The Woman-Hater:
Even before she opened her mouth Helmuth felt that she would fit perfectly. When she told her phone number to the sales clerk in the computer shop he felt like dancing a rig there and then. Of course he didn't do it as he knew only too well that what he needed now was to keep as anonymous and, preferably, as invisible as possible. In the secrecy of a more quiet corner of the shop he made a note of the phone number. That same evening he phoned her.
The insecure tone of her voice, and the slight stuttering annoyed him enough to give him the boost he had been looking for. "Miss Jones?" He asked.
"Yes," she answered in a weak voice as if it was very exhausting to have to answer such a question.
"I'm pleased to tell you that the scarf you lost in the shop this afternoon has been found."
"Scarf? I don't understand."
- No, he thought, I'm sure you don't, silly broad.
"Well, you complained about a scarf missing after having bought your new computer - by the way, congratulations on an excellent choice - and I took this grey-blue-greenish scarf tht we found to be the one."
"No-no, that's a mistake, I never complained about anything and I didn't lose a scarf."
- I guess you're right, you milksop, he thought.
"Oh, but anyway, it belongs to you ..."
"What do you mean?"
"It will fit your neck just fine ..."
"I don't understand ..."
"Tied in a knot, of course, you ugly slut!"
"What - what - who is this?"
The only answer she got was his hoarse laughter - the "donkey", as his sister Sally always called it when she was alive - and the sound of him hanging up on her.
All that evening he congratulated himself on a well-done job of scaring a silly bitch, of having made her life a misery, and then this success was only for starters. Laying on his unkempt bed, watching some porn flic featuring his favorite actress JJ, the queen of S/M, he couldn't help gloating at it: This felt worthwhile, this felt like an exploit and he himself felt like Superman. Safe within his intricate electronic security shields he was sure that this job would end well for him.
As to the woman, Lisa Lind, whom Helmuth had phoned then she stood up right after this conversation with the stranger. She had been lying down, feeling nauseated after a strenous day with chemo and also a visit to the computer shop, but luckily enough she had succeeded in slumbering a little. Then this evil, but not unpleasant male voice had brought her back to reality. At least sort of as she still was stunned with the episode. She took for granted that it was a prank by some older teenager, but wondered how she had been targeted by him and why. What had she done to deserve this treatment, had she offended him without knowing it - even without knowing him? She couldn't think of anything she had done and ended up more or less shrugging it off. Then she phoned her sister, Eileen, and told her about it.
"What did he say?!" Eileen asked in shock.
"Well, it was a joke, I'm sure, but he wanted to put a scarf around my neck and then tie it in a knot."
"Gosh, let's report it to the police. After all it's a threat of murdering you ..."
"No," Lisa said, "it's someone young and stupid ... besides, I think it's something about mixed identities because I don't know anyone who would do this to me."
That's what she kept thinking until her one and only meeting with Helmuth some days later. Then she regretted having allowed herself the luxury of not taking care of herself.
Helmuth read greedily what he found about the case in the newspapers. All of them brought reports of the mystery-man who had phoned the victim. Also they wrote profusedly about her tough life with an abusive husband and also cancer. It seemed that she had lost her two young children in a terrible accident and when Helmuth read that he winced with regret. Oh yes, she had been a small, grey Miss Mouse, but that was because of her life situation, not of whom she really was. He hated to admit it to himself, but not even Lisa was his dreamgirl, the one and only he would love to kill as slowly as possible.
At the funeral - which he didn't dare to attend - there was another woman who resembled his feminine ideal of subjection and timidness. He saw her in the newspaper reports and caught on to her at once: Eileen Westwood, the older sister of the late Lisa Lind, what a milksop-face, what doggie-eyes and what a bent slave-neck, yes, she was the one. When he realized this he began his research on her and her daily life. She seemed to live by herself in a large flat which pointed to a life of affluence. As far as he could see she seldom had visits, but sometimes a big, handsome police officer came to see her. He was obviously younger than her and he took for granted that he was a secret lover or something like that. Not a nice thought, but basically he didn't care because it wasn't her virginity he was after, but her very soul.
When he googled Eileen he found out that she was a writer and translator of children's books. She had quite a reputation and he bought a couple of her books, but found that he didn't like these stories about a brave and strong girl who felled criminals and even outsmarted murderers. No, that wasn't exactly his dreamgirl, on the contrary, she was everything he abhorred as un-feminine.
After having bought his way to Eileen's phone number from those who used to furnish him with a lot of his informations he decided to give her a ring. He pretended to be a Canadian publisher who was very interested in her books and to his own surprise he succeeded in extolling the characteristics of her female wonder-girl-character. In reality he detested her more than ever because she did everything nice girls shouldn't be able to do if he had his say.
Eileen told him off. She already had a Canadian publisher and had no plans of finding someone else. He could have cried when he heard that because her voice was the exact right Mousy-quality that he was after. - Well, he thought when he hung up, this one isn't as easy as her sister although she looks stupid and weak enough to be just that.
Next time he phoned her was almost a month later and she recognized his voice at once so she hung up on him. That enraged him. "The bitch!" he yelled in his lonely home. "The damn slut!" However, now he understood that this wasn't going to be as easy as with Lisa or any of her predecessors. He decided to go and see her within some days and he planned everything about their meeting, just like he always did. When he went on his visit he was dressed all in black and he had put on some brownish make-up-foundation so that he wasn't as conspicuous in the moonlight. Then he set out to break in as he had done so often before. The door wasn't any problem, but the small dog, yelping at him, he had had to stop by way of breaking its neck. It didn't feel as right as he liked dogs and he blamed Eileen for him having to kill this cute pet in order to get into her flat. "Damn bitch, made me do it!" he murmured beyond his breath.
After this unfortunate incident he got inside and soon he came to the door of her bedroom. On entering he found a big bed with something that looked like a human frame on it. In a few steps he reached it and, turning his flashlight on, he grabbed hold of the person in the bed. To his utter dismay he found that what he was holding was a clever build up of blankets and a duvet - and that the one he was looking after was standing right behind him with a gun to his spine. "Hello there," she said in her weak girlie-voice, "found anything interesting?" The darkened room suddenly was flooden in light as she turned on the electric light in the ceiling.
"Bitch, slut, whore," he yelped, besides himself with rage at this turn of the screw.
"Exactly," she said, "only this time it's male, you prick."
He was taken aback with dismay. To him a woman who was talking to a man in such a way, using such words, was like something out of a nightmare. Never had he heard such words uttered by one of the weaklings he love-hated. No, never, and when she told him to kneel down and to put his hands behind his head to be handcuffed he was so surprised that he simply obeyed her. This was beyond anything, but when she asked him whether he was the one who had beaten her beloved sister to death then he refused to answer her and she simply had to shoot him in the knee-cap - in "self-defence" as she put it. That episode made him very talkative and before long he had told her what she wanted to know. Then she also had to hit him over the head - another instance of "self-defence" - before she phoned the brother of Lisa and herself, the police-officer he had seen her with. Strangely enough he too had to defend himself against the bleeding, crying and begging murderer of their beloved sister. His blow to the wound in his knee made him scream and so did his blow to his head-wound. After that everything went blank on blank until he awoke in his bed in the prison-hospital, handcuffed and guarded by two police-officers who both had known the late Lisa and had liked her so much that they had volunteered to look after her murderer ...
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Originally Posted On Site: 2010-02-28 14:47:16
Last Login: 05.24.12
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