Poor Girl: Finale
Image by Jordan Duce from unsplash. Deisgn by FFP.
She really was his way out.
Victor was right, she was paralyzed. But by what? Marina’s thoughts started racing through her mind. If she got up and tried to push past him, he could easily grab her and knock her over. If she got up and ran in the opposite direction, she would have nowhere to go. The room only had one door and Victor was in the way. Marina was stuck, and Victor seemed intent on doing something to her.
“Wait.” Marina could only utter that one word.
Victor looked up towards the ceiling, twisted his head left, then right, cracking his neck on both sides. He wasn’t a novice anymore in this game. He liked calling it a game because it took some of the edge off of what he was actually doing. In all honesty, he hadn’t intended to end up here with Marina. In fact, he liked her.
He thought that Marina would be his way out of this. He could see the two of them getting drinks after work, making conversation, and then just letting things naturally progress. He had tried to get to know her at work, and they had been pretty chummy, but nothing led to much. Victor’s hopes for a fresh start, a cleansing of his past, faded quickly.
Victor grabbed Marina by the arm, which caused her to jerk it away from him. It was just the thing she needed to get herself out of that fucking chair. Victor’s eyes bulged because he couldn’t believe that she was actually in motion. Before he could react, she thrust her arm forward, the palm of her hand bashing Victor’s nose. As Victor cried out in pain and clutched his nose, a steady stream of blood started gushing out.
He used his free hand to grab her arm again. Marina looked surprised that he was able to move so quickly after she had injured him.
“Let me go, you fucking psycho!”
Victor yanked her arm hard, so hard that Marina was afraid he had pulled it out of the socket. As she cried out in agony, he pulled again and brought Marina down to her knees. By this time, he had let go of his bleeding nose, and splatters of blood started to decorate the floor. Victor reached out again to try and grab Marina by the throat, but she instead grabbed his arm.
Victor hollered, “You stupid bitch!”
With all of her might, Marina bit his arm and clamped her jaw down as tight as she could. She started ferociously shaking her head back and forth like a rabid dog, grunting and squeezing tighter. She could feel his arm hairs on her tongue and taste his sweat, and eventually his blood.
Victor used his free hand and punched her on the forehead once, twice, and finally on the third time, Marina’s head flew back and cracked against the floor. Her eyes opened wide, and then closed; her tensed body was finally still. Victor had to wriggle his arm out of her mouth, a tooth clinging to his skin in the process.
Victor took his bloody hand and smoothed Marina’s hair away from her forehead. A knot was forming on the spot where he had struck her, as he caressed it, he whispered, “You look beautiful like that.” He knew what he had to do next.
As Victor stepped outside, dried blood caked all over his face, hands and arms, all he could think about was how his front yard looked like a movie. There were two police cars at the curb, the cops had their guns drawn, and they were shining their bright headlights on him.
Some of Victor’s neighbors were on their porches, watching the scene. Their expressions were all the same: worried, confused, scared. They didn’t know that they had been living near someone that was a murderer, a wretch of a human being.
From beyond the bright lights of the headlights, he could see his neighbor Tony. Tony was a good man, a man that people aspired to be like, a man that was admired by everyone on the street, a man that had meddled in Victor’s business when he noticed that he hadn’t seen Victor’s mother in quite some time. He knew it was Tony that had called the cops on him.
“Hey, Tony,” Victor called.
Suddenly, a booming voice shouted, “COME DOWN THE STAIRS WITH YOUR HANDS UP! DON’T SAY ANYTHING ELSE!”
Victor could only imagine what he looked like right now; he hadn’t had a chance to clean up before exiting the house and knew he didn’t look presentable. He took one step down, but he stopped. He was taking his time absorbing the scene in front of him, feeling like a celebrity.
Without hesitation, Victor dropped his arms, smiled, and swiftly bowed like an actor on the Broadway stage. This sudden movement sent off a chain reaction of gunshots, two of which struck Victor, killing him instantly.
The coroner got there two hours after the shooting. A female’s body was somewhere inside the home, and would be dealt with after taking care of the deceased male in the front yard. As he pulled the white tarp back, and turned Victor’s bloody body over, he was sickened to see a grin on his mangled face.