Fiends

Joyce

Barbara bolted out of the bedroom and straight into Darren’s arms. He caught her, held her.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘What is it?’

‘Suh… somebody under the bed!’

‘Oh. I’m sorry. Did she frighten you? It’s only Joyce.’

‘Joyce?’ Barbara struggled out of Darren’s embrace and gaped at him. ‘But you told me… you said she was dead!’

‘Well, of course she is. Do you think I would’ve married you if I still had a wife? It’s just like I said, the brain aneurysm three years ago…’

‘But you’ve got her under the bed!’

‘Sure. Come on, I’ll introduce you.’

Darren took Barbara by the hand and led her into the bedroom. She staggered along beside him. On the floor by the bed was her suitcase, the one she’d taken with her on the honeymoon, unpacked that evening, and after her shower with Darren had decided to tuck out of sight.

‘Luggage doesn’t go under the bed,’ he explained. ‘I keep it out in the garage.’

Barbara stood there, trembling and gasping inside her new silk kimono, trying to stay on her feet as Darren carried the suitcase over to the door. Then he knelt and slid Joyce out from under the bed.

‘Darling, meet Joyce.’

Joyce lay stiff on the carpet, her wide blue eyes gazing toward the ceiling, her lips curled in a smile that showed the edges of her straight, white teeth. Wisps of brown hair swept across her forehead. Thick tresses flowed from beneath her head - a rich, silken banner that extended past her right shoulder. Her arms, close to her sides, were reaching upward from the elbow's, hands open. Her legs were straight, parted slightly. Her feet were bare.

She wore a white negligee, a skimpy number with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline. It was every bit as short as the nightie that Barbara had delighted Darren by wearing on their wedding night, and every bit as transparent. The way he’d dragged Joyce from beneath the bed had twisted it askew, pulling its deep V sideways so her right breast rose bare through the gap.

Smiling over his shoulder at Barbara, Darren said, ‘Isn’t she lovely?’

Barbara dropped.

When she came to, she found herself lying in bed. Darren was sitting on its edge, a worried look on his face, a hand inside her kimono gently caressing her thigh. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

She turned her head.

Joyce stood beside the bed, six feet away, still smiling. The nightie blew softly, stirred by the breeze from the window. Though it concealed nothing with its sheer fabric, at least it had been straightened so her breast no longer stuck out.

She has a better figure than me, Barbara thought.

She’s more beautiful than…

Barbara looked away, frowned at Darren. Though she wanted to sound calm, her voice came out high and childlike when she asked, ‘What’s going on?’

Darren shrugged. He stroked her thigh. ‘It’s nothing to be upset about. Really.’

‘Nothing to be upset about? You’ve got your dead wife stuffed in your bedroom… and wearing that!'

He smiled gently. ‘Oh, she isn’t stuffed. She’s freeze-dried. I found a place that does people’s deceased pets. She looks wonderful, doesn’t she?’

‘Oh, God.’ Barbara murmured.

‘And that’s her favorite nightgown. I don’t see why she should be deprived of it, but if you’d rather she wear something a bit more modest…’

‘Darren. She’s dead.’

‘Well, of course.’

‘You bury dead people. Or cremate them. You don’t… keep them.’

‘Why not?’

‘It just isn’t done!’

‘Oh, if I couldn’t have had her preserved so nicely, I suppose there’d be some reason to dispose of her. But look at her.’

Barbara chose not to.

‘She’s as fresh as the day she died. She doesn’t smell. What’s the problem?’

‘The problem? The problem?’

‘I don’t see any problem.’

‘You’ve had her here… in your house… all along?’

‘Sure.’

‘Under the bed?’

‘Well, only when I expected you to come over. I was afraid you might not take it well, so I felt it best to keep her out of sight.’

‘Under the bed? When I was here? All those nights I spent here, she was… Oh, God. You had this… this stiff under the bed while we…’

‘Not just any stiff. My wife.’

‘Oh, that’s supposed to make it okay?’

‘She was my wife, darling. What was I supposed to do, throw her out like an old shoe? I loved her. She loved me. Why should we part, just because she stopped being alive? I would’ve been… so lonely without her. And look at it from her point of view. Do you think she would’ve enjoyed being put in a hole, all by herself? Or burnt to ashes? Good Lord, who would want a fate like that? Instead, she’s here in her own house where she belongs, with her husband. Isn’t that the way you would want it? Really? It’s what I’d want for myself. It’s what I’d want for you if, God forbid, you should stop living before I do. So we would always be together.’

‘I suppose,’ she muttered, ‘it would be better than… those other things.’

‘No doubt about it.’

‘You should’ve told me, though.’

‘I was waiting for the right time. I’m just sorry you had to find out about her… the hard way. She must’ve given you quite a shock.’

‘Yeah, I’ll say.’

‘You’ve taken it really well, though. You're a champ.' With that, he spread open her kimono.

‘Darren!’ She swept it shut. Fast. And looked at Joyce. Who didn’t seem to be watching. The former wife’s gaze was directed, not at Barbara, but toward the open window beyond the bed, which she seemed to find pleasing, possibly a little amusing.

‘Now, now,’ Darren said. ‘Relax.’

‘But Joyce.’

‘She can’t see what we’re doing. For heaven’s sake, she’s dead.’

‘I don’t care. Not in front of her. No way.’

‘Now you’re being silly.’

‘Silly! Goddamn it!’

‘Shhh, shhh. Calm down. It’s all right. I’ll take care of her.’ Darren bent low, parted just enough of Barbara’s kimono to expose her groin, kissed her softly there, then climbed off the bed. Stepping in front of Joyce, he took off his velours bathrobe. ‘Forgive me?’ he asked. Then he draped the robe over her head. It hung down nearly to her waist.

He stepped away from her. He faced Barbara. He smiled. ‘Better?’

‘Can’t you just put her out in the hallway or something?’

Darren looked disappointed. ‘That wouldn’t be nice. This is her bedroom, too, you know. I can’t just put her out.’

Barbara sighed. This would be their first night together in the house as man and wife. She didn’t want to make a stink. Besides, it wasn’t really so bad now that Joyce’s face was out of sight. ‘All right,’ she said.

‘I could put her back under the bed, if you’d…’

‘No, she’s fine there.’ Under the bed, she would be so much closer. Directly beneath them as they made love. Awful.

Darren stepped over to the light switch.

‘No, leave the lights on.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I don’t… want to be in the dark with her.’

‘Whatever you say, darling.’

As he returned to the bed, Barbara sat up and took off her kimono. She glanced at Joyce, then lay down and shut her eyes.

Darren sank down on top of her. He kissed her mouth. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he whispered.

‘I know. I’m a champ.’

‘You are. You truly are.’

Barbara couldn’t help it: every now and then as Darren kissed her and fondled her and plunged inside her, she looked over at Joyce. His other wife. His dead wife. Standing there shrouded by a bathrobe. Which wasn’t pulled low enough in front to hide how the diaphanous nightie, drifting in the breeze, brushed against the dark tuft of hair between her legs.

He used to make love to her, Barbara thought.

Here, on this same bed.

Does she know? Does she know he’s doing it to me, now, right in front of her? Is she jealous?

Don’t be ridiculous.

Barbara tried to shake off the notion. But couldn’t.

At the proper moment, she faked an orgasm.

It took a while for Darren to recover. Soon after he was breathing normally again, he whispered, ‘See, it was just fine.’

‘Yeah.’

‘She didn’t bother you at all, did she? Joyce, I mean.’

‘Not really.’ A lie. Why not?

‘I bet she made it better for you. She did for me.’

What Barbara thought was, Oh my God. What she said was, ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

A while later, Darren said, ‘Maybe I should turn the lights off now.’

‘No. Leave them on.’

‘You aren’t still spooked, are you?’

‘Just a little.’

‘Well, that’s all right. I’m sure she’ll take a little getting used to.’ I’ll never get used to her, Barbara told herself. Never.

Soon, Darren fell asleep. Barbara tried to sleep, but her mind was in a turmoil. She’d just married a man who kept his dead wife in the bedroom. Liked her there. As much as admitted that it turned him on to have her standing nearby while he made love.

Weird. Disgusting.

But it calmed Barbara whenever she thought about how things would be once she’d gotten rid of Joyce. Calmed her enough so that she was almost able to fall asleep.

Each time she started to drift, however, she lurched awake with a sickening dread and had to look. To make sure Joyce hadn’t moved, hadn’t pulled the robe off her head, hadn’t crept closer to the bed.

The bitch seemed to be staying put.

Of course.

All that ever seemed to move was the nightie, blown by the breeze so it floated against her belly and pubic curls and the tops of her legs.

When Barbara woke up, the bedroom was bright with sunlight. She’d fallen asleep after all. Somehow. In spite of Joyce.

Joyce.

She didn’t want to see her, fought the urge to turn her head, instead gazed at the ceiling and tried to appreciate the feel of the warm breeze caressing her body.

I can’t spend another night in the same room with her, she thought. Just can’t. I’ve gotta make Darren listen to reason.

She turned her head toward the other side of the bed.

Darren was gone.

No! What if he took his robe with him? What if she’s uncovered?

Barbara snapped her head the other way.

Joyce was gone.

Gone where?

Barbara bolted upright. Heart thudding, she scanned the room. No sign of the corpse. She blew out a shaky breath and filled her lungs with the sweet morning air.

Not here. Maybe Darren came to his senses and…

She went cold inside and her skin crawled with goosebumps.

He put her under the bed!

Moaning, she flung herself off the mattress. She rushed to the middle of the room and there, a safe distance away, dropped to her hands and knees and peered into the space beneath the bed.

No Joyce.

Thank God.

But where is she? What’s Darren done with her?

At least she’s not here. That's the main thing.

Calming down slightly, Barbara got to her feet. She brushed some carpet lint off her hands and knees. She was still trembling, still shivery with gooseflesh.

I can’t live like this, she thought as she returned to the bed. She put on her silk kimono, wrapped it snugly around herself and tied the sash. Then she turned toward the closet. She wanted her house slippers.

What if Joyce is in there?

She stared at the shut door. And decided it could stay shut. She could do without her slippers.

Heading for the bedroom door, she noticed that her suitcase was missing. Darren must’ve taken it out to the garage.

Maybe he’d also taken Joyce out to the garage.

If only.

Fat chance.

She halted at the doorway, leaned forward and swiveled her head from side to side. The corridor looked clear. She rushed for the bathroom. Its door was open. No sign of Joyce. She entered and locked the door. Then had a few bad moments as she approached the tub. But the tub was empty. Barbara sighed, relaxed a little.

She used the toilet, washed her face, brushed her teeth, sat on the edge of the tub and tried to work up her courage for venturing out of the sanctuary of the bathroom.

This is crazy, she told herself. Why should I be scared of Joyce? She can’t hurt me. Can’t do anything but freak me out. And make me wonder if I’m married to a crazy man.

He’s not crazy. He cares about her, that’s all. Can’t bear to part with her.

Jesus H. Christ on a crutch.

He damn well will part with her. It’s her or me.

Right. What’ll I do? Where’ll I go? I gave up my apartment. I already quit my job, for godsake. Guess I can always find…

Why should I be the one to leave? She’s the dead one.

Just gotta talk to Darren. If he’ll only listen to reason and put her away someplace, everything will be okay.

Barbara forced herself to leave the bathroom. As she walked down the corridor, someone stepped out of the bedroom. She flinched before realizing it was Darren.

He’d already gotten dressed. He wore one of the bright red aloha shirts they’d bought on Maui. It hung loose down past the front of his Bermuda shorts. His legs looked darkly tanned above the tops of his white socks. He had his Reeboks on.

‘Morning!’ he said, smiling as he hurried toward her. ‘You sure slept in, didn’t you?’

Then she was in his arms. She hugged him, kissed him. My Darren, she thought.

He felt solid and warm and comfortable.

When they released each other, he said, ‘I have a surprise for you.’

‘You’ve put Joyce in storage?’

His smile faltered. ‘Don’t be silly. I made a trip to the doughnut shop. Maple bars!’

He knew how she loved maple bars. But she couldn’t work up much enthusiasm as she said, ‘Oh, that’s sweet.’

Taking her hand, he led her into the kitchen. On the counter, the pot of coffee was ready. On the table, a heaping platter of doughnuts, including four maple bars, waited. In the corner, smiling, staring at Barbara as she entered, stood Joyce.

Her hair was done up in a ponytail. She wore a fresh white blouse. The bra beneath it, faintly visible through the thin fabric, was black. Her blouse was tucked neatly into the elastic waistband of her glossy blue shorts. She wore white socks and blue L.A. Gear athletic shoes.

‘You dressed her,’ Barbara muttered.

Darren grinned. ‘She didn’t dress herself.’

‘Why?’

‘Isn’t that obvious?’ He laughed softly and picked up the coffee pot.

‘I mean, why did you dress her?’

‘Oh. Well, it wouldn’t be right for her to go around all day in her nightgown.’ He filled the mugs with coffee and set them on the table. He pulled out a chair for Barbara.

‘I’ll sit over here,’ she said. And took the chair on the opposite side of the table. So she wouldn’t have her back to Joyce. So she could keep an eye on her.

Darren sat down in the chair he’d intended for Barbara. He took a sip of coffee. ‘Actually, I did keep Joyce in her bathrobe for a while, at first. I thought to myself, why bother putting clothes on her? It got depressing, though. There she was, day and night, standing around in her robe. It made her seem… oh, I don’t know, like an invalid.’

Tempted to make a remark, Barbara bit into a maple bar instead.

‘So then I decided to start dressing her up. Off with that tired old bathrobe, on with… well, whatever the occasion demanded. Nightwear at night, casual things for daytime wear, one of her nifty little bikinis for poolside… she always liked to join me out by the pool, though she wasn’t much for swimming. For more formal occasions - a birthday, Thanksgiving, that sort of thing - a lovely evening gown. Whatever seemed right.’ Smiling, he bit into a jelly doughnut.

‘Like having a life-size Barbie doll.’

‘You’re my Barbie doll,’ he said, his voice muffled by doughnut, white powder and red jelly on his lips. ‘She’s my Joycie doll.’

Joyce smiled at the top of Barbara’s head.

‘Isn’t it… difficult to dress her? I mean, she’s stiff, isn’t she?’

‘Oh, we manage. Some outfits are trickier to get on her than others, but we make do the best we can.’

Barbara started to take another bite of maple bar. But it would be a muddy lump in her mouth like the first one, and tough to swallow. She set down the bar and drank some coffee.

‘Is something wrong with your maple bar?’

‘It’s fine,’ she muttered.

Frowning with concern, he leaned forward slightly. ‘Is it Joyce?’

‘Of course it’s Joyce. What do you think?’

‘We went through all this last night, darling. I thought you understood.’

‘My God, you dress her up like she’s real'

‘She is real.’

‘But she’s dead!. You cart her around from room to room. You dress her up\ You put a bra on her. Probably panties too, for all I know.’

‘Would you prefer her without panties?’ he asked. Raising his eyebrows, smiling slightly, he bit again into his doughnut.

‘I’d prefer her gone!'

Nodding, he chewed for a while. He swallowed. He sipped his coffee. ‘You’ll get used to her. Once you’ve gotten to know her better, I’m sure you’ll…’

‘I want her out of here.’

‘Out of the kitchen?’

‘Out of the house. Preferably in a fucking graveyard}.’

‘Oh, dear. You are upset.' The look of sorrow on Darren’s face made her heart ache for him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I am. I love you so much. But Joyce…’

‘She frightens you, doesn’t she?’

Barbara nodded.

‘She doesn’t bite, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘She doesn’t do anything.’

‘She looks at me.’

‘They’re only glass eyes,’ Darren explained gendy.

‘They’re not hers?’

‘Hers didn’t fare well in the… process. But if they bother you… Back in a sec.’ He pushed himself away from the table and hurried from the kitchen.

While he was gone, Barbara studied Joyce’s face. Glass eyes. They sure looked real. Too real, too bright and aware. Did it make things any better, knowing they were fake? For a few moments, she thought so.

They’re not Joyce.

They’re not her dead eyes. Nothing much more than a couple of shiny marbles poked into her sockets.

Sockets.

The real Joyce hasn’t got eyes. Were they gouged out? Popped? Dragged out with forceps? Did they just shrivel away in the ‘process’ and fall out?

Those beautiful, lively eyes gazing at the top of Barbara’s head were pieces of glass stuck into pits.

Do they ever fall out?

Does Darren take them out lovingly, from time to time, and polish them up?

Barbara stared at Joyce. No eyes. God! Those aren’t her eyes. They’re covers. Hatches put there to conceal a pair of hideous cavities.

Cringing, she looked away. Thanks for telling me, Darren. Thanks a lot.

‘Here we go,’ he said, bustling into the kitchen. ‘This’ll be just what the doctor ordered.’ He kissed the top of Barbara’s head, then hurried around the table.

She looked up in time to watch him slide sunglasses onto Joyce’s face. They were much like those worn by the Highway Patrolman who’d stopped Barbara last month for making an unsafe lane change on the Santa Monica Freeway. Wire rims, teardrop shaped lenses with silver reflective surfaces.

‘How’s that?’ Darren asked. Stepping away, he admired the effect. ‘Make her look rather dashing, don’t you think?’

Now I can’t tell where she’s looking, Barbara thought. But she didn’t want to hurt Darren’s feelings. He was trying to help. ‘That’s a lot better.’

Maybe it is better, she told herself. Now, at least, her eyes are out

of sight. Maybe I can forget about them. Forget they aren’t eyes, just socket hiders.

Darren sat at the table, looking pleased with himself. ‘For every problem, there’s a solution.’

‘Guess so,’ Barbara said. She picked up her maple bar and forced herself to eat it.

When Darren asked how she would like to spend the day, she suggested going to the beach. ‘Fabulous idea,’ he blurted. ‘It’ll be like we’re still on our honeymoon.’

‘Just the two of us, right?’

‘Of course.’

‘You don’t want to take her along?’

‘Joyce’ll be fine right here.’ He winked. ‘She’s really pretty much a home body.’

In the bedroom, Barbara tied her string bikini into place, then covered up with a blouse and shorts, and slipped into sandals. Darren came in while she was making the bed. ‘I’ll get the towels and things while you’re changing,’ she told him.

‘I’ll be done in a jiff,’ he said, and winked.

Before they left, Darren carried Joyce into the living room. He set her down on the sofa, tucked a pillow under he head and pulled off her shoes. ‘All comfy?’ he asked. He patted her leg, then took the beach bag from Barbara’s hand and led the way to the door.

It was wonderful to get out of the house. Away from Joyce. At the beach, they roamed along the shoreline, holding hands. They spread towels on the sand, massaged each other with sun block, stretched out side by side, lay motionless under the heavy sun and soothing breezes.

Exhausted after a night of so little sleep, Barbara slumbered peacefully.

Later, they explored the pier. They wandered the souvenir shops. They rode the bumper cars. Darren sank a basketball three times in a row and won her a furry, pink teddy bear. They ate fried clams and homemade potato chips on a bench high above the ocean.

Then they returned to the sand. They spread their towels again, lay down, and again Barbara fell asleep.

She awoke when Darren kissed her shoulder. ‘We’d best be on our way.’

Her stomach twisted, knotted itself into an icy clump.

‘Not yet.’

‘We don’t want to burn.’

‘We won’t. The sun block…’

‘Nevertheless. We should be getting back.’

‘It’s still early.’

He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘It’s after three.’

She nodded. She forced herself to smile.

Her smile became genuine as she pulled the shorts up her legs. ‘I know, let’s go to a movie!’

‘A movie?’

‘Sure. A matinee. It’ll be great!’

‘Well…’

‘Please?This is out last day together before… it’ll be off to work for you in the morning. We won’t have another chance to do anything till next weekend. Please?’

‘Sure. Why not?’

They returned to the car, drove to a parking structure near the Third Street Mall, then went to a cineplex. Of the six movies playing there, one was scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes. Darren bought tickets, and in they went.

Soon, the theater darkened. Too soon, the movie ended.

‘It sure will be great to get home and take a nice shower,’ Darren said as they walked through the lobby. He patted her rump. ‘Together.’

‘Why don’t we stay for another?’

‘Really, darling. I think one’s enough.’

‘Please? You know how I love movies.’

He smiled. ‘How’s this? We’ll drop by the video store on the way home and rent a couple for tonight.’

She sighed. She didn’t want to start anything. ‘All right. If you’d rather do that.’

So they drove to a video store.

Barbara studied the shelves of tapes, shaking her head, unwilling to make a choice. Over and over again, she found reasons not to accept videos Darren selected. She’d already seen this one, that one didn’t sound very good. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said several times. ‘We’ll find something. There must be something decent around here.’ And they kept on looking.

She managed to stretch out their search for more than an hour. Finally, Darren said, ‘Let’s just grab a couple. I’m starving.’ Barbara grabbed two that she’d noticed when they first came in.

Back in the car, she said, ‘Why don’t we have a bite to eat before we go home?’

‘Take-out?’

‘I’d rather eat in a restaurant. It’s so much more fun.’

‘Look how we’re dressed.’

‘We don’t have to go any place fancy. Jack-in-the-Box or Burger King. Whatever.’

Darren drove to Burger King. They ate at a table. While Barbara slowly consumed her meal, she tried to think of another way to delay their return home.

Give it up, she finally thought. I’ve stalled him as long as I can without making a fuss. We can’t stay away forever. Might as well get it over with.

So, when the meal was done, they climbed into the car and drove through the dusk, heading for home.

Where Joyce would be waiting.

Maybe we’ll be in luck, Barbara thought, and the house burnt down while we were out.

Fat chance.

They rounded a corner, and there it was. Still standing.

‘Did you have a good time?’ Darren asked as he swung into the driveway.

‘Wonderful. I really hate for it to end.’

‘Nothing’s ended, darling.’ He stopped the car, leaned toward Barbara and stroked the back of her head. ‘Our life together has only begun. We’ll have so many fine times.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘No supposing about it.’

She followed him into the house. Darren carried the sack of video tapes into the living room and set it down at Joyce’s feet.

‘She won’t have to watch the movies with us, will she?’ Barbara asked. ‘Couldn’t you… maybe put her in another room?’

‘I could. But the sooner you get used to her the better. Don’t you think?’

‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to her.’

‘Oh, you will, you will. Give it time. Now, you go along and start your shower. I’ll be along in a minute.’ He winked. Then he crouched, slipped his arms under Joyce, and lifted her off the sofa.

Barbara’s heart slammed. ‘Where are you taking her?’

‘The guest room.’ He grinned. ‘Time to get her out of the daytime attire.’

She hurried ahead of them and shut herself into the bathroom. Trembling, she took off her clothes.

The daytime attire, she thought.

He’s stripping her. Then he’ll be waltzing in here and putting his hands on me.

That’s what he thinks.

She thumbed down the lock button, then went to the tub and turned on the shower.

He’ll just have to choose, she thought as she adjusted the faucets. Joyce or me. He can’t have it both ways.

What if he chooses her?

I can’t lose him. Not over a damned stiff!

Sighing, Barbara stepped to the door and unlocked it.

She climbed into the tub and slid the glass door shut. The hot spray felt wonderful splashing against head and face, sliding down her body.

His hands will be clean, she told herself. They’ll be all soapy when he rubs me. They won’t have Joyce on them.

But she’ll be waiting when we come out.

Dressed in her little see-through nightie.

God!

Standing around in her nightie and shades while we watch the movies. Then standing by the bed while we make love.

I can’t take much more of this.

Maybe I shouldn’t let him have me again till she’s out of the house.

No, he’d end up resenting me. I can’t do anything to make him get rid of her. He’d hold it against me forever. It has to be his decision.

If only she hadn’t been preserved so well. If she was rotten or stinky, he sure wouldn’t have kept her around.

What if I go to the market tomorrow while he’s at work, pick up some really stinky cheese, poke some into her mouth? Poke some into her everywhere?

Yuck! I’d have to touch her.

There are always gloves for that.

Darren will think she’s going bad.

And get rid of her?

What if he probes around and finds the cheese?

Would it be worth the risk?

Barbara flinched, startled, as the shower door rumbled open. She turned. Joyce stared in at her, smiling. No silver shades, no nightie.

‘No!’ She staggered backward as Joyce rose, lifted high by Darren behind her. ‘Get her out of here!’ She slipped. Her rump smacked the bottom of the tub. ‘Ow!’

‘Darling! Are you all right?’

‘No! Get her out of here! What’s the matter with you?’

‘This’ll be a great way for you to get better acquainted. Really. Did you hurt yourself?’

‘I’ll live.’ Barbara scooted backward and drew her legs up to her chest as Darren stepped into the tub with Joyce. Holding the body against him with one arm across her belly, he slid the shower door shut.

The spray splattered off Joyce’s shoulders. Water spread down her body in shiny streamers.

‘Please!’ Barbara begged. ‘I don’t want to get better acquainted. Take her away!’

‘You’ll be fine once you’ve gotten to know her.’

‘The water’ll ruin her! You’d better…’

‘Oh, no, she’s quite durable. Stand up, now, darling.’

‘Darren!’

‘Is it really asking so much? Just stand up. Please.’

Trembling, breathless, Barbara struggled to her feet.

Darren smiled at her from behind Joyce’s shoulder. ‘Now, come a little closer. Be careful you don’t fall.’

She took a few small steps forward, and stopped.

‘Closer.’

She moved closer.

‘Closer.’

‘No. Come on.’ One more step, and she would meet Joyce. ‘Okay,’ Darren said. He blinked water out of his eyes. ‘You’re doing fine. Really. You're making great progress. Now, I want you to touch her face.’

‘Don’t make me.’ Her voice came out whiny.

‘I won’t make you do anything. Do it for me. Do it for us. Please. You must get over this phobia about Joyce.’

‘It’s not a phobia.’

‘Then we’ll be able to get on with our lives. I’m sure you’ll even come to like her. She’ll make a fine companion for you while I’m away at work every day. Now, please. Touch her face.’

Barbara raised a wet hand toward Joyce’s cheek. And hesitated, fingers shaking.

Joyce gazed at her with merry, shining eyes.

Glass stuffed in pits.

‘You’re so close now,’ Darren urged her. ‘Don’t stop now.’

Holding her breath, Barbara placed her fingertips against Joyce’s cheek. She prodded it gently. She stroked it. The skin felt smooth and stiff. Like a fine leather shoe.

From behind Joyce’s shoulder, Darren beamed at her. ‘I’m so proud of you!’

Barbara lowered her arm. ‘I did what you asked. Now will you take…’

She gasped as the body lurched forward. Its hands brushed her sides. Before she could leap away, other hands clutched her. Darren’s hands. They grabbed her sides, jerked her forward. Tight against Joyce.

She turned her head, just in time to avoid a collision with Joyce’s face. Their cheeks rubbed.

Darren kissed her, pressed his lips against hers above Joyce’s shoulder. Pushed his tongue into her mouth.

He can’t be doing this!

Not with Joyce in the middle!

But he was doing this, Joyce in the middle, her hard breasts shoving into Barbara’s breasts, her belly and groin and thighs tight and stiff against Barbara. And moving. Rubbing against her as Darren writhed and moaned and thrust with his tongue.

Barbara chomped.

Darren cried out. His hands leaped off her.

She drove her hands against Joyce’s hips and rammed her away, slamming Darren against the tile wall beneath the shower nozzle. He grunted as his head thumped. Blood exploded from his mouth.

Barbara staggered backward to get away from the four feet sliding her way.

She spit out a chuck of Darren’s tongue.

She hadn’t meant to bite it off, but…

Horrified, she watched the bloody slab flop onto Joyce’s belly button.

I’ve ruined him!

‘Look what you made me do!’ she yelled.

Darren didn’t answer. Nor did he move. During the fall, he’d slipped lower so his head was under Joyce. His arms lay limp against the bottom of the tub. His legs were stretched out to either side of Joyce’s legs. His genitals showed through the crevice between her thighs.

The water cascading down on Joyce sent Darren’s tongue sledding down her belly.

Barbara took another step backward. Her foot landed with a splash.

The tub was filling!

He’s gonna drown!

Dropping to a crouch, she grabbed Joyce’s ankles. She pulled. The body slid toward her. She worked her hands up the legs, scooting Joyce along beneath her toward the rear of the tub.

Darren’s face came into view.

The water was up past his ears. His eyes were shut, his mouth hanging open. His mouth brimmed with blood.

‘You’ll be okay!’ she cried. ‘I’ll save you!’

His eyes opened.

Thank God!

Red spray exploded like a geyser as he shrieked, ‘BITCH!’

He sat up fast. His chest met the top of Joyce’s head and raised her body. She came up rigid like a plank lifted at one end.

Barbara, lurching to get away from Darren, slipped.

And fell forward, her knees driving down into Joyce’s belly.

Krrrrrrk!

Joyce’s head jumped forward, chin poking into her throat, face rolling against her chest. Between her breasts, her head was upside down, ponytail toward Barbara, the stump of her snapped neck straight up, catching spray.

Darren roared with rage.

Barbara snatched up the head by its ponytail.

As Darren leaned forward and reached for her, she whipped Joyce’s head against the side of his face. It caved in his cheekbone and bounced off, its glass eyes flying out and shattering against the front of the tub. Darren’s eyes rolled upward. He slumped. She swung the head around and around by its ponytail, and struck him again. This time, Darren’s left eye popped from its socket and dangled by a cord. The third blow mashed it. The fourth sent teeth flying from his mouth.

‘Joyce is durable, all right, you bastard!’

She kept on bashing his head until Joyce’s broken skull parted company with her scalp. This happened while Barbara was winding up for another strike. Her weapon suddenly went nearly weightless. She cringed as airborne head bones crashed against the shower door. Some bounced off and rained down on her shoulder and back.

She threw down the sodden mop of hair.

Then she tore off Joyce’s right arm and used it on Darren until it broke apart. She had to pause and catch her breath before ripping the left arm from its socket.

She smashed it down on the collapsed rag of Darren’s face.

The arm didn’t last long.

It wasn’t easy breaking off Joyce’s legs. But she managed. They proved to be well worth the effort.