Helpless Victim - Laura's Story #04

Several months had passed since Laura bid bon voyage to her doctor friend, still searching for the perfect man in her life, even when the end results were ugly and messy. After many months of loneliness, Laura found someone who was a few years younger than her, with a baby face and a slim build, who worked at the local butcher shop in town, and personally delivering the meat to her home. Needless to say he did more than just delivered meat. Carl. His name was Carl.

Before things got serious, Laura did some research on the young man; so far finding him clean. As far as she knew he was a good guy and not another lying dirt bag who would break her heart in the end. As time went by, she should have known better, and this was not your typical heartbreak.

After spending a night at his place, Laura went into the kitchen, getting herself a cold drink when suddenly a voice caught her attention. She headed to the living room to investigate where Carl's laptop was left wide open, and the voice telling him he had mail. The messenger's name read Sally 1, leaving Laura extremely curious and worried about what she would uncover.

"No, don't do it," she told herself. "Just look away. Please, just look away."

Laura was making her way back to Carl's bedroom, but her deep curiosity couldn't be contained any longer. She approached the laptop once again and proceeded to read his mail. The message read, "I'd rate her a B+." Laura didn't know what that meant until she saw the downloaded video. What she saw left her in complete embarrassment.

"You son of a bitch," she said, "you son of a bitch."

Laura wanted to scream out loud and confront Carl face to face. Instead she decided against that maneuver and save her energy for another time. Without saying goodnight, Laura got dressed and went straight home, once again experiencing another failed relationship.

"Another time," she said. "Another time."

On her day off, Laura paid Carl a visit at the butcher shop during closing time. Carl remained all alone, taking care of the inventory and whatever mess that was left behind by his coworkers. Neatness counted when it came to his line of work; sometimes he took his work too serious as if cutting meat was an art form.

"Give me a moment," said Carl, "and I'm all yours."

"Don't rush on my account," said Laura. "Is there anyone else here?"

"Just you and me. Why?"

"Just curious."

"I'm a bit curious myself."

"About what?"

"You, coming in here, seeing me work. The girls I've known have been too squeamish to walk in here. They don't like the smell or see all that blood around."

"Honey, you're talking to a nurse; I've seen bad shit in my line of work. Seeing you cut up dead animals is a playground compared to what I deal with everyday."

"I hear you."

"Besides, I admire your skill with a meat cleaver. Maybe someday, who knows, I might want to cut up some dead meat myself."

"I'm sure you'll be a natural."

"Why thank you."

As the conversation continued, Laura picked up a meat cleaver, hiding it behind her back. Slowly, she approached Carl all the way in the back, right by the opened meat locker where he did the inventory. The more Laura got close, the more she felt the coldness from the meat locker as if walking on a cold winter's day.

"It's pretty cold in here," she said. "Might as well wear a coat."

"You could build a snow man in here," said Carl. "Don't worry, I'm almost done."

"No rush. I do have a question I've been meaning to ask."

"Let me guess, how did I inherit my good looks?"

"No. I'm sure you inherited those from your mom."

Both of them had a good laugh, but it would be the last one they would share together.

"But seriously," said Laura, "I need to ask you something important."

"I'm all ears," said Carl.

"Have you ever cut yourself while you worked?"

"Cut myself? I don't remember. I never chopped my fingers off by accident if that's what you-."

Suddenly, Carl was cut off by the intense sensation of pain that took place below his waist. Laura took the meat cleaver and drove it onto his Achilles tendon. Carl dropped to his knees straight into the opened meat locker, wincing in pain and leaving a puddle of blood.

"Looks like," Laura said, still clutching the blood stained meat cleaver, "I'm a natural after all."

"Laura," said Carl, crawling his way into a corner, "what the fuck? W-Why did you do that?"

"Who is Sally 1?"

"What?"

Laura struck his other tendon, leaving him in tears.

"I repeat," Laura continued, "who is Sally 1? I read your little e-mail and saw what appeared to be us starring in a new porn film that I knew nothing about. You want to explain why is that?"

"F-film?"

"I saw the film myself, and it looked to me that someone filmed us in your closet. You got a secret lover I should know about?"

Carl knew there was no way he can keep this a secret now. Someone did in fact filmed her and Carl with a cell phone, while hidden quietly in the closet.

"No," said Carl, "it's nothing like that. Just, just let me explain."

"I'm all ears," said Laura.

"Sally...is my wife."

"What?"

"She's my wife."

Laura's world just sunk all the way to the bottom.

"Wife?" She said. "You have a wife? Are you fucking kidding me? You're married and you didn't tell me? Does she know about us?"

"Yes, she does," said Carl, "but that's all right."

"What? What do you mean it's all right?"

Carl and Sally were voyeurs and had been for some time. That didn't make Laura feel any better or even comfortable over the situation.

"You mean to tell me she loves to watch?" Laura asked.

"Yeah, she does," said Carl.

"Why was she filming us?"

"It's just a game. That's all it is; just harmless fun."

"A game? Is that what the B plus is for? Was I a B average when you were fucking me?"

"It's all fun, that's all. No harm done."

"How many others have been filmed?"

"I-I lost count."

"That many? Did you give them grades, too?"

"Yeah, they all did."

Carl and Sally had been married for several years, reading and watching porn like they were homework assignments. Voyeurism became their latest venture just to spice things up in the bedroom. One day Carl came up with the idea of being filmed while Sally did all the filming in the closet, being as quiet as possible. It was she who came up with the idea in grading the performances just for the fun of it.

"Laura," said Carl, feeling cold and in pain at the same time, "I'm bleeding here. Help me, please."

"You're both fucking freaks," said Laura. "Who were the others, one night stands?"

"S-Some were," said Carl. "College students, older women, and a few hookers here and there. Don't worry, I treated them all like queens and nobody got hurt."

"Did you treat me like a queen?"

"I like to think so."

"And you download these videos on the internet?"

"Absolutely not. They're my private collection, just like Sally has her own."

"Her own? What do you mean her own?"

"We...switch places."

Sometimes Sally brought a man over to their home to fuck, only this time with Carl hiding in the closet, filming all the action with one hand deep in his pants.

"I'm gonna be sick," said Laura. "It's bad enough being lied to, but this? Being part of some game just to better your relationship? You used me and that hurts more than just having a broken heart. Well, that's enough of that; I'm pulling the plug on your little program."

"What do you mean?" Carl asked. "Laura, don't do anything stupid."

Laura slowly entered the meat locker, stepping around the bloody puddle made by the deep cuts of his tendons.

"Did you know," said Laura, looking at her reflection on the meat cleaver, "that the Achilles tendon was named after the Greek hero Achilles?"

"W-Who?"

"That's a long story and we don't have much time for that, do we?"

"What are you doing? Laura? A-Are you going to kill me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"H-Help! Somebody help me!"

"Oh, that's original; the helpless victim in need of aid. Yeah, been there, done that. You remind me of someone I used to know, and he bled more than he could swim."

"Laura, please. I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, I get it. You're sorry and you didn't mean it. I've heard it all before and I'm sick and tired of hearing the same old shit over, and over, and over again."

"Laura, please."

"Please, please, please; is that all you men know what to say?"

"Please, don't kill me. Please, don't kill me!"

"Tell me, is it really that tough to cut through bone?"

"Noooo!"

"Let's find out."

The conversation was immediately cut off once Laura drove the meat cleaver into his skull, putting an end to his misery.

The following day, Sally woke up to get herself ready for work. She noticed Carl was not on his side of the bed, assuming he was already getting himself ready before she did. Before she got out of bed, Sally's phone lit up where she received a text directly from Carl himself.

"Hey, babe," the text read.

"Where are you?" Sally asked, sending a text back to him.

"At work."

"Work?"

For as long as she'd known him, Carl never left for work without kissing or saying goodbye to her, and he certainly didn't leave early without even telling her.

"The boss," the text read, "wanted us early for some reason. Sorry I didn't tell you."

"Your boss is working you too hard. So, when is our next movie going to be made? I've got some new ideas you might like."

"Can't wait to hear it. I have a question have you ever seen The Godfather?"

"Is that a movie?"

"Of course it is silly it's a gangster movie."

Carl explained the plot of the film and the characters involved until finally Sally remembered what he was talking about.

"Yes I've seen it. A bit too long for me but I saw it. Why?"

"Just curious. You remember that bedroom scene?"

"What bedroom scene?"

"You know the one with the horse's head."

"Oh I hated that scene. I thought I was going to throw up. I felt pretty bad for that horse."

"I hear you. But what if I told you you were living that scene at this moment?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Have you looked at yourself lately?"

"Myself?"

The texts suddenly stopped coming. Sally sent a few back but received no response from either one. She assumed the boss showed up and Carl didn't have time to say goodbye once again. Without waiting any further, Sally got off the bed to get herself ready for work. Before heading towards the bathroom she noticed something on her legs and feet. With one hand she touched whatever was on her. It felt wet and sticky on her fingertips, discovering up close it was blood. She checked herself out and found not one cut or scratch on her, knowing full well the blood was not hers.

"What the hell?" She said.

Wanting to know where the blood came from left Sally both curious and frightened. Step by step she approached the bed, anxious to find out what was on the sheets. Sally's one shaky hand reached closer and closer towards the cover, with her nerves kicking into high gear. One lift of the cover made Laura's eyes bulged wide and her hands over her lips to keep herself from screaming over the grisly discovery that laid there staring at her. It was a decision she would regret for the rest of her life.

Unlike the movie, the head she found was not of a horse, but of her own husband, Carl. All Sally could do was let out a high pitched scream that quickly alerted the neighbors. She would never know that the texts came from Laura herself, using Carl's phone which she later destroyed and trashed.

Once the police arrived, not only did they see Carl's head but Sally lying near a corner in a fetal position, whispering gibberish and crying nonstop. They couldn't get one word out of her no matter how hard they tried and was taken in for psychiatric evaluation.

Laura took Carl's laptop with her to check out the other homemade films. As he told her no woman was harmed in any way, but Laura felt ill just by examining all the footage. Every woman being fucked by the same guy, whom she thought was having a serious relationship with her. It just tore her apart seeing and listening to all the moaning and gasping from each woman's mouths, all being pleasured by the very same man in the very same bed.

After seeing the entire film starring herself and Carl, she threw the laptop across the living room, picked up the poker near her fireplace, smashing it onto the screen and keyboard. The film still played on while she continued with her destruction until the pieces were scattered and the laptop ceased functioning.

Laura kept the meat cleaver as a memento. As for the rest of Carl's remains, let's just say he was part of the menu in every restaurant in town. All traces of him were gone as he became just another helpless victim to a woman scorned.