Sex and Murder Magazine

By Joe Darnall

She had spent twenty years, looking at the same cold walls. She had seen twenty sets of seasons change outside the same window. She couldn’t remember them all. Nor could she remember the styles of clothes that she had seen through the same pane of glass, but with every October third, she could see passing of time.

Twenty years old today. She sat up in bed and her feet hit the cold tile floor. She slid on her white slippers and walked to the small white porcelain sink. She ran the water till it was warm and splashed her face with it.

Her eyes looked into the mirror and followed the wet lines of hair. She watched as the water dripped into the sink and ran down her chin as she tried to remember her earliest memory. She closed her eyes. She was a little girl, and it was her birthday. She cried as she opened the little present on the cold tile floor. It was Malibu Barbie. She threw it on the floor and cried.

“Good morning, Jane.” The voice from the speaker in the ceiling echoed off of the concrete walls.

“Good morning Glenda.” Jane reached for a towel and patted her face dry.

“How did you sleep?” The voice was always nice.

“Not great,” Jane answered. She was already getting her toothbrush out and pulling the paste from the medicine cabinet.

“No bad dreams I hope?” Jane smiled and shook her head.

“Nope. No dreams at all. Thanks for asking though.” Jane started to brush her teeth. The mint flavor cooled her mouth and made her feel a little better.

“Jane?” the voice was there again

“Glen-ga…” Jane leaned over and spit into the sink. “Glenda, I am bushing my teeth…”

“Sorry, I just wanted to say happy birthday.”

“Thanks Glenda.” Jane smiled at the big mirror on the far wall, with white foam around her mouth, and went back to brushing her teeth.

After she showered she sat on her bed dressed but still without her shoes on. She planned on running on the treadmill for a couple miles until the buzzer went off by the door.

“Breakfast.”

She walked over to the slit in the door and took the tray of food. She smelled the buttery sweetness of cinnamon rolls coming through the Styrofoam containers, her favorite breakfast. She smiled at the thought of being remembered on her birthday. After she finished eating, she took the tray over to the door slot and set it down.

“How was your breakfast?” the voice buzzed through the speaker above her.

“It was great. Thank you for remembering.” She smiled at the large mirror.

“You are welcome. Is there anything else you would like today?”

“I have a list of some books that I would like to read.”

“I will have to get approval first, as usual, but I’ll see what can be done.”

“Thanks again Glenda.” She was already tying her shoes for her morning run.

After her workout, she showered again and got dressed. She had a bowl of potato soup and a sandwich for lunch with saltine crackers. She felt warm all over and was smiling when the speaker broke in again.

“Hello, Jane. I am sorry to bother you, but this is Dr. Evans.”

“Hello, Dr. Evans. Did I forget that today is Thursday?”

“No, Jane. It isn’t Thursday. I was just shown your book request list and I was curious as to a couple of your selections. Do you mind if I ask you about some of them?”

“Sure Dr. Evans.”

“I see no problem with the Greek works. I rather enjoy Aristophanes, and I am not sure if you know this, but this work by Sophocles is one often read by doctors in my field. My question is about “The Count of Monte Cristo.” Why that book in particular?”

“Well, I saw the title on the jacket of “Frankenstein” and thought it might be interesting. Is something wrong with that selection?” Jane looked puzzled at the blank mirror.

“No Jane, but it seems that we are having trouble trying to find a copy. I hope you understand.”

“Of course I do, Dr. Evans.” Jane didn’t. They had never had problems getting the books she requested before, and Dr. Evans never came around except on Thursdays. A stack of books slid under the slot.

By the time she was ready for bed, she had read most of the first book. She listened to the record player in her room scratching softly while playing the most recent record. As it sweetly sang its rendition of “I’ll Follow the Sun” she drifted to sleep.

She awoke in the morning with the sounds of rain hitting her window. She sat up and shivered. She had slept on top of the covers and the cool night air was in her bones. She took a hot shower, but couldn’t shake the chill. She had oatmeal for breakfast, which helped some, and soup again for lunch, though this time it was tomato with grilled cheese sandwiches.

She sat in her chair and read. She finished the book by Sophocles and was halfway through Aristophanes when she fell asleep. She awoke in complete darkness to the sounds of thunder rumbling outside. She stretched and went to the lamp, flicked the switch, and got nothing. The darkness was thick and surrounded her. She hurried towards the overhead lights and flicked those switches. Still nothing. Her heart was pounding.

“Hello?” she asked, looking for the mirror but seeing only thick darkness. There was no answer.

“Hello?” Her voice seemed to lift on its own. “Hello?”

Nothing was there. No voice in response, and no time on the digital clock beside her bed. She felt hot tears run down her face and her voice raised again.

“HELLO?” She was crying now.

She stood perfectly still, listening to the rain smack the window. She was disoriented. All she wanted was to lie in bed and wait for this to be over. A flash of lightning crossed the sky, sending its strobe light into the window. She turned in time to see the outline of her bed, sprinted to it, and pulled the cover over her head as the roll of thunder shook the walls.

The first note came on a Friday. She hadn’t told anyone about it. She only looked at the neat lines of the word over and over with her back to the large mirror. It looked as though it was a mistake that it should have come to her, until the second note. She read it and was shocked to see her name. By the third note, Jane was determined to write back, but didn’t know how. The notes continued. They would speak about the books she had read, and she wondered if it was Dr. Evans trying to trick her. He had never done so before. That changed by the Friday that followed the sixth note.

“Leave any notes you wish to send in a book that you are returning. They come directly to me after all. And please request a book for me. “Catcher in the Rye” by J.D. Salinger. That is what the guy who shot John Lennon was reading.”

She stopped and scribbled a response with the pencil she kept by her bed. She put it in the book she was reading, but not much caring for. It left the room through the slot as all of the books she read did.

“What books do you wish to read dear?” Glenda’s voice was there again, but Jane could barely hear over the beating of her heart.


The notes had continued. They came in with the books she requested and went back out the slot when she was finished. She had requested the books the notes had asked for and had gotten some of them. There were some, though, that were conspicuously absent. She was reading the last books the notes requested.

She had started a book of poetry, but hadn’t quite found a liking for it. The book she was reading instead was about books. She was enthralled. By the end, she was crying, and not much after that, she was asleep.

Her dreams came around her like a quilt, warm and heavy and dark. She saw the city that sat in her window. Dark and grey, the buildings sat with the river at its edge. Next to the river was a street. Beside the street was a tree. The fruit of the tree looked beautiful and ripe. She reached for it, but when she did she was pulled away. Away from the tree and the street. Away from the city and the river. Away from it all until she was back in her room. She was still reaching, though she was now far away from the fruit she wished to taste. Instead of feeling the soft warm fruit, she touched the cold glass of the window.

She woke up.

The books that had been in her lap had fallen. The book of poetry that she had tried to read earlier had landed open, its spine contorted some and its pages creased and bent. She leaned in her chair and picked up the books, opened the poetry book, and tried to smooth the pages down. The corners were dog-eared. She ran her fingers across them as she pressed. Her hand slid across the page and the text caught her eye. When she had looked up she had decided.

Storms rolled in across the bay. She could see them through the leafless trees of the courtyard out her window. Darkness came early that night. Rain fell against the window and the wind rustled the dead leaves on the ground. She ate her dinner and waited. She sat in her bed and read the same poem over again and waited. Hours passed and she waited. Then it happened; a brilliant flash of light and a boom of thunder rattled the window.

She jumped out of bed towards the door. Her hand shook as she reached to touch the handle. She turned it and the door opened. She was in a dark hall. Her hands groped for something that would tell her where she was going. Her hands fell upon soft things hanging from the walls, like rubber with hoses and hooks. She couldn’t see a thing. She felt along the walls towards what she thought would be a door. It was taking too long she thought. Finally the walls stopped. She felt for a handle. Her hands slid across the cold metal of the door. There was no handle. She pushed on the door. It didn’t budge.

A crack of thunder echoed into the hallway. She jumped and began to cry. The tears felt hot on her cheeks as she slid to the floor. She sobbed quietly. The door moved. Lightning struck again and the flash of light flooded the small hallway. The door opened and a dark figure stood in it. It held out its hand and she took it. The next thing she knew she was running.

There seemed to be no one around them. Darkness hid in the corners as the lightning flashed through the windows, covered by heavy wire mesh. They ran through the halls and doorways, and down a flight of stairs. Her breath burned in her lungs. When they pushed through the last door, the cold rain fell upon her fast soaking her to the skin. She followed the dark figure. They stopped quickly and the figure turned around. A strike of lighting lit his face and showed the blonde of his hair.

“Can you swim?”

She didn’t answer. She could only stare.

“We have to go now. Can you swim?” She nodded. It was a lie. She had never tried before.

He dove into the water and she followed after him. The wind blew up whitecaps across the surface of the bay. She tried to follow him, but he was fast. She copied his form from what she could see and pushed as fast as she could.

In the darkness she didn’t see the large wave until it crashed over her head. She was under water. She kicked her feet and flailed her arms but couldn’t seem to pull herself up. She struggled, with the air burning in her lungs. She realized that she was drowning.

She screamed. She could see the light fading and she felt a hand grab her arm. It was still raining when she coughed and came to. The raindrops hit her in the eye, making her blink. They stopped and she opened her eyes. Above her was the young man.

“You okay?” She could barely see him in the rain and the dull streetlight on the other side of the street. She didn’t answer as she tried to catch her breath.

“What happened?” she finally managed to whisper.

“I had to drag you over here. I thought you said that you could swim?”

He had saved her. She pulled herself up and kissed him. He was warm and wet and tasted like the water in the bay. She had no idea what she was doing. It was her first kiss. Her eyes closed. His lips were soft at first, and they firmed until he pulled his head free.

“Hurry, they are coming.” He rose to his knees and looked back over the water. He stood and held his hand out to her. “Come on. We have to go now.”

She took his hand and they ran. They followed a set of railroad tracks toward the lights of the city. Jane stumbled on a crosstie and the young man grabbed her arm before she hit the ground. They ran into an open door into a warehouse. The darkness enveloped them.

“The rain is letting up. We should go,” he said, looking outside the door.

“Wait. What is your name?” Jane was shivering and trying to catch her breath. Her teeth were chattering.

“Michael. Now come on.” He ran from the door, and she followed him into the rain.

She awoke with his arm around her, but she was still shivering. She couldn’t remember where she was. The sounds of a baby crying and someone coughing made her focus more. She sat up and looked around. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she realized how many people were around her. She saw them on the floor. In the stillness she could see them move. Some were shaking; others were holding themselves and rocking back and forth. She sat all the way up and watched as a woman across the floor sat hunched and shaking. After a few minutes, she saw her rise up and strike a flame from her lighter. It went to the small brown piece of glass. Jane watched her as she inhaled deeply, and finally blew a thick cloud of smoke into the room.

“Crack.”

Jane jumped at the whisper on her neck. She shivered again.

“What?” Jane didn’t look at him, but she could feel his breath on her neck. Her skin broke out into goose bumps and she could feel her nipples harden under her thin damp night shirt.

“She’s on the rock,” he said, close to her ear.

“I don’t understand.” She tried to lean away from him, but it was a halfhearted effort.

“It’s a drug. These people are addicted. Like the lotus eaters.” Her eyes flew across the room. She saw them better now. Glass pipes and needles were strewn on the floor.

“Are we safe here?”

“For a little while. We’ll leave in a couple hours.” He lay down on the floor again. “You should try to get some sleep.” Jane nodded, but didn’t lie down. She watched instead as the woman continued her ritual, always the same. She would hunch over the glass tube, pull it to her lips, light it and inhale deep. When she exhaled, Jane thought it seemed more like a sigh.

They left just before dawn. She hadn’t gone back to sleep when he did. She couldn’t help but see the woman exhaling smoke into the room. Her stomach growled as they walked across the street and passed a bakery. He didn’t slow and she didn’t speak. They walked all day. She was hungry and thirsty, but he wouldn’t stop. She finally couldn’t take another step. She sat on the sidewalk and put her head in her hands.

“You can’t stop here. A cop will take us in as runaways and they’ll send us back.” He was frantic. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. His fingers dug into the soft underside of her arms. She tried to pull away from him.

“Let go, you’re hurting me.” She tried to get her feet under her, but he shook her too hard.

“Is that what you want? You want to go back? 'Cause I’m not.” He was screaming at her now and she was crying. Still it frightened her when she heard the stranger’s voice.

“Hey man, let her go. I said let her go.” His hands finally released their pressure and she fell to the ground. She watched as Michael ran away.

“Are you okay?” The stranger was looking at her, but she could barely make him out through her tears. He held out his hand and she could see well enough to take it. He asked her again, “Are you okay?” She nodded.

“What’s your name?” Without thinking, she answered him.

“Mary,” she lied.

He led her to a building across the street. She looked back for Michael, but couldn’t see him. He followed her eyes back across the street.

“He ran into the Botanical Gardens. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you anymore.” He held her hand gently and they sat down.

“My name is Billy, by the way.” She sat down and took a deep breath. “You go to school here?”

“What?” She looked up at him not understanding.

“Are you at Fordham?” He looked at her softly.

“No.” She looked down at the floor.

“Where are you from?” He tried to lower his head to catch her eyes.

“…Island.” It was all she could manage.

“Hey Bill, come here,” a voice echoed in the big room from across the room. Jane winced.

“Hang on just a sec okay?” He stood up and started toward the owner of the voice. “I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t look up but she could hear parts of their conversation.

“Who is that?”

“…guy was kicking her ass in the street…”

“…she from?”

“Long Island, I think.”

When he came back, he took her to the coffee shop across the street. She was so hungry she didn’t talk when the food came. He just watched her. He sipped his coffee and smoked a cigarette while he watched her eat. When she finally finished, she looked up and saw him staring at her.

“Are you feeling any better?” He smiled at her. She felt her cheeks fill with heat.

“Yes. Thanks.” She smiled back at him.

“You know, my friends are having a party later on tonight. It's gonna be a big deal. I mean if you don’t have any plans?” She wasn’t listening she was looking down the street where Michael had run.

“Do you?” he asked, getting her attention.

“Do I?” She looked confused

“Have any plans, for tonight?” He looked nervous asking her.

“Uh, no. I don’t guess so.”

He smiled again, but it faded a little.

“Mary, do you have any place to go?” She could see he didn’t like to ask the question by the look in his eyes. She didn’t like her lie pushed back in her face.

“No.”

He took her to a tall building. When she got out of the elevator, he led her to a long hallway and then to a nondescript door. He pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door with a squeak.

“Well, it’s not much, but its home.” He threw his keys on a small table by the door and led her into the one room apartment. “I have three channels on the tube and the bathroom’s behind this door. There is some food in the fridge, if you’re still hungry.” He opened another door. Jackets hung on a rod three quarters of the way up and a shelf was above it. He grabbed a box and pulled it down.

“I really don’t know what is in here. They’re my ex’s. She was supposed to come get them before she left for Bolivia or whatever, but she never did. I have no idea about women’s clothes, but you might find something in there you can wear.”

She looked in the box of clothes and didn’t say anything.

“Shit, I have to go to work.” He started to the door and grabbed the keys. “I’ll lock the door behind me.”

“Billy.” She looked at him as he stopped in the doorway. “Aren’t you afraid I’m…” the phrase lotus eater came to mind “on the rock, or something?”

He smiled. “No. Besides, I don’t have anything to steal.” He closed the door.

When he returned hours later, Jane was asleep on the floor. She had showered and her hair was still wet. He took his key out of the door and shut it quietly. He sat his keys down and slid his shoes off. He stepped around her and turned off the record player, the needle slowly losing its hiss. The sudden quiet caused Jane to stir on the floor. She rolled her head over and shifted onto her stomach, lifting her arms to put her hands under her cheek. The t-shirt she was wearing slid up the back of her thighs and showed the curve of her backside.

Billy stopped and let his eyes trace the line of her legs up to the point where her shirt covered. The blood rushed to his face, turning it hot in his cheeks. She was beautiful. He turned quickly and grabbed an old blanket. He took one more look and gently laid the blanket onto her. She began to stir again and he turned and grabbed another record from its sleeve. He lowered the arm down until the familiar pop and hiss returned. He was in the shower when she woke up.

They walked over to the party as soon as darkness fell. The music could be heard down the block and there were already people outside, drinking from red plastic cups. Jane felt her stomach flutter as she saw the girls outside on the street. They walked past and Jane saw their eyes follow them through the door.

She had found a skirt in the box of clothes that seemed to fit and she had put it on. When Billy had seen, he’d approved. Billy brought her a red cup with a matching liquid. She took a drink. It was sweet and cold but it burned in her throat. She started to cough and would have spilled her drink if Billy hadn’t caught her hand. He led her to an ugly brown sofa and sat her down.

She tried to catch her breath, but the air was smoky and the music was loud. The lights flashed and made the intermittent darkness seem heavier. Billy leaned over to her and she saw his lips move, but didn’t hear him speak. He walked into the smoky darkness and left her on the brown sofa. She drank from the red cup again and felt the heat travel down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. She was looking for Billy when the stranger showed up. She recognized him as one of the guys that Billy had spoken to when they first met. He smiled at her and she smiled back, but she didn’t feel like smiling. He tried to say something, but she couldn’t hear him. He screamed until she finally understood.

“Mary,” she said as loud as she could. He said something back to her, but she couldn’t understand him. He put his hand in the shape of a C and made a drinking motion. She looked at her cup and saw it was empty. She nodded and he left with her cup. Jane looked for Billy. In the light of another room, she saw him talking to a girl. She wished he was with her. She jumped when she felt the breath on her ear.

“I guess she didn’t go to Nicaragua after all.” The voice in her ear hurt her head. She turned and looked at Billy’s friend. He had reddish hair and bad skin. He smelled bad. He handed her the drink and she took it. She drank it and watched Billy. She sat back as the music went quiet, and drank as she listened to the conversations in the dark of the dance floor. One caught her attention quickly.

“…with Dr. Pilar and took some samples at a crack house. Everyone was dead.”

“Who the hell cares about crack heads?”

“You don’t get it, they didn’t OD; they caught something really nasty. Dr. Pilar said he hadn’t seen anything like it before.”

Can’t you two talk about anything other than school? Shit’s sake, this is a party.”

Jane took a drink and felt her head start to swim. She looked around and saw the light across the room begin to drag. Her arms were getting very heavy. She looked down and saw Billy’s friend take her cup. Her neck became weak. She looked down and saw a hand on her leg. She tried to talk, but couldn’t. She turned her head and saw Billy. He was fighting with the girl in the other room. She felt a hand move up her thigh. She tried to push his hand away but couldn’t lift her arms. She tried to scream to the other people in the room but the music was too loud.

She felt him touching her and a tear ran down her cheek. Her arms went limp and her head fell back on the sofa. She had given up when she saw Michael’s face. His head was tilted back and his eyes were almost closed as a handsome boy kissed his neck. She almost willed him to look at her. Jane felt the oily skinned kid’s hand on her and his lips on her neck. The tears ran down her face in wet streams. Suddenly, she felt the smelly kid be pulled away from her. She heard a commotion and tried to move. She looked toward Billy. He was looking into the darkness trying to see what was happening. Her eyes closed and Jane felt arms under her, lifting her up.

“How long have I been asleep?” Her voice sounded empty and strange to her. The darkness had subsided some, but it was still dark.

“All day,” the darkness answered her.

“All day?” Her mind flickered through the disjointed images. A dress and music. Then grainy images of a couple fighting and a feeling in her gut that made her want to vomit. “Where are we?” she asked when the knot let up a little.

“It doesn’t matter.” The answer came to her in a voice without inflection. It was Michael. A flash of memory came to her.

“Michael. You were there at the party…” She saw him kissing that beautiful boy at the party again in her minds eye. Her stomach knotted. She tried to put the images together but they didn’t seem to fit.

“It has always been like that. No matter how happy I am, things get taken from me.” Her eyes focused on his silhouette until she could make out his eyes. He was crying, his knees pulled to his chest.

“You brought me here.” More flashes of memory lit up the dark fuzzy spaces.

“You’ve seen it now. You have seen how it is here. People just take from you.” He didn’t move as he spoke to her.

“Why did you take me here Michael?” She tried to sit up, but the spinning in her head wouldn’t let her. She closed her eyes and saw the pockmarked face framed in fire-red hair. She could feel his hand on her leg and his fingers inside of her. Her stomach tightened again, and she almost threw up.

“I knew it would be like this, that’s why I brought you out.” He wiped at his nose and sniffed.

“I don’t understand.” Hot tears began down her cheeks again.

“You didn’t even know what it was like out here. You didn’t know why you they kept you.” Michael’s eyes got bigger.

“Michael, why did they keep me?” Her heart pounded in her chest. It made her head spin worse.

“It’s already started. Now they won’t have to keep us anymore.” Michael was rocking back and forth.

“Why did they keep us, Michael?” Her body ached as she tried to sit herself up.

“M-0938.” Michael looked at her now. His eyes were cold.

“I don’t understand. Michael, I don’t understand.” Her voice raised and she dropped herself to the floor.

“They found it in some country in Africa. It wasn’t a threat really. It killed too fast. But not you. You’re a carrier.” He was whispering.

“Michael?” The tears fell faster down her cheeks.

“I at least knew the sting of freedom. They kept you locked up. You never saw.” His voice was barely audible. “You never saw how they hurt us at the Haven. You never saw how we were unwanted. They passed over us. We tried to run away, but they would catch us and send us back. They finally got tired of us running. They sent us to the island. Seven at first but more and more later. I watched as my friends disappeared from their beds. When I figured out what was happening I stayed up. I watched them take the bodies out at night, so no one would see. I saw them bring another one in and let them play with your old toys. They all were taken out in the night, except me. Only me.”

The room was silent except for the sound of traffic outside that never seemed to die down. Her breath was moving faster and faster in her lungs. Her head spun, and she fell back as the room faded to black.

She left when he was asleep. She could at least move some but she still felt dizzy at times. People watched her as she walked. This attractive girl, dirty, grimy dress and no shoes walking down the street, but she barely noticed. She couldn’t fathom what he had said. When she stumbled off of the curb and twisted her ankle a man stopped to help her up.

“You okay, miss?” His voice thick with an accent she had never heard before. He helped her stand and she leaned against the back of his truck. She looked around and noticed the stack of newspapers and saw the picture on the front. It was Billy. He was smiling in black and white, wearing his Fordham sweatshirt. The headlines made her eyes fill again with tears. She pulled away from the man who had helped her up and away from his truck. She ran weeping.

*****

In her blank white room she stood, looking out the window. Winter had come and taken what was left of the leaves from the trees. She looked out towards the city. She had been gone for only a few days, but how many had she killed? She had killed Billy, the crack heads, the police that had taken her to the hospital. She had killed some of their families. Perhaps she had killed the one who had touched her, though she still saw his face in her nightmares. She had killed the two who had driven her the three hours from the hospital to the island. How many where dead because of her? Her mind tried to gather the numbers when it struck her.

“Glenda?” she didn’t turn to look at the large mirror, though she knew they were watching.

“Yes, dear?” the voice crackled over the speaker in the ceiling.

“What is the Haven?”

“It’s an orphanage, dear. Why do you ask?”

Jane didn’t answer. She only wept.



















































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