Hooked By: HombreLobo1 © September 9th 2009

The radio news anchor’s nasally voice pierces the airwaves again with the same message. It’s been the same message for days. It is repetition at its finest; her voice cracks the airwaves tonight with nothing new. “Once again the authorities of the greater River City area are warning residents that Billie Miller, an inmate at the River City Institute for the criminally insane has escaped. The inmate is said to be extremely dangerous and unstable. The description once again is…” Clark doesn’t care it’s been the same message for the past week, all week. He could probably recite it to you from memory; the radio news and the local TV news station have been reporting it non-stop. Clark remembers watching that hot new anchor girl try to convey her fake emotions to the viewers at home, he wondered if news anchors took acting classes. He decided if they didn’t, they needed to start. She didn’t look concerned; she looked more like she was trying to pass a pineapple out of her ass. That made her less attractive to him for some reason, whether it be he now perceived her as fake or maybe the thought of her shitting out a pineapple. Either way, he no longer wanted to bang the newsgirl. Not a big deal though, not now. Clark met a girl last night, Friday night. She wasn’t anything mind blowing, a cute girl next door type. She wasn’t tentpoppin’ hot or anything but pretty cute and she could keep up a good conversation. He didn’t pry too much though, not into her personal life anyway. Everything was just flirting, Becca, that’s her name. It’s probably short for Rebecca or something pretty like that. Clark thought he could fuck her pretty easily; she’s probably like most Army girls, lonely and easy. Was she Army? Clark can’t remember, he’s just assuming. What does assuming do again? Like Clark gives a fuck. He doesn’t, not that he’s a bad guy or anything, but it’s been a while since he’s had that sweet release.

He’s picking her up tonight at the bar where they met. How romantic, it was her idea actually, she said she didn’t want him to meet her roommates, she wasn’t proud of them. Imagine that, would you? Living with people you weren’t too fond of. Clark remembers his old roommate, Tommy Johnson. Tommy was a blues musician, a really weird dude. Kind of an enigma, he was always practicing but was never really all that good. Clark recalls that one day Tommy got damn good! He could make his guitar weep with the blues he was playing. Tommy’s late nights of practicing really had paid off or something, it was almost an overnight transformation. Then again, maybe Clark just doesn’t pay attention as well as he thinks he does. One day Tommy just stopped coming around, he didn’t disappear really, well, he did take all of his stuff with him and left enough rent for 5 months. Clark didn’t harbor any kind of grudge towards Tommy after he left, he cleaned up the place and left a lot of money behind. Maybe Tommy made it big? Clark never really thought about it. It’s raining. Un-fucking-believable, it really is just like Clark’s luck to have it rain on a first “date”. It’s not a big deal though; he really didn’t have a plan or anything. The rain really does inhibit his options, well, at least in his overly-hormonal opinion. The rain just makes it easier to go park with this girl somewhere and clean out her stomach with his tongue. Romantic, I guess, isn’t really how you’d describe Clark. "Poison rises from the gonads up to the throat and seeps into various muscles," Clark recalls a great man once saying that, some war hero, president, maybe an actor. It’s always freaked him out, that’s why he’s always looking to release his tension. Maybe he’s just a slut and can’t admit it? That’s probably it. Clark is nice enough, just overly-sexed. Maybe his job does it to him, he works at a telephone help desk, and he deals with angry people most of the time. It’s always his fault and never theirs. Kind of a ridiculous job, don’t you agree? Let’s pay you to get brow beat and abused! He doesn’t mind though. He works out most of his aggression during after work work-out sessions and sex. I guess that might sound bad, like Clark has angry sex. He doesn’t, just hard sex.

He’s a good guy though, has nice friends and is usually all smiles. He’s pulling up now to the bar where they met. Makes it sound romantic, huh? “Where they met”, it’s a term you use when how your parents relationship started, makes people feel all warm and fuzzy. Nostalgic. They should have another term for situations like this. Maybe, “where he targeted her” would work better in this situation. It’s raining hard; she’s standing outside a few feet in front of the usual bar crowd. Big dudes in leather vests, baring their tattooed arms, swilling Rolling Rock, hair slicked back and big handle bar mustaches, yeah this type is your usual bar type. Those biker guys and Army boys, with a small sprinkling of attractive females, that’s the populous of the bar. She’s standing in the rain, waiting for him. Her loose fitting jeans are soaked, they cling to her almost making them look form fitting, her hoodie is a little big too, too big to be form fitting even when wet. It must be her big brother’s or something, something that makes her feel safe. Great, a girl with security issues, it’s not too big of a deal though. Her blonde hair clings to her face, it’s a little longer then jaw level, stopping a little past the tip of her chin. Her hair isn’t layered or anything fancy like that, which is why Clark thinks Becca is an Army girl: she doesn’t try to be fancy. She might be a college student? Damn! Only if he could remember, then maybe when she got in the car they’d have something to talk about. She looks like a college student, one of those girls who is too wrapped in her studies to care much about physical appearance. She’s still cute though. 10CC’s “Things We Do for Love” is on the radio. Clark’s always thought this song always sounded more like E.L.O., then it did 10CC. Hopefully she’ll take it as a sign that they were meant to be together and go down on him quicker. Wishful thinking never hurt anyone. She doesn’t look like the kind of girl that would do that, though. Clark’s pulled up in front of her now; she’s getting in the car, her Chuck Taylor’s stomp into a puddle as she gets into the car. Becca apologizes and stands there in the rain, hesitant to get in now because of her muddy little feet.

She’s cuter then Clark remembers, maybe it’s just because she seems so innocent in that moment. Clark puts out his hand to help her in the car with a big cheesy smile on his face. She looks down with one of those cute little innocent smiles, doesn’t take his hand and gets in the car. Clark knows this game, hard-to-get, right? He’s broken down bigger walls then this. Clark puts a burned CD in the player and takes off out of the parking lot with lovely, shy, game playing Becca right beside him. Their conversation is nothing impressive, just the usual small talk. He’s not going to ask if she’s in college or in the Army, he knows he should have remembered something like that. The storm is just getting harder as they drive down the twisting road. His plan? To go the local make-out spot, of course. Good music, car, cute girl, overly-sexed guy. What else would they do? She’s been talking, he hasn’t been paying much attention, though. Clark found that most females will think you’re listening as long as you can catch keywords in their one-sided conversation and just nod, agree, or disagree at those moments. He’s sly, at least he thinks so. Her mascara is running pretty bad, looks like she’s been crying or something. It’s kind of unattractive and, at the same time, it’s really quite attractive. Clark thinks he’s a living contradiction sometimes. They’ve reached the place to “park”. isn’t odd how the term “park” is synonymous with sex? Their conversation is faltering quicker then Clark had expected. He blames it on Rod Stewart’s “I’m Losing You”, he’s always hated that song. He has no idea how it ended up on his own burned CD. Clark reaches forward and skips past Stewart, Moody Blues “Nights in White Satin” begins playing softly through the speakers. Could Clark be more lucky? The Moody Blues are a great wingman without a doubt his plan will work.

Clark leans into Becca and they kiss, Simple as pie and much easier than old horn dog Clark expected. This heated bit lasts for quite some time, long enough for the entire CD to repeat itself. It’s the Moody Blues again, with them playing in the background Clark is positive he can get to the next stop. Clark reaches for the button on her pants; Becca grabs his hand and pushes it down into her lap, locking him there. It’s not sexual what she’s doing, she’s afraid. The look on her face is pure fear, that look makes Clark’s heart race, it’s beating hard. It’s not sexual on his part either, his heart isn’t trying to beat out of his ribs because he’s turned on, no, he’s also scared. Clark’s fear is inexplicable, why is he so afraid of this tiny girl, or at least the look on her face? He can’t explain it. Clark lets her name slip out between his lips. “Becca…” That scared little girl disappears rather quickly, the look on her face is now furious. You know that really evil look little kids get sometimes? Especially when they’re trying to be scary, you know that look? It’s a look we usually laugh at; most of us have never seen that look on an adult though. She repeats her name. “Becca..” She squeezes his hand with a power which couldn’t be expected, much less from a tiny girl like her. “My name is NOT Becca…” She leans in to him almost like she’s going to kiss him. The Moody Blues seem to grow louder in the background, “ Cuz I love you, Yes I loooove you, Oooooooh I loooooooove yoooooou!” Her face is twisted in rage. “My name is Billie…”

With a quick motion, her other hand slips out from the hooded sweatshirts sleeve. A hook reveals itself, then quickly slams into Clark’s throat, not once, not twice but until all that’s left of his throat is a big bloody hole. Billie’s hook now slips into the soft skin on the bottom of his jaw, her hook slips around the bone of the lower front of his mandible. She proceeds to beat poor Clark’s head around the car from driver’s side window to the steering wheel. It’s like a sick game of Pong. Finally the bone of his jaw snaps releasing a torrent of blood a few teeth scatter on the dashboard. The jawless, blood spouting caricature of Clark is lifelessly slumped in the front seat. Billie isn’t done yet. She slams her hook into the side of his head, at first she doesn’t break through the skin or bone. The first impact leaves a solid black welt, the second impact breaks the skin, deep, the third impact puckers the head wound. finally she slams her hook into clean into his skull, piercing his gray matter. He’s hooked. If Clark’s memory served him better he would’ve remembered her name was Billie. Billie had worn that same outfit the night before at the bar. Clark never saw her right hand; I guess he wouldn’t really be paying attention to that though, would he? Clark thought he had the APB memorized. Too bad he didn’t listen to that APB one more time, he would’ve heard that Billie Miller was a five foot, three inch tall female who weighed in around one hundred and five pounds with blonde hair and green eyes. He would’ve learned that Billie Miller had been abused, sexually and physically, by her stepfather, at least until she killed him. How’d the hook hand come to be? The abuse from her stepfather, he’d broken her arm so badly one night that the bone could not be set and doctors had to amputate. A few days later, after returning from the hospital, she ripped out her stepfather’s throat. Billie ejects the disc. The blood spattered radio begins to play the bulletin Clark had heard a thousand times. He should have memorized the whole

APB.. “Once again the authorities of the greater River City area are warning residents that Billie Miller, an inmate at the River City Institute for the criminally insane has escaped. The inmate is said to be extremely dangerous and unstable. The description once again is Billie Miller, age: 22, weight: 105lbs, height: 5’3’ she has blonde hair and green eyes. She is to be Considered highly dangerous and should not be approached directly. Billie Miller has not displayed violence to children or women, just men. Authorities believe this is a result of child hood abuse both sexual and physical. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Billie Miller, please call”