The List

He walked into the club. It looked the same as every other cub he had been too. It stank of alcohol and sweat. It was dark except for the dim house lights over the bars or the strobes flashing on the dance floor. He was alone, dressed in a black button up shirt and jeans. He paid the cover charge, not noticing the girl taking the money or the bouncer stamping his wrist. The girl noticed him though, and immediately wondered what it would be like to kiss his full lips.

He strode into the club, all confidence. He was alone but knew it wouldn’t be for long. He didn’t notice the girls staring at him. With his Eastern European features, dark hair and bad boy vibe, he was every girls dream in the club. Not that he acted that way, it just hung about him like a shroud.

He walked to the bar and ordered a coke. Inside he recoiled as the stench of freshly spilled alcohol hit his nose. It wasn’t obvious to anyone looking at him but the stench of the alcohol bought back dark memories. His face hardened, only making him more desirable. A predator among willing prey.

The girls smiled and tried to catch his eye. None of them were brave enough to approach him yet. He smiled back, softening his features, making him appear more approachable. Nothing screams more desirable than the mixture of dark and with a hint of light. Like a wounded animal with hope of being rehabilitated.

A monster with a soul.

The girls lapped up his presence, trying hard to get his attention. He didn’t notice. He scanned the crowd. He knew what he was looking for and knew she would find him. He held pleasant conversation with those who approached him. He didn’t realize, but he made them feel special. When someone spoke to him his full attention was on them. For the¬†fleeting moment that he was talking to them, they were someone special, interesting and most important of all, they were seen. He made them feel more alive than they cared to admit. All the girls fell a little in love with him. His mannerisms, enthusiasm and comfortable enjoyment of life was contagious. Even the guys liked him despite that their girlfriends were fawning over him.

Occasionally he was left alone, and the darkness set back in. He was biding his time, waiting for the girl who would catch his attention. He had spotted a couple of potentials but nothing concrete. He was patient. He let his anger seethe. He watched the writhing bodies on the dance floor. The gyrating hips and alcohol induced inhibition made him sick. He wanted to grab everyone and shake them, shouting at them for being so false. Instead he ordered another coke.

Just then a girl leaned over and asked for a¬†Cheeky Cranberry Brutal Fruit. “You don’t mind paying, do you”, she beamed at him. A winning smile. She knew what she wanted and knew she was going to get it. “Not at all”. He had found her. The one who thought she deserved his attention. He had seen her flirting with all the boys, getting them to buy her drinks. He had watched her practically strip tease on the dance floor. She was everything he loathed. She used people and didn’t care about the consequences. Used people like him. Even as he shot her a smile, he could feel the loathing of his past come up. Every single moment he had ever been used, cheated on and tossed aside only to be reeled back in was focused on this girl in front of him.

He sat and listened to her talk for about an hour. He was attentive, telling her what she wanted to hear and sympathetic to her needs. Eventually she leaned into him, full of confidence. “Do you want to get out of here?”. She knew she wasn’t going to be rejected, she knew she had him. “Would you like to come back to my place?” She beamed at him. He walked her to his car. The entire car ride she spoke, she was suggestive and his rage grew.

When they arrived at his apartment he opened the door for her, letting her enter his domain. He closed the door behind him as she stood awkwardly in his dark apartment. She was starting to get nervous now. It was easy to be confident in the club, but here it was harder. She needed another drink but it didn’t seem like he was going to offer her anything. A lick of fear went down her spine turning her cold and he stalked towards her. He didn’t kiss her, just turned her around and pushed her against the wall pulling her hair back to expose her neck. He bit her, hard. She whimpered in pain. “I know exactly what you need” He whispered in her ear.

He led her forcefully to the bedroom and threw her on the bed. It took him seconds to undress, and while she was stunned at the chiseled sight of his body and sheer size of him, he ripped her clothes off. He wasn’t gentle. There was no foreplay. In a flash he had a condom on and his rage fueled the sex. He didn’t hear her pleas, he didn’t care whether she was enjoying it or not. He just pounded into her, punishing her for all her sins and the sins of every girl in his past. She clawed at him and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he could be hurting her. She deserved this.

Once it was over there were tears in her eyes, her make up smudged all over her face. He called her a cab, and she asked if she would be seeing him again. She asked it meekly, half dreading the answer. She was unsure what just happened but was not going to show it. When the cab arrived she grabbed her torn and broken clothes and left. It would take her a long time to heal from the experience she didn’t know how to define. She had wanted him, and she had gotten what she wanted. She just didn’t know why she felt so used and broken inside.

He watched her leave then sat on his bed. He breathed in deep and went to go make himself a coffee. The shower he took was scalding hot, washing away any trace of what happened. He was disgusted at himself for what he had done, and no amount of scrubbing seemed to make him clean. He climbed into bed, hating the smell of the sex that he had just had.

He threw his arm over his face, closed his eyes and knew that sleep was going to evade him.

She was number fifty four.

And he had forgotten to get her name.