I Got You | COMPLETED Short Story

a short story

Dark brown ringlets sway on her shoulders, while she sits idly at the bar. For half an hour, I've watched her stare into her empty glass as though the answer to her problem lies at the bottom. Her red dress accentuates her figure just right and I have a feeling she knows it- even now when she's drinking her sorrows away. Something about that attracts me to her; I'm compelled to approach her. Before I can change my mind, my feet have guided me to the barstool beside her.

"Mind if I join?" I greet her with an earnest smile.

Without looking, she nods her head indifferently.

I slid into the seat, cuing the bartender over; however, the man was tending to a plethora of drunken folks, too busy to notice my gestures. My attention turns back to the lovely lady beside me, who'd lured me over with her presence alone.

I adjust myself to face her side. "What brings you here?"

She continues to bore her eyes into her cup, shaking her head as though it's too painful.

Okay, I won't push that.

How can I get her to talk? Think, think.

"Are you French?"

Because Eiffel for you, was on the tip of my tongue. Once her eyes twinkled in confusion, I'd come in with an internet provided pick-up line, then bam- an icebreaker. Though, her response was not one I'd predicted.

"Oui, je suis née en France," she tells me in perfect French.

My eyes bulge.

This beautiful woman gives me a pointed look. "Why ask if you're unfamiliar with the language?"

I grit my teeth. There's no way I'm telling her about my icebreaker idea after she schooled me, how embarrassing.

"Actually, it doesn't matter." She laughs coolly. "Nothing matters anymore."

I quirk an eyebrow, listening to her as she goes on.

"My husband of twenty-three years left me for some young thing. And, you know, I should've seen it coming. He left his ex-wife for me and I was around her age, but still. Twenty-three years, just, gone. Down the drain. All that love, my efforts, for nothing. I can't give him what he wants so I'm being discarded." Her lips are upturned in a smile, but her eyes show a different story.

I nod, unsure what to say.

The woman casts her eyes back to her cup. "Four miscarriages," she whispers. "We tried to move past it, looked into surrogates, but he'd always find an issue with one saying 'It's not the same.'"

I want to reach out and comfort her, but that armor -that she wears so fiercely- makes me leave my hands as is.

"That was when it set in that I would never be enough. After that, he'd make all these excuses as to why he wasn't home when he used to be. Work, the gym, hanging with his buddies. I wasn't stupid, I knew. Deep down, but I fed into his lies to give myself peace until..." Her voice cracks, a tear rolling down her face.

"Hey, hey," I say, tenderly. "You don't have to tell me."

Her eyes are bloodshot red when she looks at me and says,"I know."

I watch her dab her eyes, readying herself for what she'd tell me next.

"One day, I was in his office, looking for something; I'm not sure what. And then, he walked in the house, just getting off work, speaking in a hushed tone. I decided to listen in and he...he was talking to that girl, telling her that they'd be together just as soon as he could, and I quote, 'ditch the old hag'- as if he isn't a decade older than me."

I decided to place my hand on her arm and squeeze. She doesn't swat me away, so I allow my touch to linger, my eyes never wavering from her.

The woman leans into me, her arms enveloping me. I extend my arms to provide her comfort, only to feel pressure prodding against my back. I look back, but before I can she hums in my ear:

"I got you."

My heart thuds rapidly as I deduce the meaning behind her words. She knows who I am. The truth, what I wanted to do to her, what I've done to many. I decided it's best to keep my mouth shut.

"What you feel poking you is a gun," her voice is cold yet seductive. "If you do so much as breathe the wrong way, I'll put a bullet inside you."

Suddenly, words are lost on me; my throat's dry. I nod my head in compliance.

I had convinced myself that what I'd done in the dark would never come to the light. I was prudent, treading cautiously once the Wanted news alerts spread with my face plastered upon them. No one would find me if I went far enough. But she did. This captivating woman found me. I'm starting to question if anything she shared with me was even true. Was this all a ploy to lure me in? Could I have been so gullible to not see the signs?

I chose my victims carefully, helpless and vulnerable women, so it should all be okay. I'd convince my prey that what we did was consensual, that I wasn't a monster. I succeeded time and time again. Women sobbed into my chest after intercourse and I would be there to whisper sweet-nothings, providing them with the love they sorely lacked. I was their hero. My sins were forgiven.

The pretty lady handcuffs me. "David Gein, you are under arrest for deviant sexual assault."

Or so I'd thought.