Virgin Lips

7. Ben The Serial Killer

You know, if I was Hindu, I would be happy to live the shitty life I'm living, because it would mean my next one would be splendid. Unfortunately, I'm Christian. Or not. I haven't really thought about it. The point is, every day of sufferance in that diner, every day I come home without having knocked Scott over his head and sold his organs to the black market should be a day I get back in the next life, otherwise it's not fair, is it? Why endure all this if there's no reward? The measly wage he gives me doesn't cover a quarter of the insults I gotta swallow every day.

Today was family day, even. This new ludicrous event my employer came up with offers free meals to mothers with children under 3 years old. Do you have any idea what does that mean? You guessed it: a diner packed with bellowing toddlers and uncaring mothers that gave up on any sort of civil education for their offspring. 

Obviously, we're not talking about rich moms with nannies following them, we're talking about neighborhood youngish moms that would have locked up their mothers-in-law in a retirement home, hadn't they realized those old women are quite handy when it comes to babysitting: don't need to pay them, they work around the clock. I pity the poor ladies, to be honest. Their sons must have been deaf and completely idiotic to choose such life companions. Then again, it's usually ex cheerleaders that married straight out of high school, so you can guess what's their best quality. And yes, that is why Scott decided to do this event. He saw a group of these mothers at the mall nearby one day, and decided he needed to see more of them.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against (ex) cheerleaders nor girls that choose to be mothers instead of career women. It's their choice. But also neglecting their children and subsequently making of them future serial killers is a choice, a choice these women seem to have fiercely embraced.

Naturally, Mandy is always conveniently sick every family day, and Scott is too stupid, or rather, too distracted by breastfeeding mothers to notice. I don't think I've ever taken one single day off since I started this job. It's a good thing I never get sick.

I was more than exhausted, I was worn out, completely drained of my every energy, and when that happens, absurdly, I lose control. That's why, when I saw Ben standing against my door, I growled loudly, not in the slightest mood to deal with his chatty self tonight.

"Well, hello, there," he greeted cheerfully, "I ordered Japanese, it'll be here in a few minutes. Hope you like sushi."

This is the problem introverts always have to deal with: extroverts just don't know the meaning of boundaries. They don't think about how would someone react, if something makes the other person uncomfortable, they just go ahead and do whatever pops up in their gleeful minds. "I need to sleep." I murmured as I walked to my door, not minding my gruff tone.

"Bad day?"

"Worse than awful."

"Sorry to hear." Ben sounded truthfully sorry and I regretted being rude. He was just trying to be kind.

Sighing, I put my key into the lock. "Can we reschedule? I really badly need to be alone tonight."

"Why?" Ben perused me.

"What do you mean, why? I just-" I stopped when I realized he was smiling. Why was he smiling? Is he some kind of sadist that enjoys people's misfortunes?

"I'm sorry, but," he chuckled, "this is the first time you actually speak to me! I'm amazed and freaked out and happy at the same time."

"What?"

"JoJo ... I've lived here for about a month now, and this is the first time we actually have a conversation."

Oh. Right. I obviously blushed, which didn't help my predicament, but I was way too tired to really mind. "I'm sorry." It was the only thing I could think of.

"No need to be." Much to my surprise, my neighbor opened my door for me and, having grabbed my hand, he pulled me inside. I was even too tired to feel the tingles on my skin at his touch, but they were there. "Mmh ... bathroom?"

Blinking my eyes, I answered without thinking: "In the bedroom."

In other circumstances, I probably would have screamed or at least planted my feet on the ground not to move, but with barely 3-4 hours of sleep and coming from a 12 hour shift during which I hadn't been able to sit for one single minute, I barely realized Ben – this weird guy I met in the laundry room about a month ago and that has been obsessively lurking around me – was taking me into my bedroom.

He made me sit on the bed, then headed for the bathroom. "I was sure you had a bathtub!" He screamed, excited. Normally, I would see a murdered using the bathtub to store the blood he will drink once he's finished slicing me up to throw me into the river, but his voice was too genuinely naïve to think bad. Even in my tiredness, I doubt he realized what he said sounded ambiguous.

I heard him fumbling in the bathroom, but my eyes were kind of closing and I unconsciously lay down on the bed. Five minutes, just five minutes to rest my eyes.

--

When I reopened my eyes, the sun was filtering through my curtains. I jumped. Late for work? Last time I was late, like, 3 minutes late, Scott made me clean the old bathrooms. The ones that hadn't been cleaned since Clinton was president. Panicking, I scrambled to get out of bed, and started searching for my uniform. Where the hell did I put it?

"You're wearing it." Ben's voice filled my ears, and I screeched. Literally screeched, which obviously made him chuckle. "Sorry, I should have knocked."

Eyes wide, I stared at him, freaked out. Where did he come from? What happened last night? Why was he in my bedroom? Unconsciously, I backed against the wall, creeped out. Was I right? Is he a murderer?

"I already fed the kittens, so you don't need to worry about that. And I called the diner and told them you're sick."

Is this how I am going to die? Trapped in my bedroom, no one knowing where I am? The only thing I could hope for was that Scott would be furious enough to show up here and yell at me. At least I could feed him to Ben The Serial Killer.

"I have to go to work, but I can make you breakfast first." My neighbor slash assassin went on. "You should rest."

"What ..." I mumbled, my heart beating fast.

Ben took a few calm steps, and came to stand right in front of me, close enough for me to smell him, but not enough for me to have to look up to see his face. "You pretty much passed out last night." He said. "I thought I'd prepare you a bubble bath to soothe your nerves and relax you, but when I came back into the room you were sound asleep," he chuckled, "I just took fed the kittens then took them to my apartment for the night. I brought them back just half an hour ago, to feed them. Then I thought I'd look in to see if you were okay but saw you panicking while looking for your uniform. It was a funny sight, I'll admit."

"What ..." I repeated, "why ... I ... who ..."

"Call it neighborly kindness." Ben shrugged, digging his hands into his jeans pockets, as if to assure me he meant no harm. "Or ... friendship, if you like."

I blinked my eyes so many times, I probably looked like I was having a stroke. Was this him trying to prove we can actually be friends?

"I'll leave you to it now," Ben said, finally walking away, "I can be back for lunch, I think. I'll bring some takeaway ... not Japanese though, sushi last night was awful. Is there a decent restaurant around here?"

"I ... I don't understand ..." I stuttered, disbelieving. Was this a dream? Or a nightmare?

Ben smiled the slightest. "It's simple, JoJo. I finally realized you don't hate me, you're just shy. And I can work with shy."

"But ..."

"If it helps, I'm gay," he shrugged, "so you have nothing to fear."