The Dark Side

A long, largely dreamless sleep. Amalie woke up with a shudder. Looking around she found herself lying in bed, feeling the warmth of another body next to her. She turned around and saw Denise lying next to her looking at her with her beautiful blue eyes and a calm, closed smile. Was this the first time she had woken up with another person? She thought so. The two enveloped their arms around each other and kissed. Amalie buried her face in Denise's embrace, Denise let out a deep, relaxed sigh.

"Good morning, Ams," Denise purred.

"Morning, Denny," Amalie replied in a similar feline manner. - "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a log. And you?"

"Like two logs."

Perfect serenity. Perfecter tranquility. The Amy pond was dead calm. Almost as if it was quiet before the storm, the tempest of the century, the hurricane of the year, the cyclone of the siècle. Something unholy was brewing, creating a Satan Pit of torment and boiling bile somewhere deep down there. A monster was lurking and that monster was about to unleash its fury on a cold and heartless world which had denied her love for so long.

"Wanna take a shower, honey?" Denise's soft, calm voice sounded in her ear. Amalie let out a whimper of happiness.

"M-hm..." she let out, guffawing. Denise slowly and teasingly scratched her lower back. Just like Helena did. - "God, Denny, do you have any idea how much that turns me on?"

"What? The scratching?"

"Yes...!!"

"Why do you think I do it?" A teasing smirk. A barely detectable side-ways nod. - "Come on. Let's get in the shower." A soft giggle.

The two got up. Both of them wore a white nightgown (Denise had borrowed one of Amalie's nightgowns). It soon came off when they entered the bathroom. Soon the two were water cuddling, making out under the warm waterfall of the modern-day invention called the shower. Denise took a shampoo bottle - by an amazing coincidence it was Helena's shampoo bottle, but who cared? Sebastian Penetrate, resting in Denise's skilled hand. White, thick, well-smelling fluid came streaming out. She soaped herself and Amalie in, before the two joined in a slippery embrace.

"Ow..." Amalie let out as the shampoo and the hot water reached the cut just below her tummy.

"What's wrong?" Denise asked.

"I cut myself while shaving."

"Ouch... Gotta be careful, dear." She whispered into her ear. - "By the way, I love the shaven you...!"

Soon Amalie's whimpering groans sounded from the bathroom, as she gave into both Denise and her rampant desire. Somewhere in East Battersby baffled seismologists registered a minor earthquake with its epicenter located in Gucklewood, a place miles away from any tectonic plates.

Breakfast. The first serving and eating of food of the day. The imbibement of imbibabilities. The mangeing of mangeabilities. Imbibe and manger. There was so many weird ways of expressing the consumption of that which could be consummated. One thing which was indeed consummated, was Amalie and Denise's relationship. The two did not exchange a word as they sat there eating, they just stared at each other with secretive smiles. Their eyes were calm and at the same time playful. Like they had just exposed their souls to each other and were now busy reading them.

"I have to go now," Denise said. Amalie let out a whimper. - "I'm sorry, I really do. As I've told you before, I sing in a choir every Sunday, and today we're going to Kerstowe to sing in the local church. They'll pick me up at the bus terminal at eleven o'clock."

"It's okay, Denny," she said with a smile. - "I got stuff to do as well. I need to finally sit down and correct the math test that we had weeks ago."

"You do that, Ams. Be a teacher."

"And you, be a singer. An alto."

"Actually I sing soprano."

Amalie looked at her intrigued:

"Can you hit notes that high?"

"You know I can..." A playful giggle as she led a finger seductively down her upper arm. Amalie guffawed. - "Well, gotta go. Let's text next week. I'll be insanely busy both Monday and Tuesday. Maybe we can meet on Wednesday."

"Maybe." A purr.

Amalie followed Denise to the door. The short-haired soprano put on her jacket and boots, before giving Amalie a hug and a kiss. She waved with her fingers, before leaving.

Back was the temporarily satisfied blonde, her raging libido calm. At least for now.

Her cell phone buzzed. Curiously she picked it up. It was a text from Harald. With big, blue eyes she opened it:

Come to school tomorrow, Amalie. Meet in my office at 0830 sharp. We need to talk. Harald.

A whimper and a sinking sensation. A heavy sensation. She led a shivering hand through her hair. The calmness had been irreversibly oblitterated.

***

Monday morning. Another week. Another trip to the rain-sodden Shadow City. The blue little car was parked on the ferry quay, while Amalie herself was on the ferry. It was quite windy today, unusually windy, even for the broad, turbulent Blansfjord. Amalie got queasy and pale from the waves - at one point she was sure the ferry was going to capsize. Somehow it made it across the stretch of open sea, landing on the ferry quay of Blansey. Dressed in her dark-red raincoat she walked on land and passed by the minuscule "downtown" of Blansey: Fairdale's shop of nutritional horrors and horrifying mediocrity where Fairdale himself was busy scolding some young male employee for reasons unknown. The dilapidated barracks where the mayor sat, staring out the window with a gloomy, drunken look on her face. The closed-down gas station. The local elderly center which, not surprisingly, was the biggest business on the island. On Planet Earth it was a well-established fact that everybody who did not die young, eventually got old.

And the school. Situated on the other side of the road relative to the elderly center, it served as a striking contrast to it; on one side of the road there were hope, future and life. On the other side there were despair, past and death. Amalie cast a look at the small parking lot. Felwick's old pick-up truck was parked there. Gino's yellow Fiat. Drange's red Ford Fiesta. Harald's bicycle. Due to the bad weather there was not a soul outside.

She entered the teacher's lounge at precisely 0825. She was somewhat stumped that all her colleagues, even Drange, had shown up that early. They were all sitting in the lounge, Harald included. When she entered it, it was like a sigh went through the room. Every head turned towards her. They all looked at her - none of them looked her in the eye.

"Good morning, Amalie," Harald said, before getting up. - "Let's go to my office." Gino, Drange and Felwick turned away, averting their eyes from her. Something was definitely not right.

The two passed by the rotund cleaning lady, who was busy scraping something brownish off the floor. Harald's office was dark and gloomy, just like the weather outside. Just like inside Amalie's head at the moment.

"Sit down, Amalie," Harald said. The gloomy, nervous blonde sat down, taking off her dark-red raincoat. It rested on the back of the puny chair. Harald sat down. - "The results from the urine sample has come back." A stern look.

"And?" Amalie asked, her voice sounding hoarse. She cleared her throat and swallowed.

"No drugs. You weren't high last week."

"That's... that's good news, isn't it?" She led a shivering hand through her hair.

"No. If you had a drug problem, you could've got help. But your problems aren't caused by substance abuse."

He had a very troubled look on his face. Amalie looked at him confused.

"So..." she started. - "If I'm not a drug addict, like you thought I were, why are we having this conversation? Shouldn't I be planning the day with Felwick right now?"

A long pause. Outside the rain and wind pounded against the window.

"Amalie, I'm gonna have to be brutally honest with you," Harald said seriously. Amalie listened attentively to the point of looking desperate. - "You're simply not doing your job. There have been complaints. Two weeks ago your class had a math test. You've failed to give back the papers. Felwick has complained to me three times. I just can't ignore it any longer."

Amalie just sat there with her mouth agape. She had completely forgotten about the test! She was supposed to correct it yesterday (she even mentioned it to Denise!), but somehow it had mysteriously slipped out of her mind.

"But... But he didn't say anything to me!" she cried.

"On the contrary. He claims that he's said it to you a handful of times, but every time you just sent him an angry scowl."

Amalie was lost for words. She might have been inside her own head lately, but who could blame her? Her life was not easy!

"You're gonna fire me just because I'm a little bit late on correcting a test?" Her voice was shivering, just like the hand she led through her hair.

"Not only that. What you did to Gino as well, when you pushed him away when he was just trying to comfort you."

Amalie was lost for words.

"Thing is, Amalie, I've been informed from the county principal, my boss, that there's an employee redundancy on this school. I need to cut a position. The budget just won't balance out." Harald got visibly uncomfortable. Amalie paled all the way to the bone.

"No..." she fraily whimpered.

"Your behavior and lack of motivation lately have sadly made my choice very easy," Harald said. - "I'm afraid the person who has to go is you."

"Me?" A whimper. She led a shivering hand through her hair. - "B-but... What about Drange?"

"It's not him we're talking about now. It's you."

"I can't possibly do a worse job than him!"

"I don't discuss other teachers. I've made my decision, Amalie. It's final."

She just sat there staring at him, scared and confused. Her face was white as a sheet of paper. She looked ten years older. Harald wiped the sweat off his forehead and took a few deep breaths:

"Amalie Prout, you are hereby terminated, effective immediately. You have until lunch to clear your desk. You will receive two months worth of pay and a reference letter. You will have it sent to your home address somewhere during the next two weeks. Felwick will take over your duties, including correcting the last test that your class had." He slowly got up, deeply troubled. - "Amalie, I wish you good luck and a happy life." He reached out his hand.

Amalie got up. Despite looking very frail, she shook hands with him with a stoic look on her face.

"Likewise, Harald," she said with a barely audible voice. Turning around she left the office with the little she had left of dignity. Harald sat down, before taking a couple of pills for his heart condition, his face gray and covered in sweat.

She walked through the corridor, her back straight, her chin up. There was not much on her desk. Her coffee cup with pictures of kittens with sunglasses on it. Her still uncorrected math tests. Her purse. With a sardonic smile she put the coffee cup into her purse and left the little office. She had now cleared her desk, and it was still hours until lunch. In the teacher's lounge Felwick, Gino and Drange were sitting drinking coffee. All three of them looked at her. She stopped in the middle of the room, before walking over to the doorway leading into the lounge. With a rather sick-looking face she said, with a faint voice and even fainter smile:

"Goodbye, guys. It was nice working with you."

All of them looked away awkwardly. Amalie turned around and left the lounge. Cowards. That was what they were. They said nothing to her, but went behind her back and complained about her. They did not even have the balls to confront her. She politely closed the door to the building and walked beside the classroom building.

By the parking lot Robert Rawhide had just parked his bike by the fence, only meters away from Harald's bicycle. He turned around in surprise as Amalie came towards him.

"Amalie?" he said. - "Are you leaving?"

"Yes, I am," she said.

"Aren't you having any classes today? I thought we had math today."

"I don't work here anymore."

"What? Really?" Robert asked in surprise. - "Are you fired?"

"Not fired. Terminated." A sardonic smile.

"So... You're no longer my teacher." A faint smile of empathy. - "I'm so sorry, Amalie. How are you?"

"Not good, to be honest," she said. A tear ran down her face. - "Not good, Robert."

The boy hugged her, she hugged him back. Letting out a sob she stood there holding him - she really needed that hug.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Amalie," he said soothingly.

She looked at him with eyes flooded with tears. Then she gave him a long, tender kiss. In fact, the two started making out. He let out a stunned gasp through his nose, his body becoming stiff as a pole. A certain other part of his body became stiff as well, she could feel his warm bulge press against her lower tummy. She let out a soft moan. How intensely wonderful this all felt, she had to end it. It was illegal. Robert let out a whimper as she interrupted her caressing and backed away from him. He stood there looking at her with a mesmerized expression on his young face. Slightly bent over from his raging erection.

"This..." he said, letting out a guffawing laugh. - "This is... Wow...! You're the first girl who's ever kissed me like that!"

"And I won't be the last," she said softly, before walking away.

***

So this was it. She was no longer a teacher on Blansey. Good riddance! No more commuting, no more ferries across windy fjords. No more Drangonian antics or caffè dranghiato. No more sweat Haralds. With two months' worth of pay coming to her in the near future, she could keep her head above water until she found another job. A sardonic smile. That would be so easy.

The blue little car parked outside her block back in Gucklewood. She checked her mailbox. The newspaper. A letter from the police. The latter - the letter - made her heart sink. With trembling hands she opened the letter as the went into the elevator. A letter written yesterday, sent yesterday and arrived today. She read carefully through it, her watering eyes darting back and forth.

A loud 'phew!' going through her mind. Tiny ripples across the Amy pond.

The case against Amalie had been closed. Apparently there were conflicting statements from her and Sun-phie, and in the common law of the region someone could not be sentenced unless there was absolute certainty that they had committed the crime. The Amalie and Sun-phie case was apparently a highly dubious one, where the person of blame could not be pointed out. Amalie walked away with her hands clean. Sun-phie would get a compensation from the state to pay for her medical bills, since she was the victim of a violent crime whose perpetrator was not known. The compensation she received would not only pay her medical bills, it would probably pay all of her bills for at least three months.

Bottom line: Amalie's milk-white a*s had been saved. She did not have to lose any more sleep over it. Maybe look over her shoulder when ever she passed a certain gym. She surmised that she and Sun-phie would not exactly go on holiday together. A sardonic smile. "Justice" had been served, to Amalie's advantage.

Speaking of holiday... Now that she had all the time in the world, maybe she could call Denise and find out when they could go to Brazil. Denise was her own boss, and could take those three weeks whenever she wanted. Safely installed in her flat, she picked up her red cell phone and called her.

Patience. Nobody replied. She was met by voicemail. She hung up. Okay, Denise was busy. She did tell her that she would be insanely busy on both Monday and Tuesday. Amalie slowly understood why. The tax return. One had to send it to the state by the end of April, and that was this month. Denise probably had receits up to her ears, sitting bent over on her desk until the wee hours of the morning. Poor girl. Running one's own business was not easy.

She made a surprisingly grown-up decision that she would not bother Denise until Wednesday, when she hopefully had more time on her hands, not to mention having got the heavy tax return burden off her back. Her firm, warm back. Her skin... Amalie melted like butter when thinking about her tongue.

Installed in her red, comfy couch with a grill sandwich and a cup of coffee she started reading the newspaper, trying to ignore the deep, heavy ache; the deep, heavy longing for Denise. She let out a curious 'hem!'. PEP had been caught. Pig Exploder Psycho. Apparently it was a Blansey native called Mons Haug Farre. The police chief of Central Battersby said to the newspaper that it had been a long-winded search involving profilers and forensic experts from all across the region, but that it had finally paid off in the end. Pigs no longer had to wear those ridiculous clothes now that mister Farre was in the custody of the authorities. However, due to the suspect's questionable mental status, one doubted that he would be competent enough for prison. He would most likely be sent to thorough psychiatric evaluation. In a related article Cliff Taft, the clothes on animals activist, had been interviewed. He was happy that PEP had been caught, but not happy that animals would once again walk around naked. "There are many PEPs out there, and I still mean that obscenity laws should apply to animals as well. Think about it. Little children who pass by farms and fields risk staring right into the naked butt of a defecating cow. It could scar them for life." Mister Taft said that his battle was far from over. He would not step back before every animal was as clothed as humans were required to be. Amalie let out a perplexed laugh. Mister Taft himself should be sent to thorough psychiatric evaluation.

Should Amalie too? She led a shivering hand through her hair, before taking a small, nervous bite of the sandwich. It grew in her mouth, it was nearly impossible to swallow.
What should she be today? Library Girl? Jogging Girl? Chinese Restaurant Girl? She could do what ever she wanted. Problem was that she did not know what she wanted. Today she was Apathy Girl. Sitting in the couch, she stared at the wall, taking sips from her coffee. The sandwich remained half-eaten. Half-consummated. A heavy lump in her throat. A tear ran down her face.

The recently terminated blonde got up, letting out a sob. Should she go and visit Andrew at Ligut Heights? Just to check how he was doing? That sounded like a great idea. Today she was Caring Girl! Yeah! Better than just sitting on her butt feeling sorry for herself.

***

Ligut Heights was for once not bathed in sunlight. The weather was gray and somber, just like on Blansey and in Sersby. Her blue little Toyota Aygo was squeezed in between a white Ford SUV and a black handicap car. Amalie rang the doorbell. Some nurse she did not know opened the door.

"Can I help you, madam?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Andrew Prout," she said. - "My name is Amalie, I'm his sister."

"I'm sorry, he's not here right now," the nurse said. - "You just missed him. He's off to physiotherapy in North Battersby. He won't be back for another two or three hours."

"Oh... Can you tell him that I was here? That I wanted to speak to him?"

"Naturally." A kind smile. Amalie politely bid her farewell, before leaving. That was a dead end.

She got into her tiny car and drove away. Now what? Lost in her troubled, guilt-ridden thoughts she kind of acted on autopilot. She suddenly found herself driving into her local mall, even finding a parking space in reasonable walking distance from the entrance. Okay. Apparently she was Mall Girl today. Small yeah. The mall was pretty crowded for being Monday around noon. Probably lunch break.

All of a sudden, as she was walking towards the escalators, she bumped into someone. Oh, crap! Not again! Could it be? She turned to the other person, expecting to once again meet Helena's clumsy mother.

The person standing in front of her was Sun-phie.

"You..." Sun-phie said, looking startled and pale, her entire body shrinking. She still had a black eye and a band-aid on her nose from the punch-up. Amalie had never seen a human being so afraid before; Amalie might as well stand there pointing a gun at her.

"Sophie," Amalie said. She almost took pity on the frightened woman before her. - "I'm sorry." The battered woman looked at her confused with her big, scared eyes. - "Sorry that I bumped into you." Something that could be classified as a smile. - "It was my fault."

"It's... it's okay," Sophie said, looking a bit less mortified. Amalie slowly put a hand on her shoulder, making the poor woman stiffen up. She gently stroked Sophie's shoulder.

"I'm sorry that I punched you too," Amalie said. - "There's no excuse. It was wrong."

Sophie looked like she would fall apart any moment, her eyes flooding with tears. She was literally shaking with fear. She let out a shivering sob as Amalie gave her a hug. Feeling Sophie's warm, trembling body, she gently stroked her hands across her back. Sophie let out a whimper as Amalie stroked her hand across her blond-brown hair.

"Please..." Sophie whimpered. Rapid, shallow breath through her nose.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Amalie said softly into her ear. Then she stepped away from her with a kind smile. Just holding another person like that made her feel so much better. - "Once again, Sophie. I'm so sorry."

Sophie still looked scared half to death, although she was not trembling anymore. Her eyes were big, her pupils dilated. Most likely from fear. Her slightly opened mouth was shivering.

"What's going on here?" a male voice sounded. Amalie turned around. There a muscular man with black hair and ice-blue eyes was standing. Amalie recognized him, it was one of Sophie's colleagues from the gym. Sophie, now reduced to tears, sought refuge in his embrace. He comforted her while sending Amalie a glare. - "Case closed or not, we all know what you did. You'd better back off, Amalie."

"I just apologized for what I did to her," she said with a weak, frail, whimperish voice.

"Go away," the man said with fiery eyes, his face contorted in an inimical frown. - "Don't come near her again." The anger and hostility in his voice was unmistakable, the blonde literally backed away in terror. The rage of a man was not to be underestimated.

"I'm sorry..." Amalie whimpered quietly as she walked away from them. Her feet was shaking so badly that she could barely walk straight. She made it to her car before she burst out in tears, sitting behind the steering wheel, the car still in the parking lot.

At least she tried. She did not know why, but she tried. Some acts were simply unforgivable. Inexcusable. She was not even sure if she could forgive herself. So scared. Trembling with fear. Reduced to tears. What did Sophie think Amalie was going to do with her?

Somebody tapped on her car window. A flinch and shudder - a fludder. With red, tear-filled blue eyes she stared at a very well-known face.

Helena's mother. Amalie rolled down the window, whiping away the tears from her eyes.

"H-hi," she said with a frail, whimperish voice.

"Hi, Amalie," the woman said. - "I saw what happened at the mall. You and that woman with the black eye and the bandaged nose. Sophie." Amalie cringed. - "How are you?" Eyes that were surprisingly kind.

"Not good," she whimpered, sounding like a dying cat. A tear tinkled down her face. A faint smile. - "Thanks for asking."

"Mind if I get in?" she asked. - "Looks like you're not going anywhere for a while."

"No, not at all," Amalie said and unlocked the doors. The woman got in on the passenger seat and closed the door.

"After our little... meeting on Friday, Helena and I had a long talk. She talked a lot about you. About your brother. Mostly about you. Helena rarely does that. You must mean a lot to her. And she must mean a lot to you."

Amalie led a shivering hand through her hair, before swallowing.

"She does," she eventually whimpered, her eyes flooding with tears yet again. She turned to the woman with a hurt, very vulnerable look on her face. - "She really does." An audible sob. - "I shouldn't have been so mean to you. I shouldn't be mean to anyone." Pleading eyes. - "I'm sorry, Helena's mom."

"You look like you want forgiveness. If that's what you want, I'll give it to you. I forgive you."

Amalie hugged her, burying her tear-wet face in her embrace.

"How is Helena?"

"She's doing fine. That's all you need to know."

"Will I ever see her again?"

"That's her decision."

Amalie leaned back in the seat, wiping her tears, sniffing.

"I lost my job today," she said. - "I was terminated."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Amalie. That happened to Helena too."

"Really? Didn't she quit to start in a full-time position as an ergotherapist?" Who drove all over the region in an Amalie car?

The woman became lost for words. She turned to her rather awkwardly:

"That's what she told you? Oh... I thought she told you why she no longer works at that facility." Kind eyes. - "I thought she told you the truth, since you were so... close."

Amalie blushed, before swallowing. She resisted with every fiber in her body to lead a shivering hand through her hair. She failed.

"She didn't quit of her own free will?"

"No. She was, in your words, terminated. There was an... incident. Or, several incidents. There was an investigation. It was decided that Helena should no longer work with disabled people other than through her being an ergotherapist."

"Seriously? What happened?"

"There were complaints of abuse. Mostly verbal." Amalie's eyes widened. - "You see, Helena's an ergotherapist. She's not a professional caregiver, she's not used to working with people in that way. I guess, when you work with disabled people day in and day out, the hard and monotone work, the complete lack of progress, I guess anybody would sometimes... snap."

"She snapped?" Amalie asked. The mother nodded. - "She hit one of the patients?" The mother made a swift nod, clearly uncomfortable having told this. - "Oh my God... My brother!" A sore, whimperish voice. - "He lives there! Did she hit him?"

"She might have." Her hand rested on Amalie's shoulder. The blonde shrank in the seat. What ever remained of Helena's pedestal had now crumbled apart under the weight of that vile ogre. Dark eyes.

"Thank you for telling me this," she eventually said quietly.

"Take care, Amalie. Don't lose sleep over what happened between you, Helena and me. You're not perfect. I'm not perfect. And, as you've now heard, neither is Helena." She opened the door and got out. - "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Amalie answered, before the door slammed shut.

Disappointment was an understatement. Some people, if not most, had a dark side few other people ever saw, just like the dark side of the Moon. The tall, slender, brown-haired girl with the soft, kind demeanor and the beautiful hazel eyes was obviously so miserable that she resorted to violence against disabled people when life got too tough. It was a wake-up call. Helena was a monster! The two shampoo bottles would be tossed in the very near future - possibly even burnt. Sebastian Penetrate was going to become Sebastian Incinerate. Disgust was a feeble verbal replacement for the feeling that it was supposed to describe. Her first orgasmic causative agentrix was an abusive sociopath. What did she do to Andrew? Did she hit him? Did she neglect him? Bathe him in water that was too hot? Not change his catheter for weeks? Randomly turn off his breathing machine for half a minute just to demonstrate her absolute power over him? She could visualize Helena stand there looking at her brother with a dangerous smirk on her face, her hazel eyes looking at his blue, panicking eyes.

The blonde backed out of the parking space and road-raged away from there. Her eyes were dark, but focused. Her mouth shut. Somebody deserved a punch-up, and that someone was not Sun-phie.

***

She must have blacked out. All of a sudden it was dark outside. She had for some reason parked her blue little car outside Denise's block. Confused she let out a gasp. A shudder from the coldness. The engine had been off for quite some time, since the car was all cold inside. There was condense on the windows. She was freezing. Denise... Maybe her subconscious wanted to seek solace and comfort with her best friend, who, in contrast to Helena, did not have a dark and sinister side that involved attacking completely defenseless people.

Amalie was just about to get out of the car and into Denise's warm flat and even warmer heart. All of a sudden a taxi stopped just a few meters away from her. Out came Denise. She was not alone. Tumbling out of the taxi, she was in the arms of a man. The taxi drove away. They were oblivious to the blue little car and the blonde sitting inside it staring at them with her bespectacled visage of stunned surprise and growing, sinking horror.

Some Brazilian dude, tall and muscular. The T-shirt with the Brazilian flag was a give-away. Denise's tongue (her... tongue...!!) in his mouth gave away what their intentions were this evening. The scene could not have been made clearer. Even an inexperienced clodette like Amalie knew what was going on. Her eyes flooded with tears as she saw them making out in the middle of the small parking lot. How he rested his hands on her bum and pushed her pelvis against his. How Denise virtually rubbed against him.

"Denny..." Tears running down her milk-white face. Was that the beginning of a steady relationship? God, she hoped not! Not that she did not want Denise to be in a relationship. She wished Denise all the best. Or did she? When one was completely deprived of love and comfort for so very long, the egoistic monster tended to step into the limelight and steal the attention of the mind. If she did not get love, why should everybody else get it? It was not fair!

Denise disappeared into her block, the Brazilian stranger resting his hand on her exposed lower back. A giggle and a smile from her as the door closed. What would he say when he saw her fridge?

"Denny..."

A torrent of emotions. Denise going down on him and give him the best night of his life. Her ASMR. Her warm, scratching hands. The man would explode. It would be Phil the eternally erupting volcano all over again. It would be Denise going down on him with her mouth and - she swallowed - tongue, causing him to blow a load bigger than he could ever imagine. She would swallow. She would giggle. She would giggle and swallow - she would gallow. Speaking of gallows, she pretty much felt like going there. Just to end it all. Her soul was on fire. Bad fire. Eating away at her like flesh-eating bacterias.

In the Viking era a girl like Denise would have been burnt as a witch, because she was the face of female independence, free to choose, free to use her - she swallowed yet again - tongue on whomever she wanted. The two were supposed to go to Brazil and even have children together, and now she was making love to a Brazilian! She could not take it anymore!!

"DENNY!!!!" A scream that barely sounded human.

She banged her hand on the steering wheel, causing numbing pain in her fingers. Tiny drops of blood tinkled out of the bruised skin. She banged her hand on the steering wheel another time. Her pinkie hurt so badly, it was probably broken. The blonde could not care less, as the pain in her hand and fingers was almost pathetically minuscule compared to the all-consuming, Armageddon-like pain that raged uncontrollably inside her head. A third time she banged her hand on the steering wheel. This time her pinkie was definitely broken. This time her hand was warm with blood. Her face rested against the bloody, semi-maimed hand, the blood smearing her milk-white face and her glasses. Crazy laughter. Noisy laughter. Crazy, noisy laughter that lasted and lasted. A cough. A whimper. Salty tears attempting to wash away the blood on her face. Her tongue licked her wounds like she was some kind of animal. Human-animal hybrid. Amalie-cat hybrid. A fourth time she banged her hand on the steering wheel. It no longer looked like a hand.

A sore, cat-like whimper in the night. A hand broken, a heart crushed.

The End