The Neighbourhood

This story contains violence, language, death, angst, abuse, and sex.
Reviews are welcome as is constructive criticism.

WARNING: this chapter contains violence and death.


Chapter 3


Beatrice quickly got up and walked to the front door, stepping over the junk strewn everywhere. She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. The storm had passed, leaving behind puddles and little white balls of hail. There was no one in the street.

A wail of pain interrupted the dead silence of the neighbourhood. Beatrice snapped open the blade of her pocketknife and peered around the corner of the house, where the screams were coming from.

You aren't fucking Lara Croft, now get your ass back inside!

Crowley had his hand around the small, dirty man whom he was simultaneously punching.

A hundred things came to her mind at the same time and she did the first thing that had come to her: she ran towards the men, screaming at Crowley to stop.

Both of the men looked at her with surprised expressions. The small man tried to break away from Crowley’s grip but he kicked him in the knee, disabling him.

“Go away, this ain’t any of your business,” Crowley snarled at her.

Beatrice looked at the bloody man he was holding and glared at him. “It is if you’re beating the shit out of this guy!”

The victim let out a bark of laughter, spitting blood on Crowley’s shirt.

Crowley shoved him up against the wall of the house, squeezing his neck tighter.

“This guy raped my sister,” he said coldly as he glanced at her pocketknife which suddenly seemed much smaller to Beatrice.

“She was asking for it,” the man said. Crowley’s face turned red and he pulled out his gun.

“Wait! What did you say?” Beatrice asked calmly, walking towards them.

Crowley let go of the man and he fell to his knees on the ground, his greasy black hair covering his eyes.

She stepped in front of him, the hand with the pocketknife suddenly shaking.

“What did you say?” She repeated.

The man looked up at her with a sneer on his grubby face.

“I said the little cunt was asking for it.”

Beatrice didn’t think as she leapt onto the man, tackling him to the ground. She covered his face with her hand as she stabbed him in his shoulder.

“YOU…” she screamed, tears running down her cheeks as she repeatedly stabbed him with her pocketknife, “…BASTARD!”

The man bit her hand and she cried out in pain. He spat blood at her face, and then started to choke. Beatrice slapped him hard.

“HOW DOES IT FEEL?” She asked, stabbing him twice in his groin.

He let out a gasp, then started to scream in agony.

“WHAT? I didn’t hear you,” she said, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her.

“DOES IT HURT? DOES IT HURT ENOUGH FOR YOU?”

The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he twitched spasmodically.

“Yes! Yes it hurts! Please, just stop it! Stop,” he cried.

“But I thought you wanted it? I thought you were asking for it?” She buried the pocketknife in the side of his neck.

Crowley grabbed her, pulling her off of the bleeding man.

“Stop. That’s enough,” he said quietly.

Beatrice gasped for breath, her shoulders racked with sobs. “He…he said-”

“Go inside, Beatrice.”

Beatrice took one look at the dead man on the ground and then vomited.

Oh God, what did I just do?

~~~~~~~~~

“Your sister. How is she?” Beatrice asked.

They were sitting in front of the barbeque, drinking flat Dr. Peppers. They had just buried the body (Crowley’s command) and they were exhausted.

“She’ll manage,” Crowley said, lighting up a cigarette. “Want one?”

Beatrice nodded. He lit her up, then took a long drag, staring at her intensely. Beatrice looked down at the burning cigarette in her hand, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach. She really did feel sick. Was this a normal occurrence after you murdered someone for the first time?

I’m going to Hell. I murdered a stranger because he was a rapist. What the fuck was I thinking?

She sucked on the cigarette for a bit then put it out. It wasn’t helping.

“Did you…uh, know him?” She asked awkwardly.

Crowley nodded, rubbing his head and sighing.

“Everyone knows each other here. You’re the only stranger.”

Beatrice felt her heart fill with dread. “Will I be arrested?”

Crowley laughed for the first time, a nice, rich sound that made her smile.

“Nah, nah ya ain’t gonna be arrested. No one cares if anyone dies. You’ll learn that real quick,” he said, looking at her, seemingly puzzled.

“If you stay,” he added.

“If you’ll let me,” she replied.

He smirked. “Ya killed the bastard for me, I owe ya.”

Beatrice looked away. Just thinking about what she had done made her want to vomit again.

“I hardly think killing him was a favour,” she said solemnly.

He peered at her, as if staring at her he would figure out what she was thinking.

“No use feelin guilty, Beatrice. Ya rid the world of one less scumbag.”

Beatrice shook her head, putting her head in her hands. “I killed him. It doesn’t matter who he was or what he did!”

Crowley scowled. “You weren’t thinkin of that when ya stabbed him, now were ya?”

“No. I wasn’t thinking at all,” she said, hating the fact that he was right.

Crowley sighed again. “Beatrice, look at me. Ya did what you did, and it’s done with. No going back and changin things. So why waste your time feelin guilty and regrettin it?”

“I just…I never thought I would be a murderer.”

“Well have ya ever thought about murderin someone before?”

Beatrice blushed furiously, standing up and turning away from him. “Yeah, so what?”

“Alls I’m saying’s the two are connected,” he said, standing up also.

He touched her shoulder. “Now who raped you?” He asked quietly.

Beatrice let out a strangled noise and turned around. “What? How-how did you know?” She said.

Oh, fuck, you could have just lied. Now what are you going to do, tell him your whole lifes story?

“There’s that same look in your eyes that my sister had. And you really went off when Paul said she asked for it. It was obvious.”

Beatrice realised how close he was and stepped away.

“My dad,” she spat. “Are you happy now?”

Crowley’s eyes darkened and his jaw tightened.

“Is that why ya ran away?”

Beatrice was dumbfounded by the man’s perception. He didn’t look like the kind of person who could read people at all. He looked more like he would beat them up.

“Yes,” she said simply.

She hoped he was just drop it or change the subject. It really made her uncomfortable.

Crowley turned and squatted, picking up their soda cans.

“Stay as long as you like. But I warn ya now, this ain't the safest place in the world.”

“I noticed,” Beatrice replied and Crowley smirked.

“Oh yeah, and you’re gonna have to help me do some errands from time to time,” he said casually.

“Errands?”

“Yeah, ya know, go get some milk, pick up the mail, get a birthday card for grandmomma…” Crowley said with a serious face.

Beatrice burst out laughing. She hadn’t known she’d be staying with a comedian.

A cute one at that, she thought. Yeah, he’s quite the Brad Pitt.

They went over what was in her bag.

“I’ll need your money,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because if you’re gonna be stayin with me ya gotta provide for somethin. I’ll use your money to buy food for us and your..uh..womanly..er......stuff. That’s fair, right?”

Beatrice held back a giggle when he said ‘womanly stuff’. “I guess so.”

Crowley folded his arms over his chest. “Ya don’t have to give me your money. But I only got enough to buy food for one person,” he explained.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Anyway, where do you get food?” She couldn’t imagine a Safeway in this place.

“In town at the supermarket. We’ll go tomorrow,” Crowley said, stretching out on the floor. Beatrice glanced at him, then at the bed.

“Uhm, Crowley…you don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

Crowley looked up at her and grinned. “So ya rather I sleep with you?”

Beatrice blushed, getting a pleasurable feeling below just thinking about that.

“Well…I mean…I can sleep in my sleeping bag and you can sleep on the mattress.”

Crowley pretended to be hurt. “Is it because I smell?”

Beatrice laughed, shaking her head. “No, it’s because I smell.”

“You are a bit ripe,” he said.

“Oh, like you’re the poster boy for cleanliness?” She shot back.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Go to bed.”

Beatrice snorted. “I hope the floor’s comfy.”

Crowley grunted. Beatrice shook her head, staring up at the ceiling. God, what a day.

~~~~~~~~


AN--
Alright, now the interesting stuff begins.