VOICES by Patti Beeton

He throws her up against the wall and cuffs her hands so she cannot move, slowly kissing her neck as she moans. Reaching down to her exposed breasts that were voluptuous and full and furthering his hand down between her legs. It excites him to feel how wet she is, and she squirms as he slides a finger into her opening.  He turns her around so she is facing the wall as he undoes his pants, releasing the erection that had built up and throws himself inside her. She screams at first and it turns him on more; he fucks her hard and fast, filling her quickly.

They had just met earlier that evening at a club, and the attraction was instant between them. She was young and vibrant, he was a few years older and liked her looks. Flirting was not his style, he was the type that went head on, asking her to have a drink with him and he could see that she was not going to turn him down. They exchanged names and had a little small talk before leaving and heading back to his home. She kept asking herself, “Stephanie, what the hell are you doing? ,” but she found him irresistible, as if he had a curse on her. His name was Eric, and he was the most attractive man she had ever met, she felt lucky. Her mind was running wild with ideas of what the night might bring. She had been single for quite some time now, the last relationship ended badly, but knowing the only way to deal with it was to get out and have fun.

by C & C Photography
by C & C Photography

It appears she may have had too much. Eric treated her special, but at times she felt more like a call girl to him. She was falling in love and was too afraid to tell him. Months had gone by since the first night meeting, and she thought by now he would have said the three special words, but he never did. Her heart was melting, and hoping he would, but she would not pressure him in fear of losing him.  Everyone was calling them ”that cute couple.” Things were great for about ten months, and then all went to hell.

Stephanie was getting restless, and Eric was staying out late every night. It was the beginning of the end.   Fights were erupting and she was getting heavier into the drugs. He told her to clean herself up or get the hell out. That night she decided to go find out what or who was keeping him out so late, and it did not take long to find him in the same club they had met at.  She was a mess, high on coke and got up in his face, yelling and screaming at him, demanding to know what whore he was fucking,  He grabbed her by the arm and took her outside. The fire in his eyes said it all.

He made her leave that night. A couple of months went by before he heard the news. All night she heard voices that would echo through the walls, saying things that made no sense. She tried closing them out but this just seemed to anger them, making her more uneasy. The house was not that old, however it always seemed so dark, even after a fresh paint job of eggshell white on the walls. Within days they would look grey and dirty.


She had not been out in a couple of weeks, and yet no phone calls to check on her, and no neighbors stopping by. Something was holding her there, or someone.  Voices still…and they were getting louder.  Inside her head, she could hear them, now laughing, and yelling.

“Do it.  Just do it and get it done!”

“Do what?”

“Get the knife and do it!”

“I don’t know what you want me to do!”

Tears are streaming down her face, and she is shaking frantically as she walks to the kitchen and pulls out the sharpest knife she can find. Holding it up above her head, the voice start again.. “Now!” The knife lowers to her throat, slashing it.  A loud thump as the body falls to the floor.  He read about her death in the local newspaper and never shed a tear. The voices are getting louder.

On the drive to work he has the radio on, listening to some politicians arguing about some shit, and a faint voice in the background startles him.  He swears he heard his name in some strange voice, “Eric.” He chuckles to himself, “should not have drunk so much the other night.”

All day he thinks he hears his name, but just lets it go. Everyone knew about his affair with the young girl, hell he did not do much to hide it. She would visit him at his office, and the fucking they did was not kept quiet, they could hear him slapping her ass as she moaned for more. And there was always a smile on her face when she left.


Voices…they seem to get closer as the days go by, but still he ignores them. He finds himself thinking about Stephanie, he did not love the girl…for him it was purely about the sex, and he finds himself getting excited as he thinks about her on his ride home.

He undresses, releasing the erection from his pants, steps into the shower and gets himself off.

“Eric, you dirty bastard.” He jumps out of the shower and grabs a towel, then looks around.   “Who the hell is here?!”  Only silence. He walks through the house, but nobody is there.

Over in the counter he sees the newspaper.  It is opened to story of her death. He shakes his head and turns back to the bathroom laughing. “I must be losing my mind.”  He tries denying the familiar sounding voice, but it bothers him for the rest of the evening.  He finds himself again thinking of her and unable to sleep, decides to head out to the club.


There he meets a pretty brunette and they head back to his place.  They make small talk before the sex begins, and as he is fucking her, he hears the voices again.   “You fuck like a boy.” Looking down at the brunette, he asks her what she said. Shocked after she tells him she never spoke, he slowly moves himself off her and asks her to leave.

He sits on the edge of the bed, and he hears noises coming from the kitchen. And again, laying on the counter is the newspaper opened to her page. “What the fuck do you want from me? You stupid bitch.”  Then he hears it, “I want you. I have always wanted you and you pushed me to my death! Now you are going to join me!!”

The knife rack on the counter moves forward and he can feel himself flying towards it.  He reaches in and takes out the sharpest one, holds it to his throat and slices. He tries to screams her name as the blood slowly runs down his neck and he tries getting to the door, but trips on something and falls to the floor. He can hear the laughing as he lays in his own blood…and the voices slowly fade as his eyes close for the last time, but not before she says “ I love you.”


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“The characters Marcus Miller, and Babysister are owned by  Matt Farnsworth” ©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC  Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC All Rights Reserved
“The characters Marcus Miller, and Babysister are owned by Matt Farnsworth”
©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC
Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC All Rights Reserved

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