Spare Key Read online

  ‘Shit, it doesn’t even sound that bad repeating it but I swear there was just something about the way he said it. Freaked the shit out of me.’

  ‘Okay.’ Rachel’s voice sounded dry and crackly to her ears. A new thought was growing and as she listened, she slowly, with a somnambulistic step, began to walk back to the bedroom.

  ‘… But I thought I should ring and tell you, you know, as he seemed rather caught up with you. I’m telling you he’s a freak.’

  ‘I know. It’s the main reason I didn’t want you to call him over last night if you recall.’ Rachel stopped dead as she reached the bed; its sheets still rumpled, and studied the glass.

  ‘Well I didn’t know, I was trying to do you a favour…’ Sarah’s voice was carrying an edge of righteous indignation that Rachel just couldn’t swallow at the moment. As her eyes locked on the faint smears at the bottom of the window, Rachel knew she had to get off the phone or she’d take it out on her friend.

  ‘I’ll have to call you back,’ she hissed and hung up without waiting for a reply.

  For the longest second, she just stood there, her body quivering with rage, the shooting pains of cramp infusing her whole left side now.

  Well mission accomplished, you’ve successfully pissed off your friend, the voice spoke up. What’s next on the agenda…

  Rachel roared aloud in frustration, stopping the voice dead in its tracks as the irritations of the last week began to pour into her: her fucking broken car, the fucking tram trips, the fucking missing underwear, fucking Sarah, fucking Mitch not leaving a fucking note, the fucking pervert next door and his fucking staring, ruining her fucking night out, fucking Maree giving her shit at work, the fucking broken hot water service that she still hadn’t called the landlord about and now fucking this. He’d been again. She was certain of it, he’d been out there watching. He’d cleaned up or at least tried to but she could still see a few smears and it just made her so fucking angry. What fucking right did he have? He was just like all the other ones: the fucking inconsiderate pricks.

  The fucking old bitch, ‘I don’t like to keep my babies locked up.’ Babies, they were fucking cats!

  The fucking goth wanker: ‘I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you show me your tits and then I might turn down the music.’

  All of them. Fucking one after another. All she fucking wanted was to be left alone. Just some fucking peace but no…

  Rachel roared again, a tense choking sound that did not relieve the snowballing rage one iota. It just kept building and building and building.

  The phone shattered very satisfyingly as she hurled it into the wall.

  * * * * *

  Ben sat, slowly smoking as he rolled the bottle of pills absently in front of him. He really wished he’d bought another bottle of bourbon. Something to distract himself with but he didn’t dare go out now to rectify the oversight. He didn’t want to miss an opportunity if she went out.

  That was if she did go out today.

  Did she have work? Ben had lost track of time. He had no idea how long had passed since the pub. He was a little hazy on the time before then as well but assumed it had been a Friday on the pub night. But how long had passed since then? Ben had been slipping in and out of the Red Room since his near-mishap outside Rachel’s window and it had been hard to keep track.

  He pressed his eye to the crack between the blind again as he saw a shadow flit by. He didn’t recognise the chubby man in a matching green tracksuit set. He was probably from one of the flats up the other end of the block. Any of the tenants not immediately bordering him could have been in another world for all Ben saw of them.

  He returned his attention to the pills, rolling them back and forward between his fingers, wondering how his mind-set could have changed so much in so little time. He’d been going to start a new life, all this stuff had been in the past, but as he tried to conjure up the man that had stood watching the agent struggling with the lock only a stranger appeared to him.

  It was impossible for him to think of a new life when the images kept bubbling up in him like they were now. The anger and the humiliation still fresh each time, never fading. No, he needed his revenge. It was the only thing that helped.

  The pills certainly hadn’t. Ben gave them a last roll across his fingers and placed them on the sill in front of him. It certainly looked like Slavia wouldn’t be getting his great success story now. He almost felt like writing the Doctor a letter. Dear Slavia. Thanks for trying but sadly your pills don’t work. Just thought I’d drop you a line while I wait for my next victim to leave…

  He wondered how many people like him the doctor had unleashed on the world with nothing but a vial of pills in their pockets.

  He wondered and realised that he didn’t really care.

  Maybe his note should be more of a thank you one. Thank you Slavia for not reporting me to the cops when I confessed all. This one’s for you…

  Ben smiled to himself and pushed his eye to the crack again. No one was stirring. He stood and stretched, his joints crackling, and his grin spread a little wider as he saw the glimmer of red, out of the corner of his eye. Just a quick visit, he thought and the red began to spread…

  No, no, no. He couldn’t afford it. What if she left while he was away? He shook his head but for a moment it looked like he wasn’t going to have any choice in the matter. The red kept spreading and spreading but then stopped and Ben breathed a sigh of relief. There’d be plenty of time for that when he was done. And by then he’d have a brand new plaything too. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, he patted his pocket and felt the comforting outline of the key.

  The brief glimpse of red had stirred his penis to life again and for a moment Ben stood rubbing it through his pants until his eyes fell on the khaki duffel bag, propped against the wall and it swelled to a full erection.

  He walked over and picked up the bag. It made such a satisfying clink as he carried it back to the front window. He freed his cock from his pants and crouched down in front of it, pressing his eyes to the crack for one last look before he unknotted the drawstring.

  With gentle strokes he began to wank as he removed item after item and laid them on the sill next to the pills. The thick roll of silver duct tape came first and he pictured tearing off a strip and twining it around her mouth. Then came the plastic ties and he saw himself securing her to the bed. Next he removed the large hunting knife in its sheath, slipping the buckle so an inch of the glittering blade slid free. It was pristinely clean. He only ever used it for the fear it evoked and to remove the clothes.

  Ben sped up the rhythm of his hand as he removed the canvas knife roll and laid it on the sill. He slowly pulled the bow, his fist turning to a blur as the string dropped free and the canvas slowly unfurled. He glimpsed the first of the stained blades, the old blood crusted black across it and he began to cum, grunting with each spurt as they flashed before him. Each incision he’d made with every blade played over his mind as one by one they were revealed.

  The large paring knife that he’d used on number four in St Kilda.

  The strips that he’d cut had been so thin they were almost translucent.

  The serrated steak knife.

  The pooling blood as he scooped out the eyes of number seven in Preston.

  The bloody razor blade and the intricate patterns it had sliced over number ten in Glenroy.

  They were endless: the images. And the appearance of each knife was accompanied by fresh gouts of jism as wave after wave of excitement washed over Ben’s body. When it was finally over, he was spent, gasping and staring in disbelief at the sheer quantity of his cum on the wall.

  The unfurled roll left them all laid out before him and he ran his finger over each of them as he pressed his eye to the gap again.

  * * * * *

  Although it was close to the last thing she felt like doing, Rachel had to get out of the flat. Her hangover only seemed to be increasing the longer she was awake and she knew she had t
o go for a walk or just do something. Burn off some of the anger before she did something stupid. Before she used it again; she’d sworn she wouldn’t use it again.

  Staring at the remains of the phone on the bedroom floor and the dent its impact had made in the wall only fuelled her anger as she yanked on some clothes and stormed to the door.

  And to top it all off the fucker had made her ruin her phone. Rachel hadn’t tried to fix it yet but the shattered circuit board visible suggested it was pretty much a write-off. Just another little irritation to add to the list, she fumed as she slammed the door behind her and stalked off down the driveway. Rachel forced herself not to look back at the pervert’s flat. She didn’t dare. It would be too easy to turn back if she did. Just turn back, march up to his door and start pounding. And when he answered she’d…

  And then you’d do what? The voice broke through her fuming as she turned and walked blindly down the street, almost bowling over Theo who was just turning into the driveway. Three in a row, that won’t look half suspicious… The voice continued but was cut off.

  ‘Hey, watch where you’re going,’ Theo grumbled.

  Watch where you’re going you fucking nosy old cunt, she felt like screaming but just kept walking.

  ‘Geez, you’re just as fucking rude as your boyfriend,’ Theo grumbled.

  Rachel stopped dead in her tracks.

  ‘What?’

  Theo kept walking, muttering away to himself.

  ‘What did you just say?’ Rachel called after him, her voice unbelievably hostile to her own ears. She realised she was losing it; that it was pointless to scream and rave at Theo. He was a man who thrived on that sort of thing.

  Still she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  Theo had sort of half-turned and was staring at her with one cocked eyebrow.

  ‘What? Now you want to talk to me?’ He puffed his chest up in indignation.

  Rachel forced a deep breath; fought back the urge to leap on the man and claw at his eyes.

  ‘Look I’m sorry but I’ve had a bad morning. What did you say about a boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.’

  A shrewd, calculating smile split Theo’s face and Rachel hated him so fucking much at that point. ‘Ha, sure you don’t. What, you think I don’t know what’s going on?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ It was getting harder and harder for Rachel to control her irritation.

  ‘You certainly play the field don’t you?’ Theo’s grin spread a little wider, ‘Got a few on the board at the same time.’

  Rachel knew that it was only giving Theo what he wanted, letting him know he’d upset her, but she couldn’t help it and blushed bright red; a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

  ‘What I do is none of your fucking business,’ she snapped.

  ‘Yeah, well you might want to tell your boyfriend next time you bring a new guy home. I saw him last night and he looked pretty pissed off.’

  ‘I don’t have a boyfriend…’ Rachel started through gritted teeth but her words trailed off and her heart skipped a beat as a new thought occurred to her. One that left her feeling jittery with sudden adrenaline. ‘Who do you think is my boyfriend?’

  Theo barked a short laugh. ‘Oh don’t worry; I know what goes on around here. Didn’t take you long to shack up with the new fella next door did it?’

  Rachel’s heart skipped another beat as her saliva dried up.

  ‘What?’ she croaked.

  ‘Oh what? Are you gonna deny it? I saw him. Even had a key for the place. Guess things move a little more quickly than they did back in my day. Back when we still had a little decency.’

  ‘What?’ Rachel repeated, suddenly sick to the stomach.

  ‘Well we didn’t go around shacking up with anything that has a heartbeat for a start.’

  Rachel could feel the pulse building at her temple again. ‘What do you mean he had a key?’

  That fucking old bitch!

  Theo was looking at her oddly now and it dawned on Rachel that her eyelid was rapidly fluttering again.

  ‘He was locking up as I walked past. Fucking prick wouldn’t give me the time of day. Too busy to stop and say a few words…’

  Theo’s voice drained away into the background as Rachel tried to compute what he was telling her.

  It was a strange, almost dream-like state that descended on her as she slowly eased herself back a few steps and looked back down the driveway.

  And there he fucking was…

  Had he been heading for her door?

  He was making a beeline for his car now but it looked faked and forced; like he’d taken a few too many steps forward before changing tack.

  Had he only moved after he’d seen her?

  And what was that he was stuffing back into his pocket? Was that the glint of metal in his hand?

  Rachel stood and stared at him; stared at him and at the duffel bag he held, tucked under one arm. The cramping tension spread through her body once more.

  She watched him open the door of the car; watched him fumble around inside; saw the furtive glances he was shooting her through the back window.

  He didn’t look back at her when he headed for his door but Rachel watched him the whole way. The cramp stinging as she slowly clenched and unclenched her fists.

  The fucking bastard. The fucking bastard… It looped in her mind as she dug her nails into her palm, reopening the scabbed crescents that ran across it.

  Come on, don’t… the voice began but Rachel roared shut the fuck up and it promptly disappeared.

  ‘…Are you alright? You’re bleeding?’

  Rachel felt a hand on her shoulder and whipped around to face Theo, her anger blazing.

  ‘I’m fucking fine,’ she hissed and Theo recoiled, cupping his hand to his chest like he’d just touched a hot-plate. He opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it again.

  Rachel left him standing there as she slowly walked back to her flat. The loop played repeatedly as the blood dripped through her fingers.

  The fucking bastard, the fucking bastard, the fucking bastard…

  * * * * *

  Ben felt all his worries melt away as the red enclosed him. The last lingering shreds of his panic dissipated. The fear that had gripped him after he’d almost been sprung. Dissipated in its comfortable embrace.

  It had been a close thing. A stupid thing. He should have been tipped off by the fact she wasn’t in her uniform. If she’d been a minute later. Even thirty seconds, he would have had the key in the lock…

  But at least he knew it was the weekend now, even if that meant another night or two’s wait.

  That was okay though. He could keep himself occupied. He grinned now as he remembered the agonising wait with his back pressed to the door; certain that she’d seen through his ruse; that she’d seen the key in his hands; waiting for the first siren to sound. None of it mattered now though because he was back in the Red Room with his leather apron on and he had the whole night to play. He didn’t have to emerge again until she left for work.

  And then the real fun would begin…

  …He stood and surveyed them hanging there on their meat hooks and his hand slipped beneath his apron as he saw her in all her infinite varieties. He stepped across and lifted the thigh of number two – she’d been naked when he’d taken her – and revealed the slit between her lifeless thighs. His fist pumped and pumped.

  He dropped the leg back down after a minute and his eyes drifted across to the empty hook as he hoisted her down. Soon, it would be so soon. It was becoming his favourite refrain.

  He slapped her down onto the table and strapped her in. He waited patiently for the life to return to her eyes and timed his punch to perfection. It connected just as she opened her mouth to let rip and his penis pulsed as he felt the teeth give way beneath his fist.

  The wide eyes flooded red as she bucked in shock and agony, bursting the blood vessels as she strained. He clamped her jaw hard, forcing it open and studie
d her now ripped and torn gum line while she choked on the blood trickling down her throat. He flicked aside the apron as his orgasm approached, manoeuvred into position and ejaculated into her open mouth, the semen splattering in thick ropes across the shattered fragments of her teeth.

  He threw her head back down. It impacted with such a satisfying crunch. He smiled as he watched her lying there dazed, choking and spluttering at the horrid cocktail in her mouth. He especially enjoyed the confusion in her eyes. As he slowly walked over to the bench and surveyed his tools, the look stayed with him the whole way. It was just so fitting. The perfect visual to sum up how he’d felt the first time she’d come for him in the middle of the night

  She was trying to talk behind him but the words only came out as gibberish. He picked up the carving knife from the bench, his cock already swelling to life again. He held it up nice and high so she could see.

  He circled her and listened to her sobbing. He did three circuits and then stopped at her feet. Gently, he prodded the sole with the blade’s tip.

  She bucked but there was nowhere for her to go.

  He prodded harder and flicked the blade down, tracing a red line over the sole.

  He watched the blood well for a moment.

  She heaved and panted; heaved and panted.

  He pushed the blade more firmly this time. It took two hands. It sank through flesh and gristle. It grated against bone. His penis throbbed as he watched it slowly emerge from the other side. The blood flowed down over her ankle in a slowly increasing river.

  Her back arched off the table, she froze in an agonising rictus. Blood and jism sprayed from her mouth as she screamed long and loud. Her breasts were framed perfectly against the red hue of the background, the nipples stiff and erect. He decided he’d work on them next.

  But first finish with the foot…

  He began to saw, yanking the knife upwards. The sound of grating bone filled the air. He got the blade up a centimetre and it jammed. He tore it free and studied the gobs that spattered on his apron for a moment.