Psychological Thriller Short Story – The Voices
Photo credit: clarita from morguefile.com
He was standing outside the gates of St. Josephs College, waiting impatiently for Sheetal to complete her classes. Some girls walking out of the college looked at him and giggled, throwing furtive glances at him. This did not excite him. Neither was he alarmed. He was aware that he was a very good looking young man of 17 years. He was tall almost reaching 6’2 and had a well-toned body, thanks to the laborious hours at the gym.
Although he was flattered by the attention he was receiving from the college girls, his eyes were still searching for Sheetal. He had been watching her for more than a month now and half a dozen times he had followed her from her college to the one bedroom apartment that she shared with her friend, a girl. Her friend was a female. He dint like his women to be of immoral character. He had high standards.
He had been observing Sheetal discreetly and he knew a lot about her. She was an exceptionally bright girl, cherubic and exuberant, she made friends easily. Her intelligence quotient was much higher than the average college girls of her age. She was good in debates and she played basketball. She had a bright future, a future that had to be tragically cut short because of him. For in few hours he was sure that Sheetal would be no more, she would be killed. And he would be the person to free her soul.
The voices in his head grew stronger. They were chanting only one word-“Kill, kill, kill”. He could not take it anymore. He started pacing the space near the gate.
To any casual observer, he looked like the dozen or so boys who were waiting near the gate for their girlfriends to come out. But he was different. He was not Sheetal’s boyfriend, but in his mind he considered himself her lover. In fact he called himself ‘The Stud’. The eternal lover. He loved and then killed because he dint want any girl whom he loved to love anyone else. He wanted to put his stamp on all the girls that he fell in love with.
He had fallen in love with 4 girls before Sheetal and all the 4 ladies were dead. He first fell in love when he was 14 years old. She was a sweet girl, a year younger to him with long hair, cute button lips and cheeks that he wanted to bite into when he first saw her. In fact if he remembered well, he had actually bitten her cheeks before he buried her 6 feet underground.
But all the thinking got him more wired and the voices in his head grew stronger and louder. He put his hands over his ears, but immediately withdrew them. He dint want to make anyone suspicious. Not that he cared much. If anyone described him later, they would recall a tall, muscular guy with a beard, a dozen tattoos all over his arms, a ring on his left eyebrow and a completely bald head. But he was a master of disguises. The next time he would be seen publicly he would be a guy with brown hairs bouncing off his head, bespectacled, clean shaven, no tattoos anywhere on his body. He considered himself to be chameleon. He could adapt himself to any environment. He was invisible, he was invincible. He chuckled to himself.
He saw a group of school boys trudging along. A boy in the group was being ridiculed by the other boys for his short height. The small boy was crying, but the other boys dint care and they continued poking fun at him. This triggered off his mind to an event that happened when he was 12 years old. He was in his school walking towards his class when he noticed a small group of boys trailing him and laughing at him. They were pointing their fingers at his shorts and sneering. He twisted his head around and noticed a large blotch of blood staining his white shorts. He started sobbing and running but the boys overtook him. They were jeering loudly, “Sissy!Sissy”. Some were calling out “Gay Boy!, Gay Boy!”.
He was in physical pain and in mental anguish. He remembered the night, a month ago, when his stepdad came to his room and asked him to get naked. When he refused his “dad”, took out his belt and lashed it on his buttocks. He then raped him through the night. And this happened almost every night in his house. He was not able to talk to anyone about it, his mom dint care for him. She was busy selling her body to anyone who would accept her. After all her whisky and vodka bottles required money and prostituting was the easiest way to earn cash. He hated his mother, the only person whom he considered the reason behind his agony. In his mind all women were sluts, to be used and thrown away. They were not worthy of love. They were to be raped and then killed. The sole purpose of their existence on earth was to provide pleasure to men. Once they fulfilled their purpose, then they were to be disposed.
His mind snapped to the present. But he felt the whole world was jeering and taunting him.” Gay Boy! Gay Boy!” He couldn’t stand it anymore. His vision was clouded with the intense anger he felt within. With every girl he raped and killed, the voices in head had grown stronger. The tormentor was being tormented. All he wanted was redemption, to silence the voices in his head.
Just then his vision cleared and he could see Sheetal coming out. The voices cleared, his senses sharpened. It was as if he had a rebirth. She was ethereal, so graceful, and so beautiful. For a moment he felt saddened by the horrible deed that he had planned to do, but the next moment he was back to his elements. He had a plan. He had a girl to rape and kill.
He knew the path that Sheetal took every day to reach her apartment. She had a two wheeler that she rode down Gandhi Nagar road. This stretch was usually deserted at this time of the evening and this was where he planned to kidnap her.
He followed her in his Alto car that he had stolen a few days back. He was careful enough to never leave a trail after committing the crime. When they reached G.N road, he increased his speed so that his car and Sheetal’s two wheeler were now driving along side. Sheetal darted a questioning look at him before she and her vehicle were hurtled into the small pit on road side.
He had hit Sheetal’s vehicle and now he quickly got out of his car and went to help her. But before Sheetal could react, he took the chloroform soaked cloth and held it near her face. He then made sure that no one was watching him and deftly carried her inside his car.
He then rode to the dilapidated building at the city outskirts. He knew that no one ever came to this house. It was an old building that was completely destroyed due to a fire accident.
He gently placed Sheetal on the floor and sat beside her. He kept the sickle next to him. She looked so serene in her sleep. He gently pushed the strands of hair that covered her face and taking her hands in his, he looked around the place. Few years back it was his house, but now, no one lived in it. He remembered the fateful night when after his stepdad had another of his “visits” to his room, he had heard the voices in his head. The world was chanting “Kill, kill, kill” repeatedly, until he had doused the entire house with kerosene and lit a fire. He watched from the outside as his parents were burnt alive. He could hear the shrieks but they calmed him, pacified him. He slept peacefully that night. The world felt pity on him as he was orphaned. But he was ecstatic, jubilant because he was free.
Sheetal was stirring in her sleep, she was gaining consciousness. He got her the red rose that he bought for her. After all it was her first night and no first night was complete without roses. He was a romantic to the core.
But as she opened her eyes, she looked terrified. She bolted upright and tried to run. He caught hold of her. He wanted to profess his love, to make love, to gain her love back. But Sheetal started struggling against him. She tried to bite him and this excited and angered him simultaneously. He already had a hard-on. He hit her across the cheeks and she fell on the floor.
The bit*h was trying to act smart, he thought. He tried to shake her by nudging her with his foot. But she took him by surprise as she lunged for him and cut his throat using his sickle. Blood spurted out from his neck. The bit*h was going to pay now, he thought as the voices screamed in his head “Kill her, kill her”.
He caught hold of her neck and squeezed it with all his might. But Sheetal was stronger than he thought. She drew the sickle across his gut and he fell down. The voices in his head had now turned against him. The whole world was chanting “Kill the bast*rd, kill the bast*rd”. Finally he breathed his last and the world was silent again.
