Corpse Crush

A work of fiction, written February 2007.


I knew he’d be here. He always adored football. He’s with his friends now, practicing. And he’s just as handsome as when I saw him a few days ago. Or was it a few weeks? I forget. Time seems meaningless around him. Actually, everything seems meaningless around him, except for his arms around me. I love to watch him play. I believe I could stay here forever and just watch his body move. It’s hot today. Maybe he’ll peel off his shirt. He is so gorgeous. Brown hair. Beautiful brown eyes. Tall. Dark. Handsome. What more could anyone ask for? So strong, too, the way his muscles flex when he moves. And that tooth. Cutest thing in the world.

Millie had repeated Greg’s description in her mind a thousand times. Although her head was fuzzy, she knew she’d never forget his face or where to find him. As Millie would repeat the specifics of Greg’s face, she would always find something new about him that made her fall in love all over again. This time it was the trail of hair that bloomed on his bellybutton and snaked its way down his abdomen and into his underwear. Millie had caught a glimpse of it when Greg had jumped up and extended his arms to catch the ball, his shirt lifting up in the process. Millie had seen him shirtless before and always noticed the hair but something about this time made it particularly sexy. It was the teasing aspect that turned her on. Just a glimpse of that hair that lead to other places. Millie found herself falling in love with every inch of Greg’s body, even the inches she didn’t know about yet.

Millie stood on the outskirts of her high school football field, safely behind the diamond patterned fence. She watched as Greg played football with a few of his friends. This became a routine for Millie. At least three times a week, she would pass by the football field after school to see if Greg was there. Sometimes he was and sometimes he wasn’t. He and his friends didn’t have a set schedule to play, only when the mood struck them or one of them didn’t have to go to work. When he wasn’t there, an ache of disappointment would fill Millie’s insides. Sometimes other girls would stay after school and join Milie in watching Greg play, although they never actually joined her. They would stand in her general area, sometimes smile at her, but never talk to her. Millie didn’t mind. She knew she was Greg’s biggest fan, that the bubble headed blondes could never love him like she did. No, not in the slightest. It was this fact that kept Millie from getting jealous of the prettier, skinnier girls.

Not that Millie was ugly or fat. She just lacked a little self confidence and thus, only felt that way. In fact, Millie was quite cute, if not a little plain. She kept her strawberry blond hair a little past her shoulders, mostly always straight and parted down the middle. Millie didn’t wear makeup as she always felt fake under it and a bit clownish. The reason could be that Millie was never taught how to apply makeup correctly. She wouldn’t dare ask her mother because she was prone to applying too much makeup herself. And Millie didn’t have any girl friends so she never bothered. And she didn’t need to. Millie’s complexion was fresh and creamy, a welcome change from her bout with acne she had had a few years before. Millie always looked neat and clean but never went out of her way to look gorgeous. If any random stranger were to comment on her style, one might say she’d be a very gorgeous girl if she would only fix herself up a bit more. A little blush, a little mascara. Some would even say it seemed like she tried to underplay her figure. And they would be right.

Millie went through all the typical teenage trauma: terrible skin, awkward growth spurts that left her body out of proportion and gawky, bad fashion choices. Middle school was a terrible time for Millie. Her fragile self-esteem couldn’t carry the burden of her braces so she became a hermit. But, once Millie hit high school, she had outgrown her problem skin and no longer needed her braces. Something else happened to Millie as well. She grew breasts. Big, round, beautiful breasts.

While other girls were developing early, Millie remained flat and frustrated. Millie’s mother swooped in to save the day with a typical Mom’s “when I was your age” speech. She assured Millie that one day she would develop and that she was just a "late bloomer." Millie always cringed at that awful and outdated expression.

“I didn’t develop until I was fifteen,” her mother told her one day. This did make Millie feel a little better and even more so when she looked down at her mother’s chest. Despite being a forty-two-year old woman who breastfed both Millie and her little brother, Billie (which consequently did lead to a bit of sagging) Millie’s mother had quite an ample bosom.

Those will be mine one day Millie thought to herself in wide eyed wonder.

Sure enough, that summer, Millie began to grow. It was as if a signal were sent to her breasts telling them they were lagging behind. And they were catching up very fast. A few weeks and several trips to the mall for new bras later and Millie had a beautiful new figure. She could only imagine the surprise on the faces of all those she knew when she came back to school with one new hairdo and two perky breasts. She was even asked by a few envious girls if she had a boob job over the summer!

Millie’s beautiful new body did backfire to some degree. Not only did she feel good about her new body, so did a lot of the boys in her grade. Millie’s new look lead to lots of attention from her male classmates. Some of it was good but most of it was creepy. Millie would sometimes catch guys staring at her chest in class. This made Millie very uncomfortable and so she withdrew from people again. She also began to wear the most unflattering clothes she could find. Millie was insecure in middle school because she felt she wasn’t pretty enough and now, in high school, she was feeling insecure for being too pretty. She wondered if she’d ever feel good about herself like the other girls.

To get her mind off of her troubles, Millie would draw. It seemed Millie had a hidden talent for art, a talent found while seeking solace from the cruel world when she was “ugly.” As Mille battled through her awkward period, her weapons were pencils and paper. Millie expressed her emotions through her art. Even Millie’s mother was surprised at her daughter’s talent, as she could barely draw a stick figure man. Then, she remembered Millie’s father used to draw when he was a very young child. Perhaps it was another gift he passed along besides his nose and deep gray eyes.

What once was a passion for Millie fizzled itself into a hobby once school started back. She wasn’t able to draw very much until she was able to take an art class. Her teacher, Mrs. Bentley, was thoroughly impressed with Millie’s work and encouraged her to enter the different local art contests that were held in the area. She entered in several, placed in many and even one a few first prize ribbons. Not too bad for an amateur artist.

Millie fell in love the day she was harassed by a group of football players in front of her locker after fourth period. She was exchanging the books in her backpack when Peter (known as Pete the Perv to all the girls in school) walked up to her and put his elbow on a locker next to hers. Standing next to him was his right hand man, Kent. There were two other guys standing with them but she didn’t know their names. They were in a grade below Millie and the only people Millie knew were people with which she shared classes. But, Millie knew that collectively they were known as the Circle Jerks, not only because they were jerks, but because a year earlier they were all caught by Coach Bowers in the locker room engaging in a mutual masturbation session. No one dared call them that to their faces, though, as the few people who did ended up with bloody noses and bruised bodies. But, when they weren’t within earshot, people would say under their breath, “Watch out, the Circle Jerks are coming!” Then, people would scatter like dropped marbles. And they scattered for good reason. Pete the Perv was the leader of the sleaze gang and he was the biggest womanizer to ever enter Green Hills High School. He was a serial cherry popper and was proud of it. His two passions in life were football and sex, not unlike other men, but Peter just took it way too far.

Peter relied on his good looks and fake charm to bag the girls. He wasn’t a stunning looking guy, but he did have a boyishly handsome face and a decent body from all those years of being on the football team. It also helped that he was rich. He went through condoms like Kleenex. Peter would find a pretty young (and naïve) girl, make her feel like she was the prettiest girl in the world, then, just as he would gain all of her trust, he would have sex with her and then dump her. That is, unless she was a great lay. In that case, he would bang her a few more times and then dump her. His philosophy was “befriend 'em, bed 'em, then beat those bitches to the door!”

Peter left a seemingly endless trail of broken hearts and broken hymens. After being used, the girls were confused and more than anything, they were angry. Despite his experience, Peter wasn’t very good in bed. He wasn’t very well endowed, either, and didn’t know what to do with what little he had. And although these poor young girls were virgins, Pete liked it rough. He would mount them and then drive himself into them as hard as he could, pump a few times and then climax, releasing the most unattractive squeal of satisfaction. But, the girls were never satisfied. And because of the way he had viciously violated their insides, they were not only left with bruised hearts, but with bloody bed sheets as well.

Millie silently groaned to herself when she saw Pete the Perv and his gang come up to her.

“Hey, there, Millie,” he said it a sickeningly sweet voice. He barely knew Millie and had never even spoken to her until he noticed the two attractive growths on her chest.  His glassy brown eyes zoned in on the buttons of Millie's cardigan, the way the fabric stretched across her breasts, the way they slightly rose with her breath.

“Hi,” she said in a politely dismissive tone. Millie quickly zipped up her backpack, crossed her arms over her chest and gave Peter a politely dismissive smile.  She tried to walk away but Peter stopped her and softly grabbed her arm. The spot where Peter put his hand sent ripples of goose bumps up and down Millie’s arm.

“So, I noticed you’ve done some growing over the summer,” he said in a cocky manner. His tongue poked out of his mouth and slid across his thin lips, leaving them wet and shiny.  Kent and the other two were leering at Millie. She could actually feel their eyes fondling her chest. “Can I squeeze them?”

Peter wasn’t good with tact.

“Okay, I’ve really got to get to class,” Millie said firmly. She shrugged off Peter’s arm and started again when he stopped her again. He grabbed her arm once more, this time a little harder.

Peter stepped closer to Millie, his thin, wet lips only centimeter's from her ear.

“I don’t think you answered my question,” he said, almost hurt.

“The answer is no,” Millie said flatly.

“No one says no to Peter Caravelli,” Pete said, as if she should have known better.

“Well, I just did.”

Peter’s grip on Millie tightened until he started to hurt her. Millie’s eyes grew wide with fear. Peter started to say something else when a booming voice interrupted his own.

“Hey! Stop it, Peter!” Greg shouted.

Peter looked over and saw Greg walking up to him. He let go of Millie and then smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at Greg.  It was the kind of smile he'd flash anytime he got in trouble or if he was trying to impress a girl.  Millie could see how his smile would soothe anyone he angered and trap any girl he wanted to conquer.  It was a good smile, an attractive smile, one that lit up his whole face and invited his eyes to become brighter.  It was deceiving.  If she didn't already know what a sleaze he was, she might have been charmed.

“We were just having a nice conversation,” Peter said.

“I highly doubt that. Now, why don’t you and the rest of the Circle Jerks go away,” Greg said.

Fire rose in Peter’s eyes. The sweetness on his lips dried up into a frown.  If it were anyone else but Greg, that person would have been paralyzed. But, Greg was probably the best football player on the team and Peter looked up to him for his skill, respected him. Peter let it go because it was Greg. He and Kent and the rest of them slinked off down the halls and out of sight.

Millie and Greg locked eyes. In that split second, Millie felt something she had never felt before.  She felt love for a man. Her father died when she was three and she had no memories of him.  Any that she might have had when she was younger slowly faded away with age. She had no uncles and only a few male cousins but they lived out of state so she never saw them. It was mainly just her and her mom. Millie never had a male figure in her life. Millie had never loved a man before. That was, until now. And in that split second, she not only felt love for Greg for saving her from Peter, but she felt a lifetime of love for him. She fell in love with those brown eyes of his and fell in love with his heart.

Millie knew of Greg, just like she knew of a lot of people without ever actually knowing them in person. Millie knew that Greg was on the football team and that he did well in school. She also knew Greg wasn’t a typical dumb jock. His name was always found on the honor roll and he would speak to everyone in the halls, no matter if they were rich or poor, black or white, gothic or preppy. Greg was just a friendly guy who had love in his heart for everyone and he spread that love around. And now Millie was catching some of that love and sending some back to him. Millie had always found him attractive from far away, but now that he was closer, she could see what a truly handsome guy he was. His short, cocoa colored hair shined like glass under the florescent lights. If Millie had to define its style, she would have said “just after sex bed head.” Greg was tall, over six feet Millie guessed, and quite lean. He wasn’t muscle bound and he certainly wasn’t skinny, but just the right amount of muscle. His tight t-shirt defined his toned arms perfectly. He was a shirt and jeans kind of guy, wearing his letterman jacket on cold days. His sparkling eyes always gave off a sense of warmth and openness. The brown reminded her of hot chocolate and she was instantly comforted by them, warmed by their gaze. Greg’s skin took on a golden hue due to his many football practices outside. And now that he was smiling at her, Millie noticed his teeth. They were pearly white, but not perfect. His right canine tooth slightly crossed his lateral incisor. This broke Millie’s vision of his perfection at first, then only reinforced it. That slightly crooked tooth showed that Greg was real, not some unattainable Adonis. He was genuine. His imperfections made him perfect. Millie called them his “unperfectly perfect” teeth.

“Sorry about Pete the Perv,” he said.

“Oh, um, it’s okay,” Millie stammered. “I guess it’s a good thing you came along. Since he’s your friend he listened to you when you told him to leave.”

Greg laughed and Millie melted underneath the sound.

“He is not my friend! He is on my team, but that’s where our relationship ends. He’s a total jerk and treats women terribly.  Actually, he treats everyone terribly.  Listen, if he ever gives you trouble again, just let me know, okay? I’ll have a talk with him. For some reason, he listens to me.”

Millie fell a little more in love with him. He not only had a beautiful face, but a beautiful soul as well.

“I’ll do that, thankyousomuch,” she said way too fast, a huge smile spreading across her face. The intensity of his beauty was too much for her to take and Millie had to look down at her shoes.

“Well, I think the bell is gonna ring soon.  I gotta get to class before I'm late. I’ll see ya around, Millie. It’s Millie, right?”

Oh, my God! He knows my name! He knows my naaame!

“Right!” she said in a high pitched giggle. Millie heard the word reverberate in her ears and quickly realized how stupid she sounded. She wanted to die.

Greg only smiled his “unperfectly perfect” smile and then waved goodbye to Millie before heading off to class.

Millie’s smile only grew as she closed her eyes and sunk in the events of the last few moments. She thought to herself, I just talked to the man I’m going to marry.

Although Millie had never had a crush on a boy before, she knew that this wasn’t just a normal crush. She knew this was real, true love. Millie never doubted her feelings for one second. She was enamored with this Greek god, this beautiful being who had swept in and swept her off her feet while protecting her from Pete the Perv.  The shrilling sound of the bell crashed inside Millie's head and brought out of her daydream romance with Greg.  She practically floated to class.

Memories flooded back to Millie as she stood on the football field. She recalled her first meeting with Greg and the encounter with Peter. A streak of hatred ran through her body at the mention of Peter’s name, although she didn’t know why. Millie had forgotten a lot of things over the past few days. Or weeks, or months? Millie put one hand through the chain link fence and pretended the material between her fingers were Greg’s fingers. She caressed the fence in hopes that somehow she could transfer the sensation of her fingers over to Greg just by the power of her heart. Millie looked down and noticed a red card in her other hand. She turned it over and looked at it. A Valentine. Suddenly, Millie remembered. It was Valentine’s Day. And she remembered making the card for Greg.

After meeting Greg for the first time, the next few weeks were filled with Millie seeing Greg in the hall and he would always wave and flash his flawless smile at Millie. Millie would drink up every drop and feel full for the rest of the day, satiated by the daily slices of Greg she would get to indulge in. They never had time to talk as they were always walking to their next class. Not that Millie would have spoken to him, anyway. Millie was painfully shy despite her beauty. And she doubted Greg even thought of her more than just another victim of Peter. But, she loved him regardless, whether they talked or whether she’d silently see him pass by. As long as she could look at him, she realized she was okay. He was her link to her world. And her world was Greg.

Millie decided to use her art to show Greg just how much she loved him. Millie didn’t have any pictures of Greg and would feel way too awkward asking for one, so she dug out her old yearbook from the year before and found Greg’s picture. He looked younger in the picture. His face was a bit fuller, his hair a bit longer, but that smile was still the same. And those beautiful eyes. Millie decided to take Greg’s proportions from the yearbook and draw him as he was today, more mature, more chiseled, more beautiful. Millie never had a problem drawing people. Sometimes she was so good the drawing would look photo realistic. But, knowing the picture was going to go to her future husband, Millie put herself under a lot of pressure and she had a hard time getting it right. After several nights of crumpled paper and broken pieces of chalk, Millie finally finished. She stood back, her cheeks and forehead smudged with charcoal, and was happy with the final product. She just hoped Greg would be as well.

Millie had planned on giving the drawing to Greg the next day, but before she could put the picture away, she had second thoughts. Would that be weird? Would he think I was a creepy stalker? We’ve only talked once. What if I scare him away? No, I can’t do that. I can’t give him this picture. Milie put the drawing of Greg away in one of her drawers.

Now, looking down, she remembered that she realized it wasn’t weird or creepy at all, but a beautiful thing to do for someone else. And she felt in her heart he’d think so, too. Millie was struck with many realizations in the moment that she glanced down at the Valentine card with Greg’s picture in it. Millie remembered her newfound bravery in the decision to give the picture to Greg. Her head began to spin with memories and realizations.  Millie wanted to express her love for Greg even though she knew he would never fall in love with her. Without the worry of wondering about his reaction to her declaration of love for him, Millie knew she’d be able to give him the picture with a little Valentine thrown in, in honor of the big day. Millie knew Greg wouldn’t fall in love with her. Everything was coming back. It was very clear in her head now. Millie wasn’t feeling insecure, only certain of this. She wasn’t worried about her silly problems she used to have. It’s not that Millie didn’t feel pretty enough or thin enough. No, Millie had a much bigger problem.

Millie was dead.

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******

Peter Caravelli killed Millie nine days before she came back to see Greg one last time. Millie remembered staying after school one day. She had shown her art teacher the picture of Greg and wanted her opinion on how she could improve it. The teacher gave her a few suggestions to which Millie immediately became aware of. She wondered how she could have made such stupid mistakes. Then she realized she was distracted by the subject matter. Millie stayed late after school to finish up the drawing. Unfortunately, Peter was staying after school as well. He had noticed Millie walk into the art room and then noticed no one else was around. He waited for her outside the door and when she finally walked out, he grabbed her again.

Millie was startled and then angered when she realized who did the startling.

“Hey, Millie,” Pete the Perv said in a terrifyingly cool tone.

“Get away from me, you sicko,” Millie said fast and firm.  She wasn't one to be so rude to people but she knew there was no being nice to Peter.  She tried to walk away fast but Pete was an athlete and had no problem catching up with her.

“Let me touch them, let me squeeze them,” he said again.

Millie’s face twisted in disgust. How could anyone be so bluntly rude!?

“Get away!” she screamed as she walked out of the front entrance of the school.

Peter followed Millie all the way to her car, which was conveniently parked next to Peter’s. Peter did a quick surveillance of the area, noticed no one around, and then attacked.

Millie felt a strong grip come over her torso. Her heart stopped for a second. Peter had grabbed her from behind in a terrible show of strength. Millie, small and petite, couldn’t squeeze out of Peter’s grip. She tried to scream, but it was stifled by Peter’s hot, sweaty hand. She bit down on the skin, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to get him to let go. And let go he did, not only of her mouth, but of the small part of himself that kept him from going crazy on her. Peter punched Millie in the mouth. White hot pain shot across Millie’s jaw, dazing her. The jarring jolt of hurt mixed with the surprise shot sent Millie into unconsciousness. She fell to the ground in a loud thudump. Peter quickly stuffed Millie into the backseat of his car before anyone could come around to investigate the commotion.

Peter drove Millie to his house. He knew his parents would be gone. They were always leaving, getting away from the hustle and bustle of their busy, yet fruitful lives. Yes, Peter and Millie would have all night alone together. Peter began to think of all the things he’d do to Millie. His pants tightened as he fantasized. Night fell on Peter and Millie as he reached his home.

He pulled into his driveway and got out of the car. He opened the doors to the backseat and gently slapped Millie on the face until she came to. Millie came back into consciousness with a kind of feral ferocity. She immediately began to slap at Peter’s chest. She screamed, but it was no good. Peter grabbed her and dragged her to his door. Once inside, he pushed Millie onto the ground. Thousands of thought swept inside Millie’s skull.

This can’t be happening! But, it is! It feels like a dream, but this is really happening! Oh, God, please help me! He's completely nuts, please help me!  Millie fought the entire time, but Peter had an insatiable appetite for female flesh, an appetite he would indulge no matter what. Peter and Millie struggled into Peter’s kitchen where he pulled out a drawer and presented a butcher knife. Millie’s eyes widened with a terror so great, so real, that a part of her literally shut down. Millie was rendered defenseless and limp. The only active part of her body was her throat from the screams and the tears from her eyes.

“I’m sorry I had to resort to this, Millie,” Peter said. But, it wasn’t Peter speaking. The school jerk had turned into some kind of sex monster. He was evil, pure evil through and through. “But, you leave me no choice. I always get what I want. You should have just let me touch them. If my girls don’t offer it up right away, I take it.”

Suddenly, despite her fear and despite the ever increasing chance that she was going to be hurt badly, Millie had received a revelation. She realized most of the girls he had slept with did it against their will. Maybe the first few times were all consensual but after word spread of Peter’s terrible bedroom performance and bizarre sexual urges, only the dumbest girls would hop into his bed willingly. No, most of them were probably coerced into sex or flat out raped. But, had he gone this far with the other girls? And just how far was he going to take this?

Millie shrunk into the corner of the kitchen drawers while Peter closed in. He took the knife, inches away from Millie’s face, and sliced open her shirt. It fell limply at her sides. Then, he took the knife to the middle of Millie's bra and with one good tug, the bra cascaded down Mille's torso, exposing her breasts. Millie sucked in a huge breath of air. Tears fell like a broken dam. His need to touch Millie's firm, heaving breasts was finally quelled when he grabbed one of them with his left hand, still holding the butcher knife in the other. The fact that they were quivering in response to Millie's crying made it all the more satisfying, the way the nipples bounced between his fingers with each sob.  He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, enjoying the sensations. Millie only closed her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks and onto her chest.

Peter pushed her down and continued to remove the rest of her clothes. Millie fought in sporadic spasms, but mostly laid there, partly from shock, and partly because she knew she could not get away from this evil creature who outweighed her by muscle and madness. She knew if she struggled it would only hurt more.

Peter pulled down his zipper, a sound that made Millie shudder, and released his throbbing erection. He plunged into Millie and she screamed from the most intense pain she had ever felt in her life. Peter only smiled as he looked down on her. God, that sickeningly sweet sile.  Those thin, wet lips.  Millie wanted to vomit.  No lubrication.  No condom.  He's going to get me pregnant or give me an STD.  Pain and bucking.  Millie's head hit the bottom of the kitchen drawers with each thrust from Pete the Perv.  Millie never had anything bigger than a tampon or her finger inside of her before and despite Peter's small size, the fact that he shoved his tiny prick in her so fast and hard and dry made it feel like Millie was being split open on the inside. Millie looked up at Peter for a second. Their eyes locked. She thought of Greg and her mind shut down. She thought of Greg and Greg only while Peter continued pumping and pummeling her insides.  Greg would never do this.  Greg would be soft and gentle.  It wouldn't feel like this at all.  She tried to imagine Greg wrapped around her and not Peter but she could not.  She prayed that Greg would swoop in just like he did that day at the lockers.  Greg would not come.  Millie's head hit the drawers hard until her scalp started to bleed.  Thrust after thrust as the pain spread into her stomach.  Peter squeezed Millie's breasts and spread his viscous saliva all over her nipples, sometimes biting them hard.  Then he put his lips over her mouth and pressed, trying to kiss her.  Millie turned her face away and screamed.  Peter squealed in Millie's ear as she felt something wet and hot like fire shooting inside her.  Finally, he was finished. He rolled over beside Millie and, chest heaving, let out a sigh of complete satisfaction. Sweat lined his forehead and upper lip.

Millie became cold. A chill ran the entire length of her naked body. Suddenly, Millie’s cold was replaced by a piercing hot surge of anger. He had just raped her and now he was laying beside her, feeling proud of himself, thinking about what a good job he had done to get her here. Then a sneaking suspicion crawled in Millie’s cranium.

He’s not done with me just yet. No, I won’t let him do this to me again.

Millie realized, in his fit of ecstasy, Peter had let the knife drop to the floor. Something inside Millie changed, snapped.  Her head spun until she could no longer control the thoughts and the outrage.  Millie eyed the knife and immediately, without much thought, reached over Peter's torso and grabbed it.  She raised it over her head. Peter reacted immediately, his reflexes as quick as lightning.  Thinking she was about to stab him, Peter caught both of Millie's arms in his hand and pulled her over his body onto the other side of him. The knife loosened from Millie’s grip and dropped to the floor with a sharp clank.  Peter snatched it up in one hand while struggling with Mille in the other.  Millie screamed hard, the terror in her voice filling Peter's ears.  In reflexes that may have been too quick and in the wake of his sexual excitement, Peter’s wracked nerves got the best of him and he drove the knife right into Millie’s chest.

Millie saw the glint of light come off the blade before it was out of view and buried deep within her sternum. Blood boiled out of the wound in rivers. It was thick and hot. Peter’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. He immediately withdrew his hands from the knife. Only the handle remained visible. Millie’s eyes turned back into her head and a trickle of blood snaked its way past her throat and then bubbled out of her open mouth. She fell back and hit the floor with a hard thud. Her blank eyes stared toward the ceiling.  Peter's stomach dropped.  His penis shriveled.  He vomited next to Millie's bare thigh.  Blood pooled around her body and snaked its way toward Peter.  He scrambled to avoid it like it was a flesh eating acid.  A string of obsenities poured from Peter's mouth.  Ohgodohgodnonono.  Tears welled up in Peter's scared brown eyes.  He immediately regretted killing Millie.  He knew he was a sexual devient, that he was sick in the head and in the pants.  But he was no killer.

Peter crawled over to Millie and took her face into his hands.  Profuse apologies poured out of his mouth but the word’s were lost on Millie’s dead ears. Peter slowly pulled the knife from Millie’s chest, careful not to cause further damage, not that it mattered anymore, but Peter was running on shock. Some parts of him still believed Millie would get up, be pissed off, and then leave, just like all the other girls. But Millie was still.

Peter immediately tried to think of a way to undo the damage. This was going to be a tough mess to get out of. Peter wrapped Millie’s body up in one of the sheets from his bed, hoping to lessen the amount of spilled blood. He then stuffed her body into his trunk, realizing how heavy she felt now that she was nothing but dead weight. Peter then drove away from his home, trying to think of a place to go, a place to take Millie so no one would find her. On the way, Peter cried. He really didn’t mean to kill her. He only wanted to have a little fun. He only wanted to get his and then get gone.

After forty-three minutes of driving, Peter came upon a dense area of woods. Perfect, he thought. Peter parked on the edge of the woods and then took Millie’s heavy body out of the trunk. He also took out a shovel he had grabbed from his garage and had stuck in the trunk along with Millie. Peter dragged the blood soaked body far into the woods, but in a straight line so he’d be able to find his way back. He settled on an area and then began to dig. After a few minutes, his shoulders ached, his heart raced and his head began to spin. This will be good enough, he thought. He pulled Millie’s body into the earth and then covered her with the loosened dirt. He then packed the dirt down and tried to see if he could see any white spots from the sheet. No, he couldn’t. He was good. Her body was fully covered. Peter had thought he dug much farther down than he actually did. It was dark and he was scared and tired and not a good judge of depth.  In reality, Millie was laying under only a few feet of dirt. Peter walked away and then drove home. For the first time he could remember, Pete the Perv wasn’t horny.

Nine days later, at 4:30 in the morning, Millie stirred.

Millie made her way back to Peter’s house. She wasn't sure how she knew how to get to him.  She just did.  Something else was driving Millie's body now.  Some force, some kind of burning inside of her showed her where to go, lit the path like a beacon.  She reached his house covered in blood and dirt

and then rang the doorbell.

Peter was sleeping on the couch, too lazy to sleep in his bed, within hearing distance of the doorbell. He looked at the clock on top of the television. The numbers 6:30 glowed red in the darkness.  Who the hell could that be? Peter groggily shuffled to the chiming.  Peter opened the door and then opened his mouth. Peter had the same look on his face now as he did when he saw Millie’s new breasts for the first time, a mixture of fascination and stupidity. Millie remembered that face. It fueled the flames of hate that were now burning her insides, much like the burning Peter caused when he burrowed his way through her all those days ago. It was a reminder of why she was back. Within seconds, Millie pushed her way inside, Peter too shocked to try to defend himself. She pushed him so hard he fell on his butt and slid across the slick floor.

In a quick jolt of realization, Peter found his voice again. “What the fu…” But he was stopped by Millie. She straddled him. Peter was frightened at first. For a split second, he thought Millie was dead. Then the rational part of is brain, as small as it was, reasoned that he had never killed her at all. Somehow she survived. And now she was back to ride him one more time. Peter's brain began to rationalize the site in front of him and it wasn't too hard as he had never fully accepted that he had truly killed Millie in the first place.  I guess she couldn’t get enough the first time around, he thought as Millie, naked and filthy, bucked her hips against his crotch  He was hard instantly. He was ready for round two. So was Millie. But she was playing a different game. Millie found the collar of Peter’s shirt and ripped it in half, exposing his less than stellar chest. Alternately, Peter looked at Millie’s. He felt it definitely wasn’t as attractive as he remembered, especially with that knife wound ruining the scenery. The wound was clotted and black, a huge blemish on an otherwise perfect pair of breasts. Millie rubbed his chest with her dirty hands and pinched his nipples, which made him even harder. His erect penis created a taut tent in his pajama bottoms. Just what Millie wanted. Millie worked her hands up to his throat, the stubbled skin prickly against her fingers. She wrapped her arms tightly around his throat, her thumbs just bellow his Adam’s apple.

Peter was finding all of this absolutely titillating. Peter went for Millie’s breasts but she quickly slapped his hand away. She slapped him so hard his hand turned a fiery hot red. His penis stiffened even more, to the point it was painful. Millie put her hands back around Peter’s throat and squeezed just enough to make his breath labored. Then, she squeezed harder.

Peter was beginning to find this just as painful as the stiff penis in his pajamas. Millie was squeezing too hard. Peter liked it rough, but not like this. Soon, excitement turned to fear as Peter quickly realized that he was having a terribly hard time breathing. Peter’s chest began to get heavy and a sharp burn spread throughout his lungs. Millie smiled at Peter as his hands came up again to unlock hers. But, he couldn’t. Peter realized that Millie was unusually strong. She had ripped his shirt right in half like it was a piece of notebook paper. She had slapped his hand so hard it was starting to show signs of bruising and now he wasn’t able to release the death grip she had on his throat. She was so small and tiny and he was so large, yet he couldn’t break her grip. Something was very wrong with her.

In this realization, Peter’s erection quickly faded. So did his breath.

Millie spoke her first words since encountering Peter for the second time. “With your final breaths, I want you to think about all those girls you hurt. I want you to think about all the girls you raped!”And with that she squeezed even harder. “And I want you to think about the girl that you killed. Me!”

What little was left of Peter’s breath stopped as he realized he wasn’t dealing with a dirty chick who wanted another ride on Pete’s peter. No, he was dealing with a dead girl. A very mad dead girl. As he faded out, he felt his windpipe cave in under the weight of Millie’s fingers.

Peter came to a while later. He was tied to one of the kitchen chairs. He was naked. Peter looked around quickly to see if he could spot the dead girl. She wasn’t around. Peter screamed for help, knowing it was useless since his parents weren’t going to be back until the next day. He immediately cursed them for always being gone. They were never around, never there to take care of Peter. He was glad they were gone the night he raped and killed Millie because it was convenient for him. It seems his convenience ran out. He screamed anyway, screamed out of fear, screamed out of frustration for not being able to get away from things this time, yet nothing came out. His windpipe was nearly destroyed. The more Peter tried to scream, the more his throat hurt.

Peter had always been the type to run away from trouble. He knew girls were trouble. His father had always told him that. “Befriend 'em, bed 'em, then beat those bitches to the door,” his dad always said to him. Peter wondered if his mother knew about his dad’s little saying. He also wondered if his mother knew about the other women. He also wondered if his dad knew that he knew about the other women.

Peter took his father’s advice to heart. He saw the way in which is father used women, attaining most of his affairs from his job. He started to admire his father, how he could balance a successful career and a family and still have fun on the side. Peter decided that he was going to have fun, too.

Peter’s first sexual encounter happened when he was thirteen. Peter’s mother was away visiting family and Peter was supposed to be over at Kent’s house. He had slept over the night before and was supposed to play over there all day the next day. But, he decided he wanted to go home early so Kent’s father drove him home. Peter went into his father’s bedroom to tell him he was home early and found a naked woman lying in his father’s bed. The sheets came up to her stomach, exposing her large, unnatural looking silicone breasts. She was an older woman. Peter could tell in the way she had lines all over her face. Peter could hear the shower running in his dad’s bathroom. The woman had on bright red lipstick and a thick smearing of blue eye shadow. Her mascara was so clumped up on her eye lashes they resembled hairy spider legs. The woman’s thin, blond hair was messy, but Peter guessed it would have been immaculately styled any other time. She was smoking a cigarette when he came in.

“Hello,” the woman said. Her voice was gritty and deep, no doubt affected by the cigarettes.

Having never seen a naked woman before, Peter was shy and reluctant to speak. “Hi,” he said quickly, in a high pitched voice.

“Your father’s taking a shower,” she said matter-of-factly.

Well, duh, he thought.

“Okay, I just wanted to tell him I was home early. I’m going to go to my room now.”

The old woman took a long drag from her cigarette and then put it out on his mother’s ashtray. She smoked, too. The old woman raised a curious eyebrow.

“Hey, kid, you ever seen a naked woman before?”

Peter’s face burned with embarrassment.

“Um, no…”

“Well, here,” the woman said as she flung the sheets off of her. There, in his parents bed, the old woman exposed the one thing that would become Peter’s ultimate obsession and ultimate undoing.

Peter liked what he saw and told the lady so when she asked him. She motioned for him to come over with her flabby arm. He did as she asked. He stepped next to her, her breasts only inches away from his arm. Peter realized his penis was getting hard. It had happened a few times before, but never like this. Never this hard.

What followed was a brief anatomy lesson of female organs given by the older lady followed by a fast session of fellatio. Peter heard his father turn off the shower. He quickly pulled up his pants and left the room and left the house. Peter was ashamed of what he had let the old lady do to him. Ashamed, yet at the same time, strangely excited. It was so dirty, yet a little bit thrilling. As Peter was going over the events of the past few minutes, Peter’s father stepped out of the shower, naked and erect, and inserted his penis into the space his son’s had vacated only minutes before. This was followed by another session of sex before Peter’s father threw the woman out.

Peter never told his father what happened and never told his father he knew of the other women. Although he didn’t like what his dad was doing to his mother, he respected his dad for getting away with it. Ever since that day in his father’s bedroom, Peter began exploring human sexuality, especially the sexuality of pretty, virginal girls.

Peter wished he could run away like he did that day in his father’s bedroom. You have a little fun, you run into a little danger, you run away and you’re okay. But, Peter couldn’t run this time. His feet were tied to the chair by his underwear. His hands were tied to the chair by scraps of his pajama bottoms. Peter began to cry because he knew nothing good was going to come of this. He began to cry even harder when he realized Millie really was dead, yet somehow she was here and she was going to hurt him. She was going to hurt him bad.

But, Peter never cried as hard in his life as he did when Millie appeared in front of him with a butcher knife, one much like the one he used to kill her. Peter had gotten rid of the other one. A howl of horror escaped his lips, tears pouring down his face in buckets. Millie only smiled and ran her finger across the butcher knife. It split open her finger in a smooth bloodless line.

Millie had a lot to say. There was a lot on her mind and a lot she wanted to get off her chest. At the same time, she was sick of looking at Peter. Death by choking was too civil for him. It didn’t hurt enough. No, she was going to inflict some real, concrete pain onto him. Then, she was going to find Greg.

As Peter continued to blubber, Millie drew closer to him. She placed the blade onto his shoulder and slid her way down, sometimes pressing hard and drawing blood and sometimes barely touching his skin. Peter screamed at her to stop but they were empty words, just like all the other empty words he’d vomit from his mouth to those poor girls. No, this time words wouldn’t work and she wouldn't stop.  He didn't stop for her.  Millie made her way down to his stomach and noticed Peter had a trail of hair as well. Except this trail wasn’t as beautiful as Greg’s. It was messy and thick. It didn’t run down, but followed an irregular pattern. This is where she’d start.

Millie pierced Peter’s bellybutton with the blade. Peter let out another yell, not so much from the pain, but from the fear that she’d go deeper, that she’d go lower. And lower is exactly where she went. She followed the irregular path of hair, slicing Peter’s belly along the way. She stopped when she arrived at his shriveled penis. Warm blood ran down his stomach, into his pubic hair and down to his testicles. Millie looked up at Peter and smiled. They both knew what she was going to do. Peter inhaled and let out the loudest scream he could muster, a scream that was both silent and damaging to his already damaged throat. Then, his shouting came in fits, repetitions of no, please, no, stop! but it was all wasted breath.

Millie grabbed Peter’s penis and with one good tug, severed it from his body. Peter screamed again, so hard that he vomited. A hot geyser of blood sporadically shot out of his pubic region. Peter’s eyes rolled back into his head and just before the blanket of death came to cover him, Millie shoved the penis into Peter’s open mouth, forcing him to go backward in his chair. His head hit the floor and made a sound like the crack of a whip. Fresh blood from his head joined the blood from his crotch and they both flowed out until he was empty. Millie walked up to Peter's dead body, his eyes open but blank, the head of his penis peaking out of his bloodied mouth.  Millie bent down and plunged the knife into his eye socket, obliterating his eye, 'causing blood to shoot out and a yellow viscious matter to flow down his face like a scrambled egg yolk running off a plate.  Before Millie left, she went up to Peter’s mother’s closet and grabbed the prettiest dress she could find.

I knew he’d be here. He always adored football. He’s with his friends now, practicing. And he’s just as handsome as when I saw him a few days ago. Or was it a few weeks? I forget...

Yes, Greg was there all right. She knew he would be. Millie’s memories came back in short bursts. She remembered everything that happened to her. She remembered why she came back and why she stayed. She came back for revenge and stayed for love. Millie looked down and noticed a Valentine card in her hand. She opened it up and saw the picture of Greg she drew for him. Once she thought it would be weird to give it to him, but now it felt right. Besides Greg, art was her passion. Greg would see that when he saw the picture. He would make the connection that she was not only passion about the medium but about the subject as well. He would get it because Millie believed he would. And she believed he would fall in love with her and they’d live happily ever after.

Live.

No, no they wouldn’t. Millie was dead.

There would be no happily ever after. Millie realized it wouldn’t be a dream ending but at least she would have some closure. She had gotten rid of Peter and now she was going to finally tell Greg how she felt, no matter the outcome. Millie realized there comes a point in your life, or death, when you can’t hide your feelings anymore. Millie knew people were not built to bury their emotions. She knew she could not rest until she revealed her love for Greg.

Suddenly, something tapped Millie on the shoulder. It was a rain drop. It was beginning to rain. During Millie's realization of resurrection, she didn't realize how the clouds had gathered around the football field, how the dark gray puffs in the sky had darkened the day. Millie didn’t want the valentine to get wet so she quickly looked for the opening to the fence. She had to get to Greg quickly.  The rain came quicker and harder. Millie couldn’t protect the valentine with her clothes because they were filthy. She would just get it dirty. Millie looked at the valentine and then at her skin.  She saw that the rain was sloughing off the skin on her arms.

With a fear as sudden as the knife that plunged into her chest, Millie realized the rain was making her body disintegrate.

Millie’s ear fell off as easily as a leaf falls off a tree in autumn. It made a small plop in the muddy grass like a dropped scoop of ice cream. Millie tried to scream, but her vocal chords were already crumbled. There was no air to push her voice out. Millie scrambled to the fence entrance. The rain fell harder and the wind picked up clumps of Millie’s hair and ran with it. The rain came so quickly, like someone pouring a bucket of water on her head. Suddenly, her nose fell away and bounced off her chest and into the grass. Millie’s skin began to peel as she ran, layer by layer until the blackened tissue of her flesh was exposed.  Millie ran and ran and attempted to fight the wind and beating rain that was flowed right in her direction. She tripped and fell to the slick, wet grass.  A blade of green kissed her lips.  Slimy like Peter's lips.  She shuddered.  She looked down and noticed that her foot had fallen off and fell over into the grass. Millie forced herself up and limped to the fence’s entrance, which now seemed about a thousand miles away. The rest of Millie’s hair was washed away in the rain until only a few stubborn patches were left to hold on to her head.  Millie was surrounded by water, her one foot sinking deeper into the muddied ground, the rain unrelenting, her vision clouded by the water, by her own deteriorating eyes.

Millie found the entrance and just as she reached for it, her arms dislodged and fell to the ground. Rain replaced the tears that would have streamed down her rotting face. Millie wanted so desperately to express some sort of anger or frustration, so desperately wanted to scream out in a rage, to scream out Greg’s name. Scream to get his attention.  Scream to declare her love for him. Nothing came. Millie’s teeth fell out of her mouth like a bottle of spilled pills.

And then, Millie felt her eyes begin to give away.

NO! Please, no, not my eyes! Please, no!!!

Her eyes were her only link left to the beauty that was Greg, to the peace that he had given her that day when he saved her from Pete the Perv, who was probably being discovered at this very moment, a pool of blood surrounding his crotch and his penis stuffed down his throat. Her eyes were all she had left of her world.  And her world was Greg.

Millie’s legs snapped off like frail toothpicks. Millie’s head and torso dropped under the liberation of her legs. She fell on her back in a squishy plop. Rain battered at her eyes. She craned her neck as far as she could so she could see Greg. She craned too far and her neck pulled itself from her chest. Luckily, her face rolled over only once and then stopped in full view of Greg. Even though she was being disassembled, she still couldn’t help but to stop and admire his beauty. He was running to collect his things now that the rain had started. The rain pounded on his lean body. Oh, how Millie was jealous of the rain. If only she could spread herself upon him in little droplets, caressing the corners of his clavicle, the nape of his neck, his torso, his chiseled chest. She was truly in love with him. She had no doubt in this world or the next that she was in love with him. And for a split second, Greg looked over in her direction. Millie could have sworn they locked eyes. Millie knew if her heart was still attached and functional, it would have skipped a beat at that very moment. A toothless smile formed on her face until her lips cracked open and dissolved like wet paper.

Millie left the world a second time, much happier than the first. In that moment their eyes clicked, a lifetime of love flooded through her. And Millie was satisfied with that.

The rain had lowered the range of visibility significantly. Out of the corner of Greg’s cornea, he thought he saw something collapse. He looked over at it and saw an indistinguishable pile outside the entrance of the fence. He stared at it for a second, trying to determine what it was. His head tilted in curiosity.  Perhaps a tree limb had fallen. Greg shrugged and then gathered his things. He had to hurry inside. He didn’t want to catch his death out in the cold, hard rain.

Millie’s portrait of Greg stayed in her hand for a few moments until the rain rinsed clean the last of her flesh. The picture itself succumbed to the sheets of water which poured from the clouds. Greg’s face slowly melted under the rain, the charcoal outlines of his nose and eyes and unperfectly perfect teeth slowly washed away.

Happy Halloween!