White plush streets

The streets were dark that night. Darker than normal. The malignant stench of rape, death, and fear filled the starless sky with a fog so dense it was almost suffocating. The urban decay crept from out their crumbling box houses, staggered from out of dark alleyways, and rose from piles of garbage -long since decomposed-. Cars honked in the distance, people's footsteps echoed into every dark, dampened corner of the city. A cacophony of yelling, screaming, and crying stabbed its way into Missy's ears, as she sat alone in front of the all night liquor store. There were dark clouds that seemed to loom over her as she sat on the cold, hard pavement, just trying to survive another night. Her black eyeliner ran down her pale cheeks and into the corners of her soft, pouty lips. It was getting cold out. The rain from this afternoon still left her auburn hair wet, tangled, and lifeless as it clung to her neck and back. The black dress she was wearing had holes in the sleeves, and smelt of sewer scum. The incessant flickering of the neon sign above her, dilated her deep green eyes. She was alone.

Suddenly a shadow crawled over her body, as a stranger loomed over her. She looked up not even bothering to lift her tired head. There standing clean and well dressed, was a man. He didn't look to much older than her, 23 maybe. He was a good looking man with short slicked back brown hair, and when he smiled, he exposed a mouth full of white shimmering teeth, all perfectly aligned like a military line-up. She felt her heart skip a beat as he reached out his clean, manicured hand and spoke in a gentle soothing voice.

"Are you alright?" He asked with sincerity in his voice.

Missy hesitated for a moment, not sure of exactly what to make of him, then after a brief silence she responded.

"...I'm fine." Her stomach growled as she swallowed the thick air.

"You don't look fine. Are you hungry? Would you like to have some dinner?"

The little hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood on end, and her whole body tingled. She was starving, just the thought of a meal made her salivate. She was no fool, she answered quickly, taking his hand and getting up to greet the gentleman properly.

"Sure." She bit her lip sensuously. "Where did you have in mind?"

The man smiled again, almost blinding her with his pearl whites.

"I was thinking.....my place."

There was some obvious connection happening between them that could not be ignored. She expected he thought she was some sort of prostitute, but as long as she got a decent meal she didn't care what he thought.

"Forgive my rudeness, my name is Peter. And yours?"

"Missy."

"Missy. That's a pretty name." They exchanged a false social smile. "Would you like to go?"

They walked through the decaying streets filled with drunks, sluts and thugs. No one even looked at them twice. It was amazing. Usually Missy found it hard to even walk one block without getting hassled or yelled at. They spoke frivolously for a while to break the tension and after a brief but pleasant walk they arrived at his apartment.

His place was neat and tidy, just as she had imagined it. There were various business and college degrees on his walls, and an impressive entertainment unit filled with all the latest in television and music equipment. She sat down in his plush white sofa awkwardly at first, then she let herself sink into it, and relaxed. Peter was in the kitchen fixing the two a drink. She continued to look at her surroundings, impressed. When peter finally reentered the living room he was carrying two tall glasses of champagne. Missy eagerly accepted the drink. The bubbles tickled her throat as she took tiny sips, trying not to be rude. As the evening progressed they continued to chat back and forth, yet no dinner had been served or even mentioned. It was at the moment when she inquired about dinner, that Peter quirked his head in puzzlement.

"You must be joking. You didn't actually think I'd feed a street slut like you did you?"

Missy's heart sank to her feet, and a horrible cold chill ran up her body. Suddenly the room began to spin. Her vision was becoming blurred, and her head felt heavy. Peter's mouth curled into a sadistic grin as he placed Missy's fourth glass of champagne on the sold oak table next to him, and spoke in a menacing tone.

"I was wondering how long that fuckin stuff would take to kick in"

Missy's senses betrayed her as she tried in vein to regain her composure. She had been drugged. He rubbed his clean hands together in excitement before brandishing a knife which he had hidden underneath the plush white sofa. Missy's mind seemed to scream as he straddled her caressing her neck with his blade. She could not even lift her arms, let alone form a proper sentence. He seemed to enjoy every moment of Missy's fear, like he could taste it.

"I've never seen anyone take four doses of that shit. The longest any bitch has ever lasted was three glasses. I'm gonna enjoy you for a long time before killing you."

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and rolled down slowly as she whimpered like a whipped dog. She was almost completely paralyzed by now. Again he stroked he face and neck with his shiny clean blade, laughing and smiling. His eyes watched her with an insane glare in them, as he turned his head back and forth like a confused dog, trying to imagine the suffering and fear Missy was feeling at that very moment. Again he spoke, but this time a small line of drool fell on her chest.

"First, I'm gonna cut your pretty little face up. Then, I'm going to slowly fuck you with my big knife. Then, do you want to know what I am going to do? Do you? I'm going to fillet every inch of skin off your body, and let you bleed to death."

He repulsed her in a way that was unimaginable. She desperately tried to focus her vision, or at least move a limb, but it was impossible. He brought his knife up under her eye, and sliced the skin under her eye. Missy whimpered again, but still could not move. Slowly her right eye filled with blood, and she could feel the cut dripping down her face. Her heart beat faster and faster. Blood dripped in her mouth and down her throat. It seemed to cool her and calm her as it went down. She licked her lips in ecstacy, as Peter brought the knife up to her other eye, while his other hand played with her helpless mouth, probing his fingers in and out. Suddenly he felt a sharp burst of pain, and quickly he withdrew his finger.

"Damn it. You fucking whore. You bit me. How did you...."

He stopped in mid-sentence as he looked at his finger. His mouth dropped and his eyes widened in horror. His finger had been bitten in half. The scream that followed could be heard from miles away. He jumped off of her in shock and fell to his knees clutching his injury and cursing. For a brief second there was quiet. Missy's eyes quickly focused, her body quickly followed in the rejuvenation. She stood up, towering over him, and open her mouth to revel two large fangs, dripping with blood. She hissed at the confused and frightened Peter, as he swung his knife at her. The weapon was easily thrown out of his grasp. Missy covered him with her body, clinging on with her long nails that dug into his flesh. There were more screams, as Peter tried to escape, but failed.

"I've never seen anyone put up such a fight." she said cynically. "I'm going to enjoy draining you my sick little friend." Missy laughed to expose her sharp vampire fangs once more as she plunged them into his quiver neck. He shook violently as Missy continued to ravish in his sweet blood, like tasting fine red wine. Rich assholes always tasted the best, she thought to herself.

The night was long and painful for poor Peter. Missy continued to feed off of him for many hours, letting him regain some of his blood every once and a while, before she sucked it right out of him again. After she was done, she closed the blinds as the sun began to rise, and had the best sleep she ever had on Peter's plush white sofa. She was just trying to survive.

Written by: Graham Misiurak (April 23, 1998)