"You coming to my fucking party tonight?!"
"Yeah man, of course dude!"
"It's gonna be fucking off the hook!"
"Kevin, perhaps you can share the details of your party after class?"
Our history teacher Mr Langmead was staring over at us exasperatedly.
"What are you doing tonight sir? Do you wanna come to my party?" Kevin was grinning foolishly back at Langmead like he always did: fearless and stupid.
Kevin was my mate and all but the guy was thick as bricks, his parents were always in the States on business of some sort -- Kev had no idea what -- and so he was left to his own devices in a mansion in Highgate looking directly onto Hampstead Heath. There was a pool in the basement as well as a hot tub and steam room where I'd fucked my girlfriend Millie last week. Millie was sat next to me in her drab grey uniform combing her frighteningly straight blonde hair. She was beautiful, of that there could be no doubt, delicate cheekbones, heart shaped lips and pale blue eyes. She was also the most fucking boring person I'd ever known. She spent all her spare time in beauty salons with Kev's girlfriend Amy who was a clone of Millie: shiny blonde hair, blue eyes, full pink lips and a tiny button nose that made her look ridiculously innocent. Both of them had perfect unblemished skin and toned bodies with medium sized breasts. They were Barbie dolls and having sex with Millie was like fucking a doll: dull, unsatisfying and mildly disturbing.
We were what you called the popular set primarily because we had oodles of money and were stupidly good looking. I mean everyone in the school had money, it was a private school after all, but nobody had contacts like Kev and our other mate Jason did and nobody threw parties like Kev. So in many ways it wasn't money, it was just Kev -- he was the man and nobody was going to change that.
I'd known Kev for my whole life, we lived next door until I was 11 and then my parents divorced. My mother didn't want me so I moved with my father to Hampstead about half an hour away from Kev. Had our friendship changed? Not really. We hung out, we went to the same parties, took the same drugs, drank the same booze and dated the same girls. Millie and Amy were best friends so naturally when Kev asked Amy out I began to date Millie. I had no interest in her and I presumed she felt the same way about me but that would have required her feeling something and I found that hard to fathom.
"Come on class it's only for twenty minutes now please show some respect, she was a member of this school just like you." Langmead breaks my train of thought and I remember it is the 31st of October, the day Claire Allsop died.
Well I say died but nobody actually found a body. It was three years ago now but already the novelty had worn off, as we left the classroom and into the main theatre everyone was chatting animatedly about Kev's party, outfits, who they were going to sleep with -- anything but Claire Allsop. I sat down next to Jason Magdorf and his girlfriend Tamsin, a hard nosed bitch who hated me since I fucked her a year ago just before I met Millie. We were both drunk but I knew what I was doing, she'd been dating Jason since the start of secondary school and always made a big deal out of being a one guy kind of girl and how she was saving herself for when she turned eighteen. So naturally I wanted to test this code and the most surprising thing was how easy it was. She'd initiated it dragging me up to her room at some party when Jason was actually downstairs. She gave great head, which made me doubt her strict prissy code of honour. Who knows? What I did know was I fucked her before Jason did and that was immensely satisfying.
Jason was a prick: he was captain of the Rugby team and was the reason we were languishing in mid-table. I think he had his suspicions about Tamsin and me after fuckgate because he was constantly sledging me every match. I ignored it but in training I made sure to hit him hard in every tackle sometimes seeking him out to crunch him. I was four inches taller than him so there was little he could do, the long dirty haired twat.
"As you well know today is a tragic day in the history of this school." Principal Hopper was on his plinth holding court on his favourite of days: centre stage, a chance to sermonise on faith and maybe some fake tears for the governors.
Claire disappeared when we were in year 10 so we must have been 15 or so. I had spoken to her once in a Maths class when I was paired up with her for some 'group learning'. She was shy and quiet so when she disappeared I wasn't surprised. It's always the quiet ones. The photograph standing on the stage next to Hopper was of her in the drab grey uniform, unsmiling and without make-up. Clearly there weren't any others.
She was fairly pretty with ethereal blonde hair and ghostly pale skin but she was incredibly skinny and always wore grey to make her slide into the background I guess. We were forced to attend her funeral and it was a rather morbid affair, she had no parents (nobody knew why) and the only person who spoke was Hopper so presumably she had no one else. It turned out no one knew anything about her, she was a ghost who only became noticed when she disappeared. The police went to her address but found the house empty and vacant. There was no other way of contacting her so the police declared her as a missing person. But a week later somewhat mysteriously a note was found on top of a white cardigan by a man walking his dog on the Heath and the police decided a verdict of suicide was the simplest solution and that was that. Hopper lived off it implementing Bible study as compulsory learning and daily sermons in the small church on the school grounds.
"Tonight is not a time for celebration it is a time of reflection and prayer. I implore all of you to banish the devil from your souls and ask for forgiveness."
Kev snorted and various murmurings of "yeah right" wafted over the hall much to Hopper's annoyance.
The room went deadly silent.
"Now let us pray." He utters with a smug self satisfied smirk.
"So Carrington when are you coming over?"
We are standing outside the school's black wrought iron gates, the sky a pitiless grey threatening rain but none as yet falls from the hell above. Millie and Amy are 'busy' touching up their make up, Tamsin and Jason are making out against the side of Jason's sleek new Bentley that his Dad bought for him after he passed his driving test a week ago. I'm quietly sickened that he is driving a Bentley at 17 but I don't show my disgust as it would make him think I'm jealous. And the fact is my father bought me a Porsche 911 in black last week. I just didn't want anyone to know about it so I only drove it at night slinking through the dark shadows of North London to the sound of screaming. It's a compilation of the best horror movie screams: I particularly enjoy Shelley Duvall's Wendy Torrance in The Shining and the pleading girl at the end of Tobe Hooper's Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I find it soothes me when I cannot sleep which has been often recently.
"So Carrington, when?" I drift back to focus on Kev. My name is Michael but we call each other by our surname.
"I'll be there around eight-ish Poulter chill the fuck out." I reply irritably.
"Carrington buddy relax, it's fucking Halloween, we're gonna get smashed on champagne and Dad sent some of those new cigars over from Cuba."
"I'll see you later guys. Millie, are you coming to my place or going straight there?" I ask desperate for her to say she's going with Amy.
"You know Amy and I have a facial at five." She snaps back.
"Yes but from who?!" Kev laughs maniacally at his own joke. Millie and Amy look disgustedly at Kev and walk off down the leafy lane towards where Amy lives in a stonking mansion close to the size of Kev's but less grandiose.
Kev has spotted one of his drug dealer mates over the road and hails him over no doubt to buy some coke. I can't be bothered to join him so without saying goodbye to Jason or Tamsin I cross the road and head onto the Heath.
I like the Heath at this time: birds squawking in the trees, leaves falling about my feet to signal autumn in full flight and the ever strengthening breeze that with every howl promises rain.
My house is hidden away off the main road that runs alongside Hampstead Heath. It's a large brown brick house on four floors with large windows that have the curtains always drawn and a roof terrace that overlooks the whole of the Heath and far beyond. My father is away on business in Europe and as he is rarely home this makes little difference to me. My father had plenty of one night stands when away but he had yet to bring anyone home who was remotely serious. My mother on the other hand had married some rich Swiss banker and lived on Lake Luzern. I had not spoken to her since she had left my father.
I toss my keys onto the kitchen counter and open the floor to ceiling refrigerator for a Bud. I'm struck by how empty the fridge is, Ocado were meant to deliver yesterday but there was a problem with the order. Looked like I would have to order in tonight. I scrolled down my contacts and ordered a Tandoori Hot from Domino's with extra chilli and garlic sauce: it seemed appropriate for Halloween. I cooked most evenings, I found it extremely satisfying and it gave me a chance to pass the time whilst being creative. I was a straight A student but nothing excited me about my subjects. With cooking I saw endless possibilities, roads untraveled, room for manoeuvre. It was the one area of my life I felt completely in control and focused.
Kev hated it here. As did the rest of the group. My house was cold and sterile. It was ultra modern, everything seemed to be marble but it was all dark grey. My father had been in a dark place when he ordered redecorating the house. When he was home -- which was rarely -- he slept upstairs in the top bedroom that overlooked the Heath. I took the basement lounge/bedroom when he was home but when he was away I used the top room. Kev and the others couldn't understand why I left large areas of the house unused, curtains drawn and in pitch blackness. I liked it better this way, I grew sick and tired of hanging around with all of them anyway, particularly Millie who complained incessantly about the wallpaper and how far it was from her house despite her driving here in ten minutes max. The doorbell rang and I paid the delivery guy a generous tip as he was dressed in a pumpkin helmet and matching orange overalls. He reminded me of a member of Slipknot and that made me smile.
Up in my bedroom I look out of the panoramic windows, glorying in the bleakness of the dead rising once again. I had never understood Halloween until I visited Canada when I was 12 and I saw the houses dressed in a thousand lights, surrounded by scarecrows and glowing jack o' lanterns. Trick or treat meant something, the mythology of Halloween burned brighter than I had ever imagined it could. At home it had grown from a nothing event preceding Guy Fawkes Night into a commercial behemoth to squeeze a little more money before Christmas. When I was younger we would trick or treat half heartedly knocking on unanswered doors until we gave up and what we did amass was taken off us by whichever gang of youths was roaming the streets. The last three years had been a slight improvement but only just: Kev's party. And that wasn't exactly a Halloween party. It resembles the party Lindsay Lohan goes to in Mean Girls -- girls dress slutty and guys either make no effort or just look like dickheads.
The previous years I had gone as Leatherface (sadly it was lost on everyone as Chainsaw was before 1990), Ghostface (generic, I wasn't in a creative mood) and last year I went all out and got the full Pennywise costume, make up, the boots...I even read Stephen King's fucking opus to know everything about the character. It's incredible how much kids hate clowns: every little trick or treater I passed ran away crying to their mummies who promptly attempted to dress me down on how I shouldn't be scaring little kids to which I replied with a wide grin "In the end they all float!" That scared them off.
I took it a little to far with Kev's younger brother Charlie though. After I'd grown bored of the party I went upstairs to the bathroom adjacent to Charlie's room and hid in the bathtub closing the curtain as I did so. And sure enough the kid needs a piss so after about thirty minutes of twiddling my thumbs the kid comes into the bathroom not bothering to switch the light on and begins to take a piss. I start murmuring "They all float, they all float" and he stutters "whose there" and I hear the fear in his voice. I go silent and that makes him breathe faster beginning to whimper "whose there, whose there?!" And just as he flicks the light switch on I rip the curtain open and scream "Your Worst Nightmare!" and chase him out of the room cackling. Apparently he never used that bathroom again (it mattered little as it was one of ten in the house) and he had nightmares for weeks according to his nanny who gave me a pretty severe dressing down when I went over to play FIFA at Kev's. It was all worth it though: Charlie hid whenever I went over and he'd become a lot less irritating, something even Kev was appreciative of even if he had no intention of saying it. Anyway this year I would have to tone it down so I'd gone for a nice simple Corey Taylor/Michael Myers combo: black jeans, black t-shirt and black sports jacket with a genuine replica Michael Myers mask that I'd altered slightly with a circle around the left eyehole and a touch of scrubbing that roughened up the texture of the mask.
I brushed my teeth thoroughly and gargled with Listerine. I wasn't sure whether to wear the mask before I got to the party. Pennywise had been inspired but walking down the road looking like a raged maniac could cause a few problems with the police, who constantly roamed the streets on Halloween. No I'd better put it in the pocket of the black jacket.
Night had fallen when I left the house around 7.45, the wind had died down but the chill remained. Streetlights blazed through the rising mist illuminating the dead. I turned into the Heath enjoying the crunch my black Timberland's made on the gravel beneath my feet. Joggers in fluorescent yellow passed me in misty blurs. The path needled down under a cloak of twisting fog and gnarled treetops.
"Hey mate you got a 'gret?"
I stopped suddenly and looked over at a girl sitting on a park bench chewing gum. She was chavvy, street trash: there were plenty of them around London, lots of attitude, rough and slutty. This one was wearing a tight grey McKenzie hoodie over super skinny bleached blue jeans. Her brown hair was scraped back into a bun magnifying her reasonably pretty face: small nose, pronounced eyelashes outlined in black and full pink lips.
"So you got a 'gret then?" 'Gret is a cigarette.
"Yeah man." I pull out a whole pack of Marlboro Lights. I don't smoke but you wouldn't believe how many girls you can pull just by offering them a cigarette.
"I'll give you a blowjob for the pack." She slurs.
"The whole pack?" I'm teasing her.
"Come on mate I'll fucking give you a blowjob right here and now." How old was she? 15? 16?
"Come then." She gets up and I follow her into a heavily wooded area, the ground swamped with a bed of dead leaves. Pale rays of light shine from the streetlights on the main path. She lowers herself down to her knees and unbuckles my jeans pulling out my cock that is half erect. Without hesitation she sucks me in and begins to work her tongue over the shaft. She must have plenty of practice because she sucks like a champion taking me deeper and deeper slurping loudly as she does so. She doesn't look up at me once as if she is consuming a meal and has no other interest. I run my fingers through her hair and push her head deeper into my member. I feel my tip hit the back of her throat making her gag and she releases me coughing up flecks of sticky fluid.
"Do you wanna see my tits then?"
Obediently she rises. I unzip her hoodie to reveal a tight grey vest that clings to her plentiful breasts. I push her down to the bed of leaves below and rip off the vest not surprised to find she is braless. Her tits are firm and shiver in the cold night. I massage them roughly before sucking her pert nipples in hungrily. She groans her breath coming out in plumes of smoke. I slide my hands down to her jeans and unbuckle the belt. She wriggles out from underneath me.
"Nah mate I'm not letting you fuck me now give me the 'gret's." Her voice is shrill.
I push her into the back of a tree and slide her jeans down and push my hand down into her white panties stroking her clit. She tries to push me away but lets out a sudden cry of exaltation. I lean in and whisper into her pierced ear.
"Has anyone ever licked your clit before?"
"N-n-no." She stutters.
I slide down, my tongue ravenously coursing over her bare breasts and pierced tummy button. Easing her panties down I find a small golden ring piercing that sends a raging spasm of excitement up my spine. I tongue her dark pink clit feverishly sliding her lips apart and moistening every crevice of her vagina. She howls at the moon moaning louder and louder her juices flowing out onto my chapped lips.
"Ok! Ok! Please!" She wails,
I rise up and slip my fingers into her mouth. She sucks greedily slurping up every last mouthful. My hands sweep over her skin sending rivulets of heat into her cool skin. The mist is rising around us casting us in a veil of smoke. She leans in and asks in a pleading voice.
"Please fuck me up the ass."
I look at her sadly. She's too young to die but I have no choice. I turn her to face the tree and bend her over so her tight asshole is inches from my cock.
"Please! Come on!" She pleads.
I plunge the knife into her heart. She yelps in shock but the cold subdues her once she hits the ground. Her face is contorted in an expression of exalted surprise. I remove the knife and wipe it down with a leaf. I redress her and lay her down on the softest blanket of leaves placing the knife beside her. I kiss her on the forehead and place the cigarettes in her left hand. My penis is still moist as I jack off over the girl's body. I buckle my jeans and carefully pull the mask out of the jacket pocket. Positioning it over my face I pull the strap around my head and reach into my other pocket. I hold a small capsule of petrol and drizzle it over the body and I'm thinking of pancakes covered in Maple syrup, I might have some for breakfast tomorrow morning. I move away from the body my head bowed in sadness. I turn back and light a match, watching the flame flicker in the marauding mist. I flick the match and watch the flames engulf this poor soul.
"Carrington why do you always have to come as a psychopath man? It's getting fucking old dude." Jason is speaking but I am half asleep. I've only been at the party for an hour and already I am bored out of my mind.
"It's because Carrington thinks he is special somehow." Tamsin spits out.
"Hey dude is that Millie Potter kissing Damien Lindegaard?" Some guy whose name escapes me is pointing animatedly over at Millie making out with Damien next to the 50 inch plasma adorning the main opposite wall of the cavernous lounge.
"Shit! That is Millie Potter!" Gasps of incredulity sweep over the room like a rash. Faces turning like clockwork their hands directed at me. I raise my eyes to them and sigh inwardly. What do they want from me? A violent reaction? I'm not a violent person. An emotional reaction? I'm not particularly emotional. Any kind of reaction? What none of them understood was that I had no interest in Millie or anyone else in the room.