Serial Killer

I've cut loose with some rougher language than is usually my style. I think it fits. Skip this one if you are easily offended.

“That’s some kind of fucked up, you know that?”

“I’m sorry, I wanted to be honest—“

“You wanted to piss me off is what you wanted.”

“I wanted”

“Shut up. It’s always what you want, isn’t it.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“God you dumb bitch, what you meant was to fucking piss me off. Well good job. Congratulations.”

Sara was sobbing and leaned her head against the glass, looking out the bus window into darkness speckled with tail lights.

“Jesus, I don’t know why you are upset. I’m the one who has to fix your fucking shit. I’m always fixing your dumb shit.”

The other passengers, what few there were, minded their own business. The black woman, shaking her head and working on her puzzles. The torn old bastard drinking from a paper bag, talking to himself about sports scores or food recipes or some other triviality. The mop headed teen sucking on a lollipop studying the couple from behind. He looked around continually, wondering if anyone else was getting as much entertainment out of the spat as he. He smiled knowingly to the lean individual near the back, who seemed oblivious, choosing instead to listen to music on his earphones.

Presently, the bus arrived at a quiet stop and the door slid open. Brad was already out of his seat, flourishing his hand in front of himself, “Any day now.”

Sara, lonely and beaten, slinked out of her seat and moved down the aisle. Brad caught the disapproving eye of the black woman up front. “Mind your business.” Brad flashed a menacing smile and looked at the bus driver, whose eyes darted after the girl and then at Brad, and then at the passenger behind Brad, shambling along behind the two, drowning out the world with his music.

Sara put some distance between her and her boyfriend. “Sara, slow the fuck down.” Brad called after her, “Don’t be fuckin’ makin’ me look bad.” He grabbed her arm and she whimpered, “No.”

“No? What the fuck you mean, ‘No’? Ain’t I got a say in what happens? You fuck around and get fucking pregnant?”

“With you!” She looked at him horrified.

“With shit,” He spit. “You supposed to tell me when it’s that time o’ month. Don’t think I’m payin for it neither. “ He looked over his shoulder at the other passenger. Though he was walking the same way, he was obviously giving the couple a wide berth. He leaned in close to Sara, “You pull extra shifts or whatever you gotta do.”

In a moment of ego, she lashed back, “Why don’t you get a job and help out? I’m aready working—“

“I don’t do no nine to fives, bitch.” His hand raised up and across her cheek with a sadistic smack. He pulled his hand back and looked around. “‘Sides, I have to take care of your ass. God.” She was recoiling in horror. His face softened as he realized what he had done, “look baby. I didn’t mean to hit you, but damn, you just get me fuckin’ frustrated. You know I love you right? C’mon baby, you know I love you.”

Sara, shaking, shrunk back from Brad. “I hate you.” She whispered.

“What? “

“Nothing.” Her eyes looked down.

“No. What the fuck you just say? Yo, Buddy. chill.” He raised his palm to the other passenger, who was looking at his own feet, living in his own world, oblivious. “Say that again, bitch?”

“Nothing!” She shouted. They were stopped and squaring off against one another. The other passenger was approaching closer. “I hate you!”

“Well Fuck you then!” Brad shot in low and landed a fist solidly into her abdomen, forcing all of the wind from her, leaving her in a twitching crumpled heap. He pointed at her as she clutched herself defensively into a tight ball, still unable to catch her breath. “You fuckin’ asked for that shit. You don’t fucking tell me—Hey back the fuck up buddy!”

Brad didn’t see the blade until it had passed in front of him once. He barely registered the arterial spray, fixating instead on the tip of the blade, watching it unflinching as it plunged back into his staring eye socket. His mouth just hung open like a brainless idiot, and his head followed the blade forward a little as it was retracted. Brad fell to the road like an empty trench coat. The other passenger stood above Brad and looked down at him, studying him and taking him in. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a Polaroid and tossed it onto that once living pile of shit.

Sara’s eyes were wide and she gulped for oxygen, watching her problems evaporate in front of her. She saw the passengers shoes in her field of vision. First they faced away from her. Then they turned towards her. He kneeled and studied her. She saw his eyes, and accepted her fate. He reached out and ran a finger through her hair, gently pulling a lock forward. He slid his knife close to her face. She saw it was still covered with gore. She closed her eyes. She heard the blade slide and cut, but there was no pain. She opened her eyes again, and watched the passenger walk away from her down the street. She saw a small droplet of blood in her hair, now one lock less. She closed her eyes and passed out.