Eternity of Horror

6. Lillith

Chapter 6

Lillith

H umming to the music playing in my earbuds, I put the finishing touches on the body I’m working on. I don’t always listen to music, but I have been so distracted lately by that man I saw that I’m hoping it’ll keep my mind from wandering back to him. I’m a little sad that he hasn't even come to find me. Forcing my attention back to the man who had an unfortunate run-in with a train, I go back to work. The family was adamant that they wanted to view him. Luckily, his head wasn't too badly destroyed. His left arm from the elbow down is no longer attached, and both legs look like they were twisted far beyond normal. It’s a good thing that his body will only be visible from the shoulders up during the viewing. Generally speaking, when someone gets hit by a train, there is very little left to put back together, so I’d consider this guy lucky. I did have to cut open his head and rebuild his skull, as it was completely shattered inside, like a bag full of crushed seashells. But I’m very good at my craft, and you could never tell.

Suddenly, my music is interrupted by a phone call. I glance over and see that Scarlett is calling. She’s kind of the leader of my small group of friends. As social outcasts growing up, we banded together. We were close for a long time until someone told me that they all talked shit about me behind my back. Apparently, they only hung out with me because I have money, and they know I'm good to pick up the tab. I don't love going out, but occasionally, being among the living is nice. Picking up the check is a small price to pay to maintain my sanity. It's just money. When you see death as often as I do, people of all ages, from newborns to the elderly, you see how fragile and how fast life can be. How insignificant and meaningless it really is. Some days I plant my ass in my bed alone, watching TV until I pass out. Some days, it gets me to put on clothes and go out somewhere. Today, I feel like going out.

"Hey bitch, what are you up to?" Scarlett says with a sultry, dry tone. She’s like me: dry, dark, and depressing. Except she has a much higher tolerance for living humans and socializing.

"Just finishing up with a decedent. The guy that got hit by a train the other day. His family wants to see him one last time, so I have to make him look... less dead," I tell her, stepping back to examine my work before putting my tools away.

"Hot. Anyway, we're all headed to Jack and Sally's for some drinks. You down?" she asks. I know as soon as I agree, she's going to ask me to pay for her, which means I'll be paying for everyone.

"Hmm." I ponder as if I have anything else to do. "Yeah, I'm in. Gimme an hour to clean up here and get ready. I'll text you when I'm heading out." I almost want to hang up before she can ask.

"Okay, awesome. Also, I..." she pauses. I know what she's going to say, and I could tell her I'll cover her, but I want her to say it out loud. If I'm going to pay, then she can feel uncomfortable and ask. "... I’m pretty low on cash. Do you mind covering me? I can pay you back next week, I promise,” she lies. You know how many times I’ve heard that?

I audibly sigh. "Yeah, that's fine. It's been a busy few weeks so I’ve got some extra cash. No worries." I changed my mind. I really hate that I have to buy my friends.

After cleaning up the prep room and showering to get the smell of death off me, I get dressed and head out to my car. I text Scarlett that I’m on my way to pick her up. She tells me that Rob, Shawn, and Alex are also at her place and ready to go. “Yay,” I think with an eye roll.

The sun has just slipped below the horizon, its last flickers of orange and yellow light visible in between the trees as I drive down the wooded back roads to her house. Sunset is so beautiful. Beautiful in the sense that I just love watching the whole world get swallowed up by darkness, and there’s not a fucking thing anyone can do about it. Reminds me that we aren't in control of anything that’s actually important in our blip of an existence on this rock.

Shaking me from my thoughts, I pull up to Scarlett’s house. I watch as they all pile in before heading to the bar. The car ride is irritating and makes me regret saying yes. Everyone was talking and laughing so loud about things I wasn’t involved in or about people I didn't know. I feel like the mom driving a group of kids to the mall. I should be home knuckle deep in my own cunt thinking about that dark, mysterious stranger I saw watching me last week. I smirk at the thought and then quickly wipe it from my face. The last thing I want is for anyone to see me smile.

We pull up to the bar and head inside. There's a decent-sized crowd of people here tonight, which, if I'm being honest, disappoints me. I was really hoping for a low-key night. Whenever there are this many people, I’m either saving a friend from sexual advances or fighting off my own. I love sex and very much wouldn’t mind getting fucked, but I can promise you now there’s not a single man in here that’s going to be the one getting inside my pants tonight. The type of man I want to fuck me doesn’t hang out at a place like this. He’s more likely to... hang out in the shadows on a dark side street. No. Stop it, Lillith. You can't think about him here.

About an hour in, I am still sipping on my first drink while my friends are losing count. All on my tab, by the way. I stifle my annoyance by shooting the remainder of the fiery liquid in my cup just as I feel an undesirable presence next to me. I place my glass on the counter with a sigh as I turn with a glare. Yup. Douchebag.

His eyes are so glazed over I can barely tell what color they are with the light reflecting off the shine. "Hey, pretty girl. What are ya... did you dr... can I buy you another round?" His drunken slur was almost unintelligible.

"No, thanks. I'm good. Have a good night," I said coldly, turning my head to face my friends who have since claimed the corner of the bar a few seats down from me. I could still smell his breath as it wrapped around me like it was hunting for my nose. Making sure I knew he was still there. My stomach started to twist into a knot. This guy was going to be trouble.

"Oh… ok. Well, hey, listen… I got something I wanna show you..." he mumbles, a little blip of excitement in his voice. I don’t turn around, hoping that if I pretend that I didn’t hear him that he would just fuck off and bother someone else. My hopes are quickly shattered as he taps me on the shoulder. "Hey... pretty girl..." Continuously tapping, a bit harder each time. “Hey, I’m fucking talking to you." He slurred with a bit of irritation in his tone.

I spin around. "What?" I snap. "Look buddy, I'm sure you're lovely and you have the best intentions but I'm really not..." His smile was disgusting. His teeth look like they haven't been brushed in months. The foul smell that I thought was just whatever he was drinking is clearly a combination of that and rot. Fuck, how I would love to sew his mouth shut. I start picturing the process until I see him glance down a couple times. My eyes follow his and he is tilting his phone toward me. On it is a picture. A picture of a hairy, unkept, almost dirty-looking cock. The type of cock that looks like it just slithered out of the ocean or from under a wet rock. I physically gag.

"Jesus fuckin’ Christ! That’s the grossest thing I've ever seen. Really, dude?” My words filled with rage as I gag at the sight. “I know guys can't help themselves from sending dick pics to anyone who responds to them, but you really kicked it up a notch, didn't you?” I scoff, utterly amazed at the literal fucking audacity of this man. “You didn't even try to get my number. You’re really just kicking things off in person with the dick pic? God that's horrendous." I slap his phone out of his hand as his mouth gapes open at my response. I quickly get up from my seat and walk over to my group of friends, careful not to keep my back to him this time.

"Guys, can we get the fuck out of here? This creep was just hitting on me at the bar and..." I try to say, but I’m cut off.

"Girl, just fuck him. You haven’t gotten any dick in a while and trust me, you could use the release," Alex says. The rest of my friends laugh or give an agreeable head nod.

"I'm not going to fuck him. He just showed me his dick on his phone and it was disgusting.” I wince at the unfortunate visual that’s not engraved in my brain. “Not that I would’ve swooned and pulled him into the bathroom if it wasn’t. God, what the fuck is wrong with people? Can we please leave?" I try again, ignoring the disrespect.

"Disgusting? That's funny coming from a girl who plays with dead bodies all day," Rob chimes in. I glare at him, and he shifts his eyes back to his drink.

It’s painfully clear my friends don’t have my back. "Well, I'm out. Call me when you're done and I'll order an Uber to bring you back to Scar's house." I spit out with an eye roll. The mix of 'thank-you's’ and Alex mumbling 'she should just go fuck him' bounce around the group as I walk away, passing ‘Dick Pic’ at the bar.

The air outside has a chill in it that even the little bit of alcohol in my belly can’t really combat. It makes me kind of wish I had a little more to drink.

I march down the dark street, thinking about how painfully obvious it is that my “friends” don’t give a fuck about me. I’m also annoyed at how far away we had to park. The city sucks for on-street parking, so now I have to walk my ass all the fucking way…

My train of thought is abruptly interrupted by the sudden presence of hands on me. One around my waist and the other covering my mouth as I’m forcefully dragged in between two buildings. The businesses in each are closed by now, so it is unlikely that anyone would see me getting pulled down here.

The side of my face is slammed against the brick and a burning ache radiates through my skull, all thoughts are now replaced with a ringing in my ear from the impact. Suddenly, a familiar voice whispers in my other ear as I feel my pants being pulled down under my ass.

"Disgusting, huh? That's not very lady-like, you fuckin’ cunt.” the drunken voice grits out. “How about I rape some fucking manners into your disrespectful ass? Hmm? Are your eyes open? Can you see that nobody is coming to save you?” His sinister voice dips with a laugh. “I bought your friends another round of drinks, so don’t expect them to come to your rescue." My jaw hurts from how hard I’m clenching my teeth. I have never felt my heart beat so hard in my life and all I want to do is scream and puke and cry, but it's like all three are just stuck in my throat.

I feel his horrible cock on my bare ass. It isn’t hard enough to penetrate despite him trying to push it between my clenched ass cheeks. I can hear him grumping and spitting swears as he leans his forearm harder against the back of my neck, keeping me pinned to the brick while he fists his cock. Working hard at trying to get himself stiff enough to rape me. This may be the only moment I have. I won’t be a fucking victim.

I swallow my tears, nausea, and panic for the briefest of moments. It's all I need to shift my hips to one side, grab him by the nuts, and squeeze. His forearm falls from my neck and I'm able to turn toward him, twisting his nuts with my movement. His hands wrap around my arm, and I let go just to fire my knee up between his legs. The bone of my kneecap connects with the wretched organ hanging between his legs. He crumbles to the ground.

"You fucking whore! You cunt! I will fucking kill you for this, Lillith," he says and my heart practically stops. He laughs through his agony. "That's right. Your friends are really chatty when someone buys them a drink. I'll come visit the funeral home some night and finish what I started.” He winces at the pain. “You'll never be safe again you little cunt. EVER."

He’s probably right. If I walk away right now, I’ll be looking over my shoulder for this piece of shit for the rest of my life.

I hear a noise down the alley like someone kicked a can. It's so dark, but I swear I can see the outline of a person in the distance. Is it him? The man I can't stop thinking about? What would he do in a situation like this? A sudden calmness washes over me as the realization of what I have to do flashes before my eyes from beginning to end. It's beautiful.

I reach into my bag and pull out a little spray bottle. I couldn't use it before because of the way he had me pinned, but I keep a small bottle filled with the cavity fluid Dri-Cav, for self-defense. We use it when we are embalming someone. Regular embalming fluid is only 21-30% index, which is the percentage of formaldehyde. That's enough to cause severe eye irritation and potentially blind someone. But cavity fluid is 50%. This will almost instantly blind someone, and the burning would be absolutely excruciating. Plus, if ingested, even one fluid ounce is enough to cause a quick but agonizing death. I have two ounces in my hand right now.

I squat down next to the filthy man, still clenching his balls and smiling at me like he's successfully planted the seed of fear into my soul. I smile. "You're right. I have no doubt that you'll come find me. Maybe you won’t be as drunk so you can actually get that nasty dick hard." I giggle and the smile fades from his face. "I guess I better make sure that doesn't happen then, huh?" I say mockingly, with a little more life in my voice.

I point the spray bottle at his eyes and pump a few times. As soon as the liquid touches his eyes, his hands shoot up and start rubbing them, massaging the poison in deeper. His agonizing cries get so intense that he practically falls silent. His mouth is wide as he tries to push his cries out of his throat to no avail. Good boy. I move so that his head is now between my thighs, my knees butting against each shoulder. I slip my purse strap under his chin and leave it there for a second. He is in such agony that he has absolutely no idea what's happening. I unscrew the cap and pour the contents of the bottle directly into his mouth as I hold his head straight with my thighs. His hands slam down onto the cold pavement that his body lies on, exposing to me the red, irritated, burned eyes that are underneath. I quickly grab the strap of my bag with both hands and pull, forcing his mouth shut so he can’t spit out the fluid, my knees on his shoulders providing leverage. It only takes a few moments before he starts convulsing, the poison quickly doing what I wanted it to .

I let go and stand, looking down at his burned and blind eyes. There's no way to know if he can even see me, but I hope he can. I hope he can see the smile on my face as the frantic clawing at his throat starts to slow down. As the little light in this alley begins to darken, I stand there and watch.

My eyes never leave him.

I think about how I’ll go get my van and do this removal. The way I’ll drag his corpse onto my stretcher and watch him disappear beneath the cover as I zip it shut. How I’ll bring him into my prep room for dismemberment.

My eyes never leave him.

I watch as foamy, bloody purge spills from the corners of his mouth as his hands slide off his throat and back to the ground. Thinking about how I will hide pieces of him in the next couple of cremations we do until there is nothing left. No trace. No one will miss him. Not a person like this. He lies still now, no breathing, no movement. This was the first time I have ever caused a death.

My eyes never leave him.