Warning: Graphic violence and sexual content...also I say the "F" word and stuff, so beware.
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Brad drove his van slowly through the neighborhood. Street lamps hung like candle heavy jack-o-lanterns, shining their orange light on the filth known as Seventeenth street. Brad smiled, he knew it was his special day.
The voices had reached a point where he could no longer stand to listen. They never told him what to do, you understand. Brad would never allow them to tell him what to do. He knew well enough you couldn’t let the voices get away with that. But, they did tell him how bad he was. The voices told him he was “no good” and sometimes even called him a “loser” that was the part Brad didn’t like.
After all, he was not a loser, he had worked at the mill for nine years. He paid his bills on time and did all his own laundry. He put on clean socks every day, just like his momma used to tell him, whether they smelled or not, he would change them. When he changed his socks he thought of his momma, but he didn‘t cry cause he knew she wouldn‘t have liked that. No momma didn‘t like cry babies.
Driving along the street, he looked for a good one. One that looked like her. One that looked at him just like she used to. When Brad used to wake up with the bed all wet, or sometimes when he came home from School with bad marks, she might look at him that way for near a week.
Even at her funeral she seemed to have that look. Brad thought once she was dead, she couldn’t look at him that way no more. But, there she was, staring up at him from the nice coffin his cousin helped him pick out. Dressed in her Sunday dress, but looking at him that way just the same. He looked away from her coffin, but it did no good, just like back in his bedroom, he knew she was still looking at him and that mad him squirm.
Brad pulled closer to the curb and a few of them walked towards his van. He wasn’t too awful picky, they all had the look, they leaned on his van and peeked inside. Then they would ask him if he wanted a date. They always looked at him like “he was a piece of shit“, like “he was the one to be ashamed.” And the voices made it worse.
“Why shouldn’t they look at you like a piece of shit Brad? Little pecker of yours can’t even get hard less your killing some little whore! Maybe you could take a real woman home if your sheets didn’t smell like piss all the time!”
Brad would change that look on their face. He would change that look a lot. The voices would finally shut up. At least quiet down for a while. When Brad made them scared of him he liked that look a lot better. And they should be scared. Sometimes he would hurt them real bad but, most important, was changing the look, it was his favorite part.
It was always the same, the look changed to fear as soon as he showed them the box. The box was where he kept his memories. Nothing more than a large ice box in the back of Brad’s van. It was filled with little pieces of the ones before.
It started with just a piece of an ear, then maybe a couple fingers or toes, but recently he had wanted bigger memories. Memories that didn’t wither up so much. Memories that had weight and size to them. Something he could hold while he remembered.
The last one he had decided to take the biggest memory yet. He decided he would take a whole leg. He tried to take it off when she was still alive. That would scare her real bad and Brad thought that sounded just fine.
He drove her to a field and showed her the box, then the screaming started. It was harder than Brad thought, even tied up, she kicked a whole lot. In the end, he just killed her, then he took off her leg. He decided right then and there, it was easier to take the memories when their dead. Yes sir, Brad didn’t need to get kicked in the head twice to know that.
Debbie stepped up to the van. She was only Seventeen, but had already been on the streets for over four years. She wasn’t what you would call “book smart“, but she had a sense for John’s. You get the shit beat out of you a few times by a couple of these guys and you learn to judge them real quick.
“So what’s your name Mister?”
“Brad, what’s yours”
“Debbie‘s my name. You looking for some fun?”
“It’s my special day.”
“Really?, special day? Does that mean it’s your Birthday?”
“No, just a very special day.”
“I see, well maybe I can make it a little more special?”
Brad looked at the floor and blushed. Debbie looked at the inside of the van and then to Brad’s reddening face. She sized him up as a little strange, but it was getting late and she was ready to go home. She looked at him mostly as an easy fuck. The quiet ones usually didn’t demand too much of the freaky stuff. She could just fuck him quick, get her money and be done.
Brad saw her looking around the van and kept his eyes on the floor. He glanced at her briefly. His blood began to boil as she gave him that “What a pathetic loser” look and then he saw the resemblance. She did look like her, a little anyway. She would do. He smiled at her nice because in spite of his feelings, he knew that was part of the game.
“yeah, I think you can make my night more special.” Brad said.
“All right, let’s take a ride then.”
Debbie took one more look around the van and then hopped inside.
“Who is this a picture of?” Debbie asked pointing to the picture taped to the dashboard of Brad’s van.
“That’s my mother, she died last year.”
“Oh, sorry, that can be rough, losing your mom and all.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“...hey what’s in the box?”
“Just a few memories, that’s all, I’ll show you when we get...well...where we’re going.”
“Yeah, about that, hey I like to go up to this field about a mile up this road over here on the right. It’s got a good row of trees and you can see a car coming a mile away, you know in case any cops show up to spoil the fun.”
“Sounds good.” And he did think so, Brad didn’t want any cops spoiling his special night, no sir. He turned the van onto the dirt road and drove towards the tree line Debbie told him about. He could feel himself getting excited just thinking about adding another memory to the box.
“Yeah, is your little pecker getting hard you worthless little shit!?”
“Shut Up!” Brad said out loud
“What’s that?” Debbie asked.
“Oh, nothing, sorry, I was just thinking of something” Brad said, his cheeks flushing red.
“Here, pull up right near that last big tree, that should be good.” Debbie said.
Brad placed the van in Park and killed the lights, turning off his engine, he turned to look at her. She was a little rough around the edges, but Debbie was really pretty. Brad stared at her lips, she had big full lips that were pierced in two places. Little silver rings made their way out of her mouth and then back into little holes in her lips. Brad thought he might like to keep her lips as his little memory. Yes, that would do quite nicely. After the last one, cutting off Debbie’s lips would be a lot easier than a leg, that was for sure.
“Well...are you going to show me?” Debbie asked
Brad seemed almost surprised by the question.
“Show you what?”
“Show me what’s in the box, silly.” Debbie said trying to look coy. She didn’t really give a shit when she first asked. She was just making small talk. After all, she assumed it was probably nothing more than tools or some other shit. What else would a freak like this be hauling around, but then when Brad had said it was just a few memories...well that had intrigued her. Now, in spite of her wanting to fuck this guy and put this night behind her, she truly wanted to see what a freaky dude like Brad would carry around in his little box of memories.
“Yeah, oh yeah, I’ll show you, let’s go in the back anyway, make us more comfortable.” This was working out better than Brad had dreamed. Usually, he had to spring the box on them, but this one, Debbie, wanted to see it. She was practically begging for it. Yes, this was going to be a good night, Brad could just feel it.
“Now close your eyes.” Brad said, once they were in the back.
“You aren’t gonna do anything weird?” Debbie asked, looking concerned.
“No, just so it will be a surprise” Brad reached up and turned the little dome light on above Debbie’s head. She closed her eyes as Brad had asked, while he positioned himself so he could see the look as she realized what was in the box. Brad reached behind the box and grabbed the knife he kept for his special days, placing it behind his back, he pulled open the lid to the box and yelled.
“Okay...Open up your eyes!” Brad watched with great anticipation. He watched for the change and he waited for the scream. Her eyes began to change, but something was different. And the scream, where was the scream, she wasn’t screaming. He stood frozen for a moment, usually the scream was what kind of signaled the beginning of the fun, but no scream came. Her eyes scanned quickly from left to right in the box, then they began to change. And something else, it was little at first, starting in the corner of her mouth, but then it grew, there was no denying it...Debbie was smiling.
“That is fucking awesome!” Debbie said, looking up at Brad. “Are they real? I mean, can-can I touch them?”
Brad stood for a moment, searching her eyes, was this a trick? Was she just playing with him? She continued to look at him with her smile in place, darting her eyes from his face and then back to the box. Finally he managed
“Sure, um go ahead, their all real.”
Debbie dove in like she was diving into a “Crack Buffet - All you can smoke for just one dollar!” She pulled out the various fingers and toes, looking at each one, admiring each memory, just like...Brad himself had done so many times before.
Brad, unsure of what to do slid the knife into its previous resting place behind the box, while Debbie continued to touch and even smell some of his memories.
“Did you do this all yourself?” She said looking at Brad again.
Brad hesitated to answer. He saw something in her eyes that he had so rarely seen in his life that he almost didn’t recognize it, but slowly the realization came...it was...admiration.
“Yeah, I’ve been collecting these memories for the past year or so.” Brad said with some pride beginning to blossom. He had never been able to share his memories with anyone. He didn’t think that anyone else would appreciate them the way he did.
Debbie continued to look into his eyes, Brad saw her look begin to change again. Not back to the look of disgust he had become so accustomed to, nor even the look of pity he got from time to time, this was different. She moved her lips closer to Brad’s and then said it.
“I am so fucking hot for you right now!” and that was it. Debbie jumped on Brad and began pulling at his clothes. She ripped at his shirt and began kissing his neck and shoulders while she undid her bra from the back. Brad couldn’t believe this was all happening. He had never in all his years had a girl want to have sex with him. Let alone a girl having sex with him while sharing his memories. This was turning out to be the most special day in his life.
Debbie got on top of Brad and rode him like a bucking bronco. Brad had seen these things in the naughty movies he sometimes watched, but never imagined he would be doing it with a girl. But, here he was, and here was Debbie, on top of him and fucking away like crazy.
“Do you stab them or choke them?” Debbie asked panting
“Mostly, I stab them.”
“Ooooohhhhh” Debbie squealed
“Which hand do you use to stab them with?”
“This one!” Brad screamed as he thrust his right arm up in the air. Debbie continued to ride him, grabbing his hand and sucking on his fingers. She rubbed his stabbing hand all over her breasts and Brad loved every minute of it. She even pulled out a few of his memories and rubbed them across Brad’s chest. This made him more excited than he had ever been.
Brad finally wore himself out. Debbie couldn’t remember ever enjoying sex as much as she had with Brad. They held each other close as they lay naked on the floor in the back of the van with Brad’s little memories spread all around them. The voices in Brads head had stopped completely. He heard only the peaceful sound of their breathing. Holding Debbie in his arms while rolling the now dried up piece of earlobe that was his first memory, between his thumb and forefinger, Brad slowly drifted off to sleep.
Brad awoke suddenly with a searing pain in his neck. He tried to scream, but no sound came, only blood ran from the corner of his mouth. For a moment, he was unsure of where he was, then he looked up and saw Debbie’s pierced lips mouthing the words:
“It’s over Brad, time to die.”
In and instant, everything rushed back to him. Brad tried to grab for his neck, tried to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. He could feel the life draining out of him. As he slowly died, he saw Debbie grabbing at his arm, she began to cut him around his elbow. He could see what she was doing, cutting through the muscle and tendons, but he couldn’t feel it. As Brad’s eyes began to dim, he saw Debbie watching his face, watching his look of terror...and she was smiling.
Debbie opened up the double doors at the back of the van. She pulled Brad out by his leg and he hit with a sickening thump. Climbing back in the van she started the engine. Debbie put the van in Drive, then changed her mind. She walked through the seats and pushed the double doors open again. She struggled with the heavy box, pushing with all her might to get it near enough to the doors. Then she lifted it, upending the contents, the body parts sprawled out of the rear of the van landing in a pile on top of Brad’s lifeless body. She used his clothes to wipe up as much of the blood as she could, then tossed them out the back and closed the doors. Putting the empty box back into it’s former place, she carefully placed Brad’s right arm inside and closed the lid.
It wasn't my fault...I fell asleep and missed my stop.