also, bob holding yelena with one arm, the other held out over ava and john -- the same three that got him out of the vault?? his cucumber squad?? oh i am not okay. 😭
Adjusting the blanket on his lap, Chan peered around for his wife; the blanket always felt too big without her beside him, and he suddenly yearned to wrap his arms around her tight for as long as he could. His gaze landed on her a moment later - she was lurking behind the sofa with a dopey expression on her face, and he burst into soft peels of laughter as he took in her dazed expression.
“Baby? You gonna come sit?” Chan grinned, turning back the corner of the blanket; the movement revealed more of his broad outline, and each inch of him that glowed in the dim lighting made Y/N's mouth run dry. She could feel her skin flushing, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she took him in.
He really had no idea how effortlessly stunning he looked; his tousled curls fell over his forehead, the rich warmth of his eyes home to a mischievous sparkle just beneath. His plump lips were an enticing shade of pink under the soft golden glow of their living room, and the curve of his neck was defined as he tilted his head to the side. His clothes were so simple - a black tank top hugging his muscular build, and a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips - and yet, it seemed to be an outfit put together especially to drive Y/N to the brink of madness. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the broadness of his shoulders, nor could she avoid staring at the way the soft bulge of his biceps almost called her name as he held his arms out towards her.
Fuck.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Chan hummed when Y/N finally curled up beside him. He waited for her to stop moving around before draping the blanket over her shoulders, and he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. His fingers grazed against her scalp in a playful gesture as he leaned down and gently nuzzled his nose against the side of her cheek. “You look like you're miles away, baby girl.”
Y/N giggled at that. She reached out and gently traced her fingers over his jaw in wonder before shrugging her shoulders and leaning back against the soft muscle of his chest. “It's nothing.”
“Nothing, huh?” Chan's index finger found its way to Y/N's chin and gently lifted her face up towards him. There was amusement printed onto his features in the form of a subtle smirk, almost like he had a vague idea of what was on her mind, but not quite. “Come on … tell me? Wanna know what's making you blush so much.”
Biting her lip at the look in his eyes, Y/N let her gaze travel to his arms again. He was so close now, and his body was radiating so much of his intoxicating heat that she felt a little dizzy. But she still wanted more of him; she wanted to be entirely engulfed by him, to be situated right in the middle of her husband's embrace, completely safe from anyone and anything else the world had to offer.
She gulped, and Chan started to chuckle under his breath as he slowly ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She shivered at that, and he grinned, leaning in a little closer to her.
“You're completely zoning out, baby girl,” Chan hummed, his words kissing her lips. “If you don't tell me what you're thinking about, how am I supposed to do anything about it?”
“How do you know you can do something about it?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, a giggle escaping her.
Chan kissed her nose, gripping her jaw a little more firmly as he smiled knowingly at her. “Because. You only ever say nothing when you're thinking about me.”
Y/N flushed.
Damn it.
“Looks like I'm right,” Chan grinned, sweeping his fingers over the hot skin of her face again. “So … ?”
“I was just … thinking about your arms … “ Y/N said slowly, the words trickling off of her tongue like a secret.
Chan's eyebrows immediately shot up into his hair. It was remarkable how quickly his nose flushed pink; he started to chuckle, instinctively curling a hand around one of his biceps. “My arms?”
Y/N nodded.
“What are you thinking about them?” Chan laughed as he trailed his own fingers down his skin. “Probably need to work out more, yeah?”
Y/N tutted. “No … I'm just … thinking about how badly I want you to crush me with them.”
The way she said it - so plainly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, sent a rush of heat coursing through Chan's veins. His eyes widened considerably and his breath hitched, the charming blush on his face travelling and painting the skin of his collarbones a rich cherry red.
“You … what?” Chan chuckled, a little taken aback.
“They're so … big,” Y/N sighed a little dreamily, tracing a finger over his curves. “Just want them like … you know … “
She made a comedic gesture with her own arms, circling them around her head. She peeked out at Chan through the gap between her arms, and she giggled when she saw the man curse under his breath.
“You're insane … “ Chan groaned, though his skin continued to flush pink as he leaned back a little, patting his thighs. “Aight … come here then, pretty girl. Sit on my lap.”
“Ooh … double strike,” Y/N breathed as he pulled her into his arms, her knees digging into the sofa on either side of his legs as he shifted her closer. She was giggling as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over the tops of her warm cheekbones as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
“You're so adorable,” Chan whispered against her lips, and then without warning, his arms slipped up from her shoulders to her neck. Her face was nuzzled up against his chest, and her quiet laughter was muffled when Chan's arms cocooned her head, the placement of them meaning her vision was blocked, leaving her in the most comforting darkness she had ever known.
Chan looked down at his wife in his arms and he couldn't hold back the wide smile that spread across his face. All he could see was the top of her hair, and he chuckled, a smirk on his face as he suddenly tensed the muscles of his arms.
Y/N's eyes widened against his chest as his bicep pressed into her cheek; she was entirely surrounded by him, his sweet scent filling her senses and the smoothness of his skin pulling her into a bubble of complete satisfaction.
“This what you wanted?” Chan's voice was low as he tensed his muscles again, his fingers cupping the side of her head.
“There's an issue,” Y/N said, her voice buzzing against his chest.
Chan peered down at her. “Oh yeah? What?”
She tugged at the hem of his tank top. She didn't need to speak; Chan understood her immediately, and he burst into another fit of hushed laughter as he temporarily let go of her.
Once he removed his top, he cupped her face. “Anything else? Want me to take my boxers off too?”
He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and turning the colour of beetroot, Y/N lightly smacked his torso.
“No,” she said.
“Mmm … you sure?” Chan teased her, pulling her back into his grip. “I mean, it'd be no big deal.”
“Christopher,” Y/N groaned, snuggling her face into the silky skin of his chest. And then, “maybe later.”
Chan's chuckles increased. “I'm gonna hold you to that, baby girl.”
She responded by pressing a soft kiss to his arm. It made Chan giggle, and he squeezed her a little tighter, the pressure around her causing her to gasp.
“I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie,” Chan laughed, feeling Y/N burrow herself further into his arms. “How you gonna see if you're tryna burrow into my skin?”
Y/N whined against his chest, the sound only making him grin harder.
“Here, I've got an idea,” Chan hummed, slowly releasing his hold on her. “Turn around, baby.”
Her cheeks red from the heat that had accumulated in the little sanctuary of Chan's arms, Y/N pushed her hair back and did as she was told; Chan's hands were soft on her hips as she settled down between his legs, his chest hot behind her back as she leaned back.
Resting his chin on top of her hair so Y/N's head was tucked beneath the hollow of his throat, Chan wrapped one of his arms around the perimeters of her face, curling it up ever so slightly; the action squished Y/N's cheeks between his bicep and the flexor muscles of his forearm in the process, and she started to giggle, Chan's body shaking with silent mirth of his own as he caught sight of the evident joy on his wife's face.
“You're really enjoying this, huh?” Chan mused as he lay his other arm over the upper portion of her chest, locking his fingers around her shoulder to keep her secure in his green. “God … you're gonna make me wanna get even bigger for you if you keep this up.”
Y/N's lips were formed into the cutest of pouts as Chan tensed his arm around her face. “I like you like this.”
“If you say so, baby girl,” Chan chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Can you see okay? You comfy? Shall we start the movie?”
She nodded against him, and once again Chan couldn't hold back his laughter as he looked down at her. She looked up at him at the same time, and with his arm still curled around her jaw, Chan gently cupped her face with his hand and squeezed affectionately.
“You really need to stop being so adorable,” Chan whispered. “You're gonna kill me.”
Y/N smiled innocently in return. She melted further into his body as he held her a little tighter, and she curled her hands around his arms as he finally started the movie on the TV.
Tag list ~ @dalamjisung @ateez-babygirl @waverzzzzzzzz @smutdumpskz @hotmesshapa @chanssmiles @leand125 @foivetimesacharm @dprkbyn @renytherat @super-btstrash-posts @sleepyleeji @ka-ni-ma @straystaychan @mylifesupsidedowm @armystay89 @shut-up256 @hanstan34 @blackfangedreaper @suhomylife @kannaexe @kookie9704 @notastraykid @strayfoxxchan @elizalabs3 @jdopes-recorder @forever-in-the-sky2 @peachygiku @chansducky10 @shakalakaboomboo @jisuperboard @zandra-42 @whyyougottadothatbro @skzcoffeemachine @where-is-innie @rizzshimura @miin17 @nappynapnaps @prettymiye0n @lost-leopard-beanie @chnbngs @stayconnecteed @hann1bee @stayceebs97 @solandiszale @cosmicalily @modesttiger @chanlixart (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)
I don't wanna make this sound like an overly saccharine Oscars speech. There's gonna be people I forget, so I'm gonna keep it short and sweet. Number one, with a bullet, hopefully sitting at home with little Larry...
Description: She knew she shouldn’t have come. She knew her best friend and boyfriend didn’t want her to be there with them. It was her why they stopped at that god-forsaken gas station. It was also her why they stayed. Either alive or dead. And Johnny also has a say in it.
Warnings: mental instability, slow burn, manipulative relationship, enemies to lovers, totally bizarre found family dynamic, obsession, murder, explicit sexual content, dub-con elements, schizophrenia, unreliable narrator(s), dubious morality, cannibalism, moral downfall
Chapter 17: Homegirl
An inexplicable, uncomfortable feeling gripped her guts.
This face was familiar to her. Maybe she'd seen this poster for a fleeting moment in town or at the gas station, among the yellowed classifieds posted around it. She might felt this way only because she recently saw her own photo in a similar setting: a girl also with the letter "M", existence simplified to bleak numbers: age, height, weight, eye color, hair color, last clothes worn.
Maria Flores was taller than her, but they weighed almost the same. She was only twenty-one years old, and, according to the poster, a university student whom loving friends and family wanted to find at all costs. She seemed like someone easy to care for, almost effortlessly loved.
It was also easy to imagine her in a pretty, puffy-sleeved dragonfly dress. Sitting by the window and gazing out at the backyard with sad, dark eyes, lost in thoughts of her hometown in Uvalde, of the family and friends searching for her, moving heaven and earth to bring her back. It wasn’t hard to believe that she was worth a slip-up.
The distressing feeling grew into nausea in Maud. The last time she felt such strong sickness was when she threw up onto Johnny with Grant's sawed-off head in her hands.
People disappear all the time, don’t they? Why assume the Sawyers are behind every horror story that unfolds in this whole damned state of Texas? It’s not like they have a hand in every shadow. Why should she immediately assume that Johnny would have anything to do with Maria Flores - he, who was staring at her with hardened features, all the sparkles in his eyes gone, only an aloof void remaining.
Maud opened her mouth to ask, but no sound came out of her throat. Not particularly because she was afraid of what Johnny would do to her if he didn't like what she had to say, but rather because she was afraid of his possible response, or lack thereof.
Johnny didn't leave her time to consider it, because he suddenly pulled his hand away from hers. His gleeful mood disappeared in a heartbeat, even the light of the lamps felt more faded. The energy that this flyer unleashed ripped out a piece of everything warm and bright. Johnny lost even his cockiness; he became as cold as the meat hooks in the storage, and Maud involuntarily clenched her lonely fingers into fists.
"Gotta go," he said curtly.
"Do you have to?"
He drank the rest of his beer and pulled on his discarded boot.
"Yeah, I do. Nubbins! You have one minute to give it back, you bastard!"
He stood with his back to her, practically ignoring her presence. Maud's giddy feelings vanished as if she had been sobered up with icy water. Johnny might as well have stamped "guilty" across his forehead. Maud half-expected him to snatch the newspaper right out of her hands, but he didn’t even bother turning back her way.
He left her alone with the empty beer bottle and crumpled newspaper. Maud listened motionlessly as the van's engine started outside, the wheels revved on the dusty ground, and Johnny simply left her, again. Perhaps she shouldn't have thought of it that way. Just because she'd made a crazy decision, let her instincts guide her, and maybe ran straight into a bottomless pit, Johnny owed her nothing.
"Fuck you, Pretty Boy" she muttered to herself, swallowing back the lump in her throat, and tore the poster of Maria Flores from the newspaper.
No one else would have done it, but Drayton locked the door of her small room that night as well. She didn't care, she didn't care about the old man or the outside world, because she had nowhere to go after what had happened anyway. Maud just walked up and down until late at night in the cholera-yellow light of Nubbins' bone-capped lamp, and every so often, she’d pull the crumpled poster from her pocket.
Was that you, homegirl?
Maria's gentle smile on the poster seemed to whisper, "Everything will be all right." But Maud knew better. The real Maria Flores would never do that. Maud doubted Maria was such a seasoned liar, unlike her, to say something so obviously false—especially since things weren't exactly going well for Maud.
Besides, a girl this okay would never smile at a murderer like her.
Did you smile at Johnny?
She put the poster aside, undressed, turned off the light, and crawled into bed. She pulled the blanket over her head like Iris did when she had recurring nightmares about brain-eating bats. The bed completely took over the scent of soap and Sissy's flowers, so the penetrating stench that hit her nose caught her off-guard. It wasn't just the smell of rot, it was that wretched aftershave. The disgusting unnaturalness of it all made her gag.
"Well, I told ya." The bed sagged behind her, but Grant didn't put his arms around her because he no longer had arms. "Did you really need that to realize how this is all gonna end? To see the girl he killed before?"
"He didn't..."
She bit her own tongue and buried her face in her hands. She didn't start fighting Grant, because couldn't be there. He was dead, in pieces, cooked, nothing more than a pile of bones.
"He didn't? Is he not a murderous freak? At least you haven’t tried to lie to yourself about that, baby."
"You got no idea. You never saw a thing past your own needs."
Grant let out a hiccup-like sound, his voice thinned to almost a whimper.
"And that's why I deserved that?"
Maud rolled over to her other side to finally face him, or what was left of him, only to find Daisy there instead of her ex. The girl pulled her blued, bare legs to her chest so that her abdomen, mangled into sharpener-flakes wasn't visible. Her nails had already fallen off, leaving only blackened spots in their place.
"Just like old times," she whispered, her words accompanied by a strange buzzing sound, as if flies and maggots were residing in her airways. "You and me under the covers. At home in Floresville." For a second, Maud felt a strange sense of relief, thinking back to the two little hedgehog-girls they had once been, innocent and safe. But reality soon crept in between them: her friend was being chewed by worms six feet deep, and she…
Daisy started to sob.
"There's no going back now, Mommy Maud. I'm so sorry. And you should too…"
Maud kicked off the covers and shuddered to the far end of the bed, climbing onto the pillows. It didn't look like anything was lurking under the knot in which the white sheet was tangled, but she couldn't be sure; nothing felt real in the dim light of the moon seeping in through the yellowed curtains. Neither did she.
"There was a girl here before." She wasn't asking, but stating it, since she had already been shown the ropes by several of the family. In front of Bubba, pretending to be a simpleton would have been pointless anyway. "Her name was… Maria?"
They were down in the basement where Drayton had sent Maud to clean. She was scrubbing blood and organ remains from the workshop tables and sweeping dust from the boiler room floor. She had plenty of time, no one was urging her, so she had a chance to think over a hundred times whether he should really try her questions on Johnny's youngest cousin. She had already realized during her time with the family that Bubba understands most of what is said to him, except for the more abstract topics. She also saw that it was very easy to make him sad or anxious. Big Boy was the most predictable and the most genuine of them, creating a very strong contrast with Johnny Scumbag Sawyer, who hadn't even looked at her since the night of Harold Anderberg's death. For a full three days, he couldn't be seen on the ranch. She heard from Drayton that he hung out at the gas station every day, helping him out in a more traditional sense. He cashiered and repaired cars, but he apparently didn't give a shit about her or his own rambling about how proud he was of her.
They were in Bubba's bedroom. He sat at his table surrounded by torn-off human faces, rummaging through his battered treasure chest, which must have once been someone's suitcase. He glanced back over his broad shoulder, making a humming sound that sounded like an echo of the name Maria. He nodded, but quickly moved on, testing the color of a mostly spent, dark red lipstick on his stout, hairy arm.
Maud didn't look at the faces. Even though she was more or less used to the boundless monstrosity that inhabited this place, these lifeless, stretched flaps of skin someone'd once caressed, kissed and washed in clear water in the morning, stung her stomach. If Bubba wore one, it was a little easier for her to overlook it, as they became one with the man and his infinite duality.
"And how was it?" she asked. She was sitting on one of the bunk beds, on a hideous yellow blanket, with her hands clasped in her lap.
Bubba looked like he was frowning under his mask, but Maud couldn't be sure. He pointed to his own chest, then reached up to his head and grabbed at his thick, curly hair in an exaggerated imitation of a terrified person.
"Oh… was she scared of you?" That was pretty understandable. "And you…oh, I see. You always brought her food."
Bubba approved with nod that Maud understood his language, and pulled his chair over to her. Its legs creaked sharply on the concrete floor, and in the corner, a handful of cockroaches circled with cocky courage.
"Mhh!"
She handed Maud the lipstick. As ridiculous as that thought was, Bubba had probably done more make-up than she had. Big Boy usually chose a self that suited his mood. As she observed, he wore the "pretty lady" face most when he was happy.
She spread the lipstick around the outline of Bubba's thick lips with inexperienced but light movements.
"And can you tell me… what happened to Maria?"
Bubba just stared in front of himself in silence. Suddenly, he started waving around, trying to show a thousand different events and emotions, both his own and those of others, his chair wobbling and squeaking dangerously beneath him. In his violent, wild gestures Maud read affection, anger, terror, and pity. The latter, she guessed, was more for his own family members than for Maria Flores.
Bubba then began nagging her—muttering and patting her head—that she should try the boldly colored, rancid lipstick. Most of its remains were smashed and smeared on its own tube. It was a cheap brand, typically used by poorer girls trying to stand out.
Maud put a dab of it on her finger and worked it over her lips like a schoolgirl.
"Uh-hmm." Bubba liked the result.
"Is it nice?" she smiled faintly and pressed her lips together, getting to know the unusual feeling. Bubba nodded affirmatively, flashing his potrouting teeth. "Thanks. But… can you tell… that John-"
Maud bit her sentence in half as footsteps sounded from the corridor and Drayton's hunched form appeared behind the gaps in the wall. The man entered the room with a broom in hand and grimaced at the sight of the two of them messing about with makeup.
"I can't believe this, you lazy sluggards! You good-for-nothin' idiot, don’t you got somethin’ better to do?!" Indignantly, he hit his gigantic nephew, who jumped up and pulled away from the old man like a startled dog. "And you!" he shouted at Maud. "You’re botherin’ Bubba with all them questions! Ain’t you ashamed, takin’ advantage of the poor devil?! Now move and help Sissy feed Grandpa!"
Maud obediently stood up, but gritted her teeth since she couldn't ask Bubba the very question she most wanted an answer to. Drayton obviously interjected on purpose. She wondered if the old man would really have a stroke if she told him she had sex with Nubbins.
It wasn't worth it, though.
She was not under orders, she was looking for something to do on her own. Although she liked doing nothing for a while, aimless loitering only left her too much time to think, and in twenty-three years she simply got used to always having a task to do. Some things were the same as in the store or at home: washing, ironing, dusting, everyday movements, everyday things. The smell of laundry soap and the wind blowing through the freshly washed clothes. Some were a little different, like swabbing the blood buckets under the garden tap.
Her blue overalls were soaked, and her hair stuck to her sweat-damp neck. She entered the house through the back porch, passing the familiar freezers. She stayed there for a few minutes, then walked over to the dining room where Drayton was serving some afternoon dessert. It wasn't regular, he felt like it on a completely ad hoc basis, but Maud had to admit, the old man had a sprinkling of sweet dishes as well.
Wiping her hands as she walked in, she returned Sissy's full-mouthed smile, but hers quickly faded when she saw Johnny at the table. He was eating with his cousins, smothering Drayton's hot raisin bread pudding in an impossible amount of custard. Brownie, and now this, ran through Maud's mind. Of course, he has a sweet tooth. Insatiable.
When Johnny finally raised his gaze between two bites, she bit her lip to keep from grimacing, and felt the bitter taste of expired lipstick on her tongue instead of vanilla. Maud had barely known this tension before—it was completely different from being angry at Grant, which she always tried to nip in the bud anyway. As for Johnny, it was hard for her to admit, but she was disappointed that he had once again abandoned her, wandering in and out of her life, but when he was present, he claimed her whole being for himself.
She wanted to rip the spoon out of his hand, which Johnny pulled out from his soft mouth slowly, and shout her questions in his face, not giving him a chance to just brush them aside. But she couldn't move, nor could she take her eyes off the lips he pressed so warmly to her forehead. He smoothed his hair back again, all the alder-colored strands standing perfectly. He absent-mindedly scratched one particularly ugly cut on his bicep with his free hand. He was sitting with his legs spread wide next to Sissy, the legs his jeans were clinging tightly to—and those that pried her thighs apart on the barrel.
"Uh" rose his honey-smoky voice. "You’re lookin’ real ugly at me, Blondie."
Maud wanted to scream just one word, MARIA, but she just turned her back on him, like Johnny'd done to her that night. She left the room and quickened her pace as she heard the hasty creaking of a chair on the worn floorboards. Of course, she expected Johnny to follow. What else would a hunter do with rowdy prey?
Sissy said something, but Maud no longer understood what. She hurried out of the wire-mesh gate leading to the car graveyard, the first drops of the rain falling on her nose and the top of her head.
"Hey, stop!" Johnny called after her. "Where are you going anyway?"
Maud looked back and did something she had never done before: she scrunched her nose and hissed loudly like an aggravated animal. Perhaps she spent too much time with Nubbins. Johnny's puzzled expression was worth it anyway. At one point, she deliberately ducked out of sight, sneaking behind the bushes and tall grass towards the shed where the family kept the spare parts of the cars that had been brought here.
"Okay, let’s play then. I don’t mind. It’s a bit of a novelty seein’ you act like such a bloody little gremlin, you know? You could at least tell me what’s wrong with you when I’m the only reason why… Mmm. There you are." His voice deepened into a purring growl. Maud knew she had found his footprints, and then she stopped hiding, straightened up, and started running without stopping until she reached the shed, the door of which she immediately latched.
"You and the annoying silent treatment. I expected a warmer welcome after our little adventure..."
He rattled the door, but only with his knuckles, teasing. Meanwhile, the rain intensified, it clattered loudly on the roof of the wooden shed, trickled in thin streams through the cracks, collecting in small dirty puddles in the corners.
"Come out," Johnny barked, slamming the door with his palm. When there was no answer, a vexed sound escaped his throat as if he didn't want to believe that this was happening. "Blondie, if I have to break down this door because of you, I'll sure as hell punish you."
Maud shuddered at his words, but it wasn't cold and paralyzing, rather shockingly hot, and the shudder centered between her thighs. She had felt it before around Johnny, but only palely, like a withered sunflower just raising its petals in the brilliant sunlight. This was different. Overwhelming.
"Right now, when you'd most like to punch him square in the face with all your might?"
And she felt this because of him, who kidnapped her, threatened her, held a knife to her, inflicted a permanent wound on her thigh... the eternal imprint of himself on her body.
With a red face, she unlatched the door, finding herself face-to-face with him. Rainwater was dripping from Johnny's jawline, his black top was soaked, his breath smelled of vanilla and cigarette as he leaned over to her.
"Final-"
Maud's palm struck his clean-shaven face with a sharp snap, first on one side and then on the other. She was only able to give him a second slap because Johnny was stunned by shock, his nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed.
"So what? Finally, you here again? How come you're finally taking notice of me again, Johnny?"
"I got my own business."
"Great," Maud grunted, taking a step back as Johnny crossed the threshold of the shed. It was a low-ceilinged room, his locks almost brushed against the rain-soaked boards, and he completely blocked the only escape route out of it. "You always do what you want. I know this. If I haven't heard it a thousand times, not once. You can fucking do anything."
"I can" Johnny said dangerously calmly, his skin turning to an angry red shade in the shape of five thin fingers.
"Fuck you! You can't!"
"Oh, who's talkin'?"
Johnny snickered, and that only made Maud angrier. Strangely and perversely, it was liberating to feel this unbridled rage, this indignation in herself, and no longer trying to swallow it back, only to gag over it in some corner. Self-respect, Johnny said something like that.
"You can ask me any question, threaten me, have all the fun with me you want, but if, for even a minute... if for just a dull second you start feelin' uncomfortable about somethin', you’re gonna walk out? Like a… a…" Her hands clenched into fists, just like when Johnny yanked his fingers out of hers with such hurtful suddenness. It was this memory that made her finish the sentence. "Like a pussy!"
Johnny's teeth flashed from behind his downward-curving lips, and he seized her hand, which was again swinging for a slap, and Maud's shoulder snapped painfully as he twisted it aside. Johnny snorted as he let go, and she crashed into a shelf full of screws, batteries, cables, and engine parts scavenged from dismantled cars.
"Oh yeah? Do you think I'm a pussy, darlin'?"
Maud kept her eyes on him as she slid her hands under the dungarees to her waist, where she cinched the fabric with a male belt she'd found on the farm. Her breathing became frantic as Johnny took another step towards her. But as he reached for her, Maud pulled the cleaver from under her clothes, which she had picked up on the back porch after cleaning the buckets, and pressed the dull edge against Johnny's damp neck.
"Yes, I do."
Chapter 18: Swing it
Three days and two hours earlier
It was all very strange.
It was unusual for him to just dance around the honeypot, to control himself when all his instincts were screaming for him to act. Be it any kind of urge. If the Bad Man was on the scene, he'd put on his black gloves and head out to have his fill of a carefully selected and ensnared game like Kendra Liston, that newspaper delivery girl in Sealy, or any other. If some strangers stumbled upon their property or one of their victims tried to escape, he hunted them down for the family, using his sharp senses and almost unstoppable strength. If he wanted sex, he sought company to deal with the problem. Nothing could be simpler than that.
He never mixed these three things. The idea felt disgusting, like eating from a potty.
Maud didn't become dinner because of him. What seemed to be just a hobby, observing a strange little animal with a magnifying glass, turned into a maddening desire, and he couldn't find any relief. He had no intention of forcing himself on her—he had nothing but contempt for men so pathetic they had to stoop that low just to get their hands on someone.
Getting the girls to beg to be his added a special spice to the pleasure. It was just a different kind of hunting.
He was sure that soon the blondie would be begging for him too.
When Maud asked him to take her in his arms, buried her blonde head in his chest and then smiled at him, he felt something he'd only felt once in his life. That unusually warm feeling in his chest his heart pumped throughout his body. It was like a big gulp of alcohol, only much balmier, more natural and also still new to him. Fondness.
Everything was familiar from before: admiring only her smile, not other parts of her body. Holding her so tightly as if his life depended on it, wanting to chain her to him and keep every threat away from her at the same time. He didn't kill that annoying bastard from Floresville for fun or necessity, it became personal the moment he heard Maud's screams and saw her clinging to the car door with a bleeding nose. If he had the time, he wouldn't have let him get away with it so easily.
All this was an uplifting feeling at the time, and he was surprisingly optimistic about it. However, noticing what she was staring at on the couch next to him, and seeing that devastating realization in her eyes, this optimism suddenly felt like disgusting, humiliating naivety. Something he had sworn to never allow himself.
Maria’s beautiful face—though he rarely even thought of her by name—was around him all the time, even in his shack. He hasn't taken her posters off the wall yet, whilst he has already added the new object of his interest to the collection. He was just as attached to them as to the many little things he'd carefully gathered and treasured about Maria. The white-and-yellow blouse she wore when he took her home, the brittle flower wreath she wove wandering in the garden, the spoon she used and the cross from her golden necklace.
The dress he brought to Maud was one of them. It seemed like a good idea, almost an amusing one. However, he soon realized that no, he didn't want to draw parallels between the two girls. It happened on the very night when Bubba butchered the girl in the red blouse, and Maud voluntarily returned to them. He tore off the dragonfly-patterned fabric from her unconscious body without care, because nope, she and Maria had nothing in common. Nothing.
Except for him.
As Maud was looking at Maria's photo, that cursed whisper rose again in Johnny's head, but this time only in bits and pieces. Never, she, love you, Johnny, could. Nancy's index finger appeared in his mind, and a dull pain pierced his forehead as if his mother wanted to poke his eye out with that baby-powder smelling finger.
He was hellbent that he wasn't seeing something, that something wasn't right.
He stormed home, leaving behind Maud and all the memories of the evening, both the bloody and the sweet (the two weren't always separate for him). Fortunately, the generator at his mother's house wasn't working this time, so he could enter his quarters without having to meet her. He wouldn't have had the patience for her touches, and for her to ask him about the blondie again, with a strange kindness she'd never shown Maria.
His home looked like a rundown dope house again, but he didn't care. He swept all the dirty dishes into the sink, cursing and grimacing, kicking aside boxes and discarded clothes in his way to reach into his loose-handled fridge and pull out a six-pack of beer. He opened the first one with the edge of his skinning knife and threw himself down on the couch. There were piles of newspapers next to him, some with only a page torn out, all about crimes and gruesome news that filled him with interest. A half-eaten sandwich and two cigarette butts, put out on the soles of his boots, were lying on top of the mess, leaving black stains on the paper.
He drank his first beer almost in one gulp and already opened the next one. When his mind was sufficiently dulled, he got up from the sofa, knocking down the empty bottles, and crouched down in front of one of the packed shelves. On the lowest rung, an empty rabbit cage was gathering dust. A small piece of paper clung to one corner, held fast with a strip of insulating tape. The delicate, feminine handwriting on it read simply: Pea.
Johnny took a big gulp of his beer. Only you could name a bunny like that, he thought, and his lips twitched into a half-smile. It was a broken, empty smile, like a wound.
He got Pea for Maria. He'd been sure that she would be tickled pink, as she'd found her greatest joy in photographing flowers, foxes and stuff like that. He hadn't been wrong. The bunny and Maria had been inseparable, and he could have watched forever as she sat amidst the frills of her dress, gently feeding the little creature fresh lettuce leaves. His alcohol-steamed head flashed memories of those mornings when he couldn't find her by his side, but he knew where to look for her: under the big aspen tree, her back against the white trunk, with the passionate traces of his mouth on her amber skin and her bunny in her lap.
He kicked the cage over. He lay back on the couch and drank until the alcohol completely washed away the infuriating doubts, haunting memories and foolish dreams.
He woke up early in the morning, way too early, to his mother's yelling.
"There are no words for how disappointed I am, Johnny! I told you, I won't tolerate drunkenness in my house!"
He grimaced and turned onto his side, his shirt reeking of spilled, stale-smelling beer. The whole shack was flooded with this smell, along with spoiled food and his obvious lack of a shower. He wanted nothing in the world less than his mother's tirade. He expressed all this with another annoyed grunt, which only added fuel to the fire.
"Like a pig! He grunts, wallowing in the filth. In the end, he'll even shit himself." Nancy threw her hands in the air as she stepped inside, her remaining eye narrowed angrily at the horrible mess. She was wearing slippers and a plaid black-and-brown house dress, and her hair had curlers looking like fat beetle larvae. "How many times have I told ya to tidy up around here? My son... Did ya learn that from me? Get up!"
She grabbed his shoulder, right by the scar, and pulled him hard, nails digging into his skin. Johnny wrenched himself free, sitting up abruptly and gripping the back of the couch for support. The sudden change churned his stomach, and a foul taste surged into his mouth. He spat onto the floor, only for Nancy to smack him sharply on the back of the head.
"Pig! You’re a drunken pig, son, even after swearin’ a dozen times you’d quit drinkin’. This isn't worthy of you or the family! I’m glad you didn't bring Maud home yet—this mess ain’t no place for a woman! Pull yourself together and clean this place up, Johnny, or you’ll remember this day, I swear it!"
"Fine."
Nancy obviously didn't like his tone, but didn't say anything because she noticed Maria's posters above the couch, as well as around his bed and by the sink. She reached over the head of Johnny, who was rubbing his eyes, and without question began to rip the posters off, tearing her pale face and smile to shreds.
"This…"
“Ma, stop it" Johnny grumbled.
"We already discussed this! You still don't understand that that girl had no place here? That she didn't love you, not a tiny bit? That she just enjoyed making a fool out of you?" The paper tore under her hands with a painful sound. She didn't care about Johnny's objections, she cheked the closets and went through his clothes and drawers to make sure she got rid of all the posters. "Don’t you ever let me see that harlot’s face in my house again—or you actin’ like some repulsive, drunken fool. You hear me clear, Johnny? Never again!"
Johnny stood up, but even on his slightly unsteady legs, he towered over his mother completely. It has occurred to him many times, of course, to step up, to do something irreparable. A blow. A brutish toss. His hand on Nancy's throat and her evil head slamming against the wall. As a teenager, he fantasized about killing his mother almost as much as other boys fantasized about what's between girls' legs. But there was never any fear in Nancy's healthy eye when she looked at him, even when he was about to explode with obvious anger. She was his mother, after all—untouchable. No rules applied to her.
"Leave me alone, for fuck's sake."
He turned his back on his mother and, shielding his eyes with his hand, stepped out into the cloudy, but still irritatingly bright outside world. In the kitchen, he poured himself some cold milk and stuffed two freshly made pancakes into his mouth with his bare hands. Still nauseous and bleary-eyed, he got into her car and headed over to the gas station, for lack of a better idea, where Drayton immediately shooed him back to fix the clicking clunker of some hippies, saying he'd only scare the customers off with that face.
As he worked under the flapped hood of the engine, sometimes taking a sip of a bottle full of lukewarm water, he couldn't help but notice that the gas station was much more orderly than before. Drayton had recently gotten into the habit of spending the night here every so often, but now it seemed like cleaning became kind of a distraction for him. He carried all the rubbish and debris back to the dunghill by the containers, the tanks were full, the broken buckets and wipers were replaced, and the shelves were refilled. Johnny even saw fresh paint somewhere, which meant that the walls were getting some care for the first time in a millennium.
With the water bottle in hand, he sat down in the garden chair under the window, wiping his sweaty forehead with the palm of his hand. Not far away, a hen clucked in her cage, the generator humming along with crickets roosting in the grass and chirping birds resting in the thirsty canopies of the surrounding trees and on the fence slats. Leaning back, he let his rock-heavy head hit the wall. He could hear the hippies inside laughing and fiddling with the vending machine, which Drayton had also miraculously fixed. What could have hit the old man? Something must have weighed on his soul in a dirty way if he was willing to devote energy, and especially money to all this.
He didn't think it was Maria. Drayton shared his mother's opinion of the matter from the beginning.
"Hey, Johnny boy," said the old man, closing the white door behind him. "How’s the car comin' along? These damn drugged-up idiots are really startin' to get on my nerves."
"Half an hour. I'm on it."
"Amazing. Uh, you hungry? The barbecue's 'bout ready... Come on in and get it, I'm not runnin' a damn restaurant." He hooked his thumbs into the belt of his gray pants, and sniffed his nose. He looked almost as worn out as Johnny did, except that his uncle hardly ever drank. How he managed it is a mystery, especially as he raised Nubbins, Bubba and Sissy.
"Just say your piece, uncle," said Johnny, splashing the remaining piss-warm water on his face. "I know something is buggin' ya, it can be seen from a thousand miles away."
Drayton didn't try to deny it and was perhaps even glad that he brought it up. In any case, he had a hard time getting started. He was scratching his neck, and the flaccid skin on his face turned red. He was embarrassed and the realization made Johnny chuckle cheekily. Well, I've lived long enough to see this as well.
"Don't just put it in."
"What?"
"I said don't just put it in!" Drayton's entire balding head was scarlet-red, and this time not from rage. He looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his shouting scared the chicken. "Use an, um, rubber."
Johnny twisted his mouth perpexedly. Now he was totally in the dark about what had caused the old man to have a cleaning fit and then to want to lecture him as if he were sixteen years old.
"What the fuck? Did you and my mother go nuts?"
"Johnny..."
"Why the hell are you both poking your noses at what I'm doing, and how…" He snorted and smashed the bottle, tossing it aside. "... How I fuck the blondie?" Not yet, but the elders didn't need to know that.
"Don't talk to me like that, kid! I'm only concerned 'bout the well-being of the family, nothin' else!"
Maybe it was a total mistake to come here. At least Drayton left him alone after that. He deliberately messed around with the car for longer than necessary, making sure the hippies snapping photos of every pebble and chattering about free love would get on Drayton's nerves as much as possible. It was meager retribution, but better than nothing.
Tammie moaned loudly and relieved as she rode out the last waves of her orgasm on him. She smiled, her head falling forward exhausted. Johnny rolled her under himself with an impatient growl. He pulled out of her, only to cum on Tammie's spread out, full breasts after a few quick strokes and stifled grunts. Other times he would have gotten an eyeful of the sight, but now he needed a cigarette more than anything else. He climbed off her creaking, metal-framed bed and rummaged through the pockets of his jeans, which he had thrown onto the faded, water-lily-patterned carpet.
There were several reasons why he was back in Rocksprings for a fourth round with Tammie, the barmaid. She was very good in bed, sexy, available at any time, and above all: blonde. For some reason, that was the main reason he came straight here to blow off steam.
Tammie sat up, resting her back against the fluffy pillows, and lazily tied her hair in a bun. She wasn't a natural, soft blonde like Maud, she had a cooler, silvery shade, but Johnny couldn't care less. She lived in a tiny attic room with damp-streaked walls that seemed to weep, a space so cramped it felt like a rat's burrow. Yet, Tammie never once complained. She devoured life with a big spoon, including him, when she got the chance.
"Damn, you are still fuckin' good," she said and began fishing around in the drawer of her nightstand. A small crack pipe emerged from it, which she heated with practiced movements. She took a big sniff of it and blew sharp-smelling smoke into the thick air of the room. "I thought you ain't comin' back. I coulda gotten hitched by now, and we'd be sneakin' around some motel to do it."
Johnny smirked as he lit a match and burned the end of his cigarette. He could feel her eyes on him, and he was waiting for her to try to ask him about his scars again. Tammie certainly knew he was dangerous, just not how much. She could hardly suspect that he had recently massacred that hospice nurse not so far away. She might rather see him as a street troublemaker, perhaps some kind of dealer who does business with dark figures and negotiates on dark terms. He never saw fear in her, but actually, he didn't want to hurt her. Not only because of respect for order - he simply liked her.
"So, who were ya thinkin' 'bout? I could tell your mind was wanderin'. Ain't no offense, just damn curious."
He straightened up, pulling up his jeans.
"Why would I think of anyone else while I'm bangin' you?" he grinned at her.
Tammie waved and put the crack pipe aside to use a washcloth to wipe off the traces of Johnny's pleasure.
"I know I'm a fat little sex bomb. But I saw what I saw, didn’t I? You wanted to go off an’ do this with somebody else, but hell, I don’t know... Is that gal blind, or is she some kinda paralyzed from the waist down? Why in tarnation don’t she take it? Or maybe she’s one o’ them good ol’ religious girls, all high an’ mighty ‘bout it?"
He walked around the bed and patted Tammie's head.
"You have nothing to do with this, hottie. And that's enough of the personal questions."
There in the rain in the car graveyard
He said it himself: Maud was full of surprises, mainly because she wasn't always aware of what was going on in her head either. To navigate by the little comments she muttered to herself, her wide-open eyes, her mock-doofus expression, which could turn into a mad scream in a single moment. Johnny, on the other hand, loved the challenge. He loved it all.
The blade of the cleaver was cold on his skin, sensitive and heated by intense emotions. His face was stung by the fiery aftershocks of Maud's slaps. He kept his hands stiff by his side, even though it would have taken only one move to pull out his skinning knife.
She called him a fucking pussy.
"Well, holding it like that won't do much," he purred, tilting his neck provocatively. "A cleaver must be swung to be deadly."
"I know that very well, you don't need to be smart about it."
"There you are. That's exactly what I was talking about. You have finally unleashed the beast."
Maud gripped the hilt of the cleaver stubbornly, not moving it from Johnny's throat. He was totally unaccustomed to being on this side of things. Although she was a dangerous little brat, he could still disarm her if he wanted to, and take over control, but his instincts now dictated that he wait out what her next move would be.
"No, I didn't let anything out. It's just that you're…" She grimaced with contempt. Her full lips were painted with some crimson lipstick, her overalls clung to her thighs wetly. From all this and from her doe-eyes glowing with rage, she seemed even more unbridled, a creation of nature that cannot be restrained by the habits of the outside world, at least not forever.
Johnny couldn't take his eyes off her lips, but he didn't hesitate to answer.
"What am I, hm? Are you trying to call me a pussy again, or oh, maybe that's not what you're really trying to say? You're trying to tell me that I'm a monster, aren't you? A terrible, bad man. But you can stop me. Just swing it." He straightened his back and yanked his knife from his belt, but only to drop it on the table among the screws and cut pieces of old upholstery. He turned both palms towards Maud, his skin straining against the edge of the cleaver, but he wasn't really paying attention to anything else but that red mouth that was ajar in astonishment. "Come on! You would surely make the world a better place."
Maud exhaled the air she had been holding in against her will.
"Oh my god, just... just shut up. Even weeks ago… You knew well that I didn't want to hurt you. That I can't do it. But you're damn careless, Johnny, too arrogant to notice how much opportunity you're leaving to attack."
She hissed like a defeated bull in an arena, her hand and cleaver falling to her side. Johnny stroked the place where the blade had just been. Without a word, he reached for her hand and took the blade from it, throwing it next to his own knife, and closing in until Maud had nowhere to back away again. Her eyes were full of anticipation; perhaps she was trying to prepare herself for the consequences. To that he would punish her, faithfully to his promise, if not for the door, which in the end he didn't have to destroy, then for her wild stunt.
Johnny touched her shoulders, slowly stroking them up to her neck. He squeezed it a bit, eliciting a small tingle from her. His fingers dipped into the soft blonde locks damp with rainwater and sweat as his hands moved higher and higher. He ran his thumb over her lips, smearing the lipstick a little.
"Open it."
Maud's lips quivered under his touch, but then obediently gave way. Johnny immediately pressed his thumb into her soft, warm little mouth, and moaned from his throat, his other hand hitting the wall next to Maud's head. Her body tensed against his and he felt his pants getting tighter and tighter. He pulled back, then slid his finger down Maud's throat again. Unable to restrain himself, his left suddenly reached between her revealingly clenched thighs, spreading them slightly apart to touch her through the denim.
"Oh… Someone got damn hot down there…"
He pulled his finger out of her mouth and Maud coughed, lipstick mixed with drool dripping from the corner of her mouth. Johnny thought that he had never seen anything so arousing in his life, and he knew it was because of his… fondness. Sex had been completely different with Maria too than with the faceless, nameless girls.
"Johnny- " Maud whispered and almost frantically reached for his shoulders and shirt to grab onto something as he lightly squeezed her core. "Nn-no."
Shit. He choked back a small grunt of frustration, though he expected her to back down sooner or later. He had no idea why Maud was so afraid of this when she was brave enough to push a cleaver to his neck, and even more so. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand out from between her legs and stepped back so that his very obvious erection wouldn't press against her stomach. This claimed his attention so much that it was only with a little delay that he noticed the huge tears running down Maud's face.
"Hey, calm down, Blondie," he said with a frown. "That was it. I won't hurt you."
Maud nodded, indicating that she knew, but more tears followed the previous ones, no matter how hard she tried to swallow them back. She buried her face in her hands and turned away from him, now not to express her disdain, but because she was ashamed of these tears. He was a little surprised, really, because Maud wasn't much of a crybaby—none of the times he'd expected her did she burst into tears. Neither in fear nor in grief.
"What is it?"
Maud sobbed along with the rain pounding the shed. Johnny rested his hips against the table, his arms folded across his chest, somewhat confused as to what had hit her.
“You could do it, right? You could hurt me if… if things turned out that way." She wiped her face with her palm and glanced furtively at him over her shoulder. Johnny didn't answer. "I couldn't. It's not fair, it's not fair that even now I'm weak and it's only my fault..."
"What are you talking about?"
Maud muttered something, again to herself, almost unintelligibly. "Onesd."
One-side.
One-sided.
He understood then, but couldn't say anything. Mainly because he didn't know what was true and what wasn't, in the shadow of the memories of the recent past and his mother's words. He pushed open the shed door and motioned for her to follow. He wanted to avoid his family members, which of course he couldn't, but Maud ran upstairs almost as soon as they got near the stairs. Nubbins followed, climbing the steps in twos to finally give her the thing he had created for her, and this time Johnny didn't mind it.
""Just as long as you've got love in your heart, you'll never be alone, you'll never be alone" … Oh, hi, Sugar." Sissy stopped beside him, soapy water dribbling from her hands. She gave him a wide smile, flashing the gap between her front teeth. "So, did she forgive you?"
"Hmm." Johnny scratched his chin with his thumb, which was lightly stained with lipstick, and Sissy noticed. "Get her stuff ready when you have time. I'll take her home."
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