this couch?" Rita motioned, slinging liquor across the room. "This couch was the first thing we bought together. Big comfy cushions so we could curl up together after a long day. Even made love a few times on this couch. Now all I do is fall asleep on this couch waiting for him to come home from work... heh... work... that's funny."

She flipped the bottle in her hand so that she was holding it by the neck and swung backward shattering the end of it on the speaker, baptizing it in tequila. Holding the neck of the bottle like a sword she began to rip through the fabric on the couch. She ripped and stabbed with her right hand and yanked the couch's innards free with her right. Stuffing flew in huge white chunks, once again making the the living room look like a victim of some demented snow storm.

A piano began playing the opening notes of Some Folks. The sound of fingers snapping with the beat popped from the speakers and oddly kept time with the second hand of the clock on the wall. Rita watched the seconds tick away and as more instruments joined the song her shoulders began to sway jauntily. She strutted across the living room like a stripper, kicking beer bottles and trash aside with the tempo. She threw the broken bottle into the gaping hole in the TV screen and cackled with laughter.

"Now there's the Rita I know." Sarx watched greedily pranced around the room. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Rita answered, the word slipped off her lips slow and lustily. "Better all the time. And you know what I'm in the mood for?"

Sarx eyed her from under the ridge of his brow and grinned."What would that be?"

Rita took two grand, dancer-like strides toward Sarx and planted her feet in front of him. She leaned into him and breathed,"Revenge"

Sarx licked his lips and bared his teeth, transforming his mischievous grin into a wicked wolfy smile. "And what exactly do you mean by that, my dear?"

"Huh?" Rita muttered dumbly and then her concrete world began melting like wax before her eyes as the pills and alcohol which had mixed violently in her gut now leeched into her bloodstream. The walls of her house trembled and the floor undulated. The music pouring from the speakers began an animal-like screech, causing Rita to grab for ears. She dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged like a preschooler.

In the midst of Rita's shifting reality, there stood Sarx , unscathed, in the center of her field of vision. She watched him as he stood above her, his tongue darting out to moisten his tight lips. She heard his voice clearly, as he began to speak. "Look at the mess you've made. What are you? A toddler? Throw your tantrum, toddler. Kick and scream and hold your breath until you turn blue for all anyone cares! No wonder the mess you're in." He dipped low and filled her vision. "Look at yourself, Rita You're not exactly the radiant beauty you were on your wedding day. A little more round in the waist and saggy in the bust. And poor Scott has needs. Desires. Lusts. And do you think they're going to be fulfilled by a stretched out old country girl who comes home smelling of chicken fried steak?"

Rita looked hurt. Surprised and stung as if Sarx had just slapped her. "That's not the point," she muttered.

"Oh yes, it is and you know it too. Just like you knew that Scott was screwing around on you. But it had precious little to do with your bad old daddy and your dumb choices. You ignored all of these things because if you faced them, you also would would have to face the fact that all of this is your fault." He walked behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Get up!"

She gave no resistance. She stood and was lead to the living room where a large mirror hung by the couch. Sarx stood her in front of the mirror, but she wouldn't look at her reflection. "Look at yourself." She shook her head and Sarx put his hand under her chin and pushed it up. "Look! Is this the woman of a young man's dreams?"

Her reflection stared back at her from a face streaked with tears and mascara. Her eyes looked exhausted and her mouth drooped in the corners. She was beginning to develop those jowls that old women get. Old women. She wasn't old. Far from it. But she sure looked it. Didn't she? Soon her boobs would be sagging to her knees. She pulled open her blouse, buttons popping everywhere, some hitting the mirror and ricocheting back at her. There were stretch marks across her breasts, which disappeared into her bra, which itself actually was at least a cup size too small. Another bit of denial there.

She was getting soft and was outgrowing her once sexy little body. He belly rippled slightly as it tucked into her jeans, the waist band a line of demarcation digging into her paunch. No this wasn't the body of a young man's dreams. She was soft in all the wrong places. She jiggled where Scott's college girl probably bounced. Suddenly, a new wave of contempt washed over her. This time it wasn't for Scott or his cute little college girl. Or even for her wretched father. The contempt was for herself. No sense projecting it onto anyone else, when the real target of her loathing hung right between her own eyes.

She stared at those make-up streaked eyes, her anger growing at herself exponentially by the moment until she could stand it no longer. She balled her fists and smashed them against the mirror, sending shards of broken glass sailing in all directions. Her face was now a disjointed mess in the reflection with five black dripping eyes blinking stupidly back at her. "She cries alone at night too often, he smokes and drinks and don't come home at all..."

She looked at her fist, which was sliced across the knuckles, looking like someone had played an insane game of tic-tac-toe across them in red ink. The blood seemed to pulse on her fingers. Throbbing crimson rivulets keeping time with the beat of her own heart, which by the moment was getting stronger, more erratic. She held her hand up in front of her face and watched the blood trickle from her fingers to her palm and down her wrist. Her wrist.

The skin shone white contrasted against the scarlet streams, white and smooth. Smooth and unbroken. She turned her hand away from her face, grasped a shard of mirror and pulled it from its frame. The edges of the glass dug into the pads of her fingers and palm.

"Bad girls must be punished." She raised her left hand and bared her wrist. Without averting her eyes, she swung the glass in a wide arc and opened the white, smooth skin of her wrist. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen and then a thin stream of blood separated the smooth, white skin parting it like a mischievous smile across her wrist. She sliced down again and a jagged edge of the mirror caught her flesh and tore it instead of slicing through it. Another swipe. And another. She turned to Sarx and showed him her wrist. The blood was now gushing from the wounds, pouring from the tip of her elbow and beginning to puddle on the carpet.

"Bad girls get fat and their husbands don't love them." She put the glass to her belly and traced a line across it just above her navel. Before this one even had a chance to bleed, she made another slash beginning above it and intersecting it diagonally. "Fat, bad girls sag and don't excite their husbands. Bad, bad girls." She attempted to slice across her left breast, but stumbled forward instead. She dropped the shard of mirror and wavered back and forth. Frantically, she tried to reach for Sarx but although she could see him she couldn't seem to reach him. "I don't feel so well." She looked up at Sarx with pleading eyes.

"... you've got to pay the piper," she finished and staggered another step forward hoping to grab onto something to keep her upright and stumbled. Her inertia toppled her right through where she could have sworn Sarx was standing, but it wasn't him she felt. Whatever she hit felt hard, yet cold and smooth, which for the slightest second felt wonderful against her fevered skin until the glass center of the coffee table shattered and she began to fall again. She never knew she hit the ground beneath the table.

The front door rattled in its frame as something heavy landed against it. Keys jangled as they found their way to the lock. Scott, attempting to enter as quietly as possible, turned the handle and pushed solidly on the door. It creaked twice in protest and then swung open.

Scott staggered into the house. "Dammit. She oughta get someone to fix that," he mumbled incoherently. He took a second to stabilize himself, then noticed Sarx sitting in his recliner. "What the hell you doing here?"

"I was just leaving, actually." Sarx stood and sauntered toward the door, stopping briefly at Scott's shoulder. "You smell like sex. Nasty sex."

"I wouldn't bet on that." Sarx grabbed the door and pulled it as he exited. Just as the door was about to shut, he poked his head through the opening. "Oh, Officer, about that old lady of yours; you might want to call an ambulance."

Nearly eighteen hours later Rita Holmes was laying in a hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit of a local hospital, her arms and legs bound in restraints. A mixture of shock and morphine kept her floating just beneath the surface of consciousness. White gauze and tape covered a large portion of her face, as well as covering the stitches on her forearms, wrists and abdomen. Minor scrapes and cuts spider webbed across her visible skin and her lip was swollen, three stitches holding a substantial laceration together. IV tubes and wires trailed from her body and draped over the side of the bed connecting her to various machines. A clear plastic oxygen mask was strapped across her nose and mouth, pumping oxygen directly to her system.

For a moment, the fog seemed to lift and Rita felt herself coming around. With her right eye, which wasn't covered by any sort of bandage, she saw a shadow pass through the light she assumed was the doorway. It approached her bed and completely filled her vision.

"You really look like shit now." Sarx's voice was no longer veiled with any feigned pity. He sounded amused.

"You did this to me." Rita moaned, her voice barely a hiss behind the oxygen mask.

"That can't be. Your doctor says that these wounds were self-inflicted." He leaned in close and whispered, "But then again, what do doctors know?"

"You're not my friend," she inhaled deeply between words trying to make them as emphatic as possible. "I hate you. I never want to see you again."

Sarx laughed, thoroughly entertained by her bravado in her vulnerable state. "You will see me again. And the funny thing is, as much as you hate me now, when I show up at your door next time, you'll invite me in and offer to make me dinner."

Her unbandaged eye grew wide with fright. She wanted to argue, but she somehow knew that what he was saying was true. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it, finding nothing to say.

"You'll have to pardon me. I've so much to do and so little time. I must be leaving now." He patted her hand patronizingly. "I'd have you tell Scott 'hello' for me but I'm sure be seeing him before you will. Goodnight, Rita."

She tried once again to speak, but the morphine haze began to creep in from the edges of her field of vision and Sarx faded from her sight. She floated back down beneath the surface of consciousness and her thoughts of Sarx dissolved until there was nothing left.

Once she was settled back into her chemical oblivion, Sarx turned and left. As he walked down the hall, he watched nurses casually performing their duties, looking bored by their tasks. One nurse sat at a desk working on a crosswords puzzle, pensively chewing the end of her pen, barely avoiding falling asleep. Sarx leaned over her, although she seemed not to notice. "Go ahead. Give in. Sleep."

The nurse nodded once more, snapped her head up and then succumbing, her eyes slowly shut. She dropped the pen she was holding and laid her head on her arms. "Good girl. Rest up. You're going to need it. Its about to get very busy around here." Sarx made his way down the hall toward the exit.