Desperate Measures

By Megan Neal

            I watched her drop to her knees like somebody had stolen her bones. She knelt there with a dumb-struck look on her face, the look of a deer in the headlights on a dark, winding road. The only movement was the tears strolling down her cheek as she stared out into the oblivion. No movement. No sound. Cherry Wine paint covered her from head to toe as she held her phone close to her ear. I couldn’t tell if she was listening or just frozen. Her green eyes stood out even more as the whites of her eyes grew bloodshot. Then finally a movement, she pulled the phone away from her ear and handed it to me, she was still staring. I brought the phone up to my ear not knowing what to expect, I stood there just as silent as she was.

“Hello?” said an unfamiliar voice. “Hello…is anybody there?” I caught myself staring at the paint spreading across the floor. It looked like a scene straight out of one of those cheap corny horror movies.

“HELLO!” she shouted anxiously. I finally snapped back into reality.

“Ugh, yeah I’m here,” I stuttered back.

“Who am I speaking to and what is your relationship with Aubrey?” The lady had a very professional tone, one of a concerned doctor or something.

“My name is Chip, I’m her roommate.”

               The car ride home was very awkward. The majority of it was her crying her pretty green eyes out. You would have thought that somebody died.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said.

“What about an abor-”

“NO! I can’t, you know that,” she said, cutting me off before I could even finish my sentence. I already knew it was out of the question, but I had to make it look like I was trying to help.

“I just don’t understand how it is possible.”

“Well, you see,” I jumped in trying to lighten things up, “when two people really really like each other and they get naked…”

“That’s not funny Chip, I’m serious. I really don’t understand how it happened, me and Ryan always use a rubber.” she said with a look of confusion.

“Maybe it broke.”

“Nope, never. Even if it did I’m on the pill,” she cried shaking her head.

            Little did she know that she had actually been taking sugar pills for the last two months. She acted like her life was over, like she was going to die. I guess in a way it was for her. She had always been compulsively careful, always took extra precautions to prevent this exact situation for becoming a reality. Which is how I knew that this was the only way in.

              I remember the first day she started at work. I was mesmerized by her eyes, those pretty green eyes. I say green, but they aren’t green. The color that they are have no name, they remind me of the water, the color of the water. She is about 5’2” and weighed around 125lbs. She smells like cotton candy. She was a soccer player and had played for most of her life, even a little in college until she blew out her knee. She has killer legs and an ass that could give the Pope a hard-on. And those tits, flawless raindrop C cups. Not too big, not too small, perfectly proportioned to her athletic build. She has long, auburn hair with no freckles and an ideal golden tan, not like one of those over-baked chicken tans from the tanning salon. It was all-natural, she was all-natural. I was in love.

               It was about a year after we met that she asked to move in. I had been looking for a roommate for a while. I remember the first time I brought it up to her.  Her exact words were, “I could never live with you.” She said it with a snotty attitude, which was so weird for her because she was always so sweet. Now here she was with no other choice.

“I have no other place to go, me and Ryan,” those words made my stomach squirm.

               I hate Ryan. Me and Ryan this, me and Ryan that. I hate it whenever she mentioned his name. Ryan was Aubrey’s boyfriend. He is the typical jock with a very muscular build, six-pack, all the works. I hate him with a passion. He and I are very different people, two separate sides of the spectrum. If we were one person however, we would be the perfect man. She is in love with him, I’m in love with her, and he is in love with himself. We were just a big circle of fucked up love.

“It’s too soon for me to move in with him and I just lost my scholarship because of my knee,” she continued.

               I kind of felt sorry for her, but I still made her beg. I knew the whole time I was going to let her move in, but I liked the way it felt to have her life in the palm of my hand, her desperation gave me a rush like none other.

               They always fucked at the house, and he rarely stayed the night. I stood outside her door one night and listened to them, listened to her. I started imagining the two of us making love, me inside of her, thrusting in and out, my heart racing like a lab rat. Next thing I knew I was standing there pleasuring myself, pretending I was in his place until she moaned his name. Then all those feelings of passion and love turned into hate and I just wanted to kill him, massacre him and his whole self-obsessed life. He was living my dream, my world, taking everything that I loved for granted. No one could ever love her like I could. He was all that was standing between me and her.

              My plan was perfect, flawless. At first, I thought about killing him and a few different ways of doing it. I thought first about shooting him, but I didn’t have a gun. Then I thought about slitting his throat. I couldn’t do that either, there would’ve been too much blood to clean up and a likelier chance that I would’ve been caught.  Then I realized that killing him would have caused too much attention. Not just that, but he was really the only thing keeping Aubrey here and I couldn’t let her leave. So this was the only solution. Ryan was too involved in himself to stick around for it, it wouldn’t quite fit into his lifestyle, and moving home was completely out of the question. Once her parents found out they would disown her. I knew she would be stuck with it because of how strong she was in her beliefs and morals. It was perfect, for me anyway.

         Just as I had suspected, Ryan bolted the second he heard pregnant. I knew that she would be upset, but I really didn’t care. I just couldn’t believe that my plan was starting to fall into place. He accused her of cheating on him because they always used protection. He did realize how in love she was with him and how that would have never crossed her mind. But all Ryan cared about was Ryan, football, and of course, sex. A baby didn’t fit very well into his little world. He ended their relationship just like that.

        

        The hardest part I would have to say was getting her pregnant. I knew I couldn’t leave it up to the two of them, they were too careful about it, well Aubrey was anyway. I had to get my hands dirty, and in this case, my dick wet. I couldn’t just sleep with her. If it were only that easy. I’m not her type. I had to be careful, if I got caught she would leave, not to mention the mass of charges that I could have picked up!

          I watched her routine for a few weeks until I knew it like the back of my hand. After Ryan was done plowing her, she would go straight to the restroom, pee, and then take a shower. She was so beautiful in the shower. Standing there, naked, water rolling down her face, lathered body wash all over. She was like the goddess of cleanliness. Her shampoo is what made her smell like cotton candy. I washed my pillow case with it so I can smell her while I sleep.

           It never failed, after her shower she would stroll into the kitchen, with only a towel on, and pour herself a glass of milk and then head to bed. I had already switched out her birth control for the sugar pills and I knew her ovulation schedule, so I knew when it would be a good time to plant the seed.

            The first time I put too much in her milk. Her body was completely lifeless, limp; it was like having sex with a fresh corpse, still warm and wet but motionless. I came almost instantly. The next few times were better, I lightened the dose, it looked like she was dreaming. I’m pretty sure I gave her an orgasm once. She enlightened me the next morning about her recurring dream.

“It felt so real, it was all so weird, something I’ve never felt before,” she would say.

        I tried to make myself believe that it was me she was talking about, but I knew that she was really talking about the effects of the Ketamine. I worked as a vet tech at our local veterinarian office so getting the drug wasn’t that difficult.

        I only planned on doing it a few times, just to make sure that she would get pregnant, but I couldn’t stop. The pleasure that I got from being inside her was like none other. The doses of the Ketamine started to make her nauseous in the morning, that’s when she decided to go to the doctor, she had no idea what was about to come.

        It’s been a few months since she found out. Ryan is completely out of the picture, and her parents haven’t talked to her since she told them. It’s a done deal. I had dropped a few a hints about her staying and how I would help her out, since she didn’t have anyone else. She didn’t seem to care much, she was pretty depressed. She was always sick. I think part of it was because of the pregnancy, the other part was because she was having withdrawals from the Ketamine. I had to stop giving it to her because I didn’t want to do anything to hurt our baby.

“So when do you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?” I asked her.

        I wanted a boy; I couldn’t imagine having a daughter going through what I’ve put Aubrey through. I like the names Harris and Anthony.

“A couple weeks,” she said with no excitement whatsoever.

“Have you thought of any names?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong with you Aubrey, you haven’t been–”

“I haven’t been what? Excited? Happy? Well what in the hell do you expect?” she started to get really worked up.

       Aubrey didn’t get mad very often, but when she did, she would get so mad that her hands start to shake, her face turns a color red that I’ve never seen before. Her sweet, little mouse voice grew very deep and angry.

“I’m fucking pregnant, my boyfriend has left me to deal with this by myself, my parents hate me, and I’m all alone and have no fucking place to go. I haven’t finished college yet, and I won’t be able to support this baby. I can’t find another man, no body will love me after this, look what this thing has done to my body.” She yelled pointing at her stomach. She had gained some baby weight,  she didn’t really look pregnant yet, just chubby.

“I’ll love you” I said almost in a whisper.

“Yea, I love you too, you’re a great friend and I’m sorry I’m taking this out on you, it’s not your fault,” she said having no idea what I have accomplished. She loved me in a friendly way, it hurt every time she would say it like that. I loved her, I mean I really LOVED her. I would get so aggravated that she never loved me back.

“I’ll help you take care of the baby” I said.

“I can’t put this on you; it’s not your problem.” She plopped down on the couch and put her head in hands as she started to cry.

“I really don’t mind, we can convert my office into a nursery.”

“There won’t be any need for that” she snapped back quickly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m giving it up for adoption,” she said relieved. My heart started to grow heavy, and my eyes started to tear up.

“YOU WHAT?!” I yelled back.

“I found a couple that can’t have kids, they want to—“

“YOU CAN’T GIVE OUR BABY UP!”

        Shit! I hoped that she didn’t hear me, I don’t know how she couldn’t, at this point I had grabbed her and was yelling it in her face. She looked at me completely dumbstruck, confused.

“What did you just say?” she said so lightly, I barely heard her. She had a look of terror in her eyes, like she knew what I had done. I didn’t know what to say. I had just blown it.

“Let go of me,” I still had a tight grip on her, “you’re hurting me Chip.” I finally let her go.

“What’s with you?” she asked, still with that look of terror. “If you hate Ryan so much then why do you want to keep his baby?” She should have never said that. It reminded me of the night I was jacking off out side her door and then heard her scream HIS name. My blood boiled and I started seeing red; my knuckles turned white and my fist tight. I couldn’t stand hearing his name, it made me fucking furious. Just hearing that name coming out of her mouth disgusted me. I could have killed her, how dare she say that about my baby. I snapped.

“HA! If you only knew, you fucking slut.” I said furiously. Her green eyes grew wider than I have ever seen. “It’s not his baby,” I whispered with a creepy smile and a laugh. I watched her stumble back and look for a way out, but she was cornered.

“You remember those dreams baby, the one you said felt so real?” I said in a coy voice as went to caress her leg. “Do you remember how you woke up the next morning soaking wet with excitement because of the pleasure you got from that dream?” I pinned her shoulders up again the wall, she just stood there shaking her head, to stunned to say a word, tears rolling down her face. “That was all real sweetheart,” I leaned in close to her ear, getting a whiff of that cotton candy shampoo and whispered, “And it was all me.” Her body went lifeless like it did the first time I made love to her. She couldn’t even fight back, she was so pathetic. She tried to scream, but no one could hear her. What a selfish little bitch. All the work that I put into that plan and she thought she was just going throw it away. I couldn’t let that happen.

Her parents called once, I told them that after they had disowned her she moved away with her boyfriend because she was so upset and I hadn’t heard from them since. Everyone at work just assumed that she just ran away because she was embarrassed of her pregnancy. Ryan didn’t even skip a beat; he had a new girl friend three weeks after he broke up Aubrey. I packed some of her things up and made it look like she ran away; I guess I did a pretty good job. The cops came around a few times and asked some questions; but they never found anything.

I didn’t stick around in that town for to much longer. I bought some land out in the country a few thousand miles away from where we were; I got a pretty good price on it, the lady felt sorry for me because I was basically raising Anthony on my own.

“He is a good boy; he has his momma’s green eyes,” she said. “Poor girl, it’s a shame how badly she was injured in that car accident.” She looked at Aubrey with real sweet sad eyes, “But it’s real nice of you to take care of her, even though she strapped into that wheel chair and all.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said with my completely fake country accent, “She has some slight brain damage, but I still love her, and I know she loves me.”

Digging Deeper into Hell

By Jennifer Williams 

I’m digging deeper every day
Where sweat and blood inlay
It is my grave
I’m creeping closer to the edge
I turn my gaze unto the ledge
The plunder I do dread
I smooth my way across thin ice
Until my weight will suffice
In its womb I’ll lie
How much longer will I run
Until this masquerade be done?
What is just?
How much further is the fall?
How much longer shall I crawl?
Longer than I aught?
When will the dirt cave in?
How long ‘til I lie within
Hell’s molten pit?

I Am Alone

By Christy Speca 

I am alone. I wander through a maze of people;
I am surrounded by crowds everywhere I go.
I am in the midst of many people, but I am not one of them.
I am alone.
I am called a social butterfly.
My memory contains more stories and secrets than my
Mouth can share. I am alone.
People track me down as a shoulder to cry on,
A sounding board for new ideas,
A wealth of advice or just an ear to listen.
Where I go I am followed. I am alone.
Quiet escapes me, but still I am alone.
My acquaintances are better people who live better lives.
I can be counted on not to judge
I am a buffer when difficult topics arise
I am thanked, I am respected, I am applauded.
I am alone.
Isolated in thought and dream, my mind wanders
I am searching for something, something more.
I am alone.
I am the Great Salt Lake where no being can survive.
I am constantly being poured into, but there is no overflow.
I am the dam, nowhere for my grief and pain to flow
I am alone.
I am an actress. I excel in what ever role is needed.
I settle for apathy. And through it all,
I am alone.

In the Life of a Tree

By Tatyana Sumakova 

What is in a tree?
But beauty in and of itself,
Only time can tell what it has seen,
The light that sins and gives life away,
Throughout the day things begin to play,
Squirrels chase one another in glee,
And birds chirp away,
As the day goes on and things begin to fray,
And children come home from play,
A young couple decides to stay,
Under the tree they pray,
That the beauty, the peace, the love they have to keep.
As new turns to old,
And time will not hold,
We all must move on,
So a new day may unfold.
So this is the beauty within the tree,
For it will hold things untold.

Just How Dangerous is an Open Heart?

By Coral La Rosa 

Open hearts shatter quickly, since we expose them so anxiously.
Fooled by a promise of eternity.
Waiting to be swept away not considering what must be given in exchange.
Though we think they beat consistently, they’ll never be the same.
After a heartbreak that shakes them to the core.
After a truth they know they can’t ignore.
Will a heart so badly maimed ever find its way?
To true love and a happily ever after that only dreams can portray.
Just how dangerous is an open heart?
They can lead you to realize that you’ll always end up right back at the start.

Kill Yourself

By Jennifer Williams

Domino sat her head against the brick wall, a cigarette in hand.  She sucked in the thick, sweet smoke, and felt it absorb into her lungs like nymphs on parade.  She blew out again.  Fuck life, she thought, fuck it all. She felt the word “Fuck” protrude from her body filled with hate, and pass her quivering cold lips in a smoky whisper.  She imagined her family inside the funeral home all talking pointlessly, some crying, but one member did neither.  Her mother lay in an open coffin, pale and silent, with her thin bony hands setting upon her silky blue dress.  Domino flicked the butt away and stood up.  It was time.

In the room she stood.  Her heart was calm, her eyes bland and shallow.  Domino began her planned speech, “My mother really didn’t give a shit about you or anything else.  In some ways she was a bitch, in other ways an angel.  She’d hate the fact that all of you are sitting here wasting sentimentalities on her cold bony ass.  So get up!  Be gone!  Move on with your lives, whatever that may include.  Go make a million dollars.  Have children.  Get laid.  Go kill yourself for that matter, mom did and she was right to do so. But you come in here with no propriety. If you knew her you’d respect her by not showing up!  So get out of here.”  No one moved.

They watched her with ghastly pale faces and gaping mouths.  They sat there thinking in passionate frenzies.  Domino stared at the living corpses waiting edgily in their seats with growing disgust, some of their eyes equally cast upon her. With tears on her red blotchy face she stepped down from the podium and strode to the door. They watched her quietly. Reaching for the handle and gripping it tightly, she pried the door open. The cold wind made her wet face tingle. The slam behind her seemed to echo through the room of momentarily lifeless drones, then a soft voice asked in puzzlement, “I thought her mother died from lung cancer?”

A fat lady leaned over and replied, “She did.”

Pen in Hand

By Theresa McMillan

What would John Lennon say today?
He would still say, “Give peace a chance.”
Let’s end this ridiculous political dance
With pen in hand
He would say, “All you need is love”
Why is it so hard for you?
Just look at what the world’s going through
War is not the answer to look to
Come on let’s have the new revolution
With the idea of love as the solution
With pen in hand
John would say, “Why can’t you understand?”
Yes, we are all from different countries
But inside we are all the same
So let us stop playing these mind games
John would say,
“We all need to stop hiding our love away”
With pen in hand he would still write what he believed
Nothing would change John in the 21st century