Apt Pupil 2
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Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
1,351
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Category:
1 through F › Apt Pupil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
1,351
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Apt Pupil or any of the characters associated with it. They belong to Stephen King and Brian Singer. No money was made from this wiriting.
Chapter 19
He broke her window, the glass spilling inside her room even before the noise of his entry reached her ears. She sat up, mouth hanging from her slack jaw, “What the fuck?”
His sneakers crunched the glass as he made his way to her, his right hand reaching into his waistband, drawing his rifle. With a round of ear-shattering blasts, the gun jumped, leaving her slinky nightdress stained with spreading red petals, “Todd?” She reached towards him, slender red fingers spreading before curling as her hand dropped. Fingers hit her pink comforter, leaving red leaves among the pink and yellow blossoms. She slumped forward, hair forming a brief curtain before her cheek smacked against her bed. She stilled, fingers limp, her life’s blood pooling beneath her. The distance echoed the sounds of approaching sirens.
For the first time, he felt remorse. There was no arousal in this, just a tiny voice that suggested that maybe, just maybe, Pam didn’t deserve this.
XXX
The phone was ringing. One, two, three times; stopped, then began again (one, two). Todd sleepily groped for it, receiver almost slipping on the short journey to his ear, “Hello?”
“Todd?” Pamela’s voice filled his ear, “I need you. Can you come over?”
XXX
Her door was locked. He banged on it, pounding until his fists felt tender and bruised, but there was still no answer. Running, he jumped the fence, gaining access to the carefully tended backyard. His sneakers left deep prints in the soft grass. Heart pounding, he tore up the steps reaching the back door only slightly out of breath. Inside he could hear screaming…Pam’s screams.
“Help!” The scream gave way to airy words, “Please…Todd…Please.”
The door wasn’t locked and he found himself standing in the white’s kitchen. The tile was immaculate except for the long smears of blood working into the cracks and grooves in the tasteful floral design. In the midst of the growing pool, Pam sat, hands clutching her abdomen. Between her fingers, more blood leaked.
“What the fuck?” Disbelief coloured Todd’s blue eyes, mixed with anger. Standing over the leaking body, Dussander stood. Eyes laughing, the knife, the one that was supposed to be under his mattress, gleaned in his upraised fist. “W-what?”
Before he could say anything else, he lowered his arm. The knife blade scraped against the seam of his jeans. He watched it leave a thin line of blood – Pam’s blood. In front of him, she stopped crying. One lone tear trekked down her cheek, turning at her chin and falling to the kitchen tile with a fascinating “splat.” The voice in his head was laughing and the floral tile melted into a light pink bed spread.
“I don’t want this anymore,” He whimpered, falling to the glass littered carpeting. “Please.”
This wasn’t a wino. This wasn’t something that the police could ignore. This was a mistake. And his life was over. When they cuffed him he was laughing. It was an old man’s laugh.
His sneakers crunched the glass as he made his way to her, his right hand reaching into his waistband, drawing his rifle. With a round of ear-shattering blasts, the gun jumped, leaving her slinky nightdress stained with spreading red petals, “Todd?” She reached towards him, slender red fingers spreading before curling as her hand dropped. Fingers hit her pink comforter, leaving red leaves among the pink and yellow blossoms. She slumped forward, hair forming a brief curtain before her cheek smacked against her bed. She stilled, fingers limp, her life’s blood pooling beneath her. The distance echoed the sounds of approaching sirens.
For the first time, he felt remorse. There was no arousal in this, just a tiny voice that suggested that maybe, just maybe, Pam didn’t deserve this.
XXX
The phone was ringing. One, two, three times; stopped, then began again (one, two). Todd sleepily groped for it, receiver almost slipping on the short journey to his ear, “Hello?”
“Todd?” Pamela’s voice filled his ear, “I need you. Can you come over?”
XXX
Her door was locked. He banged on it, pounding until his fists felt tender and bruised, but there was still no answer. Running, he jumped the fence, gaining access to the carefully tended backyard. His sneakers left deep prints in the soft grass. Heart pounding, he tore up the steps reaching the back door only slightly out of breath. Inside he could hear screaming…Pam’s screams.
“Help!” The scream gave way to airy words, “Please…Todd…Please.”
The door wasn’t locked and he found himself standing in the white’s kitchen. The tile was immaculate except for the long smears of blood working into the cracks and grooves in the tasteful floral design. In the midst of the growing pool, Pam sat, hands clutching her abdomen. Between her fingers, more blood leaked.
“What the fuck?” Disbelief coloured Todd’s blue eyes, mixed with anger. Standing over the leaking body, Dussander stood. Eyes laughing, the knife, the one that was supposed to be under his mattress, gleaned in his upraised fist. “W-what?”
Before he could say anything else, he lowered his arm. The knife blade scraped against the seam of his jeans. He watched it leave a thin line of blood – Pam’s blood. In front of him, she stopped crying. One lone tear trekked down her cheek, turning at her chin and falling to the kitchen tile with a fascinating “splat.” The voice in his head was laughing and the floral tile melted into a light pink bed spread.
“I don’t want this anymore,” He whimpered, falling to the glass littered carpeting. “Please.”
This wasn’t a wino. This wasn’t something that the police could ignore. This was a mistake. And his life was over. When they cuffed him he was laughing. It was an old man’s laugh.