Spare Key

* * * * *

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he came back, panting and wheezing into the gag. The taste of blood and bile in his throat. He could hear her giggling out there before him but the blackness had telescoped across his vision and it was difficult to see anything that wasn’t immediately in front of him.

‘In a way, I suppose, I should be thanking you. This is exactly what I needed. I’d been so stressed lately and, well, you’ve certainly helped me blow off some steam.’ He saw her walk across into the centre of his sight and crouch in front of him. He saw her raise the camera a second too late to close his eyes.

The blinding flash invaded everything.

* * * * *

At first there was only darkness and Ben sighed in relief as he realised that the pain was now gone. That he’d just be able to drift away; that it was all in past; that it was all over now. He barely even noticed the pinprick of red that invaded the darkness, not until it was too late and it was spreading.

He opened his mouth to scream as it rushed to embrace him because he knew what it meant. It wasn’t a feeling he would have been able to voice in words but a deep-seated dread inside him. But he couldn’t move; he couldn’t struggle. He could only lay immobile as the red spread out about him and he found himself back on the table and the chant filled his mind and he felt her hand lifting up the leather apron as he screamed and screamed and screamed.

DAY 7

Rachel set the new photograph album on the table and opened its cover. As she reached across and lifted the first of the Polaroids off the stack beside her she hoped she’d gotten them in approximately the correct order. It had gotten kind of intense toward the end there and with the blood and all the cuts it was difficult to tell what came before what.

She lifted the polyurethane sheet and slid the first of the photos in, smiling as she studied it before reaching for another. Who cares what the fucking voice said. It may have been a stupid thing to do but it needed to be done. And fuck had it been satisfying.

There were other ways, the voice chirped up but Rachel squashed it and dismissed it from her mind. She didn’t want the irritating fuck to ruin her mood. No, she hadn’t felt this good in months. There would be plenty of time for the annoying crap to creep in tomorrow when no doubt she’d cop hell from Maree for not turning up to work today and the no-doubt exorbitant bill would arrive from the mechanics and she’d have to finally fucking sort out the hot water service and then there was fucking Theo… She’d have to deal with him too…

Enough. Enjoy the moment. Don’t ruin it.

But it was difficult as she sat placing Polaroid after Polaroid into the album. All the little niggles kept bubbling to the surface. After all, she still had to do something about the segmented body wrapped in garbage bags next door. Then the messy clean up. And the more she thought about it, the more Theo could be a problem for her. He’d seen her getting a little freaky there and if Ben just suddenly disappeared he might start getting suspicious. And she didn’t have a spare key for his flat…

But that’s okay, worry about all that tomorrow, she told herself but the frustrations were still there, churning away no matter how hard she tried to repress them as she continued placing the photos in the album.

Despite her best efforts, the smile slowly started to slip from her face.

THE FILMMAKERS

Jacob was uncomfortable as he fidgeted on the couch. Both with the images on the screen and also his reaction to them: the bulging erection was hot against his thigh and he could only pray it wasn’t visible from where his elder brother Michael sat perched at the opposite end. His cheeks felt hot and he knew he was blushing furiously but he couldn’t stop himself. This was a good part.

No violence and a lot of skin.

‘Enjoying the show, little bro?’

His brother snapped his eyes around and Jacob quickly looked back to the screen as he croaked out an affirmative reply. His voice sounded strange in his ears; all high pitched and cracking and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at his brother, hoping he hadn’t noticed. He relaxed as Michael cracked open another of the beers he’d nicked from their dad’s fridge, his eyes riveted to the television. Relieved, Jacob followed his gaze and winced as he saw the scene had changed. Now, instead of the shot showing the girl raising the hem of her dress, the frame showed one of the boys urinating in her hair. Jacob looked away quickly; he didn’t want to see that.

His brother’s cheeks were flushed when Jacob’s eyes, seeking something other than the onscreen antics, turned back to him. The beer stood, forgotten, half-raised to his lips as his eyes drank it all in. Jacob had noticed this trend throughout the three videos his brother had shown him. His brother would maintain a blase attitude toward the nudity and sex acts – that time the thirteen year old had given a blowjob had almost made Jacob cream his pants – but when the heavier stuff started: the beatings, the humiliations, the girl’s hair being set on fire; it was like his brother transformed into a different person. One that made Jacob feel very uncomfortable.

Once he’d even seen an erection bulging his brother’s shorts as he’d watched the young girl in the circle of boys being pushed to and fro, slapped and pinched, until she was just a shattered wreck, sobbing in the fetal position on the ground.

Jacob deliberately didn’t look down now. If it was there, he didn’t want to know about it. Instead he focused on his brother’s beer and wondered if maybe he should have one this time. After all, his father was usually too pissed when he got home to notice there were fewer beers than before. Jacob just guessed that his father assumed he’d drunk them himself. Michael usually offered him one on his nightly raiding of the fridge but so far Jacob had never built up the courage. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his dad would just happen to march in unexpectedly when he had a can raised to his lips.

It would be just his luck.

He’d seen his father angry before: at the footy, at the news, at the women they saw passing in the street. It wasn’t something he cared to draw toward himself. And it was impossible to predict when he’d decide to return from the pub. It was Jacob’s experience that the time varied greatly: anywhere from seven till four in the morning. Jacob wished he had his brother’s courage on that point. The fear of being caught seemed not to concern him at all.

Probably why he’s Mr. Popular and I’m just…

Jacob’s thought cut off abruptly as Michael jumped from the couch, his gangly limbs in motion as he moved towards the television. Jacob quickly whipped back and was greeted by a close up of the girl, her hair matted down by urine, as one of the boys slowly drew a razor blade down her face. Jacob’s hard-on wilted instantly at the sight. Although garbled and distorted by the poor sound quality, the girl’s screams were all too real and Jacob’s mouth