The Goodbye Girl (Red Market Series Book 2) (9 page)

I found my poor little doll, dears,

As I played in the heath one day:

Folks say she is terrible changed, dears,

For her paint is all washed away,

And her arm trodden off by the cows, dears,

And her hair not the least bit curled:

Yet for old sake's, sake she is still, dears,

The prettiest doll in the world.

I spit blood
into the basin; bright red fading to pink against the white porcelain reminds me of my sweet doll’s lips and her white skin. I cough up the last of the blood I swallowed, spitting again. I want to see what has been delivered. I am bruised from his assault. I never fight back with fists, it's easy to fight the man whose mind is its own worst enemy. I just change my tone of voice and it's worse than any punch to the gut could deliver, but fuck me I feel his anger all over. The pain reminds me I am still alive. I groan at the pulsing throb coming from my ribs; fuck he landed some good ones this time. I presume he went upstairs to find some quiet. I hope that they have brought some decent girls in, but these guys are the ones that bring us real gutter trash. I can already smell the filth from the passageway as I go to stand by the glass doors. The sterile white space where we hose them off and prep them to die is like something from a concentration camp. I stop at the door and peer in. They have still got black hoods over their heads, and I can smell the stench from here. These guys have no regard for quality at all. I am seriously considering canceling my arrangement with them. I swallow a gag as I smell them again. Caesar is inside, I can see him trying to keep control, his muscles tense as he battles the sound of them crying. He won’t last long before he rapes, or beats one of them. Just the sound of a sniff is enough to make him go completely off the deep end. I can see his erection straining against his pants; they are getting to him. His eyes meet mine and he walks over to the door and locks it from the inside. Those dark orbs telling me I am not welcome in his presence today. I stand there, hypnotized by the demon coming to life. He cannot wait to promise them peace and an end to their suffering. I can still hear them, but I cannot go in and touch them; it's better because I prefer it when they can no longer move. This is too soon, they are dirty, and sad and far too full of life for them to please me. If they can move then I am no longer in love. I can fall in love easily if they just stay
dead
still.

I lean against the door frame right up against the glass and I watch him lose all control. It’s almost magnificent the way you can see his body win out over his weak mind. I smile as he chooses the dirtiest looking half naked body. He wants to save her, set her free from the hell she crawled out from. Pity he can’t save me. I realize it before he does, I see what he hasn’t seen in his madness. Blinded by rage and sex he has missed it. That isn’t just any little gutter whore, that body, those scars, they are unique to only one. I want to break the glass down to get to her, but my body freezes in horror, she’s alive. Worse, she is back here; chaos has fucking returned. I want her, but I don’t want to face that fact. I watch him fuck her broken filthy body. His cock meeting her body, my eyes won’t look away no matter how I will them to. I see her arch into him, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her hideous, damaged pussy accepts his every thrust, she quakes and shivers while her greedy body takes all of him. His violence and rage are forced into her, as he comes to a halt and lets his orgasm shudder through him. I want to grab my dick and find release, the pressure building in every part of my body. When I see the soft, passionate kiss in front of me I know that she will only ever love
him
. She wouldn’t run from him, but she ran from me. The fuzz and mess inside my head clears and hear him tell the doctor.

“Process her, clean her and put her to sleep like the rest but in isolation and I want the key.” I know I need to run before he gets to me again.

“But Mateo has master keys to all the rooms, sir.” The shaky doctor mutters at him, foiling any plan I had of getting near to her. I want her and I want to kill her. I want the cold corpse of Lettie Doll in my arms.

“Then change the fucking lock!” he roars and I leave before he can even see I am still here. I run up the stairs ignoring the pain I am in. I go to find my sweet doll and the comfort and release only she can give me. I want to hold her against me and love her and thank her for not leaving me. I need her, I want to cling to her innocence and beauty.
She is mine, Lettie is his
. I need to accept that Lettie Doll was never mine, she loves another, she ran away from me and didn’t come back. She ran away to be a whore rather than be mine. The hurt of that rejection stings my soul. I slow down walking through the beds, all my pretty loves are waiting for me here. Caesar is going to lock Lettie away from me, I heard him; he is going to put her to sleep and say goodbye - I hope he says goodbye to her. A fire ignites in me and I am burning with hatred for them both. How dare they come back and ruin my order. I was in charge, I was getting shit done and I was doing it better.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
The cathartic noise that guides me through the beds and lures me to my love. I stop before I find her, I don’t want to ruin her with this anger and I choose another to take my revenge on. She is too beautiful to hurt with an angry fuck. No, she is only for loving. 

I can hear
Caesar yelling like a mad man down the passage as I fuck the boy they brought in with the last group, he is such a pretty boy. He must play sports with this athletic, muscle bound body. It will wilt away soon like this, I might as well enjoy it while I can. Their muscles atrophy fast and they become skinny and waste away. Hugo’s voice joins the screams and they echo even over the beeping in here. Doors slam and footsteps pound closer to me. I block it out and allow myself to come in his ass. He can't leave me, he can’t hurt me. This is what I need. He is mine now, my lover marked with my cum seeping out of his ass.
They will all be mine.

I slip off the bottom of the bed, pull on my pants and go around to turn him back over onto his back. I don’t bother covering him, sliding my T-shirt over my sweaty body as I walk towards the exit. I can hear the distinct sound of gurneys wheeling along the corridor. I don’t want to see her or him so I turn away and go upstairs to my new little haven. The place where I plan to collect lovers and keep them just for me. Rows and rows of perfectly aligned bodies just for me. I need them both to go - I can’t exist with them here. Caesar and Lettie, it was better without them. I walk to the back of the enormous room and open my small metal office cupboard. The doors squeak and the sound screams through the room. Inside I add his hair to an empty sample jar and place it with the other new ones, the ones Lettie didn’t destroy. She destroyed a part of me with those jars and I am sorry that I almost forgave her. She can’t be forgiven; she is chaos and I hate her for loving me.

“Mateo.” Hugo calls me from the door at the far end of the room. Startling me, I slam the door shut again, locking it and standing up off my haunches.

“What?” I glare, not making a move closer to him.

“Se a vuelto loco. Nunca lo he visto así de mal.” He steps into the room, moving closer to me and I look around for an exit that could get me away. I am not ready for a confrontation, or the truth. I want to stay here in denial.

He’s gone crazy. I’ve never seen it this bad.

“I don’t care, Hugo. I am not his keeper.” I hold up my hand, signaling him to stop where he is. This is my space.

“But he is yours Mateo. He put her to sleep.” He pleads, standing still now.

“El la hubiera de ver matado. Long ago, Hugo.” I turn around and look out one of the only windows letting light in here. I can just see rooftops from here. Nothing else. 

He should have killed her long ago.

“He didn’t kill her, but he is killing another. Mateo, you need to come downstairs.” His voice tells the story I don’t want to hear;
my porcelain doll
he has taken my lover from me. The bastard, can nothing just be mine? My feet cannot take me to her fast enough,
wait my little baby doll I will save you from the mad man. 

But I cannot save her, she is gone and on her bed lies her bloody heart and I know he is down there throwing her in the fire. The red blood spattered all around the small space that was ours, makes my heart break with sadness. I didn’t even get to pull out her hair and make her forever mine. A large surgical knife is lying in the floor covered in her precious flesh. I hate him. I pull the bloodied sheets to my face savoring her smell one last time, sinking to the floor. I allow myself to cry for my love and the agony of her leaving slices through my heart like a blade. When I stop the sobs, I pull myself up and grab her little heart in my hand; it’s mine. A pit of sadness and hatred forms in my belly and it starts to consume me with darkness and thoughts I cannot control.

He just put me back in my place, but I have no intention of staying there. If you take my dolls, I will take yours old man. I know your weakness as you know mine. The three isolation room doors taunt me with the prospect of fucking Lettie Doll’s dead body. Her corpse will make me so happy. I imagine suffocating her before I fuck her scarred dirty whore’s cunt and come all over her. My hands crack the cartilage in her pretty little neck as I cut her life short. I hate them both. I try the door to her room and it’s locked. I can see her lying there looking so innocent. She is not innocent, this is all her fault. My doll, my little angel is fucking dead because she came back. I could break the door down, but I am tired, and hurt. I want to mourn my poor little doll. I turn away and leave, her heart still in my hand. I go to the filthy little flat where we stayed when we arrived and lie down with the heart that he stole from me. I lie there for hours plotting my revenge.

IN the month of February,

When green leaves begin to spring,

Little lambs do skip like fairies,

Birds do couple, build, and sing.

I am no
stranger to murder. I didn’t get where I am in this world with peaceful negotiations and handshakes. No. I murdered, raped and scavenged, earning my name and reputation. I am not afraid of blood and I honest to God don’t care about being a murderer, it's how I make my living. Death is a means to an end and that end is staying away from my mother, getting the job done and staying sane while I do. There was a time I couldn’t control who I killed, now I have handle on it and I can separate the noise - sometimes. 

Today, the noise has manifested itself as reality, she is back. She is alive, filthy, hurt and smelling like a shitter and I still fucked her. I am drawn to her even when I don’t know it's her, she pulls me into her trap of whispers and words. I throw up in a bucket in the corner of the processing room and order them to put Svetlana to sleep and in isolation. I don’t know what to do about this. My mother may for once in her life be right, but I would never let her know that. My child needs to die, I need to save her from me. I should be her savior.

This is all Mateo’s fault, he has thrown me off kilter. His whispering and prodding have started something even a fuck couldn’t put to rest. In fact, it has made the noise even louder; why did it have to be her? The boy needs to learn his place - again. That boy, I should say man, but inside his head he will always be a little boy. He needs to be set straight every now and again. Today I am going to set him right, this has got to stop, I thought Lettie could fix him. It turns out she has made him even worse, she ran away and he doesn’t like it when he is left behind. When Mateo doesn't like something he throws an internal tantrum and starts hoarding. This time it’s bodies to fuck. I walk with a purpose to the bed where I can see he has been obsessing. The chair next to it, his empty glass and cigarettes tell me this is his new toy. His something precious to hold onto. She is young and I want cry at the thought of him raping her little girl body. She is just a child, a sweet girl that has made him go crazy again, I need to get rid of her. These relationships he forms in his head are dangerous. He becomes clouded, unfocused and loses sight of reality - she isn’t the first and I doubt she will be the last. It’s time to say goodbye now little one. I leave her for a minute and open the surgical supply room on the other side of the theater. I grab a surgical saw and slip a blade into a scalpel handle, I plan to leave my nephew a little memento of his craziness. He needs a lesson.

I disconnect her from the machines and turn them off, she is still alive and can breathe all by herself. She is magnificent, her clean unmarked skin is white and her small breasts would tempt any man to sin. I let the sharp blade sink into her soft neck and watch the crimson life escape. “Goodbye.” I whisper out loud before I set the blade down. Exchanging it for another stronger one, the one I need to crack that perfect chest and rip his heart out of her. I enjoy it far too much and as I eliminate this distraction the silence in my mind returns. The world is balanced again. I lift her over my shoulder, spilling blood all over and making an enormous mess that I won’t be cleaning up. Her little heart placed in the center of the bloodied bed, a prize for my errant nephew. A concrete reminder of whose world this is, as I take her down to the fiery pit below us. The trail of blood behind us and the silence and warmth of the flames ahead makes me smile. I should have known I could never leave The Red Market. 

The heat turns her blood sticky on my skin where it has soaked through my clothes. Tossing her almost weightless body into the fire, I go to find a shower and change of clothing. Instead, I find Hugo the traitor waiting to talk me. The thick door of blood turning rancid on me in the heat, mixing with my sweat making me smell like a butcher.

“Why is she still here? Why is she asleep and locked in a room Caesar?” He asks the important questions I have no desire to face the answers to.

“To keep her from you and my deranged nephew until I decide what to do with
my
 daughter, Hugo.” I shove past him but he follows me, relentless in his pursuit of answers.

“Your madre wants her dead.” He keeps on at me.

“I don’t care what my madre wants, Hugo. Unlike you, I fucking hate my mother. Besides my daughter is
almost
dead, thanks to you and Mateo.” I turn now to face him, looking him in his eyes. “My mother will not outlive me, so I suggest you rethink where your loyalty lies, because if it’s with her you can leave - now.” I hate her, I hate the things that have become of me because of her. I will not tolerate him if he chooses her. 

I want to know how those idiots got her, I know they are waiting for me to pay them, I am covered in blood and I don’t care. I find the filthy pimp that is smiling with his gold teeth shining in the fluorescent lights of the office. “Where did you get her?” I pull out the picture that Mateo had kept in the drawer of her bound and bleeding. He swallows hard enough that I hear it as he looks at the Polaroid. 

“We picked that one off the pavement, bleeding and smelling of shit. We stole her, she’s not mine. I am not that bad to my girls.” He splutters out and the scratchy tone of his voice is almost enough to send me into another rage. 

“Where, where did you pick her up? Who had her?” I plan to kill the animal that did this. My eyes convey that message and he scribbles down and address on the back of the photo. 

“I think the place belongs to an ex-cop, some old man in cheap suits always in and out.” These savages know everyone on the streets and I know he isn’t telling me the whole truth. 

“Fuck off. I am not paying you for my own fucking daughter. You’re lucky I don’t kill you, so just go.” He is about to argue when I take out a gun; that and the blood all over me is enough to change his simple mind. 

Hugo is back like a dog with a fucking bone and I lose all my control. It erupts into a shouting match with me throwing things around the room. I hate that he helped me live, I want to kill him for taking me to my mother and I am going to kill him for what has happened to my baby.
My baby, I am reminded again that I have done the most terrible things to my child. I kissed her like a lover. I am her Papi, not her lover. I am sick. I deserve to die, but I keep fucking living.

When I finally
find the solace of a shower and the small bag of belongings I returned here with, my mind comes alive with the racket of memories I would rather forget. It’s not Marta or Svetlana or even Mateo and my sisters, no it's before them. The hurt of the past is coming back and it’s because my mother’s voice is in my head. 

“You see you filthy boy what happens when you cannot control your dick.” She hits me with that godforsaken walking stick that I am sure she doesn’t need other than to hit me with. 

“Madre, stop. It’s not my fault.” She grabs my shirt collar and pulls me so close that I know I won’t be safe from the voice of my torment.

“You need to control your silly urges boy, I don’t have room in life for the disasters you keep creating. You get rid of that girl and the bastard child you created in raping her.” She hits me again as my cock responds to her voice and beg it to stop. “You say goodbye Caesar or I will make you watch me do it.” My evil mother steps back and looks me up and down, shaking her head in disappointment.

“After this I’m sending you to the shithole in America where I can’t see your fucking face every day.” She turns away from me, “and you can take your whorish sisters with you. I am done raising you devil children and your father isn’t here to make me love you any longer.”

“Madre?” I ask her hurt, relieved and confused. I step towards her, then remember my dick is hard and I can’t deal with another blow from the stick.

“No, Caesar. Kill the girl and pack your stuff. You are a disease and I am tired of trying to cure it. You can go be a murderous rapist in America where I can’t see you.” My heart breaks because I love this girl, even if she doesn’t love me. She calls it rape, but her voice sings to my heart and silences the chaos my mother causes. I love her and I don’t want to say goodbye. 

“Madre, I can’t do that.” I plead with the devil. 

“Then I will. Come downstairs so I can teach you a lesson about being a part of this family boy.” The love of my life is downstairs, crying that I took her innocence and she is having my child. I was overjoyed at the prospect of an heir, a son and a wife. My mother and her family didn’t approve of the match. My mother approves of nothing. I hear her singing a children’s rhyme as she waltzes down the passage, waiting for me to follow her. My mind is lost, her voice is the trigger that sets the monsters free and she knows it. I move with purpose, shoving past her. I should be the one and not her. I wish I could die in her place.

Bathed in the blood of love and my child, my mother smiled at me and for one small moment I wasn’t a disappointment at all. I left for Hunts Point two days later with my stupid sisters. Delivered straight to hell.

Mateo’s screams of horror pull me back from my past, the shower water is cold on my body but the sound is soothing me so I stay there. I stay until I know he is gone. I pull clean clothes onto my wet body, the tight burnt skin hideous so I try keep it covered. I go downstairs and sit next to my child and try to think of reasons not to kill her. She wants to die, she begged so many times. Why do I keep her from that? I fall asleep to the sound of her heart monitor, holding her small hand in mine.