Banter

Part One: Chapter Twelve.

'Thought I'd lost you for a minute there! We can't have that, can we? Not yet. I'm going to see to it that you're death will be one befitting a man of your station. You're going to be so pleased, you just wait and see.'

She smiled, honestly convinced that she was performing an act of mercy. It was as disappointing as it was terrifying – how could she possibly think that a control freak like him would enjoy going out in a bath tub at the hands of one of his clients? The tears came again, and this time he let them run their course. It had taken him years to escape the worst woman he had ever known, and several more to exorcise her diseased, acidic demon from his soul. He realised now that the motivation behind killing all those other women wasn't entirely unselfish. He was the real client all along, but he had failed miserably as a teacher and a therapist. His life's work had led him here, into the clutches of a younger and stronger version of his mother.

She returned baring a gift; a petite blonde thin enough for her to drag along without so much as perspiring. She propped her up against the side of the bath and stepped in.

'Wa...waaaa,' was all he could manage.

'I went cruising while you were out and found her for you. Do you like her?'

His eyes bulged.

'I know you don't usually go for hookers, but then again, you don't really have a type, do you? It's hard to find a lesbian hooker, but you'd be surprised how quickly they'll turn when you flash a giant wad of cash in front of them.'

She bent down and pulled The Hooker into the tub.

'Once I got her into the bedroom, I put her out with your chloroform. Gave her a big dose, too. Not enough to kill her, although I was scared for a minute there.'

She got out of the tub, bent down and sat the hooker on top of him.

'Now all we have to do is wait for her to wake up.'

Then what? He asked with his eyes.

The hooker woke up and half answered the question for him.

'Where am I? What am I doing here?'

'You're in a bath tub, you silly bitch. In answer to your second question; you are about to both witness, and play a part in, history.'

'What the fuck do you mean?' She tried to get up, to no avail. 'Why can't I move?'

'Chloroxinol. Commonly used by doctors to prevent muscular twitching during emergency surgery. Got it from a doctor friend of mine...at least he said he was a doctor.'

'But why?'

She grinned like a schoolgirl again.

'Because the man you are currently straddling is The Fickle Killer.'

If he could frown, he would have. He hated the nickname the cops and the media gave him.

The hooker closed her eyes. 'Please, God...'

The woman giggled. 'Oh honey, don't tell me you still believe in him? If there truly was a benevolent god, my mother would've had me locked up a long time ago and you wouldn't be where you are now.'

She picked up the small knife again, and the chink it made when it hit the lip of the tub made the hooker open her eyes.

She raised the knife.

The hooker opened her mouth to scream.

She brought the knife down.

The hooker squeezed her eyes shut.

She put the knife into the hooker's flat, unresponsive hand.

The Hooker's fingers closed around it.

She and The Hooker laughed.

Oh my god there are two of them.