Run Cindy, Hide

About being a loser.

Cindy readies herself, shifting her weight. Part of her knows Julie was only teasing that summer. But there's another part of Cindy—a teeny, tiny part—that doesn't really care what Julie's intentions were. That teeny tiny part inside Cindy is what she needs to embrace right now. She reaches out to that part, and finds it, tucked deep inside.

She accepts it, that nasty little bit of her.

Just as her urine is about to come, she holds her bladder.

"Hey," Cindy whispers.

The downside of embracing the dark places inside you is that once you're on the dark side, the dark side takes over.

Julie raises her brows, questioning.

"I sucked Dan's cock," Cindy whispers.

Julie eyes go big.

Cindy lets her urine go with a small sigh. Julie has to adjust herself on her knees to accommodate the stream. She positions herself so that the piss fills her mouth, overflows and then rolls down her chin.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

Julie's eyes grow narrow, angry.

"He made me," Cindy says.

Her stream stops, but she still has more. She holds Julie's head in place, looking away. It occurs to Cindy that what she just said to her friend wasn't clear.

"Dan," Cindy clarifies. "Dan made me."

The stream starts again.

She grins. "He wanted me to suck his cock."

The anger in Julie's eyes disappears, replaced with hurt.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

Cindy sees the hurt and suddenly feels . . . terrible.

Guilty.

Accepting the darkness offers its benefits. But those benefits all come with a cost.

She finishes, letting go of her friend's head.

Julie leans back on her haunches, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She rises on her knees, her appearance suddenly changing. She looks sharper somehow, weirdly out of place. Something is different about her eyes. They glow weirdly, like the eyes of a girl caught in a dream.

"Don't leave me," she whispers. "You mustn't leave me"

Scarface is laughing.

He puts the pipe into Cindy's mouth and lights it for her. She inhales deeply, then holds. Her peripheral vision darkens considerably, and then everything fades to black.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

Her last thoughts are Julie's words, ringing in her mind.

Don't leave me.

Cindy wakes with a start, under the table.

She is wearing shorts, tank top, tennis shoes. Her hair is soft, hanging in her eyes.

It was all just a dream, she realizes relieved. She didn't fuck her father, didn't sleep with a roomful of men, didn't . . . but already the particulars of the dream are breaking up, leaving her with only a great sense of relief.

Boom, boom, boom.

Her eyes go to the table top. Someone is pounding on it. She has the unmistakable sense that all of this has happened before. She is surrounded by men's knees.

It suddenly all comes back.

Billie's, the guys. The dealer.

JULIE.

Cindy sits up. When she thinks of Julie, Cindy fills with a dread so horrible and complete it creates a bitter taste in her mouth. She remembers sucking Dan's cock.

"Bitch is asleep," someone says.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

A man sits, holding his hard cock. Her chest pounds, blood thumping in her ears. She gets on all fours and looks for a way out.

Her mouth is dry.

Someone starts singing a song with lyrics about a girl that has to wake up.

All the men laugh.

"Gentlemen," a familiar voice says.

Oh, my God. It's Thunder. She feels relief and cold terror all at the same time. The room goes quiet. "I'm looking for my daughter."

An empty chair pulls back.

Then the whole table pushes the other way, loud scrapes coming from its legs. "Cindy?"

She looks up from her exposed hiding place.

Thunder narrows his eyes.

"Daddy?"

He takes her by the arm, looking her up and down. His pale blue eyes remain even, devoid of all judgement. There is no emotion in his eyes at all, except maybe a deep sadness.

Scarface stands by the dealer, drawing liquid into a syringe from a small blue bottle.

Cindy shivers, looking at Scarface.

He is having a heated discussion with another man. Scarface says the drug in the blue bottle is a nerve agent, developed by the CIA to fight terrorism. The other man laughs, saying it's just a date rape drug. Thunder addresses the dealer, saying he's taking his daughter outside, then returning to talk.

As Cindy leaves, she spots Julie's leggings, sitting on the table.

Her top is lying on the floor.

Cindy sits in the passenger seat of Thunder's Corvette, in the alley behind Billie's. She isn't gritting her teeth anymore, but her head is still muddled, and all the muscles in her body feel loose and weak and sore all at the same time. Trying to recall her dream, she can't remember anything. She thinks about Julie, and a terrible bile rises in her mouth.

Thunder suddenly opens the driver's side door, startling her.

"Can you walk?" he asks. "All the way to my place?"

Cindy gets out of the car.

He rummages through the glove box, checks under the visors, then looks around the cab. He gets out, tossing the keys onto the driver's seat.

He slams the door.

He tucks her under his arm, handing her a tiny memory stick.

"Here," he says, averting his eyes. "You'll want this."

Cindy takes it, confused.

"Julie?" she asks.

"With Dan."

It should be a relief to hear this, but instead Cindy feels horrible. She sucked Dan's cock. She sucked Dan's cock. She sucked Dan's cock.

Thunder walks her toward Lincoln Street, his arm over her shoulders.

"Why are we leaving the car?"

He rubs his chin. Shrugs.

"It's old."

"Your Corvette?" Cindy stops. He loves that car.

"Dad?"

Her stomach drops. He traded his Corvette to bail her out. The memory stick contains the video of her sucking Dan's cock. "Oh, Dad."

"Look," he says. "I know the last few years have been . . . "

Cindy's back stiffens. He starts to tell her all the stuff about why he left Mom, but Cindy doesn't listen. She has heard some version of this story already, many times.

It's all bullshit.

"How did you know I was here?" she interrupts him.

He looks hurt.

She apologizes, truly sorry. He lost something he loved tonight. She lets him finish his bullshit story about why he left Mom. When he stops talking, he looks all helpless and lost. She ignores his silent pleas.

"How did you know I was here?"

He sighs, looking away.

"Mom."

He laughs and shakes his head.

"She saw you in a dream."

Cindy snorts.

Her mother is Cajun and tells everyone she can walk in dreams. Cindy believes her mom says this to get guys to fuck her. She's a little crazy. She also claims Thunder is a horrible monster that torments her in dreams.

"And you came?" Cindy asks, laughing. If she can't meet him halfway on his break up, she can at least laugh with him about mom's crazy dream walker notions.

Thunder squeezes her shoulder.

At Thunder's place, Cindy showers. He finds pajamas that she hasn't worn since she was twelve years old. The fit is snug on her breasts and hips.

He gives her a cup of hot tea.

She sips it in bed.

He leaves her alone and she fishes the little memory stick from her pants. She thinks about deleting it, then puts it into her phone.

She cringes at the images of herself. Dan. Fast forwarding she finds images of herself, John, and Tim. All tawdry images. She looks to make sure Thunder is not around.

Fast forwarding further, she finds an image of Julie.

Julie is in a bathroom, on her knees. Cindy props herself up in the bed.

A man pisses into Julie's mouth.

Cindy gasps.

A single vivid image from a dream pops into her head. Julie is on her knees, looking somehow discordant, out of place. It's not so much the image that terrifies Cindy, it's Julie's words.

You mustn't forget me. You mustn't forget.

"Daddy!" Cindy cries.

She puts the tea onto the nightstand, but it falls to the floor.

Her head is swimming.

Thunder is in the room. He picks up the tea cup.

"Daddy."

He pets her thigh. Sitting on the bed, he tells her it's okay. Everything is cool. He says he put a little something into her tea to help her sleep.

She finds herself staring at his crotch. "Daddy, did you see Julie? Did you see her?"

He says comforting things. He jokes that they have to get her better fitting pajamas. He gazes at her crotch, her breasts. Cindy feels as if she's seen that hungry look before. Her tongue feels heavy, swollen. "Daddy, did you see Julie?"

Cindy fights sleep with all her might, but sleep is winning.

"Julie's okay, baby. She's okay."

Cindy's mind wanders. She asks him a question about the Gulf War. She wants to know if they let the dogs rape the daughters.

He laughs, cooing something relaxing.

She gets up on her elbow, insisting on an answer.

He pets her head, telling her no.

He is bullshitting her. She throws the covers back. No, no, no.

Easy, easy, he says.

He tells her he doesn't know everything.

He says he did not see Julie.

He says they have nerve agents now. He starts talking about torture. He says he only knows what he reads online. A tiny bit will bring down an elephant. He says someone under the influence of a nerve agent feels pain, pleasure, but can't move any muscles.

It calms her.

She stares at the ceiling, her last thoughts as she drifts off to sleep are about nerve agents, the tiny rock that can sling down a Goliath.

Or a big dog.

Cindy wakes with a start, under the table.

The room is dark, no men at the table. She is surrounded by empty chairs. Two dogs bark excitedly. She smells bacon frying.

Cindy quietly rolls onto all fours, her heart racing.

She is in the dream world where she fucked her dad. The full memory of fucking Thunder is available to her now. But the memory doesn't follow her back into real life, except in fragments. A smoky vision of dark things. The dream world has a different sensibility from the real world. In the dream world, fucking Thunder doesn't even feel scandalous. It's just there, a stone in her chest. A reminder of what she's capable of. She will always be different from other girls.

A bright light glows from the other side of the room. Stretching flat, she sees someone has lit the bed with the harness floating above it. Julie lies on the bed, nude, stretched out face down. Her arms and hands are bound, a gag in her mouth.

Cindy puts her head in her hands.

This is a dream. This isn't real. This isn't happening.

Scarface is wrestling with his dogs. He pushes one, the dog slides a few inches, then bounds back at him. He pushes the other, batting at both their heads.

"Who wants to go first? Who wants it?"

Julie mewls, her leg muscles straining. The straps holding her ankles creak in their hasps. The mattress squeaks.

Cindy swallows, silently blowing air from her mouth to calm herself.

She has to pee.

Scarface stands, holding one dog by the collar. "Rufus, you on deck tonight." Rufus licks his face. He hauls Rufus from the room. The other dog clambers across the tile, his claws making a scratching noise. He sits at attention in the kitchen.

Cindy makes herself ready.

There is no chance that this will work.

None.

This is a terrible dream and it can only end poorly.

She blanks her mind.

There is a teeny tiny part of her that can do a thing like this. She knows it. Just as she knows she is capable of fucking her father, balling a room full of men, or pissing in her best friend's mouth. She searches inside for that teeny tiny part of her, and she finds it.

A calmness descends on her.

When Scarface is out of the room, she slips out from under the table. Her hands are clammy. She is going to be killed.

Worse.

Thrown to the dogs.

Her breath is coming fast and hard, making her mouth dry.

Julie spots Cindy, eyes going wide.

Cindy touches her friend's shoulder. Julie sobs silently, her shoulders heaving.

Cindy licks her lips. She fumbles with the straps at Julie's wrists, unable to make her fingers work swiftly. She finally gets one strap unbuckled, but it's an elaborate system of fasteners, with three more buckles for each hand.

Faster.

The sound of a dog's claws on tile make her stop short. Looking over her shoulder, she sees the hound, only a few feet from her. His head is down, ready to lunge. Turning to face him, she spots the bowl of bacon grease on the night stand, near a handheld camera.

She lowers the bowl to the floor.

The dog puts his face inside the bowl, licking hungrily.

Julie twists on the bed. She is thrashing, motioning with her head and eyes to a spot on the headboard. Cindy sees a little alcove in the headboard. On a shelf inside the recess is a little blue bottle with a syringe.

Cindy takes the syringe.

It's full.

Cindy looks up from the syringe to find Julie's eyes bulging with fear.

Cindy narrows her eyes, confused. An arm slips around her throat, jerking her back. She thrashes, stomping her feet. The arm tightens around her neck, tugging her backwards. Lifting her legs, she hangs by the neck from his arm. Twisting her body, she jerks her body weight toward the floor, making her vision go white with pain, and then suddenly she pops free, and finds herself sitting on the floor.

Scarface towers over her.

He staggers, lowering his eyes. The syringe is sticking out of his hip.

Cindy leaps forward, pushing the plunger home.

Scarface grins, snorts. The hound raises its head. His master expresses air from his mouth in a loud hiss, crumpling in a spiral to the floor.

The hound pads over, licking his face.

Cindy frees Julie.

She crawls into a little ball, hugging herself. Cindy pets and holds Julie, comforting her. Scarface watches the girls with his eyes. He has taken an enormous dose of nerve agent, but Cindy doesn't feel safe.

She hauls him onto the bed, strapping him down. She finds cash in his pocket. Five thousand dollars, easily. Maybe more. Cindy takes the money, puts it in an envelope, and then writes something on the outside. The dog watches as she works. Scarface watches. She shows him what she wrote. It occurs to her that she could do to Scarface what he intended to do to Julie. This idea is so horrible Cindy immediately rejects it, disgusted with herself for even thinking such a thing. As she continues to buckle the restraints, though, the idea takes on a certain allure.

Why not?

A dirty little thrill tickles her down below. She goes to the kitchen to fry up more bacon. As it sizzles in the pan, a strange noise cuts through the quiet.

FWHAATTTT

Cindy sets the spatula down.

She looks at the dog, then goes over by the bed. Scarface looks the same, strapped face down. Julie stands just outside the pool of light, a spear gun in her hands. Cindy looks at the bed again and sees it now. A harpoon, piercing Scarface's hip. It impales his torso, jutting from his ribs on the other side.

"Wow," Cindy says.

Scarface's eyes are wide, round.

Filled with pain.

"Holy shit," Cindy laughs. "Can you feel that?"

Julie makes a loud pitiful wail. She drops the gun.

"Aww," Cindy says, crossing the room.

Cindy holds her friend, nuzzling her head against the taller girl's shoulder. Cindy lets her moist breath warm Julie's neck. Cindy has always admired Julie's body. Nibbling her ear, Cindy promises to always protect Julie.

Always.

Julie sniffs. She wipes her nose.

"Promise?" she asks.

The bacon is burning, making an awful smell. Cindy turns off the stove, setting the pan on the floor for the dog. Scarface lies in a puddle of blood, his eyes vacant.

"Promise," Cindy says, kissing Julie on the mouth.

Julie surrenders, returning Cindy's kiss, stroking her tits, her cheeks. The two slip to the floor arms and legs intertwined, kissing one another. Cindy brings Julie to the brink of orgasm with her hand, then looks into her friend's eyes. "Promise?"

Julie pants out her pledge.

Cindy makes Julie come, staring into her eyes. For the rest of the night, this is how the girls make love, punctuating each orgasm by swearing their devotion to one another. They fuck on the table, in the empty bar, on the dance floor.

Each time it is the same.

Promise?

I promise. I promise.

Cindy wakes slowly, leisurely.

She is disoriented at first, but she places herself quickly. She is at Thunder's place, wearing too tight pajamas. She's not sure why, but she knows she has to leave.

Her phone flashes to life.

Julie's text flashes on the screen.

Wake up slut

Cindy's heart soars. She can't really say why. She has known Julie since the second grade, but never has she felt the swelling between her legs that she is feeling right now. They agree to meet for breakfast. Julie texts about having big news. Flipping back the covers, Cindy wants to leave without waking Thunder. Her feelings for him have changed, somehow, during the night.

He frightens her. She is becoming more like her mother every day.

She sees her shorts, her tank top.

Her mouth dries up.

Cindy puts the dirty clothes on. She knows what she did last night, but she doesn't allow herself to think about it too hard. She liked it. She's different from other girls. She has to accept that about herself now.

She pees, brushes her teeth, then slips out the door.

At the diner, Julie is sitting at the counter.

Cindy glows.

They kiss hello.

Cindy ducks her head bashfully, her cheeks filling with blood.

Julie sighs, taking Cindy's hand, looking in her eyes. "That was so fucked up last night . . ." Julie whispers.

She says she was terrified and never wants to do drugs again. She grins over her coffee mug. Biting into her toast, she looks out the window. Maybe that's an overreaction, she says. Julie says that if they do drugs again, Cindy must promise her something.

Cindy meets her friend's eyes.

Julie sets her mug down. "Let's never break bank again," she whispers.

Cindy laughs.

Her knees are touching Julie's.

"Promise?" Julie asks.

Something inside Cindy melts. She reaches for Julie's thigh.

"I promise," she whispers in a husky voice.

Julie pulls an envelope from her purse. "Look what I found in my car this morning."

Cindy drinks from her water glass. She looks at the envelope, but is suddenly distracted by a breaking news report on the TV.

Man found harpooned in a Carnal bar.

Julie turns her head to the TV, letting the envelope sit on the counter.

Police found an unidentified man with a scar on his face murdered this morning in the back room of a Carnal bar. He bled to death, the result of an injury inflicted by a scuba diving gun. Police are calling it drug related violence.

Cindy looks at the envelope.

It's got words written on it in an oddly familiar handwriting.

Run, Cindy!

Take Julie.

Hide!