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Julissa Burns
Short and sweet. I fold the paper and tuck it into the zippered pocket at the front of my carry-on before heading downstairs to grab my briefcase of blades and I walk through my front door, leaving it wide open behind me, without a backward glance. I use the car remote to disable the alarm on my black, sleek car, tossing the bag and briefcase inside before hopping in and taking off at lightning speed.
My first stop is at the local news station. I put on a balaclava since I’ve got to play the cat and mouse game if the chase is going to be worth anything. I walk through the glass doors of the tiled, disinfectant and air freshener filled establishment that’s empty except for the woman at the front desk who makes out to scream when she first sees me. But I show her my gun, which does the trick of helping me to silence her. I hand her my letter, all folded up and I make my way out of the news station, walking backwards with my gun trained on her before taking off and running toward my car.
I’ve got to admit, I’m having fun, even if I don’t deserve to. I can’t help the fact that I love this shit and just the idea of being this close to being caught has added to my already pumping adrenaline, teasing the line between full on psychotic mania and just pure excitement. I hop into the driver's seat through my opened window and take off at full speed, heading toward my next location. The wind plays with my hair and it feels like a good moment to listen to some music so I take my eyes off the road to search the radio station to find a song I can sing along to but I find nothing but some boring fucking shit and it’s on the verge of killing my vibe. I can’t have that. I look up just in time to see a group of adults crossing the road and I swerve just in time to not hit them, almost crashing in the car that I come up behind but I manage to get back into my lane and continue as I was. I start laughing because for some fucking reason I find that near tragedy hilarious, considering what I have in mind.
Okay, so I shouldn’t fucking take my eyes off the road while speeding down a potentially busy street. Noted. I feel around the console next to me for my USB cord and I reach over to the passenger seat for my phone. I try to use my teeth to insert the cord into the phone’s tiny hole but I’m failing. I’m going to need both hands. I turn onto the highway, assessing the distance between cars before letting go of my steering wheel, still driving pretty fast but it’s cool, I know how close I am and this won’t take more than a few seconds. I use those few seconds to look into the hole to make sure that I’m putting it in correctly. Aha! Got it! I grab the steering wheel with one hand, glancing between the road and the dashboard, attaching the other end before searching for my favorite song and blasting it on the car stereo until it’s almost deafening, singing along to it as loud as I can.
The wind whips into my mouth as I sing and I stick my tongue out to taste the dirty Las Vegas air as I make my way to my next destination.
Chapter 33
Snow
I’mbeinggrippedbymy hair as a man thrusts himself into my mouth. He shoves himself so far down my throat, I’m being suffocated and I think I might pass out. My hands fly out to push him off me but this only motivates him to slam my head down on his gross thing. I told him when he arrived that I don’t do oral but he decided that’s what he wants to pay for and decided to take it anyway. I tried to fight him off but the pain in my belly, ribs and back made me an easy bitch for him to overpower.
The man shakes above me and before I can fathom what’s about to happen, warm liquid shoots down my throat and I can feel it slide into my belly. I gag but he doesn’t pull himself out of me. Tears of rage and helplessness come running from my eyes as I start to vomit over him. This excites him even more and he moves himself against the vomit in my mouth before pulling himself out as I continue to be ill. When I look back up, he’s walking away without a care in the world.
“Hey!” I shout at him. “Come back here, you didn’t pay fucker!” I spit as the saltiness of him remains in my mouth. I try to go after him but only end up falling to my knees again in pain as more vomit ejects from my body. Julissa’s recruits look at me with disgust as I pull myself over to them, telling them that I need the bathroom to wash my mouth out. They look me over as if deciding that it would be in the best interest of the ‘business’ to let me do so before I greet other clients.
“Clean that shit off your shirt, too,” one of them says and I look down in horror, expecting to see the man’s essence on me but it’s mostly just throw-up.
I start walking toward a bar where the owner knows me, but the recruits don’t know that. His name’s Mitch.
I’m seething with hatred for Julissa and these bitches. How could I have ever thought I had feelings for that bitch when it’s because of her why I’ve been subjected to this? To have a fucking bitchass stinking ass shitfucker push himself inside of me. I keep spitting himself from my mouth, hoping that throwing up earlier has emptied him from my body. I’m trying not to swallow because I don’t want more of him to keep moving through my body.
I see Mitch at the counter serving drinks and laughing with the customers and I duck so that he can’t see me yet. I don’t know what’s on my face and I don’t want him to know what just happened. I’m gripping my ribs as I stumble toward the bathroom.
“Back the fuck up,” I say to the person next in line as I step past them and close the fucking door. In the mirror, I can see specks of white in my stubble and slap at it with my hand, turning the pipe on and rubbing my face with great aggression. I can see it turning red even under the sharp hair there. I grab a fucking paper towel from the dispenser and wet it with some soap as I try to dab the evidence of my night away before I pour some of the soap into my mouth, swishing it around with water, gargling it as far back into my throat as I can allow the water to go. I repeat it as many times as I can until I get to the point where I no longer feel like cutting my tongue and my whole fucking mouth off.
I stand under the dryer as it dries the wet spot on my shirt and the smell of the semen filled vomit remains waft up to my nose. I’m going to need a few fucking shots of alcohol to disinfect my insides. Before I leave the bathroom, I lift my shirt up to check out my bruises turned black and blue now. I hate what this woman has done to me. I don’t care what she says, I don’t deserve this. Fuck her. She almost had me fooled. At one point, I believed that I did because I was blinded by her bullshit but no more. If I can get out of here tonight, I’m going to give it my damned fucking best shot.
I fix my hair and throw the bathroom door open, wincing as I start walking toward the counter, unable to stop myself from holding my ribs although I’d have preferred if I didn’t show weakness. But at this point, my only concern is survival.
Mitch spots me and our eyes make four as he’s about to greet me aloud. My eyes peel open and I bring my index finger up as fast as I can to signal to him to shut the fuck up. He looks at me confused as I walk over to the counter, making sure that the recruits aren’t seeing me move through the crowd. I let out a deep exhale when I manage to not get caught.
“Where the fuck have you been?” my buddy asks. I mean, we’re not really buddies. But we know of each other and we’ve watched each other’s backs because I used to have quite the reputation. I don’t want him to think I don’t still have that reputation. I’d rather kill him than have him find out about what’s happening to me.
He looks at me. “You got people after you?” he says. He’s the kinda dude that minds the business that serves him. If it doesn’t concern him and put him or the ones he cares about in danger, he doesn’t give a shit. So I’m not surprised word has gotten back to him about seeing me on the street or some shit like that.
“Something like that. It’s a fucking long story. I’ll tell you about it if you can hit me with some vodka shots,” I tell him, putting up three fingers.
He nods and slides three shots toward me. As I take the first one and I’m about to take the other, I turn to see Julissa’s picture on the screen.
“Turn that up,” I tell him, pointing to the T.V.
Suspect at large, Julissa Burns, believed to be responsible for the deaths of law enforcement officers as well as government officials she’s now confessed to, has declared war on the city of Las Vegas…”
Everything fades to silence. What the fuck is she doing? I find myself overcome with fear for her and I swear at myself. Fuck the bitch. I down the second shot, rubbing my head as I eye the back door to my possible freedom. I don’t care about the demon that is Julissa Burns. I down the third shot. Fuckkk!! I’m lying. Shit! I hate the fact that I’m moving toward the recruits because I want them to take me back to her.
They’re frozen, looking at the screen as well before one of them spots me and grabs me by the arm, pulling me out the door as they make contact with the other recruits to bring the pimps back to the facility because Julissa’s in trouble.
However, when we get there, she’s nowhere to be found. After an hour of chaos, with everyone running around in panic and they’ve locked all of us pimps in the auditorium, I hear Julissa’s voice echoing outside the doors. “Let me go!!! Put me down!!” I climb on a chair to look through the tiny glass square in the door to see Julissa being pulled into the facility by about six recruits holding her up by her arms and legs. Her voice fades as they take her into the elevator and carry her somewhere else.
Several hours pass before some of the recruits return to get us and take us back to our cells. I don’t sleep the whole night, hoping that she comes to me, but she doesn’t. It’s not until night time when we’re being taken to the showers that I spot her walking past us, her eyes blood red as if she hadn’t slept the night before either.
“Julissa!” I yell.
