*This story was inspired by, and written in an attempt to coordinate with the song that SHOULD be playing on your speakers. There is little correlation with the lyrics... it's just the feeling and mood of the music itself. If you read it at the right speed, it should be awesome.
She left him smoking on the bed, and threw him his pants and shoes before dashing to the bathroom only to rest her knees on the cool linoleum just in time, losing more than just her lunch in that moment. She managed to find a split second to reach back and push the door closed behind her. Tears came quickly after; light at first, followed by what would feel like a heavy stream running the length of her defined face only to become a puddle on the cheap motel-room floor. She had never been so sick, so tired, so used up in her life. Her eyes closed tightly, and her body jumped as she heard the front door close in the main room. A comfort short lived.
Picking herself up to her feet, she looked in the mirror only to realize she didn't know the person staring back at her anymore; what had she let herself become? She wiped the smeared mascara from beneath her eyes with a damp square of one-ply, then began scrubbing at the dry, cracked lipstick remaining on her lips; slowly at first, then harder and with a roughness not originally intended. Feeling the sobs pushing to escape her chest she was unable to suppress it any longer... she let out a loud cry, dropping again to her knees as her back arched in pain and her lips curled in sorrow. The pain quickly gave birth to rage, which she felt churning in her stomach as it began to run course through her entire body until she could feel it in her fingertips... begging for release.
She wrapped her fingers tightly around the edge of the brushed nickel garbage can on the floor next to the sink and hurled it into the already scratched and worn mirror mounted above the sink... watching it shatter and careen to the floor in varied shapes and sizes. A moment of relief washed over her, and she turned her knob on the door and changed her focus to the room before her. So much pain, and lost innocence inside these four walls. This is not the first afternoon she had spent in the under-priced rat-shack off the county road.
She picked up her fishnets and panties that were left in a ball by the the foot of the bed, ripped the comforter and cheap cotton sheets from the mattress and tossed them to the carpet. Dialing in on the fake brass lamp, she whipped it up in a fury and hurled towards the TV, watching it shatter the screen like a Faberge Egg before taking her right arm and pushing it from atop the dresser and letting it crash to the outdated carpet to become a pile of trash. She left the hundred dollar bill crumpled up on the night stand, threw her worn heels and the rest of her things in her over-sized bag and opened the door.
The evening light caught her off guard, as she paused a moment to lift her hand to shade her eyes and glance toward the lot of the run-down hotel. His car was gone, but she knew with certainty where her top customer would be found at this hour.
She slipped on her cheap, worn-out heels and began to walk the length of the parking-lot, and skipped quickly across the road to the old Saloon style bar where the men in the small town went to forget about their over-priced homes and well planned families to drown themselves in a bottle. Best place of business for a working girl in this town, and as it approached late evening this was the height of business for the bar as well as the patrons.
The door-man let her in quickly, holding the door as she passed through. She was known here...a "regular": an empty shell and good for business. Walking through the entry way she was able to spot him easily... sitting at his usual corner table in the back with a scotch on the rocks in one hand and a cigarette in the other throwing unwanted advances to his young "Polyanna" styled waitress. She watched from across the bar as the waitress smiled, and gently nodded while trying to make a polite escape.
Ignoring cat-calls from the bar patrons as she passed by them, she made her way quickly to the back of the bar, and his corner table. Despite the dimly-lit and smoke filled atmosphere, he saw her quickly as she approached and offered a sadistic grin. When she got to the table he motioned for her to sit on his lap by turning slightly out to the side and patting his legs with a gentleness unknown to her, just as he does most nights. She usually complies without incident.
Tonight she looked back at him straight-faced, and stood in silence a moment. Her palms began to moisten which she combated by balling them up until her knuckles turned white. He quickly reached his arm out to grab her, but she stepped back slightly with her other foot and slipped her hand into her purse, pulling it out to expose an old black revolver which she lifted at point blank range and rested against his forehead. As he froze, she lightly smiled back at him... with the same sadistic smile he had offered her so many times. One breath in, followed by one breath out.... and she pulled the trigger.
The room fell immediately silent until panic set in a split second later. It started with confusion and was accompanied quickly by screams of terror, growing quickly to a roar. Despite the excitement welling all around her, she was unmoved. She watched his fingers lose grip and his half-smoked cigarette fell to the cheap pleather covered bench of the booth as the rest of his body fell limp.
People began quickly running to the one exit in the small establishment. Glasses dropped and shattered; some were hiding beneath the cheap tables; not a rational soul for miles. She stood, un-wavered, until every sign of life was drained from him. Gripping the pistol tightly in her hand she had tuned out the chaos around her and gave her full attention in this moment, still smiling wildly....
*In my head this is all slow-mo and grainy and black and white and awesome. I hope it was portrayed appropriately :)
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