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One Rainy Night by Doug J. Robbins
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Not rated by the Author.
scary story
The rain beat against my 1983 Chevy Impala, as I drove down highway 40. A woman, mid thirties, her blonde hair, teased and sprayed heavily flagged me down. I pulled over and allowed the woman to get in. 'Thanks, man,' the lady said. 'Name's Candy.'
'I'm Tony,' offering my non driving hand.
'You're a real life saver, Tony,' Candy admitted.
'Oh?' I replied, acting casual.
'For sure. My car broke down and I was headed to a concert,' Candy answered.
'Did you want me to call a tow for you?' I offered.
'Honestly it's not even my car,' Candy shrugged. 'I kind of stole it. You're not a narc are you? I'll suck your dick if you want; to help keep you quiet.'
'That won't be necessary,' I stated.
'Are you gay or something?' She asked. After studying my face, she quickly backtracked. 'It's cool if you are.'
'Nope, I'm not gay. I just don't believe in using women like that. I'm no pervert. I'm actually kind of relieved.' I let out a sigh.
'Why is that?' Candy asked.
'I didn't feel like calling a tow truck anyway,' I muttered, keeping my eyes on the road.
'Okay then, guess it all worked out for the best,' her eyes studied me.
'Listen,' I started. 'I'm feeling parched; would you mind if I stopped for a drink?' I asked, not caring how she answered.
'No, not at all,' Candy sank back in her seat.
I pulled over at a BP. 'Did you want a anything to drink?' I asked.
'I'll take a Diet Pepsi,' Candy answered.
I bought sleeping pills, a Cherry Soda for me, and Candy's Diet Soda. I went to the bathroom, popped a couple sleeping pills into Candy's drink, flushed the rest of the sleeping pills down the toilet and finally, threw the pill bottle in the waste paper basket. Back in the car, I handed her the soda. She took a drink, as did I. The carbonation tickled and stung my tongue, but in a delightful sort of way.
I drove for about five minutes before the sleeping pills took effect. When they did, I went to some nearby woods and dumped her out next to the car. I got the tire iron out of the trunk and dragged the slumbering girl away from the car: far enough away so that I would not get blood splatter on my car. I smashed in her skull with the tire iron and left the bloody tire iron next to the girl's dead body.
I left, head hung low. I had messed up. I was too proficient for this kill. I realized now, like with the cat, I needed the struggle. Last week, I had found a stray cat in a back alley; he scratched me and hissed, before I cut out his left eyeball and snapped it's neck. I needed the struggle. The struggle was what I needed.
They needed to struggle so I could dominate them. That's what gave me the rush. This woman died for nothing. 'Shit,' I thought.
'I climbed back in the car, covered in blood. I took a sip of my soda, but now, it tasted kind of flat. I tossed her and my soda out the window before driving off.
