Definitely Dead by Kate Bendelow (howl and other poems TXT) 📕

‘Andy?’ she gasped to herself as she rushed to open it.

Her eager anticipation was replaced with dismay. Donnelly was stood on her doorstep. Angrily, he barged past her, uninvited.

‘No flowers and wine this time, Aiden?’ she asked sardonically.

She sank back down onto her sofa and lit a cigarette, conscious of the shaking in her hands as he stood surveying her, a murderous frown on his face. He looked angrier and more threatening than she had ever seen him before.

‘You look like shit,’ he snarled as he sniffed and pinched at his nose.

‘Ah, Aiden, ever the charmer,’ she said, sinking back into the cushions. She was dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a vest top and for once her face was clear of her usual heavily contoured make-up. Her hair extensions hung un-styled around her shoulders like a shabby cloak. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

‘What the fuck is going on, Markita?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘DON’T TAKE ME FOR A FUCKING MUG!’ He leapt towards her, wrenching the cigarette from her lips and grinding it into the plush, oatmeal carpet. ‘When I went to visit Piotr, he was in bits over you. I told you to keep him sweet, yet he reckons he’s had more warmth from a fucking ice cube.’

He sniffed again and then hocked a globule of spit in her direction. ‘You’ve dumped him? By text message! Who the fuck do you think you are? You callous bitch!’

‘I’ve tried! I’ve fucking tried, okay?’ Markita screeched back. She swiped the spit away from her cheek, her body arched towards him defiantly. They glared at each other for a moment, until exhausted, Markita slumped forward, hugging her knees.

Fresh tears sprung into her eyes. ‘I just don’t love him anymore, okay?’ she said wearily. ‘God knows I’ve tried to make it work, but my feelings have changed. There’s nothing between us anymore.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Anyway, it’s between me and Piotr. This has nothing to do with you, Aiden.’

He leant towards her, his face pressed hard against hers, spittle hitting her cheek as he spoke. ‘Is there someone else?’

She shook her head numbly.

‘Markita,’ he said softly in a sing-song voice, accentuating each syllable of her name. ‘Tell me the truth. Are you shagging someone else?’

Her eyes widened with fear as he produced a large knife from his waistband. He wielded it in her direction, she shook her head, more emphatically, too terrified to speak.

‘You lying fucking bitch,’ he said in the same sing-song voice as before. He pulled away from her before suddenly swinging back his fist and smashing it into her face. The momentum sent her sprawling to the floor. She tried to stumble back to her feet to get away from him. He aimed a kick at her head before gathering her hair in his fist.

Markita’s head was yanked up roughly from the floor. She felt like her scalp was going to tear and she screamed out in pain. She heard a swoosh before the tension was released, causing her face to smash into the carpet. Donnelly was laughing like a madman as he clutched the large clump of hair he had just sliced from Markita’s head. She shook with fear, if the knife could slice through her hair so easily, what would he cut next? She reached a hand to her head, sobbing harder as her fingers brushed against short stumps of hair.

‘A little present for Piotr,’ he said through a cackle. ‘I bet this will go down a treat with all those desperate men inside,’ he said, pressing the hair to his nose and inhaling deeply. ‘Now what else do you think they’d like? Tits or lips?’

Markita tried desperately to twist and thrash away from Donnelly, but he was too strong for her. She was on her back now as he straddled across her hips, his knees were pinning her arms down so she couldn’t move. Menacingly, he traced the knife from her mouth to her cleavage. She felt a sharp sting as the blade sliced into her skin, beads of blood rising to the surface.

Donnelly tipped the blade upward, pressing the edge against her left breast. She was too scared to move. He slowly began to increase the pressure and she prepared herself for the inevitable puncture. He sniffed again. His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils enlarged, making him look even more deranged. She realised now that he was high on cocaine. Whatever happened this night, she was not going to make it out alive.

‘Aiden, please,’ she begged, her voice barely a whisper. ‘You don’t have to do this…’

‘Shhhhh…’ he hissed soothingly as slowly he began to increase the pressure. The knife began to penetrate her skin and the room began to swim before her eyes. Suddenly, there was a noise from the hallway. Donnelly froze, alerted to the sound.

He and Markita turned simultaneously towards the noise. Andy Carr was framed in the doorway, palms held up towards Aiden. His face was pale, and he was visibly shaking at the sight of Markita, the huge clump of hair and the equally large knife.

‘Stop, please,’ Andy said pleadingly. ‘Don’t hurt her, Mr Donnelly. You need to let her go.’

Still holding the knife against Markita’s breast, Donnelly surveyed Andy with suspicion and the usual disgust. ‘What the fuck are you doing here? And since when did you tell me what to do?’

Andy faltered. Time seemed to stand still as seconds stretched into hours. His bowels writhed with fear, as he frantically racked his brains to come up with something plausible. Markita was staring at him, her wide eyes silently pleading.

‘Well?’ Aiden demanded angrily. He climbed off Markita. She scrambled away from him, across the floor, to the back of the room. Donnelly’s attention was on Andy now. The bloodstained knife was now pointing in his direction. Vitriol and aggression exuded out of every pore. ‘WELL?’ Donnelly repeated.

‘I-I… was passing and saw your car. I’ve just found out that Redford and Mitton are planning on having Markita