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Young Girls Scream
By C. Marry Hultman
“Hey guys,” Colton buttoned his skinny jeans with a satisfied grin as he entered the back alley. The heavy bass of the after party vibrating through the wall.
“That fan girl sure sucked like an angel,” he said. It was what being part of As If — the quickest rising boyband in the US, was all about. He had never seen so much action working at Jiffy Lube. So what if some of the girls lied about being eighteen, where was the harm?
The other members had boarded the bus already. They were always finished with their girls before him, he liked to chat them up a bit, get to know them, before they serviced him. He was old fashioned that way, a real gentleman.
At the end of the alley, among boxes and debris he saw a seated figure. When his eyes acclimated to the dark, he realized it was their bus driver Carl. He appeared passed out.
“Great,” Colton screamed. “The driver’s drunk again.” Now they would have to wait for a replacement, it wasn’t the first time. He’d have to talk to Charlie, their manager, again. He sighed, flicked the remains of a cigarette at the lifeless blob and stepped onto the bus.
“Fucks sake guys,” he called out. “You dirty bastards, the bus is filthy.” They didn’t answer him. The carpeted floor was sticky and a sickly metallic scent hung in the air.
Stop fucking around,” he was so tired of their shit. “Come on, how many times have I told you to store your crap?” He pulled out his cellphone and used its torch. A body lay before him. Scurrying back, he scanned the bus, nearly vomiting at the sight of the blood coating the walls and the four severed heads of his mates Chad, Brad, Tad and Nad displayed along the windows. Stifling a cry Colton turned to run, but a shadowy figure barred the door, a large knife glinting in the dark. He illuminated the form to reveal a young woman. Her pale visage startled him and he fell over the body again.
“Remember me Colt?” she said moving towards him and climbing up on his chest. “Lainey Foster. We met at the As If Cruise last year.”
“I meet so many fans at those things,” he whispered.
“You bought me drinks, even though I was under age. Then you and your friends dragged me to your suite, remember that?”
My God, he did. “You wanted it,” he stammered.
“You think a girl of fifteen wants five adult men to force themselves on her?” She allowed the point of the knife, to steadily, slide down his chest.
“Why would you come on the cruise if you didn’t?” He tried to act hard.
She laughed. “Colt, I adored you, but you’re just like the rest.”
“Please,” he whimpered.
“That’s what I said,” she mocked him and her eyes darkened as he felt the knife penetrate the abs he had worked so hard to maintain.