Sex and Murder Magazine

By Rich Mallery

It all started with a mouse named Dexter.

Other than the beige freckles scattered around his right eye, Dexter was the color of chalk-dust. His owner Lucky also shared the same blizzard complexion, except when she was upset. Then her cheeks would puff out and deep pink blotches would rise on them in uneven clumps. Her hair was just as pale as her skin tone, and under poor lighting it often appeared a ghostly white.

Normally, Dexter slept days, but every now and then he’d poke his head out from the chest pocket of Lucky’s smock dress and sniffle. His whiskers were also white except for one, which was jet black and longer then the rest. As a tribute to Dexter, Lucky gave herself one black highlight, and often tailed it to the side so it stuck out in an awkward spike.

Some people, like the nose-ringed punks in Linda Kasabian’s circle, thought Dexter was adorable. They’d pet his fur and melt while Lucky silently prayed for them to go away. But not Roxy Carson.

Still, although she detested rodents, Roxy in no way condoned what happened to Dexter. It’s true she didn’t raise a manicured fingernail to stop Kal Anderson from slamming Lucky’s pet into the blackboard, but Roxy was a strict vegan and wouldn’t wish harm on any creature no matter how vile she found them. One time, her mom mistakenly served her rigatoni with meat sauce. That dinner came to an abrupt end when the full plate flew past Mrs. Carson’s head into the dining room wall.

Roxy had calmed since then. Her hair, no longer glued in violet liberty spikes, was now naturally tangerine and often casually braided behind her. Tired of rebellion, she exchanged her shredded jeans and flannels for miniskirts and cardigans, which opened up a whole new world of popularity for her. She still painted shocking red circles around her eyes, a bizarre touch, which gave her an edge over her conservative classmates. When the senior boys did their traditional poll, out of the hundred and forty eligible girls, Roxy was voted third most desired lay.

Now seeing Lucky cry was nothing new. Lucky’s eyes were perpetual buckets waiting to dump tears down her sharp cheekbones and on the day of “The Dexter incident,” she’d already rivered the class before when Sal Armstrong smeared rubber cement in her hair. But Roxy had recently lost her pit-bull, to stomach cancer and even though a mouse wasn’t a typical pet, she sympathized with how Lucky must’ve felt watching her best friend die.

When Lucky kneeled to scrape Dexter off the floor, Roxy’s heart plummeted into her colon. But instead of exploding, Lucky dropped the tiny, white lump back into her pocket and sat at her desk. Minutes before, her thick eyebrows were sweaty black caterpillars pasted to her temple. But now, Lucky stared into the blackboard with vacant, pinhole-sized pupils. Her nervous tics were gone, and instead of dragging her buckteeth on her chapped lower lip like she always did, her mouth stayed glued shut, and her jaw cadaver still.

Roxy stayed behind to comfort Lucky, but was little help. Roxy even had words with Gloria Haspern, the bull who owned Lucky’s desk the following period. When Lucky refused to move, Gloria threatened to drag her by her split ends. Roxy was only four foot six, but even Gloria knew the story about Donna Garcia, the freshman whose jaw Roxy permanently dislocated with a math textbook, and she immediately backed down.

Roxy’s next class was Spanish, which she rarely attended, but instead of smoking blunts with Sullivan and his crew; she sped home to bury her face into her pillow. She wasn’t the emotional type but she couldn’t escape the haunting montage of memories flooding her brain including the time in the sixth grade when Lucky had her first period. After Roxy spiked a volleyball into Lucky’s chest, an orange stain grew on the crotch of her white sweats. Confused, Lucky stood there silent, but instead of helping her to the locker room to change, Roxy and her friends dragged Lucky to the boy’s side of the gym so they could ridicule her. Eventually, the teacher intervened, leaving Lucky a traumatized mess, trembling under the bleachers.

*****

Water trickled from a leak in the ceiling, but as thirsty as Roxy was, she refused to press her cheek to the wall to catch it. The last time she did, an insect crawled into her mouth. When she reflexively swallowed, her throat closed and trapped the bug. Its tiny limbs tickled her esophagus as it wrestled to break free. Panicking, she shoved her fingers past her gums and tapped her punching bag until she vomited.

Roxy wasn’t sure how long she’d been chained to the wall. Since Lucky slammed the basement door shut, she couldn’t decipher between dream and reality. The next minute she was back in the darkness with a colony of cockroaches pattering between her feet.

Roxy reached out and touched the brick wall behind her. She traced a checkered pattern along the cement and winced. Her nails were chewed down to stumps and a layer of skin peeled off as she dragged her fingertips. Wrapping her mangled hands around the chain, Roxy gave a desperate tug and fell on her ass. The links clanked against each other but didn’t budge. The cuffs above her ankles dug into her Achilles tendons.

“Let me out of here, you cunt,” she rasped.

Even if she could produce a sound above a whisper, Roxy knew it was useless. Upstairs had been quiet ever since the last time Lucky checked on her. That was when Roxy threw a rock at her head. She missed, and instead of leaving a welt on Lucky’s forehead, the stone bounced harmlessly off the staircase behind her.

Roxy blinked and tasted sweet strawberry slush on her tongue.

*****

“That was intense.”

Sullivan slid his elbows behind his head. He exhaled, blowing strands of Roxy’s hair into his eyes. Too exhausted to brush them away, he let them tickle his eyelids as his hard-on wilted.

“That was nothing,” Roxy purred into her pillow.

“I mean it, sex with you is like an out-of-body experience. Seriously, we fuck how it was meant to be done. Our pieces fit together like a puzzle or something.”

“Then you’ll do that favor for me?”

Roxy wasn’t used to begging. With boys all she had to do was playfully chew on her lower lip and her wish was their command. But what she desired this time was more than her phone bill paid or the jewelry displayed in the Armed and Dangerous window.

Sullivan butted a Marlboro in a paper cup and lit another. It was his last, but he offered it to Roxy. Luckily for him, she was still breathless and waved it away with her clammy hand. Tonight she’d put on a real show, like she always did when she wanted something.

“I love you,” he said, twirling his finger around her right nipple. “But there’s no way I’m taking that horror movie to prom.”

Roxy bit down on her tongue and gently rubbed her thumb down the center of his creased abs. She exhaled a fake sigh and breathed heat on his neck.

“Come on, I know you don’t give a cold shit about prom. After the limo drops you off, you’ll still come home to this,” Roxy purred, squeezing his shaft. “Think of it as pregame only instead of running drills you’ll be dancing with a poor girl who’s probably never had her tits felt.”

Sullivan closed his eyes and moaned. Roxy pressed her wet lips to his ribcage. He exhaled smoke rings into her hair.

“I’ll still wear the dress you bought me,” she said, sliding her head closer to his waist. “Of course if you don’t take her, you won’t be the boy who takes it off.”

Typically after sex, all Sullivan wanted to do was crash, but Roxy had dynamite between her thighs and could spin webs that would tempt the devil himself.

“Say I’m down,” he stuttered. Roxy pecked soft kisses on the center of his piece, making him forget the sentence forming in his mind. “She’ll never go for it.”

*****

The ceiling trembled as Lucky stomped her imitation Doc Martens above, raining tiny asbestos chips on Roxy’s scalp. Roxy imagined sticking out her tongue and catching them like snowflakes. She slammed her fist into the ceiling releasing another blizzard on her forehead.

Her ankles were busted but she was able to stand by leaning against the wall. Roxy held her breath and shifted her weight onto her left leg. Lucky had smashed a hammer into that ankle only once, but it was still damaged and had swelled so badly, a softball sized lump throbbed under her flesh.

Footsteps stomped again overhead. On the other side of the wall, a door creaked open, disturbing a family of mice. They marched quickly into different corners of the room.

*****

“I tried and she said “No,’” Sullivan mumbled, chomping into a green apple. As he crunched, juice drooled from his lips. When he wasn’t feeding, he was one of the hottest guys in school, but when he was, his table manners bordered on caveman etiquette.

It was Friday, so he was wearing his football jersey. Although he’d recently undergone reconstructive surgery on his knee, he continued wearing his uniform on game days. Bloodstains had faded into brown starfish shapes surrounding the gold lion’s head, the team’s symbol that was plastered everywhere throughout their school. Sullivan even had this grotesque image tattooed on his bicep, only it more closely resembled a bulldog’s head than a lions’.

Roxy adjusted the red Lycra headband she wore the first Monday of every month and slammed her locker shut. Instead of her usual ponytail, her tangerine-hair was clipped up in a ragged bun. She freed it with one motion and let it settle on her shoulders. She tied it back with her gloved right hand and cupped the crotch of Sullivan’s jeans with the other.

“Well, you’re going to have to be more persuasive then.”

She turned on her heels and stomped down the crowded hallway. Sullivan waited until she turned the corner before he dropped his smile.

Lucky ditched the rest of the week, so Sullivan had to wait until Saturday to ask again. Creeping down Olive Drive, he expected Lucky’s house to stand out from the rest, a stucco eyesore surrounded by a waist-high weed forest. He was floored when he pulled up to number four and saw a beige, two-family Victorian that blended into the block as if it were part of a television commercial. The mailbox even had a sparrow couple painted on the side, although the yellow had chipped off leaving the birds without beaks.

He squinted through the boxy windows trying to catch a glimpse at the living room. Before his eyes could dissolve the glare, the door opened.

“What do you want?” Lucky groaned. Her hair, still wet from the shower, stained the shoulders of her sweater with dark circles. She blinked behind a pair of oversized librarians, which magnified her eyes so that they were giant ovals popping off of her face.

“I apologize if I came off awkward the other day,” Sullivan stuttered, more nervous of Roxy’s wrath than Lucky’s rejection.

“Apology accepted,” she snarled. “Now, are we done?”

“Not until you agree to go to prom with me.”

“Why? So you and your friends can dump pig’s blood on my tits and laugh? I’d rather stay home and watch CSI.”

“No. Because I want you to be my date.”

“You’ll have to excuse me for questioning your sincerity, but unfortunately boys like you have made an industry out of torturing me. Now, I have a jungle of chores to do, so if you don’t mind leaving, I’d appreciate it.”

“Wait,” Sullivan shouted, grabbing the closing door. “Give me thirty seconds and then you can spit in my face if you don’t like what I say.”

“Tempting. You’ve got thirty. Go.”

“When I blew out my knee, I was a disaster. But you, the world shits on you constantly and you keep fighting. I admire your strength. It makes you beautiful. Well, more beautiful, anyway.”

“Wow, I’m strong and beautiful,” Lucky mimicked, semi-circling her eyes. “Yet I spend every weekend alone in my room glue-sticking collages and overdosing on green tea.”

“You are. You have no idea. If I had to battle an ounce of what you do, they’d have scraped my spleen off an interstate years ago. I’ve never told anyone this, but when the doctor said I was benched for the season, I spent the next two days in the closet with my grandpa’s shotgun.”

“Congrats, you’re emo. How do I know you’re not trying to trick me into blowing my savings on some dress and a haircut so that you can trash me in front of everyone?”

“Here.” Sullivan reached behind his head and removed the chained dog tags hanging around his neck. He held them in his palms and spoke softly. “My dad got these in Nam. You wouldn’t know this, but he passed last March from throat cancer. They mean more to me than anything.” Sullivan grabbed Lucky’s wrist and forced open her fist. The tags clanked against each other as he closed her fingers. “Come with me and if you don’t have an amazing time, keep them. You can throw them in the river if you want.”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, I’m not heeling you to hook you. I just want to take you to prom.”

*****

Any illusions that Sullivan might’ve had about Lucky not being a complete embarrassment were shattered the moment she answered the door. With bright blue makeup smeared across her face and a hideous pumpkin-colored dress hanging off her shoulders, it was obvious that Lucky was clueless about going out. Her pomped-up hairstyle was equally as trainwreck. For the occasion she’d decided to go all black, only she missed several key spots, leaving behind random clumps of pale yellow.

“You look,” Sullivan paused, pinning a rosy carnation above her right breast, trying not to stare at the hives rising on her flesh. “Amazing.”

Lucky exhaled peppermint and smiled, flashing a row of lipstick-matted teeth. Squeezing his hand, she almost fell over twice, tripping over a pair of glittery, canary-colored heels. When the driver shut the limo doors, Sullivan immediately choked on the flowery perfume soaking through her dress fabric.

Lucky’s nerves were a black cloud hovering over them both, but Sullivan remembered the porn star blowjob Roxy gave him earlier and squirmed to adjust his boxers. On the football field, he was constantly staring down gorillas. If he could handle that, than he could handle this. He glanced at his date and caught her scratching her kneecaps. Tiny red drops rose to the surface as she broke skin.

Sullivan grabbed her sweaty hand. “Relax,” he comforted. “We’re gonna have fun, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Lucky leaned her head on his shoulder and drifted away. Over the past four days she’d slept a total of twenty minutes, spending long blocks of time preparing for whatever trap Sullivan had set for her. But now, savoring his kiwi-scented shampoo, Lucky felt like this was meant to be.

Sullivan and Lucky spent most of the night conversing at their table, which made Lucky happy. Although her stories went nowhere, Sullivan was surprised how entertaining Lucky was. She had a knife-blade sense of humor and once she stopped chewing on her fingertips, she was quite engaging. Sullivan knew he’d never speak to her again since he was going away to college after the summer, and he regretted that he’d never given her a chance. Sure, Lucky was a reject, but she made him laugh and could’ve probably kept him out of summer school with her vast knowledge of biology.

Before they left, they danced one dance, and even though Lucky’s heels shredded the skin between his toes, the euphoric glow on her cheeks numbed the pain. When the date was over, Sullivan walked Lucky to her front door. The porch light buzzed as a trio of moths took turns slapping into the glass.

“I had a great time,” he said. Lucky’s eyes shivered. She sniffled roughly to keep nervous snot from trickling out of her nose.

“Me too,” she squeaked, biting the inside of her cheek. She closed her eyes and held her lips together. Sullivan had hoped to avoid this moment, but instead of destroying Lucky’s fantasy, he leaned in and met her mouth with a kiss.

Lucky melted and grabbed onto his hips to keep from tipping over. Sullivan grabbed her waist and pulled her close so that her thighs pressed into his. Their teeth smacked together clumsily, but neither of them flinched. When the kiss was over, Sullivan squeezed her shoulders and said good night.

Sullivan spent the rest of the night partying with Roxy, so when the doorbell chimed at nine the next morning, he was ready to tear someone’s head off. He probably could’ve ignored it, but Roxy couldn’t, and after ten minutes straight of hearing it, she lost it.

“I’m going to eviscerate someone,” she screeched into her pillow.

Sullivan jerked up a pair of boxers and stumbled to the doorway, stubbing his toe on an empty Smirnoff bottle. With the bitter taste of last night’s party on his tongue, he rubbed his eyes with the knuckle of his index finger before he opened the door.

“Morning, tiger,” Lucky chimed, her teeth still coated with red lipstick. There wasn’t a cloud for miles, but she was wrapped in a clear raincoat with the hood up. She’d scrubbed all of the makeup off her face except for a layer of jazz-blue eye shadow that she’d reapplied in peeling clumps.

“What are you doing here?” Sullivan mumbled.

“I brought lunch,” she offered, holding up a soggy brown bag. “I thought maybe we could picnic. I know a great spot. Bring cheap shoes though. The ground is covered in geese shit.”

“I can’t,” Sullivan said, shielding his eyes from the sun with his palm. “I have some stuff I got to do today.”

“The sun won’t set till at least seven. Will you be done by then? The sandwiches I made will still be edible. I’ll even steal a bottle of wine from my mother. It’ll be romantic.”

“Tonight’s not really good either. I promised my cousin I’d help him move. I won’t be back till late and then I’ll probably crash.”

Lucky sighed, crumpling the bag in her hands. “Tomorrow, then. I can come back.”

“Can’t. I have the dentist in the morning. I’m going to be all messed up.”

“Really? Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“My dentist’s a friend of the family. He’s doing a favor.”

“What are you getting done? A root canal? I’ll come by in the afternoon and take care of you.”

“That’s probably not the best idea.”

“Why? I don’t mind.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Sullivan’s brain throbbed inside his skull. His mouth, sensing the hangover stirring in his stomach, spoke for him. “I have to get ready.”

“Sure, later.” Lucky said, staring at the tips of her boots. Her eyes waited until the door closed before starting to burn.

*****

“Guess what,” Lucky chimed. Her voice was a commercial jingle bouncing off the basement walls. At her feet an electric lantern buzzed. She kicked at it with her toe and filled the room with an orange glow. “I think I’m pregnant.”

Roxy lifted the bowl at her feet and swallowed a gulp of warm water. It was tasteless, but Roxy imagined champagne bubbles tickling her tongue. To survive the past week, she’d invented all types of tricks to play on herself, including pretending she was in some secret grotto underneath a tropical island spa.

“It’s too early to tell, but I feel it inside me. Right now it’s a tiny ball of joy pulsating in my uterus. How long before it shows up on a pregnancy test? A slut like you must’ve had a few nervous morning afters. A week? Two weeks?”

“Fuck off,” Roxy coughed. She hadn’t spoken in days and her throat was coated by a layer of splinters. “Who’s the father? Some homeless guy you paid with your allowance?”

“Sullivan, silly, and believe me, I didn’t have to pay him.”

Lucky slid a handful of Polaroids across the floor. Roxy unpeeled them and saw headshots of Sullivan and Lucky. Although Lucky wore a stretched smile, Sullivan’s mouth was dropped open, his pupils two blank dimes hovering in the center of bloodshot whites.

“You have him chained too? Did you creep into his house while he was sleeping and drug him like you did to me? Whatever, even if you did, there’s no way he got hard for a mess like you.”

“You’d be surprised how human anatomy responds to the right seduction method. Sometimes all it takes are a few candles and some lingerie. Of course sometimes you have to threaten to sew a man’s balls to his legs.”

“You sick, demented bitch. You’re never going to get away with this.”

“Save the clichéd dialogue. It won’t help.”

“Whatever. I don’t know what your grudge against me is. I never did anything to you.”

“You’re my competition. When a threat enters a spider’s lair, what does the spider do? It eliminates the threat.”

“Now that you’re knocked up, there’s no competition. The game’s over. You won. Enjoy your prize. You can have him. Let me go and you two can live happily ever after.”

“Funny, when I told him that I’d only let one of you go, he said the same thing.” Lucky smiled and picked at the crumbs stuck between her two front teeth. “Please,” Lucky deepened her voice to match Sullivan’s husky tone, “untie me and you can do whatever you want to Roxy. I don’t care.” Lucky smirked, adjusting her voice back to her normal rasp. “Of course that was before I shredded his tongue with a nail file.”

“You see, there’s nothing between us.” Roxy swallowed another gulp of water and gagged. Although she’d never responded to one of Sullivan’s after-sex “I love yous,” her heart often paused whenever the subject of him leaving for college came up.

“Try all you want to bullshit me, but I know the truth. I saw the bitch stare you shot me when you found out that Sullivan and I made out. No, I know you have feelings for him, and that’s why I’m giving you a chance.”

“What are you babbling about?”

“I’ve been thinking.” Lucky paused and grinded her tongue underneath her molars. The lantern buzzed and dimmed again. Lucky kicked at it, knocking it over. The light flickered intermittently; creating a swirling orb that shrouded her face. “Since you were such a good samaritan and went out of your way to help someone less fortunate, than I should do something equally as altruistic. So, I’m giving you the opportunity to win your freedom.”

“Fine,” Roxy stomped. When she first woke up in the darkness she wasted every breath she could summon begging to be released. Now, she was through crying. What she desired most, even more than feeling the sun on her face again, was removing Lucky’s spleen with her bare hands.

*****

Sullivan and Roxy spent the rest of the day in bed with the shades down. Sullivan’s mom was away on business, so they were able to fill his bedroom with as much weed smoke as their lungs could exhale. The fridge was stocked so Roxy was able to throw together salads for lunch, and for dinner, rigatoni with olive oil and basil. The one thing they didn’t have was decent coffee.

When they finally stepped outside, before the sun even hit their faces, Lucky sprang from the bottom step. Her eyes, wired from lack of sleep, darted between them. Sullivan didn’t notice, but underneath her raincoat, a trail of urine dripped down her leg. The sides of her mouth twitched when she spoke.

“Good morning,” she stuttered.

“Hey Lucky. What are you doing here?”

“I waited to see if you needed anything. But it looks like you’re taken care of.”

Lucky scratched at her cheek. A mountain range of hives swelled on her throat. During the night, she’d ripped out clumps of her hair, leaving behind crop circle patterns of reddish scalp. She squeezed her fists and slammed them into her hips.

“We’re going to Patsy’s for coffee.” Sullivan cracked the knuckles on his right hand, like he ritually did before a big game. “Want to come?”

“Yeah, Lucky,” Roxy added, “You should come.”

“I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

“Knew what?” Sullivan asked, slowly distancing himself from Roxy. When they first stepped onto the porch, he was holding her bicep. Now his arms were stiff at his sides, his hands clutching his thighs.

“Everything. The dance, the kiss, the sweet shit you said. It was all part of your sick plan to humiliate me.”

“You have this all wrong.” Sullivan stepped between the two girls. Lucky was a foot taller than Roxy, and even though Roxy was a roman candle, Lucky had suicide bomber potential. The whole town knew it was only a matter of time before she Columbined.

“Do I? Tell me, did you want me to catch you with this whore, or were you planning to wait till graduation so everyone could laugh at me?”

“Watch who you’re calling a whore.” Roxy stood on her toes, but was still unable to see over Sullivan’s shoulder. “All we wanted was to do something nice for you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have spent prom night watching Sixteen Candles and wetting yourself.”

“Grow up. Sullivan asked me, not you. He thinks I’m strong and beautiful and you’re just a Sunday pickup.”

“Are you for real? The only reason he asked you was because I begged him to. I skipped my own prom because I felt sorry for you and I’m repaid with insults. You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks a million. You’re a real fucking samaritan.” Lucky raised her eyebrows to express her sarcasm. They dropped back into a fuzzy V pointing at the bridge of her nose. “Did you beg him to tongue me too? Cause he did. I can still taste him in my mouth.”

“Lucky, I’m sorry.” Sullivan grabbed Roxy as she tried to shove past him. “Roxy, come on let’s go.”

“I hope you enjoyed it,” Roxy screamed, trying to wiggle out of Sullivan’s grip. “Because it’s the last kiss you’ll ever get. Do you think anyone would even come close enough to smell your breath unless they felt sorry for you? Go buy some cats. It’s going to be a long, lonely life.”

Sullivan dragged Roxy towards his car. He dropped his keys twice trying to shove her inside. Lucky stood in front of the hood, challenging him to run her down.

“Where are you going?” she cried. Her scratchy hair covered her face, fresh tears sticking it to her skin. “Sullivan, you kissed me. You told me I was beautiful and strong.”

Sullivan threw the car in reverse and sped away. Before he turned the corner, he saw Lucky collapse in his rear view.

*****

“Love is a powerful force.” Lucky uncapped a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels and poured it down her throat. She gagged and spit into her palm. “My mom used to tell me this story about a princess who was so torn after her prince left her, that she chopped off one finger every year on their anniversary. Minutes after she sliced off the last one, her prince returned and was so overtaken by her passionate gesture that he vowed to never leave her side again.”

Lucky spit again into her palm. She wiped it dry on her socks.

“Beautiful, right?”

“More like demented. That’s not love, that’s lunacy.”

“Love, lunacy, what’s the difference?” Lucky pulled a pair of pliers from her pocket and scraped the tip along her collarbone. “The point is the princess was willing to do whatever it took to prove her love. Simply spreading your legs isn’t enough. Sometimes you need to do something extreme.” Lucky tilted her head, her neck cracking with an unsettling crunch. She sat Indian style, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Now, I’ve already untied Sullivan. As soon as he wakes up he’s free to limp out of here. But who he lives happily ever after with; that’s up to you.”

“We’re going to fight for him?” Roxy challenged. “Whenever you’re ready, freak.”
“Sweetie, I smashed both your ankles with a hammer. You can’t even stand. I’d destroy you.”
“Then what?”

“We’re going to prove our love. If by some bizarre fate twist, your love is stronger than mine, then you can leave. But if not, you’ll rot down here forever.”

“Losing your shit to the first boy who shows you the slightest scrap of attention isn’t love. Even a psychopath like you should realize that.”

“I’m carrying Sullivan’s child. My love for him knows no boundaries. If I couldn’t have him, I’d pull out every single one of my teeth.”

“That’s because you’re insane.” Roxy’s eyes shot around the room, frantically searching for a loose brick she could use as a weapon.

“A human mouth has around twenty-four teeth, give or take.” Even when she was alone, Lucky had always talked in a murmur, keeping her lips shut to avoid showing her overbite. Now, however, she spoke in confident enunciated strokes. “I just said I’d pull every one of mine out if I couldn’t have Sullivan. But saying that’s one thing. True love needs to be proven. It needs to be earned.”

Lucky dragged the metal tips of the pliers along her bottom row of teeth. The grinding dropped a chill into Roxy’s small intestine. She thought about wrapping the chain around her throat, faking her own death, and then waiting for Lucky to step close enough so she could ambush. But even if Roxy were to snap Lucky’s neck, if the keys to the shackles weren’t on her, then she’d spend her last days trapped with a festering corpse.

“You’re losing me,” Roxy said. “Stop jerking off and get to the point.”

“I said I’d give you a chance and I meant it. I’m willing to pull out all of my teeth to prove my love for Sullivan and our baby. Are you willing to do the same to be free?”

“You’ve really fucking lost it. If you think I’m going to put those rusty pliers anywhere near my mouth, you’re more tard than I thought.”

“Humans can survive for more than a week without food and water. I give you four days before you’re gnawing on your arms.”

“Whatever. You’re fucking with me. Like you’re really going to pull out your own teeth. You’re a head case, but no one’s that mental.”

“Maybe,” Lucky cackled. “I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Lucky opened her mouth and closed her eyes. Clamping the pliers on one of her back teeth, she twisted. She squinted and whimpered a staccato whistle through her nose. Veins bulged underneath her flesh as she strained. Oral surgery wasn’t as easy as Lucky intended and it took nearly two minutes to extract the molar. When it finally popped, she almost fell backward.

Squishy, slurping noises bubbled in her mouth as blood geysered from her gums. Lucky held the tooth in front of the lantern, the enamel glowing purple in the light. Roxy dry heaved a combination of stomach acid and decay onto her shoes.

Lucky shoved the pliers past her lips again. This time, the tooth she chose was more stubborn. She squirmed, holding her arm steady and tugging with her neck muscles. The pliers’ pointed tips scraped away chunks of gum as she struggled. She paused to spit out a thick mouthful of blood.

Roxy yanked on her chains, trying to slide the cuff over her right ankle. The top layers of her skin peeled off in pink clumps. But as hard as she pulled, her bones weren’t pliant enough to slide through. Roxy clutched underneath her foot and tried to bend her ankle and split the bone. Pain shot up her spine in rapid, stabbing bursts.

Lucky twisted her arm as far as her joints would allow. She let out a trembling roar as the tooth snapped free. Her shaking hands dropped the pliers. They landed with a dull thud. When Lucky bent down to pick them up, another mouthful of blood tumbled out of her mouth.

“Stop,” Roxy shouted. “You can have him. Please just let me go.”

“I’ve already had him,” Lucky gurgled, drooling red. She smiled and brought the pliers to her mouth. “When you two screwed, did he ever tell your pieces fit together like a puzzle? That sex with you was like an out-of-body experience? Or am I the only one?”

“You sick cunt,” Roxy cursed. Mercury-hot rage simmered beneath her fingernails. “Bloody Mary. Remember when we used to call you that? After you stained your sweats in gym class? Bloody Mary, the period princess.”

“Name-calling no longer affects me. I’m strong. Sullivan says my strength makes me beautiful.”

“Strong?” Roxy laughed. “You’re a pathetic loser who couldn’t get a date until I begged someone to take you out. You’re a cliché, an ugly duckling. Only in this story, you don’t get to turn into a swan. You’re going to spend the rest of your life alone, feeding your stupid pet mice and clipping Walmart coupons. Oh wait, your mouse is worm food.”

“As long as Sullivan’s mine, I don’t need to be a swan. Right now he’s probably taking a hot shower and waiting for me to join him.”

“Yeah, so he can bash your face in.”

“Even if he does, do you think he’ll come down here to save you? Or will he run far away and forget you even existed? After all, you got him into this. Face it, if I don’t free you, do you honestly think anyone else will?”

“Then free me already. You’ve proved your love. You pulled out your own teeth. Grats. You’re a badder bitch than I am.”

“Here,” Lucky said, sliding the pliers across the floor. “This is your last chance. Use them for anything other than dental work and I’ll smash your wrists as well.”

“Fine. Is this what you want?” Roxy sneered, forcing the pliers against the roof of her mouth. She closed them on her lower incisor and twisted. The surface was slippery, and Roxy had to use her free hand to hold her jaw steady. A crunching sound grinded in her ear canal. After a few tugs, a snap echoed inside her mouth.

“See that?” Roxy screamed, holding up the bloody pliers. “That’s fucking strength. You’re nothing. You’ll always be nothing. Bloody fucking Mary.”

“Give them back.” Lucky reached forward, careful not to step too close. Roxy spit shotgun blasts of blood at her. Patterns landed on the lantern screen, dulling its light to a soft yellow.

“Come take them.” Roxy shoved the pliers into her mouth again and closed them on another tooth. She inhaled a gust of breath through her nose and twisted. This time, instead of a snap, she heard a pop, followed by a high-pitched buzzing. As fresh blood filled her mouth, Roxy felt it slosh behind her eyeballs. She opened her mouth again to scream, but collapsed without making a sound.

*****

Lucky raised her arm and flung the key as hard as she could. It bounced against the stairs with a sharp ping, finally rattling to a stop on the other side of the room. In the corner, Roxy was breathing her last grams of oxygen and bleeding out from several fresh stab wounds. Fluid gurgled inside her lungs and bubbled up the back of her throat.

After Roxy lost consciousness, Lucky sat in the darkness and thought of the princess from her mother’s story. The princess sacrificed every one of her fingers, but if the prince didn’t choose to love her back than all she would’ve been left with were two stumps and a shattered heart. Proving her love by spilling blood wasn’t enough. If the love she felt wasn’t reciprocal then there wouldn’t have been a happily ever after.

Lucky adjusted her dress and waited. Right now, Sullivan would be rubbing his eyes and reading the note she’d scotch-taped to his forehead. If his feelings for Lucky mirrored hers for him, then any minute the basement door would swing open, and he’d be rushing to her rescue. She made it diamond clear in black ink; he had the power to free her or let her die.

Lucky pressed her tongue between the new gaps in her teeth, freeing clumps of dried blood from her gums. The entire right side of her face pulsated soreness, swelling her cheek to a puffed out bump.

A tiny mouse scuttled between Lucky’s feet. Before he could pass, she slammed her hand down on his the tail and dragged him towards her. Startled, he stretched his head and bit down on her index finger. Lucky flinched, but didn’t loosen her grip. Instead she dangled the mouse’s squirming body in front of her nose. Lucky puckered and pressed her lips to his soft fur.