Short Story Saturday: Josh

JOSH

“You think you can just start fucking someone and leave,” I bellow in her face. “Like you'd think I'd just let you leave, Meg?”

She laughs at me. Fucking laughs! She thinks the whole situation is hilarious, but I knew just when she started fucking him. A part of me thought she'd stay, but that, apparently, wasn't going to be the case. I didn't care if she fucked someone else. Hell, I didn't even care if she fucked me. I don't care for all that stuff. If I get tense, I know how to take care of it myself. That's how I was brought up—though I left Jeb, Jack, and Mason long ago, they taught me well how to take care of my own needs. Even if their ways were extremely unorthodox.

They were quick to replace me after I left. I'm pretty sure the kid who took my place is called Tommy. Though, it's probably not his real name, just what the others called him after they took him away from his real family. Sometimes, Mason calls asking me to come back, but I left that life for a reason. I needed to at least appear like a normal person.

That's why I chose Meg. She's the perfect housewife material. Normal in all aspects. A little overweight, brunette, a nice smile, and when we first got together, others looked at me as if I was normal, too, and not like the creepy, single, town butcher they had before I'd hooked up with her. I was approachable on the streets these days. People said hello in greeting while passing me. Now she's going to fuck things up.

“Meg, fuck who you want. Fuck 'em when you want. I don't give a shit. Just stay. I need you here,” I say, not liking the way my voice cracks more than I'd wanted it to. I'm pushing too hard for emotions I don't have. Emotions she knows I don't have, so she knows this is all an act.

“Don't give me that. You need me because I make you seem like an actual person to other people. What the fuck do I get out of it? A shag once or twice a year. Certainly, no emotional connection. Have you ever thought I might want kids? Would you even consider letting me have them?” she screams at me.

Kids? What the fuck? I'd just screw them up. Kids shouldn't be anywhere in my proximity. I open my mouth, but she's already talking again.

“No. You wouldn't, and if you say otherwise now, it's just to keep me here.” She stops and crosses her arms over her chest. “I'm going, Josh. There's nothing you can say or do to make me stay.” She turns away from me.

I grab the lamp from the table on my left. The cord rips free from the plug. It's noisy, but she keeps walking. I rush after her and smash her over the head. She crumples in a heap on the floor.

I straighten out her body, rolling her to her back. I see her chest rise and fall. I think fast, pulling the wire from the lamp, and I turn her on her side. I bring her feet up and her hands down, tying them with the wire almost as if she were a calf at a rodeo and I a cowboy.

I go to the garage in search of lengths of chain and padlocks that I know are in there. I find them and take them to the spare room.

When I return to Meg, she's still unconscious on the floor. I think about untying her and hefting her over my shoulder but decide against it. Instead, I drag her—holding onto the wire that binds her hands and feet together—along the carpet to the spare room. I release the wire and turn her over, seeing the carpet burns on her face and across her stomach where her shirt rode up.

“That's gonna sting,” I say, satisfied.

I grab a stepladder from the corner, placing it in the center of the room under a support beam I normally hang my heavy bag from. I grab three lengths of chain—two longer, one shorter—and a padlock. I wrap one end of the shorter length around the support beam and padlock it to itself, letting the rest dangle down toward the floor. The two longer ones I run over the beam, half of each chain on either side, and step down. I walk toward Meg, and I wrap the other end of the shorter chain around her neck and padlock it to itself, giving her a heavy chain necklace. I pull at the wire tying her hands to her feet and remove it. I grab the two ends of one of the longer chains and wrap an end around each wrist using two more padlocks. She now has matching bracelets to go with her necklace. I move to her feet, doing the same to her ankles that I did her wrists, completing the set with anklets.

Well, she did like to harass me about jewelry. Now she has some; though, it's probably not exactly what she had in mind.

I go to the kitchen and pour a glass of whiskey. I swish it around my mouth before letting it burn down my throat. I don't mind killing. It really isn't my thing, but I don't care either way. I'll let her wake up. Let her decide her own fate. She can agree to stay with me and live or choose to die.

I've nearly finished the bottle of whiskey when Meg starts screaming. I go back to the room where she is. She's jerking the chain on her right wrist only to have it pull her left arm away. I laugh. It's actually an extremely funny sight to see. She falls when she kicks a left leg back and the right is yanked forward.

“Josh, you need to let me go!”

“You agree to stay, and I'll take the chains off,” I tell her with a shrug.

“Fuck you, asshole! You think I'm going to stay here after you do this?”

I pull my phone from my back pocket. I search through my contacts list, finding the name I want, and touch the screen. It rings through. Just when I think he's not going to answer, he does.

“Damn, Josh, I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw your name. You change your mind?” Mason says.

“Nah, Mas. I do have a favor to ask, or maybe an offer for fun?”

“Josh, you need to let me go,” Meg yells.

“Hey, is that Meg? The one I've heard about you being with?” Mason asks.

“Yeah, and if you agree with my offer, well, you can meet her.”

“No shit! Whatcha need, Josh?”

“Well, you remember that time you took me deer hunting?” I ask him.

“Yeah?”

“How we finished the day?”

Meg starts screaming for help, but our closest neighbor's a quarter mile away. Maybe if she was outside, they'd hear her but not with her inside the house.

“What with cleaning the deer?” he asks.

“Yeah. Can you help me with something like that but not a deer?”

“Sure thing. Is it Meg?” The excitement in his voice is unmistakable. “Because I'm sure Jeb wouldn't object to a new girl. You know, if you'd rather me just pick her up,” he says.

“Nah, Mas. I've got a better idea, and I think it'll really help out with the business.”

“Hey, Josh, how is the butcher business, anyway?”

“Not bad, but it's not great, either,” I tell him.

“Well, give me a couple hours, and I'll be there. I know the perfect place. You let me know how that meat sells later,” he says and hangs up.

I look at Meg. Her face is streaked with tears, and she's sobbing. She brings her eyes up to meet mine and asks, “Why?”

“What? I gave you a choice. You chose wrong.” I shrug my shoulders and leave the room, shutting the door behind me.