Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Birthday

Twenty-seven years on the outside, twenty-seven years of living a life on borrowed time. The headlights flash past me, and I shield my eyes.

I know, too much description? Well, I’m not paying you to read this, so why don’t you just piss off if it’s not working for you.

The car comes to a stop, and she gets out, all legs, miles of them. I swallow. She looks around the empty car park, and we lock eyes. She smiles and marches towards me.

“You’re Phelps?” she asks. The words slide off her tongue as if they were dipped in gold and encrusted with diamonds. I’m in love. Pity I know she won’t reciprocate the feelings.

“I’m the only one here, so I must be,” I reply. What a jerk of a thing to say. Yes would have been so much easier to say. But instead, I tried acting all cool, suave, and shit. She blushes; I don’t think it’s out of embarrassment.

“I was told I could trust you. If I was told wrong, I’d prefer you were honest with me so I can save us from both wasting our time.”

“Doesn’t that whole sentence contradict itself? Sure, if you want me to say I’m the best you’ll get for the price you want to pay, I’ll tell you that, as long as you pay. I’ll say whatever else you need me to if that’ll make you feel more at ease. But honey, if you don’t feel a bond, that beautiful thing we humans call trust, if you don’t feel that between us off the bat, I’m either nothing like you were told, or I don’t give a shit what you think because I’m that good. So yeah, whatever you want me to say, I’ll say it, but don’t ask stupid questions. I’m here to get paid. You’re here because you’ve got a job you need done, someone removed from your life, permanently. How’s that for honesty? Leonardo DiCaprio eat your fucking heart out, where’s my Oscar?”

She stares at me, blinking. I can see the wheels turning upstairs. Something begins to happen. Her face softens, as does her stance, and she becomes more relaxed, more casual. “I’m sorry, I’ve never done anything like this before, I-I…”

I place a hand on her quivering arm, doing my best puppy dog eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re not the first, you won’t be the last. So, you don’t need to apologise. To be honest, I mean, you seem like a stand-up broad, and I don’t want to steer you the wrong way. I’m not really the guy you came here to meet. He’s jammed in the boot of this car. So, this is something of a first for me as well,” I say, thumping the hood of the car. She stiffens, her eyes widen, and then she collapses, the drugs taking their desired effect.

“It’s nothing personal, you understand. It’s just, well, it’s my birthday, and you, you’re exactly what I asked for,” I say, oozing confidence. I know what you’re thinking. I’m scum, taking advantage of such a nice broad. But she wanted me, and when I say me, I mean the piece of shit I introduced to my trusty blade half an hour ago, to off her old man for his life insurance. See how the picture changes, how she becomes the scum? When I’m just a bottom feeder, looking for my next kill. Looking to celebrate my birthday in style, and she fits the bill in so many ways. All the way up those long, gorgeous legs.