Knife up my skirt...

Miki
Authored by Fallen Matthews
Killing me…
Sin. That was the only word Miki could think of… the never-ending taunt burnt on her denying redemption. The eyes of a stranger were not all too welcoming as Jacob’s nonetheless, if only his were not so merciless.
Indifferently, she let them rake over her undoubtedly skimming every detail. Had Yuka not subtly warned her about this? About anything out of sorts happening in the presence of a man, let alone the prurient Jacob Fukiai? For once, why had she not heeded his advice especially when it mattered the most?
Soon, Yuka’s incessant babbling slipped her mind as she caught a glimpse of Jacob shift. Where was he headed? Automatically, she assumed the worst. To tell Yuka? Akira? The press, what she’d done? Perhaps he was off to spray-paint her father’s grave in attempt to take out his rebel.
Anxiously she headed for him, freezing in movement to prevent herself from any touch.
“Jacob,” she casually called. “Exactly…” She stopped herself. What would she say? Jacob, exactly what did you see? Okay, so you didn’t walk on him totally eating my tongue? That was just ludicrous, she didn’t want to make him remember anything he didn’t need to. She couldn’t afford any more humiliation, financially and reputably. EM would then be without a cause as she’d be dead of ‘natural causes.’
The words stood right on her tongue, if only she could find her voice to say them. Maybe she would not look so dumbfounded under his torturing gaze. She looked down spying her red ribbon clutched tautly in her grip. She’d almost forgotten it with everything that went on. Immediately she scolded herself for the thought: Who wouldn’t have forgotten anything with what just went on to them?
The ribbon, father… Her thoughts were programmed on overload as numerous memories washed over her.
Flashbacks came soaring back as she began to digest the woven material’s feel, the same fabric her father had so desperately demanded be worn for his red angel. Gore nor blood had occupied his or her mind at the color or when his fingers had entangled themselves in her hair to adjust it.
Now all she had left were the desperate memories of him and a crummy faded ribbon in his remembrance. How did her life ever turn so pitifully pathetic? How did her father ever manage to die leaving her to awake eternally on a messy deathbed?
Honestly, Miki thought; the whole argument was incredulous. Her eyes fell on the impatient figure of Jacob watching her in the dark room. She wondered, did Jacob have to debate this argument everyday as she about his mother? She exhaled, this was not the time nor place to be merciful. The god of all sin could have easily known that.
“Jacob, I…” she stopped herself realizing her voice was inexplicably uneven. Pink pinched her cheeks as she choked back a sob—was the memory of her father really that affective on her. She couldn’t let him find out.
Miki muffled back a sniffle and faced him only to have her nose collide with his shoulder. Was he…hugging her, molesting her? So many hands of filth had tried their hardest to taint her innocence, quizzically it had laid impossible to tell the difference of genuine devotion or feeling…when was the last time the first fell aforementioned?
Rigid inked strands of wild bangs tickled her out of her thoughts. Jacob was indeed there after all, to lose the thread before him would be irrational; she had to stay collective. But poise was soon diminished from her mind as his scent intoxicated her lungs.
Damp. Cool. As the midnight breeze. Dashed crisply within. Like an undeterred angelic demon. His voice radiated captivity silencing her every move with such unread authority as no one else had chained to her. His eyes raked over her again.
“Get away from me,” she barked. No matter what, their confrontation would end bitterly, why care of the words exchanged?
“Miki,” he began casually. “What happened here? You look like hell.”
It amazed her to no end at his causality. So he hadn’t walked in on her previous intimacy with Ken or had he been pushing it aside to make it look sympathetic? He couldn’t be that dense, could he? It was obvious not to question his knowledge on which he’d walked in on.
Sepia orbs of both innocence and harmless question returned his gaze. It pained her endlessly at the last resort to lie especially when Jacob’s concern looked so real. “I-I got locked in,” she stammered.
“Why take the stairwell instead of the elevator, princess?” he half-mused.
“None of your business,” she snarled, “I’ll take whatever way I want.”
Jacob could not help but snicker at her antics—refusing any help at all, cringing not the slightest under his gaze—hilarious!
For once he looked upon her letting the pure virgin baptize in her sepia flood. Saintly innocent and yet doubtlessly rebel…when was the last time he’d met a girl like this? In the midst of tears on the brink god knew what problem all the while still snapping at his every move. Not the least bit ironic or surprising.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” he snapped. “I simply asked why you took the stairs.”
“You also called me a princess and I am anything but!” Urgently pushing aside the sinking feeling in her stomach, she stormed past him into the awaiting questioning looks of the hotel occupants. As if they’d gone out of their way to look at her, analyze her.
Painlessly, she shot each and every one of them a cold glare sailing them right back into their previous motions. Where was Yuka when she needed him the most to escort her? Escort… the word sent shivers up her spine recalling everything.
The deadly escort in disguise sent to kill her. Her very first confrontation with a fairly negotiable homicidal maniac not to mention her lesson on how money really helped things. And then there was his dagger’s blade steely crafting an imprint on her leg. Why did she have to think ‘escort?’
With one final flinch, she continued walking about the hotel, her stroll ending in front of the near elevator. Then it hit her: go back to her hotel room? The thought was absurd! Who knew what EM had left for her to find, to encounter? A bomb implanted on the door to open? An agent hiding in her closet. Perhaps that psychotic woman with a gun compliments of Ken.
Instantly she darted back fearing if right then and there, that woman from EM would make it so it rained in—piranhas themselves charging at her wanting to consume her flesh. Suddenly Miki was not so fond of elevators and decided the rational thing to do would be to take a walk to clear her head.
Maybe Jacob would join her? Ha, not after the way she treated him! No one she treated wanted anything to do with her, why him? Musing, she sighed.
Momentarily, she had the sudden urge for a cigarette. Taking her mind off of everything. She had no choice but to go outside. Warily, she trudged out of the automatic swinging doors ignoring anyone who dared to even glance at her.
Miki was so preoccupied in her dark thoughts that her senses had sadly misguided her to not apprehend. She could not, would not, notice the oh so dark silhouette that trailed after her.



The night air was cool. Almost intimate as it tickled her skin, a cigarette now and this would be the perfect moment.
Absently, she set the white stick afire inhaling a long drag—Jacob probably did the same thing hours ago after she told him off. She mused at the thought of him, all hot and bothered, charging out into the awaiting eyes of people outside to smoke because she told him. What a laugh.
Breathing in more of the smoky tobacco, she sighed. If only everything could be so humorous, perhaps then she wouldn’t be such a pessimist. But pessimist she did not call but rather, realist. Who could tell the difference in her position? A name popped instantly into her head: Ken.
Why was she thinking of him, of all times? He’d left only a few minutes ago, leaving his mark on her lips. Probably out hunting new victims carried into the night. Now, he’d managed to find something or someone to take care of him worries. Miki Dai. The richest teen in Japan and he happens to rescue her with the offer of a job proposition. Ironic how no matter what, he’d be paid in millions.
How much did she owe him? $20 million? $50 million, maybe? No, it was at least $75 million, right? She’d forgotten, so she’d do what she could in the right situation: overestimate and pay him more than he’s earned. Maybe then he’d see her as somewhat generous and lighten up. But what if overestimation was not enough? That she’d left out a thousand or a million? Coolly, she began to retrace his current killings into her perspective.
Each face, each victim was etched in her memory somehow lingering to be set free. All of them would be at payday no matter how countless they may be.
First the escort, then the five that ganged up on them at his place, then the ten that he threw in from nowhere and the one he’d let escape tonight and the others... And with $50 000 for each one, that made… $1 050 000!? Damn it.
Tumbling off of her lips came a long exasperated groan. What a large sum to withdraw from the bank, and so quickly? Angrily, she decided to come to a quick and unnoticed compromise.
She’d stay home from school tomorrow since that idiotic psycho could not get her hours of school in his thick head. Then she’d get the money ready in a briefcase for him to take…hopefully, he would take nothing else unnecessary. Miki retched groveling at some of the possibilities.
“Don’t the stars look beautiful tonight, baby?” The sullen quote crisply muffled by the shattering of Miki’s thoughts. Who said that? Who were they talking to? Her plans of Ken’s organized payment withdrew as she jolted out of them for answers. Carelessly, she whipped around to the voice.
Her only answer was brittled in the cool nighttime breeze. Laughter it was; innocent, happy laughter. Simply only to for the voice could. A girl, a woman—who knew the difference nowadays?
No. Nobody had spoken to her, nobody had even acknowledged her existence. Who would if they had their own life? That girl? Definitely not the boy who owned the arm around her shoulder. Merely an idyllic couple admiring the stars…nothing that involved her.
Don’t the stars look beautiful tonight, baby? What did she expect?
A loaded gun? Perhaps a brimming dagger? Her life, her problems suffocated her, making her hallucinate. Everything was so, so…wrong.
The thought brushed away as did the black strand in her eye with her hand. No one else was around now. The entire block was bare.
Stores illuminated sheer darkness as did the crowded cars. Few people lingered along the Naha streets fading into dead silhouettes as they melded with the black night. Beads of silver streaked down onto the unlit city, their light the only light left killing anything.
Time stood still, freezing the moment. She was the only one left, everyone else forgotten. But was everyone else really…forgotten? If that were so, why were Ken and Jacob still on her mind? They were such annoyances…
“I love you, darling…” Miki lazily looked over to the previous scene again; hadn’t that couple left yet? She heaved at the lovesick scene and glanced back—they were kissing now. Was kissing such an intimate sign of love? Of course not, Ken just kissed her and she had shivers down her spine.
Carelessly tossing away her cigarette, she headed back into the hotel as if she’d witnessed nothing; what difference would it make if she did?
Impurely, she would forever bathe in the reminisce of her chastity, no sight or scene would change that. Neither would Ken, she added hastily.
How could she be so naïve? To think that his cryptic style, directed itself to something beyond professionalism in their agreement or that his psychotic behavior displayed that he was trying to cover up any feeling. Only a fool would believe that—but when had she started to believe?
When he’d kissed her? Or when he’d shoved down her hand? Her foot would the next thing to shove in a not so pleasurable place and she’d show him what a naiveté she was… Why waste the time anticipating that when she would be able to pay him back tomorrow?
And pay she would, every last dollar she owed him—would that be it? Her senses screamed he would leave her hanging once she paid him once, what were the chances of her paying him again? Anyone with any hint of intellect would’ve clearly done the aforementioned as Ken, but Ken wasn’t the average ‘one,’ was he?
The thought was chafed away as though it was her cigarette, and she crudely crushed the smoke scraps willfully in the nearby ashtray. Even in the darkness of all night, she managed to walk as the speed of light bound from the heartthrobbing scene and headed towards the hotel doors.
Willful as was, was Miki’s definition of entrance as eyes became attached to her as soon as she stormed in. No glare, no scowl, no gnarl could replace any of the looks she’d received for they were endless. Where’s a psychopath killer when you need one? She mused.
However, no mirth whatsoever could keep from what was coming, despite anyone else’s humor.
“Miss Dai!” Yuka. The old man shows up yet again… he should focus more on his retirement party and less on her whereabouts. He would if he knew what was good for him…health-wise, of course.
“Yuka…” she moaned. Too late, eyes were already traveling to the exits.
“Miss Dai,” he heaved. His expression held nothing but fatigued cheer and evidently he had sprinted his way to her regardless of how tardy his speed. Alas, he stood before her in full body and spirit, hinting that there would be nothing more of a lecture to follow.
Aside from any apathy he would shower, she would have to make an effort to explain her absence; she always did and killer company or not it would not change. “Yuka,” she began. “I was looking all over for you.”
Despite any setting, Yuka showed no withdrawal of his oration of non-rebellion. “In all due respect, madam, what do you take me for? In my old age, I obtain a fair sense of intellect. Miss, I—”
Miki interjected briefly and shook her head. “Are we going to talk about your ‘old-age intellect’ or did you have something else to tell me, Yuka?” The idiocy was incriminate although her tone, courteous.
“Miss Dai, for the matter of your liability to my intelligence we will discuss afterward. For now, we shall speak of your recent antics and the whereabouts you occupied in this hotel, and the mess you had left in your room. Do you have any idea what we pay the room service? Miss, I demand that you regain some self-control.”
Seasoned hands revealed a flossy handkerchief, as he drew his hand from his pocket and cleaned his glasses—which he did when he was extremely flustered or announcing something she did not like. Miki idly wondered if he’d taken notes on Ken’s cryptic antics.
“Miss,” he stated briefly, all signs of aggravation gone. “I expect that you’ll understand my position and enjoy everything immensely.”
“Enjoy what ‘everything’ immensely?” she baffled.
“Sir Jacob has agreed to follow the accommodations of our position once we get accredited the proper requirements for our stay on this lovely island.”
“What?”
Suddenly, Jacob appeared spontaneously from behind wearing a smug smirk on his face. “Jacob?” was all she managed to utter.
“What Yuka means is that I’ll be with you at your new location,” he clarified coolly. “Tell her, Yuka.”
“What Sir Jacob is referring to is the slight conversation we’d had recently of his living arrangements in Okinawa.” Yuka stated. “As he has no record or schedule of staying anywhere else…”
“Yuka, what the hell are you trying to say?” she barked pushing away the sinking feeling in her stomach.
“Miss, if you please, Sir Jacob has confirmed his staying with us as permanent until otherwise and will be accompanying us to our new house along the far coast. I trust you will stay in order…”
“What the hell? Yuka, how could you just—!”
“Come on, Miki,” Jacob soothed casually to her face. “It’s not like we’ll be sleeping in the same room or something.”
“You’re damn right,” she growled, “I wouldn’t be caught dead…”
“Miss Dai, we shall discontinue any further comments on this issue as for you Sir Jacob, will follow the suit. Neither of you shall patronize or terrorize one another, you shall both keep a polite handle.”
“Yeah, a polite handle,” Jacob mocked her.
“We’ll see who terrorizes or patronizes anyone,” she shot back, “And either way, we both know the ‘bed’ arrangements, don’t we, Fukiai?”
“I won’t be sleeping in your bed, Miki…” he cooed. “Yet…”
“Pervert,” she snarled, “When I’m done with you, your balls will be the last thing on your mind.”
“Is that a challenge or a surrender?” he shot back.
“Sir Jacob! Miss Dai! Stop this at once!”
Both teens averted their eyes toward the cool fuming old man and were silenced. “Miss… Sir… you will conduct yourselves in orderly behavior or I will be forced to take action.”
“You can schedule an appointment with the doctor any day of the way, pops,” Jacob countered suavely.
“Sir Jacob!”
“I’m going to sleep,” Miki sighed. “I can’t take anymore drama tonight.”
“With Yuka…or Ken?”
She froze. Did he just say what she thought or had her ears deceived her amongst other things? He spoke of Ken and just when he was turning into the last thing on her mind… Jacob was only trying to push her buttons, it was a mock thing to do. He hadn’t seen Ken anywhere, he hadn’t seen anything. Not the EM confrontation. Not that woman Ken was on about. Not the handiwork. Not the kiss. He had seen nothing…or did he?
“What?” she played dumbfounded.
“Sir Jacob, what are you referring to? This charade and parody is not the slightest bit amusing.”
Then he did it. His eyes melting into hers again, bringing back a fall of memories only an hour ago. His eyes. His worried questions. Her tears of existence. His embrace… How could someone act so affectionate and then turn so cold?
“Don’t play dumb, Miki,” he plainly stated. All traces of smugness were gone; all that remained was pure…detest?
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Is this what you tell Yuka when he walks in on you two together?”
“That young gentlemen who dropped by earlier this afternoon? I have no objections to a pure professionalism or canvass. Miss Dai lacks in, err, immaturity.”
His eyes remained locked on hers, refusing to let her go. If only she could drown in them, just once… “I guess he hasn’t seen you go,” he licked his lips. “That’s not what I call professionalism.”
“What are saying?” she pressed.
“I’m saying that if anyone’s asking, they should look for Ken to see if you’re a good kisser.”
“WHAT!?” Yuka himself looked as though he would jump out of his skin at that very moment as his face paled. Miki could only hang her mouth open in awe at his revelation. So he had seen them…
“I’m going to sleep,” she concluded finally and turned on her heel to walk to her hotel room.
“I suppose Ken’s waiting?” Jacob pressed.
“Go to hell!” she threw over her shoulder. She would not only have to deal with Yuka’s lectures but also with Jacob’s interrogations and Ken’s…impression? Her life got better with every waking second.
~~~
The morning was cold, crisp, and melding. Thick dew hung in the air and on the trees greeting the presence of the new morning sun. Miki could only cast-off his light as she looked into it. Tomorrow, today, had finally come… and she would have to pay up in the likes of a certain psychopath.
Her clock read 7:05 am while her mind urged it to be hours earlier. Sleep had left her in the wake of the night to contemplate her position and why she’d even bothered to receive her bank withdrawal that she’d ordered the following night.
If refunding him for his needs was only what she could do right, then why hesitate? But if doing the promised thing to a lethal killer, then why bother? Either way she would die anyway no matter how large the fee. Ken was a total psychopath, how else would he get off?
She shoved these thoughts of doubts aside as her fingers brushed against the cool metal concealed beneath the depths of her mattress stand. The ever so chilling briefcase, she called it, for it contained what amount of money she owed Ken, maybe more if she hadn’t been accurate…maybe less?
There was no time to count again if there was any cent wrong. Preparation for school would begin in ten minutes, more than less of the time she needed to double-check or quad-drople technically, but technicalities thereupon were nothing as she thought of Ken approaching.
No, she thought effortlessly. I won’t stay home today or any other day, I’m not going to see him. Who knows what he’ll try to do with me…that kiss was enough…
Erotic thoughts soon melted away in the crisp cool of her flesh as goosebumps raided her skin. I should have had a cold shower…maybe then I wouldn’t of thought of Ken…Gross, the thought is sickening!
Images, oh so, lewd images started sailing into her head—of Ken, of his lips, his touch, his eyes, his dagger… Of all people to target, she had to be virgin and infatuated with Ken nonetheless. Couldn’t someone she actually embraced have been her paramour? Someone else would soon replace Ken in her thoughts…soon. Psychotic or not, she was going insane.
Ken. Ken. Ken. His name tickled her ear as she slipped on every piece of clothing she had. She cringed at what it meant…why there were still goosebumps on her skin… All thoughts went away as she slipped on her socks and headed downstairs.
It had been one week. Seven days. Since they’d moved into their accommodated reserved house. Seven days since she’d last seen Ken… What could he be doing that so preoccupying? He’d managed to come for her for at least five days straight and when she gathers his money he’s nowhere in sight?
Thoughts once arose he must not have been human. Anyone, any man who could kill without any heart was not human. Killing someone for sheer enjoyment was beyond monstrous. And holding her lust was something any immortal human could only do… Ken. A ghost with unfinished business, haunting the impure thoughts of a clothed virgin.
He could come and go as he pleased, showing himself in a flash and then evaporating into thin air. How easy and prolonging he must be to possess such an unflawed ability. How she envied to be the one to turn it on or off.
It was only seconds later when Miki noticed that there was a constant tapping at her door. Instantly, she turned. Was it Ken?
“Miss Dai, it is time to arise for school and for someone else,” Yuka sang cheerfully to her door. Her mind had searched for a sarcastic comment to shoo him away but her tongue had stopped… A visitor was waiting downstairs?
“Miss Dai, chop, chop, chop!” Before he could knock again, she swung the door open, to his surprise. Urgency itself hardly ran in her character.
“Miss Dai,” he said startled. “You’ve already gotten ready?”
“A visitor?” she gasped neutrally. “Who?”
“He was specific as to not let you know his identity with the implication of a surprise,” was all Yuka could say. With that, he sauntered off with a heated grin and looked over his shoulder.
“Sir Jacob had had the pleasure of meeting him and has left for school already. I believe he’d joined the drama club.”
“I’m sure he’s joined a nice club, Yuka,” she mumbled distractedly, and looked to the stairwell. There was no signal of any visitor seen… he was standing too far out of focus. But what if it was him?
He wouldn’t hack her up now with Yuka here, would he? She could not bear that risk. Numbly she dropped to her knees peering down; she could die right that instant, but she had to take a chance.
Absently, she hunched up to her knees and to the stairs, running down as if there was no tomorrow. She could not risk not knowing, just crumbling in fear. Ken was bound to show up and she would embrace it, dagger or not.
“Ken!” she hollered to her advance. At the sound of heavy footsteps, she skipped a few stairs landing only on the tips of her heels. Balance had left her as she began to totter to the ground. Her eyes closed to wish away the pain coming of her fall.
Gravitation had failed to consume her. Arms, hotly frigid arms had engulfed her safely preventing her fall to the ground and instead cradling her as a rising heat. Her eyes crept open for fear of dear life and her heartbeat skidded in her ribcage.
Sorrel eyes soon faded in sepia as his breath pricked her cheeks—panting as if worried for her fall. It was Ken… in the flesh haunting her body’s touch and holding her—a softer look causality in his gaze.
Her world was spinning around her as he edged closer, soon to engulf her lips with his own as well. Endless streams of images sunk into her head as she closed her eyes, one name on her lips, “Ken…” He made no reply as he came closer… his breathing mixing with hers.
Then all spinning ceased… and everything was still.
“Miss me, Miki?” he asked coolly.
Suddenly her body’s temperature dropped down by the minuses as she felt the cold steel of his blade caressing her cheek. Was she bleeding? Reality had diminished for her to realize any slight detail.
“I missed you,” he tortured. “I missed you so much, I was just going psychotic without you.”
“Ken…” was all she uttered, the only thing that was not foreign to her was his name, his mouth on her lips.
The world just stop spinning leaving them in a never-ending halt…
And everything was still…
~~~
FIN