In Laymon's Terms

Gina Osnovich

TEVEN STOOD NEXT to Monica in the St. Xavier High School yard while Cindy bent down to tie her shoelaces. Cindy’s plaid Catholic-school skirt, stiff by the nature of the fabric, didn’t wrap around her ass but stood out to salute the entire street. She would fold her skirt up at the hips as soon as the final bell rang so that her bellybutton peeked from her shirt. Her thighs were visible enough to make the entire enrollment at St. John’s School for Boys stop to stare.

The two schools were across the street from one another. Both were tough, but when 3 o’clock rolled around, the nuns couldn’t do much to stop what happened in the street that divided them. Cindy wasn’t the only girl hiking up her skirt and there weren’t enough nuns to put out all the cigarettes and break up all the kids making out against the parked cars.

Steven was allowed into the schoolyard at St. Xavier because his junior high let out at 2:45 and the nuns let him meet his sister so she could walk him home. This was one of his mother’s rules he never complained about. He usually arrived huffing and puffing at 2:55, fixing his hair and ready before the first girl came out of the doors and into the schoolyard.

He got there in time to watch all the skirts hike up, to watch the girls pull out their little mirrors and rub the glossy lipstick all over their mouths, to see them before the dicks across the street got their hands on them. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was too young to ever approach them, but his sister was an in. They thought he was cute or they acted like he wasn’t there, and as a result, he got to see more glimpses of tiny pink thongs than any other junior-high kid.

Damn, that’s a fine ass, he thought, watching his sister’s best friend come back up and flip her blonde hair.

He dropped his pencil, using the chance to bend over and fix the hard-on jutting out of his Hanes and take a good look at Cindy’s legs on the way up.

“Hey, Mon?”

“What do you want?” she said, looking frantically around for Danny, the newest love of her life.

“Are we gonna go?”

“In a second, I want to see if...” There was nothing left to say. Her latest crush walked out the back door of St. John’s, eyes darting, looking for someone. Monica ran into the middle of the street, pretending to be looking for someone else, but hoping he would look in her direction. Then he did.

She smiled. He smiled back and started walking over. She threw her hair over her shoulder, grabbing a strand to play with while she looked over at him seductively. He got closer. She could feel herself sweating under her button-down shirt.

Oh my God, she thought.

Her brother was cracking up.

Cindy looked on in horror.

Danny’s smile widened and he walked right past Monica, to the girl behind her. Their tongues were out even before their faces met and then it was over.

Steven was hysterical laughing. Monica, mortified, headed for her brother to kick the shit out of him.

Whap!

She cracked him across the skull. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he glanced quickly at Cindy to make sure she didn’t see. He sucked it up, but Cindy didn’t care anyway. She walked quickly over to Monica and put an arm around her shoulder. They walked away whispering. Steven followed a few feet behind.

“It’s okay. He’s a jerk anyway.”

“You have to say that cause you’re my best friend.”

“I know.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“He is still a jerk.”

Cindy never had these problems, Monica thought. She was perfect and she never even looked for a boyfriend. Every guy flocked to her and she could pick and choose. You didn’t need a boyfriend when every guy on earth wanted you.

“What are you doing tonight?” Monica asked.

“Nothing. Why, you need company?”

“It can’t hurt.”

“Sure.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” the unwanted voice from three feet back said. He had been listening. He felt bad for his sister, but he would never let her know that. Besides, he really did have an idea. This would get me in with Cindy for sure, he thought.

“Hey guys, I said I have an idea.”

“What do you want, Steve?”

“There’s a really cool story I heard and mom would never let me go by myself.” Well, that sounded stupid.

“What the hell are you talking about Steve?”

“Be nice to him, Mon. He’s a kid.”

Oh great, he thought.

Cindy slowed, putting an arm around Steven and ruffling his hair.

I’ll take what I can get, thank you very much, he thought, a small smile finding his lips.

“There’s this cool house at the end of Corban Place, where Bill told me a guy killed his wife and kids and then cracked himself in the head with a hammer.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” said Monica.

“Is too. Bill said when the cops found them, the family was all cut up in pieces and the dog was eating the guy. He said the cops couldn’t even go in right away cause it smelled so bad.”

“Shut up. I am not in the mood.”

“Let him talk,” said Cindy.

“Yeah, let me talk,” Steven said through a huge smile, and worked his way closer into Cindy’s armpit so that his cheek was touching her breast.

“I think we should go there. Mom gets all weird when I go out at night, but if we go together, she won’t say anything.”

“I think we should do it.”

“Easy for you to say. You would do anyone...I mean anything.” Monica smiled.

“Ha, ha.” Cindy punched her in the arm.

Cindy’s perfect, thought Monica. She is adventurous and beautiful and popular and it’s fucking annoying. I wish I were more like her.

“Let’s go. I’m serious. It’ll be fun.”

“What? A dirty house where a psycho killed his family? Yeah, right.”

“Yeah! Right!”

“Are you serious?”

“Come on, Mon. Can we?” said Steven.

“Whatever. Fine. We have to find something to tell Mom, though.” Hey, maybe if I were a little more like Cindy, I would be happier with myself. I’ll do it.

Cindy lived three blocks down so they said their goodbyes at the corner. Two guys were right behind them as they walked away. Steven looked casually over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t following. They weren’t wearing uniforms, but they were wearing their colors. He wondered if they heard.

“You serious, man? We gonna go down there?”

“What are you, some kind of bitch? Did you see that pussy with the short skirt?”

“So?”

“We go to the house. We wait ’til it’s dark. We beat the shit out the kid and then we gots two fine young pussies to ourselves.”

“You got yourself a point, motherfucker. You got yourself a point.”

Monica’s mom let her drive the Taurus on weekend nights, when she was at work. But she had to be home by 2 a.m. She was strict, but this was LA and Monica was seventeen. The last show at the Kingplex didn’t even start until midnight. And that was the perfect excuse.

She told her mom tickets were sold out for all shows except the latest ones and they really wanted to go to the movies. She would even take Steven along.

Her mom left at 7:30, and Cindy was at the door at 8 p.m. with her father’s tool-belt around her skinny waist, complete with flashlight, a screwdriver, a hammer and measuring tape. The belt hung low on one side, pulling her skirt down to show her bare hip.

“Why the measuring tape?”

“I didn’t want to take stuff out of there in case my dad notices.”

“Freak.”

“Hey, I thought we could use the flashlight. And the screwdriver and hammer can come in handy if I decide to go psycho and kill you guys.”

“Did I say ‘freak’ already?”

“Yes you did. Where’s the kid?”

“Probably having trouble with his Underoos.”

“STEVE. LET’S GO!”

“COMING!”

He came down twirling two flashlights like handguns. He blew into the head of the flashlight, pretending it was a smoking pistol.

“Don’t ever say I didn’t do nothing for ya,” he said, handing his sister one of the flashlights. He looked over at Cindy, tipped his imaginary hat. “Little lady.”

She laughed. Her firm breasts were visible through the cut-off wife-beater tank top.

Monica rolled her eyes, and pushed him out the door.

“They ain’t comin’.”

“Yes, they are.”

“Shh. Is that a car?”

“Here we go.”

They pulled up to the house and Monica felt a shiver run through her. She didn’t expect it to be cold up here; she felt naked in her thin T-shirt and tiny denim shorts. Steven was already out of the car, staring up at the house in thirteen-year-old wonder.

Cindy came out slowly, awed by the darkness of the house.

“Why are the windows painted black?” Monica said as she stepped out.

“Maybe the guy painted them so no one could see him kill his family.”

“Oh, yeah Steve. The guy paints over, like, twenty windows just so no one can see him kill his family? Do you see any other houses on the street? No one would see him, anyway.”

“All right, let’s go,” said Steven, anxious.

“This is gonna be so cool,” said Cindy.

“What are we here for again?”

“Anything we can find, Mon,” said Steve.

They flicked on their flashlights and walked inside. Why was the door open? thought Monica.

The house was dark. They could smell the years of dust and grime the boarded-up place had soaked in. It smelled like old meat and shit and metal. Is this what dead people smell like? Steven thought.

“Cool. Look at this,” said Steve, his flashlight training on a crusted black spot. “It’s blood.”

“It’s probably paint.”

“Could be blood, you know.”

Monica ran her flashlight over the living room. The place was furnished, but everything was covered in sheets that had once been white. Off to the left, the kitchen sat dark and long deserted. To the right, a staircase led to another floor. In front of them, the dining room was empty but for an ancient chandelier.

“Let’s just walk through and get out of here. I’ll even pay for burgers if we leave in ten minutes,” said Monica. She hated to say it, but she was scared. It was too quiet. Her shirt was wet and she was shivering. She walked toward the dining room. Cindy and Steven followed closely behind, Steven making sure to knock into her every few seconds for a cheap feel.

The three stood in the middle of the dining room, flashlights piercing the darkness.

“This is where he killed his wife,” said Steven. They all fanned their lights around the room. A clanging sound suddenly came from the ceiling and they all jumped. The chandelier had shifted and years of dust fell onto Monica’s hair and all over her clothes.

“Cool! A ghost!” Steven said as he backed up and bolted for the stairs. “Come on, let’s go look.”

“Steve, get back here. Come on. It’s creepy here. STEVE!”

But he was gone and the two girls looked at each other, worried. Monica breathed deep and gathered her strength.

“Let’s go find him.”

“I’m kinda scared,” admitted Cindy.

“Me, too. Stay close. Don’t run off, please?”

“You got it.”

They got to the top of the stairs with their backs against each other, walking sideways. The flashlights were in front of them like guns and they fanned them around the hallway. Three closed doors lined the right side; one was on the left.

They made a lot of noise. It made them both feel better to hear their voices in the empty house.

“STEVE?”

“STEVIE? COME OUT AND YOU CAN TOUCH MY BOOBS,” screamed Cindy.

“Hey!” Monica nudged. “That’s my thirteen-year-old brother you’re talking to.”

“Yeah, and if boobs can’t get him to come out, then nothing will.” Monica laughed nervously when he didn’t come out.

Cindy kicked the first door. Monica turned the knob and it flew open. Pays to watch the X-Files, she thought.

They walked into a dark master bedroom. A huge oak bed, stripped of linens, stood in the center. Cindy moved away and went for the closet, while Monica got on her knees and checked under the bed. If she was cold before, it had faded by now. She was nervous and sweating and her shirt was tight against her skin. Her nipples brushed her forearm through the thin fabric. They were as hard as pencil erasers.

“He’s not here,” said Cindy.

“Let’s try the other rooms and get the hell out of here. I’m gonna kill him when we find him.”

“Ditto.”

They walked through the second room with no luck. A kid’s room, there was another black stain on the floor. A dark gray stain had bled into the mattress.

“Do you think this is where he killed the kids?”

“I don’t know, but I’m taking-down Steve when I see him.” If I see him. “Just a couple more rooms.”

“What if we don’t find him?”

“Then we call the cops and your mom.”

“Did you bring your cell?”

“No. You?”

“No, my mom keeps it when she goes to work.”

“Great.”

The door to the third room wouldn’t budge.

“What the fuck?” Monica said.

She kicked it over and over.

Cindy turned to the door behind her and tried the knob. It opened easily. She was glistening with sweat, too. An adventure is one thing, but she wanted out and they were stuck here until they found Steve.

“I’m gonna try in here.”

“Don’t go too far.”

“K.”

She held on to the knob and peeked inside. A hand flew out from the other side and punched her in the face. She was dragged inside, screaming.

Monica turned around as the door closed. The hard wood muffled her best friend’s screams.

“Cindy? CINDY? Open the door, Cindy.” Her voice was shaky.

Monica tried the knob, but the door was locked. She punched and kicked it. Cindy was still screaming. Monica was screaming now, too. “CINDY. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! CIIIINNNDDYYY!”

Monica backed up and rammed into the door.

“OW! FUCK!”

Solid.

She stood up straight and breathed deep. Her friend’s screams were getting louder. The flashlight she dropped on the floor flickered and died.

Her shoulder hit the door again. It shook, but stood. Monica slid to the floor, crying. She was hurt.

“FUCK! I’m going to get help,” she said and tried to stand. “Ow.” Her skin scraped a nail that snagged her back and caught her shirt, tearing it.

Her friend had stopped crying. Monica ran for the stairs and down, taking them two at a time. She came to a screeching halt at the bottom, where her brother lay twisted.

She knelt beside him. He was naked and covered in blood.

“Steve?”

Nothing.

“Stevie, answer me.” Tears were pouring down her face.

He lay still. His leg was underneath him, crooked. She didn’t know how to check for a pulse. Whenever she had tried it on herself after watching a cop drama on TV, she could never find it. She put her ear to his mouth. His breath was raspy, but it was there.

I can’t leave him here, she thought. But I need to find help.

“CINDY! I’m downstairs! If you can hear me, Steve is hurt! I am coming back up! Please come out if you can and let’s go find the cops! PLEASE!”

She looked at her brother again. She took off what was left of her shirt and put it under his head. Her hand came back covered in blood. She moaned.

“God, please let us live. I swear I’ll never do anything like this again.”

She stood up and remembered her brother’s flashlight lying next to him. She grabbed it up, taking another look at him, and went slowly up the stairs.

She jerked her light back and forth. She stopped at the top, breathing deeply, her breasts heaving and glistening. She walked toward the now-open door.

“Cindy?”

The sound of her voice made her jump. She swallowed hard.

“Cindy? Are you in there?”

Monica was almost there. Shaking, she stood in front of the door and pushed it open slowly. It was a once-white bathroom covered in dust. Her best friend lay on the floor, blood circling her. All thoughts of wanting to be like Cindy vanished.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, too afraid to go inside. Cindy’s head was close to the door. Monica could see the fresh bruises forming around her eyes and cheeks. One eye was swollen nearly shut, and blood was leaking from the corner.

Her breath hitched as Monica tried to hold back tears. Cindy was almost naked, her skirt hiked up, her underwear missing. Bloody wounds marred her chest and legs. Her throat was slit.

Monica kneeled inside the room and put her ear to her friend’s mouth, praying for breath, but there was nothing. Her hand slid in the blood and Monica’s face slammed into Cindy’s. Her hands and face coated in blood, she ran out of the room.

They came from behind her.

“Catch her!”

Monica looked back and saw them coming. They were too close. She would never make it down the stairs.

“Shit. Catch her.”

The smaller one ran ahead, but slipped in the bloody tracks Monica left behind. “FUCK.”

The other one ran down the steps, only a few feet behind Monica, taking them two at a time. Monica got to the final step, jumped over her brother’s body and ran for the door. She forgot about the porch steps and went crashing down headfirst. He was right behind her.

“You don’t need to be runnin’. We ain’t gonna hurt you. We just wanted some of your friend’s fine pussy, but she wouldn’t shut her mouth and Harry got a little carried away. If it makes you feel better, she was good even when she was screaming. That’s what Harry said at least. I didn’t get me none,” he said, stepping down the stairs and standing over Monica, opening his pants. “I don’t fuck no dead bitches, see?”

Monica looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. She had fallen into the mud and it was sticking to her sweaty back. Her breasts were covered in blood. She thought for a second about giving in. They might spare her and her brother if she shut her mouth and took it.

She leaned on her elbows and looked at him. His friend was on the stoop, letting the other guy have his turn. Monica eyed the two of them and then took the shot, directly to his groin. He backed up and doubled over and she was on her feet and running.

She looked back and saw the little guy bend over to check on his friend and then take off after her. The street was dark and she couldn’t see another house anywhere. She took a right and ran toward the park. At least there were streetlights.

She couldn’t tell how close he was but she wouldn’t dare look back and waste seconds. She jumped a bench and her shoulder screamed. She ran through a sandbox. When she hit the trees, Monica made a quick left and ducked behind one. She held her breath and bit her lip so he wouldn’t hear her.

He came crashing into the trees a second later.

“Come out now and I won’t have to kill you, bitch.”

He was only a couple of feet away. She listened for his footsteps and prepared herself for the worst. She had resigned herself already to not give him any trouble if she was caught. Then she heard the steps. He was walking away from her.

She breathed again, but only for a second. She listened as he walked farther out to the right and then she ran for it.

The other end of the park was close, but he’d already noticed her and was catching up quick.

She hurled herself over the last bench and was on the street again.

Where do I go? she thought, looking to both sides. A car came to a screeching halt in front of her. The door opened and she made her decision. Anything was better than dying at this murderous fuck’s hands.

She jumped in the car as the kid landed over the bench.

“BITCH!” he screamed into the night, as the car pulled away.

Monica couldn’t catch her breath. She clutched her naked ribs, looking behind her as the car drove away from the park.

She looked over at the middle-aged man in the driver’s seat. He was balding, and his chubby little fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were white.

“Please help me,” she said, no longer confident in her decision to get into the car. “These guys, they killed my friend and my brother. Well, they didn’t kill my brother, but they still might. Please, mister. Do you have a cell phone? Is there a police station around here? Please, mister. They killed her and my brother has a broken leg...”

“Shhh...it’s okay. Lets get you to my house and out of those clothes. Look at you. You’re filthy. You can tell me the whole story later,” he finished.

“But...”

“I said shhh.” He put a hand on her bloody thigh and squeezed. She cried out. He moved his hand further up, finding the leg hole of her shorts and slipping his hand inside.

“Please don’t kill me,” she said through tears.

“I would never dream of wasting a fine piece of ass like yourself.”

She sank into the seat crying as he pulled into a driveway.