When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Six - Unfriended

 SIX

 Unfriended

The day after her forced arrangement with Tristan becomes her reality, Catherine is awakened by the telephone in her hotel room. It is two in the afternoon, and she has been sleeping for fourteen hours.

"Hello," she answers, thinking  that it must be Tristan, or one of his men.

"Catherine?"

"Malika?"

"Yeah. Zach gave me this number. Listen, I've got some bad news, hon: Holly's dead."

"What? What do you . . . Was it an overdose?"

"No. She was stabbed. There's other stuff too, but they're not telling. Probably a john."        

Catherine takes a deep breath. Holly was a fourteen year old prostitute, and a friend of sorts. I can’t be responsible for her death. Tristan told me not to worry about the chain, that he’d get me out of it, after getting me into his. And I saw Taliano men very much devoted to getting him what he desired, so he must have had the power to get me out of it, because this is what he wanted: me, like this.  

“Malika, please be careful out there,” Catherine cautions her friend a moment later, when the two end their conversation.

The following day, two more bodies are found.

“Can’t you just not be out there for a day or two while the police figure out . . . “

“Catherine, you know that I don’t get sick days,” Malika interrupts. “But I’m sticking to my regulars. No newbies. Don’t worry.”

The day following that one, four more bodies are found having suffered the same horrific fate.

“Malika . . .”

“I’m being careful. Won’t happen to me,” Catherine’s best friend interrupts, her voice, however, betraying her some.

On the third day following the first grisly discovery, seven more mutilated bodies are found within the first few hours of morning light.

“Malika, you have to get away. Even with the cops after him, he keeps killing because he’s not afraid of getting caught. He’s either psycho, or . . .”

“The murders aren’t making the news because all the victims worked the streets. But the cops have warned us to be safe, Catherine, because we’re most vulnerable to future attacks. And there are more cops out here, so . . . Well, which scares johns away, but  . . .  The cops are trying to figure out if there’s a connection between the victims, other than geography. I can’t think of one. You?”

Catherine closes her eyes. Following a most agonizing process to acceptance, she has had to admit the obvious to herself: it is all of her acquaintances who have recently died violent, sadistic deaths, with only Malika left standing. It is therefore difficult for her to believe that she had nothing to do with those deaths, even though, on the other hand, it seems implausible that so many would die because of her, due to her exiting the chain.

“Malika, just . . . leave,” she once again recommends, as she opens her eyes.

“And go where? They’ll find me wherever I go. You know that. And then they’ll end me. Maybe it’ll be quicker and not as horrifying at their hands, but I’d rather take the chance at life, at surviving, than running and knowing that I’ll be found and killed for sure.”

Malika’s voice has never possessed such seriousness, such depth and gravity to it, as it does now.

“Catherine, I’m always careful. I just have to remember to take my switchblade out of my pussy if a john pays me for the works, “ Malika tries to joke. “But hey, if that son-of-a-bitch, sicko-maniac gets me naked, he’s got another thing coming.”