Psychotic

[5] Whore

The cool autumn air turned his breath to frost before his eyes. Laitus walked nervously down the neon alley, he had no idea where he was, what day it was or how he had gotten there. Hours earlier he had opened his eyes to a bloodied mess. The young girl's dress was torn, exposing her delicate body. Her remains were seemingly torn apart at the midsection and the blood that had been smeared on her underdeveloped chest had dried to her ghostly skin. He found bits of her hands which had been hacked apart in his pocket and a mutilated little leg placed neatly in his lap.

The moment he took the grisly sight in he'd emptied his stomach all over the floor in front of him. He rushed to his feet and ran, he wasn't sure how far but the sick sight never left his mind. The body was that of a girl that couldn't have been a day older than five. A small and innocent child, and he had been the one to tarnish her frail form.

That blood was on his hands as much as he wished it wasn't, and so he found himself wandering these unfamiliar back streets filled with burly men and scantily clad women. A dark-skinned man stepped out from the shadows, colliding into Laitus' side. The man barely reached his shoulder and had to raise his chin to look him in the eye, and the moment their eyes met Laitus' head felt heavy, he stumbled away attempting to balance himself against the damp building walls. Something trailed up Laitus' back and down his arm causing him to glance over when he heard a honeyed voice hum.

"Everything alright, sweetie?" A women dressed much like the ones he had laid eyes on before smiled at him. She was small, and her breasts popped out of her skin-tight dress. But the one thing that made his blood run cold was the uncanny resemblance the prostitute had to his late stepmother. From the shade of her disgusting flame-coloured hair to the curve of her jaw they were almost identical.

She pushed herself against him and attempted to whisper in his ear. "How about you let me take care of you, sugar?"

Laitus began to tremble, seeing the face of his late stepmother after five gruelling years of living on his own, surviving on his own. It all made him uneasy, he was so scared he wanted to throw up again. He lost feeling in his hands and soon his arms were no longer under his command. He was coming back, the one thing he feared most was himself. His other self.

Laitus was now trapped far in the back of his own mind, and a malicious identity had gained control. The woman smiled seductively with her overly painted lips and leaned in closer to plant a sloppy kiss on his neck. The new Laitus had to hold himself back from striking the woman at this point. He ground his teeth together but play along with the tramp, acting as if he wasn't repulsed by the very sight of her.

The pair made their way to a love-hotel, both with very different intentions in mind.

***

Mary-Jane opened the door to the cheesy love-hotel and turned to beckon the oddly-dressed man closer, only to be attacked from behind. The blond slammed her against the closed door and hungrily latched onto her neck, trailing rough bites down the side of her throat. He clenched her hair in a tight bundle and dug his teeth into her neck aggressively. She found that his lips had an odd texture, as they worked against her skin.

She was swiftly spun around and pushed back into the door. He shoved his hands up the back of her dress and clawed at her back, shoving his face into the curve of her neck he inhaled deeply and squeezed her sides tightly. She smelled of cologne and cigarettes, a strangely appealing combination to him. Laitus picked her up, gripping her thighs tightly as he carried her over to the cheap bed.

This side of Laitus was no newcomer to intimacy. As an alter ego of such a sweet man he had his own sick and twisted carnal desires. So as he began to disrobe the red-haired streetwalker his hands moved fluently, not once fumbling with the zip of her dress or the clasp of her white bra.