Killing Tink

Ch 34

John left the room and stood in the dim hallway catching his breath enjoying the feeling that surged through his body. These were the moments he had longed for with Alice. Seeing her work through pain, reaching into her with words and actions and setting off a fire of emotions. It was a beautiful thing, it was art and he was the artist.

Pushing Hope closer to the line between pain and pleasure would be a masterpiece. It would vault his career, and fill the books with people giving accolades and finally realizing he was indeed a trauma genius. But he'd have to keep his own feelings and emotions in check. He looked at his hands which cramped and rubbed them together. He hadn't meant to touch her, to put pressure on her skin but it had been effective for keeping her focused.

He leaned against the wall and scolded himself for getting caught up in the moment, willing the throbbing course of blood to leave his crotch but with every moment of recollection of that euphoric moment when she stopped protecting her feeling and let the words spill it increased the pressure. Pain and a look of torture across her face as muscles tightened, pupils dilated, and her breath and heartbeat quickened. She was in touch with the feelings of those moments. Alive. Memories of pain and pleasure firing synapses and making physical changes even years after they occurred.

Why couldn't Alice ever grant him a single moment of victory?  He stormed into the living room fueled by a high laced with the anger of her weakness. He lifted his hand to slap her, realizing it wouldn't affect her but knowing it could release some of his own feeling surge.

Her slackened face looked older, less beautiful and his hand failed to swing.  He got on his knees and close to her ear instead, whispering.

"You didn't beat me Alice. I won. I always win, just like I told you I would. And I'll win with Hope too, you understand that don't you?  She'll feel and learn and trust me until she breaks and I will build her again, better."

Without conscious effort as he spoke his hand was undoing his pants. As he quietly but firmly stated a declaration of victory he climaxed, and leaned forward resting his nose in Alice's fresh smelling hair.

"You can't blame me for what happened to you Alice. You simply refused to follow the rules. You acted out, you took my family. You became the thing that corrupted you. I saw more in you, that was my mistake."

He stood up then, cleaning off his hands in her patchy silky hair before zipping up his pants and waking to the kitchen. With a glance at the camera he saw Hope still in the same position he had left her in. No doubt exhausted but thankful for the session that would start her journey toward becoming his.

He searched through the sparse cupboards for something to feed her. A can of soup in the back corner would be comforting, and easy on her teeth.  She deserved a good meal, she had worked hard and this afternoon she'd work harder. He'd have to move her timeline up, it would be difficult to be alone in the house with his wife and Sophie after he got rid of Alice. But better. He'd have much more time and energy to devote to Hope once he closed the chart on Alice forever. He'd learned from his mistakes with her, and that was a vital part of doing a job better the next time.

As he heated the soup and lined the saucer with crackers he watched the monitor. Hope stayed still, probably exhausted. Her frail body needed more food and exercise. She looked far better than the day he'd first seen her, but she still had a long way to go. He added a pudding cup to the tray. A remnant left over from Sophie's obsession with things sugary and sweet.

Later he'd go to the grocery store and pick up tasty things that would make Hope happy. He would cause her pain, but he'd also give her pleasure. Things would be perfect, he'd be renowned in his field and Hope would be his, by choice.

Turning the soup on low he decided to let Hope sleep for a good 30 mins. For all he knew she'd been up all night in new surroundings. But no longer; schedules were vital. He couldn't have her awake and pacing during the night hours when he wasn't there to watch her. It would be bad enough the days he left her for work hours. Perhaps he could cut those as well.

Soon enough the hospital would be begging him for more hours, once he became a leader in the trauma field. Everyone would appreciate him then, even Hope.

He could probably use this time to plan getting rid of Alice. It needed to be done soon. Before he got used to having her around to play with. Old habits wouldn't serve him well.

He grabbed the large roll of packaging tape from the kitchen catch all drawer and with one last glance at the camera headed toward the living room. It was time for him to make another sacrifice. Alice was a distraction.

He grabbed the sides of the tarp below her and pulled them together. With one last kiss to her cheek he closed the gap and started adding strips of tape to hold it closed. Tonight it would be over. Alice would be below the flooring of whatever monstrosity they were building down the street and he would have one less worry.

He pulled the tarp firmly off the couch ignoring the resounding thump as the body below hit the floor and dragged it toward the garage. Lifting it into the trunk was easier than he thought. Alice had been outwardly perfect. Light as a bird and features of porcelain.

Surprisingly he felt sadness. A wave of grief engulfed him over all she could have been. A dead dream. That's what it was. Wasted time and effort. He closed the trunk and steadied himself. None of that mattered. Hope would make up for all of it. She was here, moldable and he would devote himself to making her well. She was all he needed, and now he'd be focused.

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