The Whore (Flash Fiction)

Brian:

I’m about to tell you about Amy and why I killed her. But first I have to tell you about Mary and Diane. Mary was the strong one. Diane was less so. I talked to Mary on a daily bases, trying to get out of the friend zone like an ant struggling with dry sand in a doodlebug’s pit, fighting for his life to get out of there. Diane was more of a fantasy. I almost never talked to her. She was a distant landscape. I didn’t really know what she thought or felt. Sometimes she caught my gaze and smiled at me. I liked to think that her smile was genuine. Even though she was probably just being polite. I hope I didn’t come off as creepy, always looking at her like that. I imagined that she liked flowers and puppies. I had this idea that I’d buy her a puppy one day and make her happy, watch her smile. I would have really liked that. To see her happy.

Diane:

I didn’t really know Brian until recently. He was the nice quiet boy who never said anything offensive. He hardly spoke at all beyond “Good morning” or “Hello”. He opened doors for me. He always smiled when he did that. For a while I think I thought he was gay. He has that look, you know? He’s cute in an effeminate way. And polite. Always polite. That’s all I thought about him until really about a couple of months ago. I was sick. I was dizzy with fever. I hardly remember letting him in. He came to my apartment and cared for me. He cooked for me. I wasn’t all there for most of the time, so I don’t know if he stayed the whole time or if he came and went, but he was the rescue I needed at the time. He was the first guy to come into my room without looking for sex. At the time, I didn’t see him that way anyway.

Mary:

I don’t even remember how long I knew him. It was like we grew up together, except we didn’t really. He was one of those people, the moment you meet, you knew was your friend your whole life. The moment we sat together, I could feel his defeat, his underappreciation, his disappointments oozing through his skin. He was like a girl. He had these delicate fingers and perfect pink fingernails. His wrists were so thin, he wore women’s watches because a man’s watch just wouldn’t look right on them. But the worst thing, the thing that really dragged him down, was how nice he was to everybody. I think he was castrated by his own goodness. I kept telling him he’d never get laid if he didn’t assert himself more. The world isn’t made for soft guys. I tried to make him see that. I tried to straighten him out, but, I don’t know, I guess some people are just beyond helping.

Brian:

I’m not gay. At least, I don’t think so. I didn’t have a sex life really. I masturbated to the thought of Mary, and Diane on occasion. That was about it. I never really had any luck with girls. I kept trying to tell Mary that I liked her. It didn’t really work because the words won’t come out. I wrote a letter once. I kept it in my pocket for weeks trying to find the right moment to hand it to her. I thought a letter might help because I couldn’t tell her. We talked a lot. She did most of the talking. When I tried to give her the letter she was always angry at some politician or some news. I tried to steer the conversation to movies and novels and stuff that might put her in the right mood, but then she’d start going off about me talking about girly topics and watching girly movies. She always thought I should be more masculine. She was trying to help. I guess. The letter, I accidently washed it in the laundry and never wrote another one.

Diane:

I hate Mary. Not that I know her all that well, but I could see how she was always abusing Brian. They were like an unhappily married couple. She kept pushing him around over the smallest things. She would tell him what he should do, what he should’t do, what he ought to be… I don’t know how he put up with it. No, I don’t think they ever had sex. They weren’t that kind of couple. Besides, Mary was always eyeing guys with tight asses. She was checking out everybody but Brian. Sometimes she’d toss her shoulder and stick out her chest and give this big “fuck me” smile to some guy passing by right in front of Brian’s face. If I knew either of the better, I would have walked up to them and told her off. Maybe I should have done that. I know I owe Brian that. After he helped me, at least.

Mary:

No offence to blonds in general, but Diane is a typical blond. I grant that she’s pretty. She knew it too well. She’s one of those self-important girls who grew up getting away with stuff most people couldn’t on account of how pretty she was. She’s completely entitled. She mostly hung out with other entitled girls. She was so used to getting things for free from her boyfriends other men around her that she probably never thought about it. And then she’d turn around and tell you how afraid she was of men and how she would give them what they wanted because she didn’t want to look rude or flaky. She would cast herself as the victim side of her relationships. Even when she openly admitted that she initiated it. I didn’t actively eavesdrop on her or anything, but she usually talked like she wanted to be heard. All about her “nightmare dates” and how she slept out of curtesy with some fat, or hairy, or uncool guy, since of course she couldn’t say “no” after the guy had an erection she triggered, and then ghosted on him because she didn’t want to do it again. And how she’s the victim of it all. She’s been leeching off of men all her life, she spreads her legs on the first date, and practically broadcasts what a God-awful date he was just to pump herself up in front of her friends and everybody within earshot. She’s just so basic.

Brian:

Yeah, I heard Diane had some bad dates. I guess some guys are really bad to her. I wish I could date her. I would be nice to her, you know, not like those guys. I don’t think she’s a bad person, I just think she has bad luck with men. She keeps dating people who hurt her in some way. I don’t mean this in a creepy way, but sometimes I just want to reach out and touch her hair. The first time I ever really talked to her was when she had that lung infection. She was really sick. I made her some soup. She said she liked it. But she began to get worse, so I called the hospital. No, I don’t really remember what her apartment looked like. I guess it looked pretty much like my apartment. It wasn’t what I imagined. I would have thought it would be fancier, I guess.

Diane:

Amy was the psyche resident who was assigned to me at the hospital. They gave me this IV drip for the infection, but she came over and started asking me these weird questions that I didn’t understand. It was really uncomfortable. Then she gave me this notebook and told me to write letters to Mary or Brian, like I knew them that well. I didn’t have anything to write about, so I wrote this letter to Brian thanking him for the soup and what he did for me. I must have passed out after that, but when I woke up, there was Brian’s answer to me scribbled on the next page.

Mary:

No, I was never raped. Some guy tried to grope me once and I kicked him in the shin. You’re thinking about Diane. She’s the type. She sleeps with men she doesn’t even like because she doesn’t want to be “rude” or look bad. I bet she had a bad start. The notebook? No. I really don’t want to think about it.

Brian:

I wrote the letter. On the notebook. Amy said I should. Then Diane wrote back. Then I wrote again. Then Mary came out and started writing between us. She didn’t like the idea that I was corresponding with Diane. Mary started writing some really bad things about her. And Diane told me I should break up with Mary. And Mary wrote that I shouldn’t let Diane make my decisions for me. Then Diane wrote that Mary was the one who was controlling me. And Mary called Diane a whore. And Amy said it wasn’t real. Amy said Mary and Diane weren’t real. It was all me. I was the only one who existed. And I felt my world fall apart. And Amy was standing there tearing my world apart. And I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t let her do that.