PART 1 is available here
All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. Views and opinions expressed by those characters are for entertainment purposes only and do not necessarily represent the view of the author.
Gerome, was a tall man, with defined features and a full head of hair. He had an oval face stretched from top to bottom and hollow rings around his eyes with a clean shaven face and a good set of teeth, considering his age. He looked like a man who saw enough of this world to make him seem, to the lay person at least, as emotionless. But he was anything but emotionless, in fact, everything about him was driven by his emotions yet no one can tell from his outer shell. Overall he looked above average (arbitrarily speaking of course, considering how the standard is an inherently draconian conventional beauty), but was more on the skinny side.
He was holding the digital voice recorder in his right hands, as he always does this time of day. The recorder was gripped so tight his whole arm was shaking. He somehow, though, managed to press the record button (after several missed attempts) and began articulating his thoughts into it:
“I like it when I make women cry. It soothes me. Don’t get me wrong. I am not psycho, I am not sadomasochistic - I do not get off of making women cry - I am just a man. We like to feel like we are in control." His tone suddenly changes to a squeeky high pitched voice (reminiscent of some women's natural voice). "Women always complain about how their luck with men is always "horrible". How they always end up with the worst men who treat them like they are nothing but worthless objects." His voice gets even squeakier now, words start blurting out of his mouth. 'oo Janet he treats me badly, he doesn't listen to me, or talk to me. JANET he is not the same man he was when we first dated-" His voice automatically returns to its normal deep self and cuts in line almost shouting "Of course he isn't, you see he already got into your pants!" Gerome had a look of disgust on his face after saying that. But that look did not stay that way for long, every part of his facial muscles slowly relaxed to its normal position then went a little further making him look like a puppy who was almost going to cry. "-but I am going to give him one more chance..." "One more chance... how stupid are they? Can't they see that this is what they want... what they crave?" "Months later, numerous repeats of the same ever-tried sentence and poor Janet hears the same sentence from her dear friend saying in the ever so familiar exasperated tone, "ooh but he is not the same, he treats me badly but... but I think I can change him." "Bitches, public announcement, men don't change! Nu-uh, not even a little. Get it through your thick heads and stop deluding yourselves AND AND HERE IS A NEWS FLASH WE DONT WANT YOU TO CHANGE EITHER! new hair cut that makes your head look like a fucking melon? no thanks I prefer you looked like a human being! How about a new nose? boobs? CHIN!? NO just let them be thank you very much" Gerome suddenly exhausted collapsed on his green recliner chair. He continued in a quieter less direct tone now;
"In reality, that’s exactly what women want... to be treated horribly, to be kept on their feet at all times. They don’t want a guy who treats them well and does what they want. They don’t want a guy who stands up for what is right, because that’s dull, uninteresting; It is the very antithesis of creativity, the very antithesis of the art of luring women. It is, however, the best way to get them to bolt. Trust me, I should know-”
There was a knock on the door that interrupted his line of thought and compelled him to stop recording. He walked out of his bedroom, worked his way towards the door and then opened it . It was the pizza delivery guy bringing his pizzas with a smile. The pizzas were handed and he politely thanked him with a generous tip. He couldn't remember ordering pizzas but this always happens after an intense recording session. Gerome threw the pizzas on the coffee table then re-pressed the record button on his voice recorder and continued speaking into it.
“I like it when they scream too. That is the fuel that keeps me going. When I am groping a woman, squeezing her body, and hearing her scream her lungs out, I can feel like someone in this world is coming close to the pain that I go through each and every day. The scare that she experiences, the shock of realising that what she planned, and expects to happen is all gone, and instead is replaced by something spontaneous and quite alien to her. It is my way of luring women. Other men like to buy flowers (boooring!), take them to a movie & dinner (looosers), or cook for them (gay... just plain gay. Men's place is not the kitchen... except if its to be within easy reach of the sharp instruments in which case ... I totally understand)" a smirk started forming on his face. "My style? I like to hide in alleyways and jump on women when they can’t see me. I like to drug them after I make sure they scream ... and scream (that's the really essential part). Then I take them back home, and we live happily ever after... the good thing is there are a lot of Janets where I keep 'her'.”
Gerome took deep breaths after that. Mostly, to control himself but also in order not to lose it again. His neighbours could hear what he is saying. Besides, he can't afford to get excited these days as he was already off of his game. He couldn't even jump on that girl in the dark alleyway for some reason. Now, his voice suddenly changes into a tone so different to the previous ones, it is almost as if it is not coming from him (save for his mouth moving in just the right moments). Gerome, channeling this alien voice, starts speaking very ferociously, jumbling words together in the process:
“But sometimes things transform. I can see monsters hiding, lurking in the shadows of people’s expectations and perceptions. These monsters are intangible, but are very real. We all have them... women especially. These monsters scare me, I can’t deal with them. Whenever these monsters start showing their ugly profiles, I start moving as far away as possible from the source... or should I say, from the woman. It is what makes my hobby so difficult-" Memories from the past start pouring in "-I...I can't... I just cantitsNOTWORKING NONOTNOW.“
Gerome stopped the recording and threw the recorder on the coffee table in front of him. His hands then automatically reverted back to what now seems like its normal position, on his head, holding it like its a football. He was covering his face and fell on the floor in a semi-fetus position. He landed on the floor upright, and started rocking back and forth murmuring words that are unintelligible to anyone but himself all but for one word. One simple word, that escaped his series of incomprehensible jargon, "Please". It was repeated over and over again.