To Reach Her
By David Oakley

 I

Look into his eyes. Something has obviously taken its toll. Tired, and visibly cold, Kevin Steele sits on the single bench on this lonesome sidewalk, clinging to the memories, the tortures, and the unfortunate bliss love brought into his life. Holding her photograph in his right gloved hand, holding the tears back with the other, he stares at the memory, his connection to humanity, and laughed back the sobs. Once, Kevin considered himself Jesus, bringing holiness onto those around him, cleansing whatever sins he held in himself, and forcing them onto whichever innocent he desired. All of this was purely mental, an act of boosting self-esteem, to prove he was worthy of having her. Looking down on strangers since he looked up to her, his many attempts at self perfection failed repeatedly, slowly driving her away.

II

Sun dripping through the curtains, flashing its brillance onto two lovers, clutched in each other’s arms. At this moment, looking at the two, the world seems at peace, there is nothing wrong with the world. Love and affection would rule the day. The blond haired man, grinning, plaque covering his flawless teeth, kissed the beautiful girl he held all through out the night, feeling his heart glowing through his chest, cherishing her warmth. The curly haired brunette, with the cat-like eyes, awoke to see her love above her face, both of them clamped tighter towards each other, thanking God bestowed them with this gift of true love.

Smiling, the young woman leaned over and kissed her soulmate on the lips, and whispered.

"I love you Kevin,"

Her love replied, "I love you too Victoria."

Another kiss was shared, skin against skin, lips pressed against lips, love would rule the day.

Kevin, flipping his tangled hair away from his eyes, he sat at the window of their comfortable, although small, apartment, and welcomed the warmth of the sun covering his face. The coffee Victoria made was warm, and it always rid his body of any chill that tried to drown his day in sadness, like so many times before. He ran his fingers through his hair once more, listening to his fiancee’s mono-tone singing filtering through the rushing of the shower water. A smile creeped across his face as he heard her scream.

"Are you laughing at me Kev?"

"Of course not baby, I’d never do that." and the laughter flooded from his mouth, and from the bathroom, he heard the love of his life chuckle as she turned the water off. Kevin waited patiently for her to come from the bathroom, then they would sit for at least half an hour making each other laugh, sharing cigarettes, kissing like thirteen year olds, living the romance, not letting reality cripple the incredible love they shared for each other. 

III

Walking down the busy sidewalk, Kevin glimpsed society in "fast forward." Businessmen walking to or from their lunch break, two women embracing, two men holding hands, all of this disgusted him. Searching windows for perfect clothing, or outfits, trying to improve his physical, or material, appearance. Finally settling on a high priced, yet sensible clothing outlet, he browsed the crowded aisles, searching for the perfect shirt to complement the perfect trousers to complement the perfect shoes to complement the perfect feet. A sunny saleswoman approached him. Kevin waved her off rudely, not needing or wanting her help. Kevin eventually made his decision on a plain black turtleneck, an attractive pair of khakis, and some reasonable penny loafers. Smiling as he walked to the dressing room, he could hear the barely audible laughter of the three clerks as he asked for assistance, a rare event. Once in the changing room, he stripped down fully and admired his "plastic" body. Years, and thousands of dollars, worth of cosmetic surgery gave the illusion of perfection to a body once ridden with stretch marks and cellulite. Of course, he was obsessed with going to the gym, four times a week. Each time, he put his body through such rigorous strain, that his muscles ached, usually until the next visit.

The laughter from the clerks continued, increasingly louder, as Kevin realized he was talking to himself. Kevin looked over the stall door out into the display area, flashing contempt through his clear green eyes. Eye contact was reached with the busty brunette standing beside the counter, she smiled as her face flushed. As grin spread along the flawless face of Kevin, he would have this woman. Realizing this opportunity, he quickly changed back into his normal clothes carrying his selections to the front desk for purchase. The brunette smiled and from the rise and fall of her breasts, her breathing became heavy. Kevin smiled back at her, slipping a note he had written into her hand, away from the view of the other employees. Five minutes later, he left the store with the clothes, and made whatever arrangements for the night.

IV

At 8:30 exactly, Kevin arrived at the coffee shop, ready for the brunette to arrive. Five minutes later, she made her way into the cafe with a short black dress on, revealing two inches of her thigh, and pushing her breasts almost into view. She scanned the room, looking for her date, finally seeing Kevin brooding in the corner booth, head hung low, and a cup of coffee steaming into his flawless face. She reached the seat, and introduced herself as Cindy. Kevin told her to sit and the two changed pleasantries and stories of heartbreak, romance, and the inevitable sex. Cindy told him of the times when she forgot where she was in the morning, of being used, and all the pain it caused, trying to receive sympathy from the wrong source. Kevin sat there, sipping from his cup, smiling at her lengthy tales of intercourse and betrayal, laughing at her senseless jokes, and winking at her perverted comments, which were strikingly often. She talked for hours, endless yarns flowing from her probable diseased mouth. Nearing eleven o’clock, she finally gave out of anecdotes, asking the waiter for her fourth beer. Kevin still just sat there, flabbergasted, thankful she finished her life story, waiting for her to ask the question he was certain would come out of her mouth.

"Well, wanna go to my place?" She whispered into his ear, smiling, he agreed.

By his side, Kevin relished her warmth, pleased at the ease of this situation. Asking if she did everything the note said, she was shocked to hear him say this, her body tensed at his side. Cindy answered him honestly.

"No, I didn’t tell anyone who I was going out with tonight, not even my roommate."

"Your what? You didn’t say anything about a roommate, is she there?" Kevin replied open-mouthed.

"No, of course not," she laughed, "she’s out with her boyfriend."

Kevin’s heart slowed to a normal pace, and they continued the journey to her apartment.

Arriving at Cindy’s door, her passion began to overwhelm her calm demeanour, and soon she took her aggressions out on Kevin engulfing him in a wave of pretend ecstasy. Throwing the door open, Cindy walked into the den, then her bedroom, pulling Kevin behind her. She laid her curved frame onto the satin pink sheets, removing her top for Kevin’s visual and physical pleasure, at this Kevin smiled meekly and began to remove his clothes, slowly. Cindy’s hormones would not hold themselves back for a second more, rushing for her one time lover, Cindy grabbed Kevin’s arms then proceeded to fling his toned physique onto her huge bed. After discarding the rest of her clothing, Cindy began to massage Kevin’s inner thigh roughly, feeling his erection grow even from the distance. Kevin pushed her off of his crotch to remove his silken boxers, only to allow his penis to be revealed to Cindy’s waiting mouth. His gasp was real, but the pleasure faked, disgusted by this over popularized act of oral domination. He grabbed her hair with too much force, showing her anxious face. Nearly vomiting, he pushed her off, onto the floor.

Surprised, Cindy began to reach for her suitor, to regain sexual acceptance, only to have his hands close around her throat. Kevin’s erection grew increasingly larger when her face began to lose blood. Rapidly, her face began to change color. Kevin saw this, his excitement increased, his erection grew to the point of exquisite pain. The last of the whore’s breath escaped her lungs, and her carcass feel to the floor, motionless, wretched. The knife that Kevin carried in his pants pocket was retrieved, and the cold blade felt clean in his hands. Walking toward his victim and wondering how his Victoria was, he cut, with the precision of a veteran surgeon, a 5-inch piece from her exposed breast. Blood spilled onto her carpet, staining it for sure. Contradicting his earlier actions toward the dead woman, he spit on her moist vagina, a sign of repulsion, and dragged the human shell into the bathroom. As he ran the water into the bathtub, which looked as if it bore a hefty price tag whenever she originally purchased it, Kevin removed several more chunks of flesh from the body, depositing them into a plastic bag holding the previous piece of severed skin, filling the bag with gore. By the time he finished taking what he wanted or needed, the tub had filled, four inches below the brim. Kevin lifted the bloodied corpse from the linoleum tiles and, shifting its body weight, submerged the body in the clear water,and immediately the tranquil picture was disturbed as the water turned a sickening red. Soaking the remains of the woman throughly before leaving the apartment, Kevin picked his clothes from the floor and left the small loft, satisfied.

V

Slowly walking to the comfortable apartment on the top floor, Kevin smelled a raucous stench exuding from his suite. Frowning at the smell, he ran to the loft, scared of what he would find. Opening the door, he saw Victoria sitting as she always sat, slumped over and a breath from falling onto the floor. Seeing this morbid scene, Kevin rushed to his love before any embarrassment befell her. Carefully, and with a lover’s touch, he placed his Victoria upright in her chair, making her look presentable, except for the fact that the stench came from her decomposing body, and the once pale and smooth skin had given way to the inevitable task of decaying, making it foul smelling and gave it a horrendous green tint that would not allow removal. Her body was still wearing her favorite dress, as beautiful, tugging her rotting breasts ever-so tightly. A patch of skin at the top of her left breast had corroded away, leaving the muscles and fat under it to show its natural course. The odor from this, as well as many other openings, overwhelmed Kevin’s nostrils, causing nausea. Kevin remembered the important bag he left at the front of the door, went to retrieve it, leaving the deceased Victoria alone in her chair. The plastic bag was filled with fatty skin, and the blood caked the sides of it, dried up. He placed the gruesome parcel into the freezer, and went searching for his sewing kit, prepared to return perfection to his dead Victoria, she deserved to be flawless, even after death. Kevin discovered the kit in the bathroom, under the sink, already caked with ooze from the last time, when she was still alive.

That kiss was what caused her imperfection, the small peck from her old love. Regardless of her betrayal, she never wanted to hurt Kevin, but she wanted a different dick that night. But it was that single kiss that caused her to be less than a goddess. Kevin recalled all of it, in so much clarity, the driving into the motel parking lot, having followed her after work, the car pulling into the space, Victoria and her old, forgotten, lover opening the doors, and making their devious strut toward their room. He also remembered even clearer, his run across the parking lot, his foot kicking the door down, seeing his goddess nude, on top of some other man’s sickly penis, the other man’s lips kissing her neck. Then, he saw with perfect clarity, the look on both of their faces, and he came to them, the screaming, the knife plunging into the other man’s forehead. The same blood-covered knife slice into his once elegant, unblemished image of his goddess, revealing the muscles of her neck, cutting the same place where the other man kissed her. He could still hear her inhuman yelp as she fell onto the floor, gripping her gushing neck, screaming Kevin’s name.

Guilt washed over his mind, drowning whatever thoughts of homicide he kept, desperation took control leaving him frantic and losing hope quickly. Running towards her collapsed body, picking her up from the floor, carrying her out to his car, driving to his apartment, seeking, not help, but forgiveness. Kevin dragged Victoria, unwillingly, up the flight of stairs, to his abode, pleading with her for forgiveness, she just continued crying, begging him to stop. He pushed his door open, and flung his lover into his den, immediately locking it behind him. Victoria laid there, sobbing, as Kevin ran to his bathroom, searching the cabinets for his sewing kit, hoping he could stitch her wound up, saving her life, and his existence. After finding the kit, Kevin stumbled down his hallway, praying his Victoria was still alive. His mind raced, his heart pumped at a nearly fatal rate, nearing cardiac arrest. Yet when he arrived to his den, there she was, laying flat, her chest was not moving. A small glimmer of hope formed in Kevin’s eyes, a tear fell from those same eyes, the hope vanished. He spoke her name, no reply, his heart sank. At last, the dam broke as a river of tears clouded his vision and only whimpers escaped his mouth. His Victoria had done exactly what she promised repeatedly never to do, leave him.

Kevin limped to his dead lover’s side, picking her lifeless body up, into his arms, praying she could feel his warmth, but knowing she could not. An eternity seemed to pass with her in his arms, "she can never feel me beside her again" only that thought passed through to his conciousness. Her jaw was slack, and her head hung backwards, nearly touching the floor. His eye’s watered at this sight, his love, motionless, breathless, a mere shell of her former self. Images of days past flashed through his mind, memories of her by his side, loving him, pretending to at least, and he felt like God in her arms, and felt so sickening when she was away. For years, Kevin tried so hard to make himself feel worthy of being with her, all the money spent making his body, and face, perfect. All the time wasted, thinking of ways to make himself feel decent. That time just ran through his fingers as he looked at her limp body, particularly at the wound.

Just a tiny wound, but blood oozed from it still, but it looked so small. He thought if only he could mend the whole incident, sew everything back to normal, talk to her, instead of slashing her beautiful neck. Kevin realized he could though, he could, and he would sew the whole thing back together. He would make her, finally, reach his standards. He would make his goddess perfect once again, never letting her decay. He may never have her voice to calm him, or her warmth to soothe him, but he could always keep her body, which was better than being lonely. At the very least, he would always know where she was. Kevin saw himself preparing the needle, running the thread through his teeth, tying a knot, and then jabbing the sliver of metal through Victoria’s pale, smooth skin. Blood dotted her white flesh as Kevin ran the needle in and out of her skin, slowly pulling the two pieces of flesh together. As he completed this gruesome, yet common, activity, Kevin prayed her blue eyes would flash open, covering him in warmth, yet, when the wound was stitched together, her body still laid motionless, growing cold to touch. Kevin yelped as his heart broke.

Thinking carelessly, and emotionally, Kevin picked Victoria’s soiled corpse from the floor and dragged her into his bathroom, spreading blood over his cheap carpet. He washed her body clean, he cried as her precious blood swirled down the drain, making him feel dirtier. As the water drained from the tub, Kevin went to their old room, finding her, and his, favorite dress. Cautiously, he dressed her nicely. With a lover’s touch, he fixed her hair, and put makeup on her face, making her seem alive. So was getting colder. Once he finished all of his chores, he placed his loved one in the chair he was so used to seeing her read in, or watch TV in, her favorite chair. Kevin found it difficult balancing her mass so she would not fall. He looked at her, waiting for rigor mortis to set in. She looked perfect.

All those memories, in such lucidity, made tears swell in his eyes, but the memories had broken his love, and set him off of what he was planning. Kevin grabbed the sewing kit and, nonchalantly, walked into the living room, where his loved was slumping over in her chair. Retrieving the whore’s skin from the freezer, he set to work, painstakingly sewing each stitch with care. Her body was rotting, and these patches would only last so long, but he would do anything to keep her alive, at least in physical form. Eventually, the inevitable would happen, her body would waste away, and he’d be left with nothing but the memories. For weeks, Kevin went at his repairs diligently, taking lives of innocents whenever needed, regardless of the risk involved with such a morbid hobby. Nevertheless, repairing his lover gave Kevin a sense of importance, but not perfection. I would take an act of God for him to achieve perfection in his own mind. His heart began to beat faster, his hands began to shake, his strokes with the needle became aggressive and sloppy. Nearing the final stitch, his hands jerked, and a bigger section of flesh tore away, allowing the rotting stench of air to breathe. The reek of her decaying insides filled his nose again, causing Kevin to heave, nearly vomiting over the dead body of his soulmate. Kevin quickly began sewing the larger tear, but that too ripped as he neared completion. Frustration filled his brain, his heart thumped in his chest life a prisoner being tortured. Screaming obscenities at Victoria’s husk, Kevin pushed the cadaver onto the floor. More flesh shredded as it hit the floor, the room became putrid, and her dark green intestines spilled onto the brown carpet, these scenes caused Kevin to vomit, which upon seeing this, caused him to retch once again. Realizing his hope of keeping his Victoria with him forever was lost, he fled the apartment, bellowing her name as he went.

"An End to the Whole Mess"

All of his dreams, lost. All of his love, evaporated. Kevin waited on the single bench, on this deserted sidewalk, waiting for someone, or something, to rescue him, to make him divine. He sought inner-satisfaction. Sometime around three a.m., a grey bus screeched to halt, barely pulling to a stop in front of Kevin. A gust of wind whipped his hair into a frenzy, as the cold air pierced his ears, making his eyes squint. Walking onto the bus, he prayed that this public vehicle would deliver him to happiness. After happily handing the sulking driver his last few cents, Kevin took his place among the few remaining people brave enough to stay awake. With her picture still clutched in his hand, the memories of days past, and hope for nights ahead, flashed in his tortured mind, crippling Kevin’s senses of anything around him, if only he could see the world around him. A beautiful woman stared into him, trying to taste his essence with her eyes, trying to catch his eye. Only Kevin and his unknown remained after twenty minutes of driving the abandoned streets of their hometown.

Our new lady friend had made her decision to talk to Kevin, only Kevin had other plans. The bus pulled into some place unknown and Kevin, not acknowledging where he was, or who surrounded him, sulked off the bus, leaving a new hope to sit alone, rejected and confused. He took his place on a fresh bench. Once he had settled, he finally noticed the goddess staring at him, and he accordingly slapped himself. Unfortunately, that’s all he told me before he lost control of any sense he held. One lonely morning, as I was making my routine check ups on my patients, I made my way into Kevin Steele’s room. Oddly enough, I was rather hopeful over his condition, each day he made significant improvement, I was really enthusiastic. I had checked the hospital records before entering his room, and I saw that he had a visitor at the moment. Remember that woman whose eye he had caught? Well, her name is Janne. They eventually ran into each other again, and sparks flew, and they dated for several months until Kevin had another unfortunate relapse. She was paying him a visit, probably with intentions of telling him we would release him soon. However, her visitation time expired over an hour before I had arrived at his door, and no one mentioned to me that anyone had left. It struck me as odd. As I opened the door, a putrid stench of something horribly familiar crawled into my nose, the smell of fresh blood. My heart began to rise in my throat. However, I had no choice but to open the door and see its contents. Slouched in the floor, holding each other, Kevin held onto Janne with any remaining strength.

With surprise, I saw that Janne had dyed her beautiful blond hair to a vibrant brown, and her natural curls did the rest. In her hand was a rather obscene knife, covered with dried blood, and on the brink of falling from her deceased hand. She was smiling, and the wounds on Kevin’s and her wrists made it apparent to me what had happened. The final, for lack of a better term, "nail in the coffin" was the appalling photograph that Kevin held firmly in his left hand. Although the gore from the wounds covered most of the wrinkled photograph, making it extremely difficult to make out exactly what picture it held, I could still see it well enough to make my stomach curl, and eventually, making me unconscious from the shock of this whole mess. In the picture, "his Victoria" was still smiling beside "her Kevin" forever linked, hand in hand.

© David Oakley

June 2000 HofP