Page 7 of Gio's Possession
Don’t fear the reaper
La, la, la, la, la
La, la, la, la, la
I can reach him better this way. Pulling his tongue out of his mouth as he screams, I snip it off with the gardening sheers. I keep them very sharp. They cut through his tongue like it was warm butter.
People don’t realize that when you cut someone’s tongue off, there is a torrent of blood. Cutting the lingual artery can cause death on its own. If the victim is unconscious and on his back, he will drown in his own blood. If the victim is prone, he will bleed to death. If urgent surgical help is not available in minutes, it’s Game Over!
I put down the gardening sheers and pick up a simple stainless-steel spoon. Everyone thinks an ice cream scoop works for this, but the best tool is a simple spoon. It gets right into the socket and pops the eyeballs out whole. Better for the gift that I’m preparing.
Daryl’s screams have long since ceased. There is a wet gurgling sound coming from him where he’s drowning in his own blood. I clean up the blood on my hands and drop the eyeballs and the tongue into a tiny mason jar with a preservative solution in it. I have a beautiful black gift box that glitters with a red bow to tie around it. I place the sealed jar in the box. I am superb at tying the bow if I say so myself. I’m cracking myself up, knowing that I am preparing the best gift ever. I deserve the best-friend-of-the-year award.
I make the calls for our clean-up team to come and dispose of this body. It’s time to make a call to one of my favorite people. As I walk to my car with the gift box in tow, I dial Mama Val.
“Mama Val, guess what? Those grandkids you want? I think they are coming soon.”
Laughing hysterically, I pull away from the warehouse. Just a day in the life of your friendly neighborhood serial killer.
Everly
Istart working at the bar today, and as sore as I still am, I am excited. It bored me sitting in the alley all day yesterday. I had my books to read, but I’ve read them hundreds of times and almost have them memorized. I vow that when I get some spare money, I am going to get a couple of new ones. I usually looked at thrift stores. People typically read a book once, and I’ve found them for fifty cents before at yard sales and thrift shops. I like the naughty ones the best. Especially the ones with unhinged and criminal heroes. The men who are morally gray and will do anything to keep their women are swoon-worthy.
I start the day off the same as yesterday, waking up to breakfast sitting beside me. It should freak me out. I go to sleep in a dark alley where no one should know I am sleeping, yet I wake up to a hot breakfast. I’m not scared. I feel taken care of for the first time in my life.
No one has ever bought me a meal before, and I’ve racked my brain trying to figure out who it could be. The only people I could think of were the people I met at the bar about the job or maybe that guy at the gas station. I went in to use their restroom and bathe in their sink this morning, but he wasn’t behind the counter. I overheard the lady who was working tell someone on the phone that he didn’t show up to work this morning. She was in a foul mood because, apparently, he should have. That rules him out since I’m sure he wouldn’t bring a stranger breakfast when he didn’t even show up to his job. He also looked at me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe when he saw me yesterday.
Once I got to the bar, I felt halfway human from being pumped up with a hot breakfast, pain pills, and caffeine. It was midafternoon and quiet. The perfect timing for the other server to show me around the bar.
She was a beautiful blonde woman who had ample cleavage and curves in all the right places. She was of medium height, just the right weight, spoke with a country accent, and had a sweet smile. I liked her right away. Her name was Cassie, and she was the kind of person who made you forget you were working. Full of laughter and light.
I didn’t have any friends or a social life. There was no time to do anything but work when I was at home. With the mess Dad and his friends made, I used my few days off to clean up after them, pay bills, run errands, and sleep. It would be nice to make a genuine friend.
As the day went on, I got the hang of where everything was and how to put drinks into the point-of-sale ordering system. I found a rhythm and was actually enjoying my work. The crowd picked up, and it gradually became louder the later it got. By the time it was dark outside, a few of the guys had gotten rowdy.
There was a table of three men who had been drinking for a couple of hours and were making crude remarks every time I went by to check on their table. I really hoped they would leave soon. After my run-in with Oliver, I was skittish about men, and it was causing me anxiety. I really just wanted them to leave.
At another table, I had a guy that was quiet and brooding. He had requested to sit in the back corner of my section facing the door like he was watching everything going on.
The man was dressed in an expensive Italian suit that probably cost more than I made in a month. He was tall and built. Solid, but not an ounce of fat on him. He had dark hair shaved on the sides. Every hair was styled perfectly into place, and he had a sharp jawline with the perfect amount of stubble to be sexy. He has the most intense black eyes that I've ever seen. His nose was perfect. He looked like a model who had just stepped out ofGQ Magazine. Even sitting and glaring at the table of rowdy men, he was the sexiest man that I had ever seen. He didn’t speak other than to order a whiskey neat.
Sometimes I felt like someone was watching me, but when I looked around, I didn’t see anyone. The hot guy wasn’t paying attention to me. Of course, he wasn’t looking at someone like me. What would he want with a homeless girl whose face looks like she went ten rounds with Mike Tyson?
By the end of the night, my apron pockets were full of tip money. When the hot stranger left, I went over to clean his table off and found a one-hundred-dollar bill. A hundred-dollar tip! I felt like I could breathe again, to my relief. I was still sleeping in the cold tonight, but I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. When I took this job, I didn’t know what to expect as far as tips were concerned. I also didn’t count on getting that kind of tip from one table.
Once I was done with clean-up and closing duties, I left, walking into the dark of night to find something to eat. Two meals in one day were a splurge, but you only live once, and don’t normal people eat three meals a day anyway? It would have to be something cheap. I was saving money to find an apartment. One that was a sanctuary of my own. I would never trust someone to be in my space again after what I’ve been through. I had learned the hard way that men were not to be trusted.
Gio
Every day, I follow my angel. The correct term would be that I stalk her. She has settled into a routine over the last few days. She gets up every morning, eats the breakfast that I leave her, and goes to the gas station. She comes out dressed for the day. Most days, she has her long, silky dark hair up into a high ponytail. I follow her to the park and watch her sit on a bench in the sunshine while she reads the same two books. The covers have seen better days, and I can’t even tell what they are. I think they are romance from what I can see that isn’t rubbed off of the cover. Plus, my girl seems to blush and looks around to see if anyone is watching her.
Every time she blushes, my dick decides he wants to be the one to put that look on her face. I’ve had a hard time keeping him down since laying eyes on this girl. Unfortunately for my dick, there is no relief in sight. There is no way I could ever imagine touching another woman since I’ve laid eyes on her. I’m hers, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
I had Marcello grease the bar manager’s palms with some large bills to get her information. I now know that Angel’s real name is Everly Lawrence. She is only twenty years old. I feel like I’m robbing the cradle when I think about how young she is.
I’m thirty-four fucking years old. At this point, it doesn’t matter because Everly needs me. Every day, she goes to work at that bar. Every night, I go in and sit at the same table in the back corner of her section. I order my whiskey and watch as men gawk at her. I don’t like it. Their eyes land on her tits first and ass second. It’s all I can do to stop myself from killing them right there on the spot.
Tonight, I’ve asked Marcello to meet me at the bar because I need to put my plan into action. Every night, I leave Everly a hundred-dollar tip on the table. I know she’s making good tips from her other tables as well, but she continues to skip meals and sleep in that fucking alley every night. I expected her to use the money to go to a hotel, but she didn’t spend it. She doesn’t even use it to buy decent food. It’s always instant shit she can buy cheap and never enough to sustain her body. I have a hard time eating, knowing she is going hungry, so I’ve lost a few pounds during my stalking expeditions.
