Carly dashed into her bedroom, slammed the door behind her, and took the few extra steps to her bed before collapsing on it, finally allowing the tears to flow completely freely. She clasped her fingers against her wet, rosy cheeks as she rubbed at her stinging red eyes in vain. The warm tears continued to splash down her face, creating a small pool on her bed under her face. The sobs were slowly being choked in the back of her throat, lined with tears, as she fought back the heaving sounds. She pressed her face down into the bedspread, closing her eyes, gritting her teeth, and trying to just breathe steadily for the first time in over two hours.
It was over. It was finally over. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the evidence was far too incriminating. The little notes. The weird anonymous texts. The evenings where he hadn’t been available. She had trusted Nathan through these little hiccups for the past four months, but this afternoon had been too much. A used condom and pair of panties, sitting in the dashboard drawer of his car. The sight had been, to sixteen-year-old Carly, like having a knife jammed directly through her chest, impaling her against a wall while screaming laughter played all around her, in her ears and into her mind. It made her want to explode.
For a few minutes, Carly had tried to go over in her mind who it could have been, but she decided she didn’t want to know. It wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t someone else right now, it was Nathan. All him. Her newly ex-boyfriend.
“Y-Y-You were supposed t-to l-l-love me…” whispered Carly, almost silencing her wet cries with the bed sheet. “Why? W-Why?”
Carly sat in silence for several minutes more, before feeling a different sensation suddenly grip her mind, as if she had been struck by lightning and been pulled completely out of her damp stupor. She felt her fingers clasp together into a fist so hard she felt her knuckles turning white and popping. Her muscles tensed. Her teeth gritted hard back together, grinding against one another. Her face hardened, almost tightening with the new feeling of unbridled, boiling, red-hot rage surging like lava through her veins.
“You… y-you son of a b-bitch…” whispered Carly, more focused now. Slowly, she stood up and swiped the last of the tears collecting on her red cheeks, standing tall in her room once again. She let her arms fall to the side. “I h-hate you. All of y-you. Everyone that’s like you. Everyone that’s…” she whimpered, snarling almost, before her eyes darted around the room and froze on something.
The dresser. The 2nd drawer from the top.
“Everyone that’s like… you!” she hissed in such a low voice she felt her throat chug slightly with the effort of getting out the passion in this phrase. Planting her flip-flop-clad foot hard on the carpet, Carly stomped quickly toward the drawer, the worn rubber shoe slapping sharply against her soft sole, her arms outstretched as if she had become zombified. Waiting. Enraged. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something about this feeling before it consumed her mind completely and caused her to collapse.
Grasping the wood drawer knob in her long, firm fingers as hard as she could, Carly slammed it open with all her might, screeching a little with the effort. Her naked 3-inch-tall brother Jack, trapped inside of it, went careening against the front of the drawer from the force. He gasped, then grunted painfully as he was slammed against the surface. Righting himself slowly and rubbing at a newly formed bruise on his shin, he looked upward, and the moment he locked eyes with the humongous, tear-soaked, demonically angry face of his younger sister and captor Carly, his face crumbled into an expression of pant-pissing fear and dread.
“C-C-Carly? S-Sis?” he squealed, hardly able to get anything else out. “Are y-y-you…”
“Shut UP!” screeched Carly back at him, sending a balled up fist down hard and fast into the drawer. Bringing it down on her brother, she pinned him roughly against the base of the drawer, forcing his face down brutally into a bright green pair of socks. Her flesh tightened as her fingers clasped together, the muscle in her hand flexing outward, causing the tiny boy to be even more easily splayed, helplessly, under her fist. “Don’t say another word to me unless I talk to you first. Do you understand me?” she whispered intensely and with a sudden calm in her delivery. “Not another word.”
Weakly, beneath the gargantuan pile-driving force of his little sister’s clenched fist, Jack squealed his word of affirmation to his totalitarian sibling’s request before gasping shallowly for air. Satisfied, Carly unclenched her fist and pinched her thumb and pointer finger roughly around her brother’s left ankle and lifted him dangling upside down out of the drawer, bringing him close to her hardened, frowning face.
She watched him rise, flailing loosely in the air. So small. So helpless. Like all men were meant to feel, Carly nodded to herself. This is what all of them deserved to feel. Scared beyond belief and unable to do a single thing to save himself. She kneaded his puny ankle between her powerful fingers, her skin tingling with the thought of snapping it against her fleshy digits. It would take almost no effort. Like breaking a wishbone, probably, if not easier.
No. Not yet. Not today.
Carly stared into the eyes of her brother as he struggled to remain still in her precarious grasp, despite the fact that he was staring at an upside down death plunge to the carpet far, far below his head. After a moment of staring, though, she could barely see the delicate features of Jack, her 19-year-old brother anymore. All she saw was the arrogant, self-centered, outputting, selfish bastard expression of Nathan. And that was all that mattered right now.
“You… you sick little fuck…” she gasped so low it practically took her breath away. Her fingers quivered against her brother’s thin ankle with the effort of keeping steady. “You. All of you. You’re all the same. All exactly the same. Aren’t you?”
For a moment, there was no reply as Jack remained frozen and terrified beyond belief, suspended in midair. Carly’s eyes narrowed, and she brought him closer to her lips. This was always one of the best ways to get a faster reaction from him. She stared down at him, below the level of her nose. Just as Nathan deserved for his sliminess. To be looked down upon for the worm that he was.
“AREN’T you?” she hissed, low and deep, emitting thick, sweltering heat from the bowels of her sticky throat like a cave of molten rock.
“Yes! Yes! Oh, G-G-God… Carly… p-please, please… I d-don’t know what I d-did, b-but…”
“Shut up,” snarled Carly curtly and simply one more time, curling her upper lip in abject disgust at the object clenched between her fingers, right in front of her lips. She was getting sick of not being listened to, and she felt the rage boiling back up inside of her. She had spent all day feeling helpless, alone, and unable to say a single thing to anyone about what she had gone through. It was time for the tables to turn, and her rightful place as the one in control of the situation to return. At this moment, disobedience was going to be costly.
“P-Please, I’m s-s-sorry, p-please…” began Jack again, but he was cut off by a soft gurgling sound in the back of Carly’s throat. His eyes widened, his ears cocked, and he waited. Carly breathed deeply, hocking in the back of her throat, before letting loose and shooting out cold air hard and heavy directly into her vulnerably dangling little brother. A spit wad, thick with gummy mucus and watery spittle, came flying outward like a hot, sticky cannonball from between Carly’s plush pink lips, slamming squarely so hard into Jack’s chest and face the wind was knocked cleanly from his fragile body.
Jack coughed loudly, and an instant later found himself nearly immobilized as the wad of spit, caking most of his body, began distributing itself adhesively over nearly every inch of his body, the condensed blobs of translucent yellow fixing themselves against his shoulders and crotch. He sputtered wildly for a second, blowing a hard bubble into the steamy, gooey saliva before creating an opening large enough around his face to breathe and gasp with mortified disgust as the stuff settled over his entire body like a liquid blanket of smelly, sisterly juices.
Carly stared down at him for a moment, admiring her handiwork with a satisfied smile. Watching her own repulsive salivary gland gifts dribbling slowly over the pathetic body of the small, worthless male she held so powerlessly in her fingers. The hours of crying had caused her throat to become clogged with excess mucus, and it really showed as the bubbly, glue-like mess settled itself wholly over her brother’s body. The familiar tingling sensation rippled through her bloodstream, like the feeling of ice pricking her skin from every angle.
The sight before her was so horrid and humiliating to witness, and because of it, she couldn’t even allow herself to blink. It was so wrong in so many ways, and yet Carly hadn’t felt this right all day long. She wondered why she hadn’t spent the remaining classes of the school day daydreaming about this. Fantasizing. The sheer, unbearably disgusting sight; the smell of the goop; the almost piteous state of the little flailing body in her fingers trying not to drown. It was more wonderful than she would have dared to imagine. The tiny, pathetic body struggling so violently against such a simple liquid from the grimy backwash of her warm throat. It was unreal to see Jack like this, no matter how many times she did it or something of a similar nature to him.
But right now, then again, thought Carly slowly and deliberately, it wasn’t Jack. This wasn’t her brother. For this moment, it was Nathan fighting against the cruel bonds of her overpowering and disgusting spit as it fell over his cold, naked body which hung over a doom drop to the floor. His fate literally in the hand of the one he had hurt so strongly this day. The one who had every right to let him drop to the ground, watching the giant remorseless face of his ex-girlfriend falling further and further upward as he plummeted toward messy justice on the carpet far below.
But Carly knew she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. That would be letting him off easy for his crimes. With a smug smile and a shot of pride through her heart, Carly knew what she was about to do was not just meant to be between herself and Nathan. It was for every girl or woman hurt by a selfish boy or man. Every spurned woman who had, for even a fleeting moment, wished the impossible wish: the clasp the helpless, vulnerable body of the filthy cheater in her own hands. To have complete control over him, just as he had taken over her so heartlessly. To beat him down into the ground. To make him feel less than the dirt his new goddess tread upon. To hear him beg pathetically for mercy that would never be given. To allow his hopes to rise before crushing them satisfyingly into the dust.
To make him bow before his new owner, worship her with every ounce of strength he had left, and pray with every fiber of his being that she would see fit to play with him for just a bit longer rather than ending his useless life.
Raising her other hand calmly up to Jack’s body, Carly stretched her middle finger back against her thumb like a springboard, pressurizing flesh against flesh in wait. Jack saw it almost immediately and despite the awkward layers of his sister’s teary spit still covering his body like a gooey robe of shame, he had the strength and dignity required to cry out one last time.
“NO! C-Carly, no, p-please. P-P-Please, not t-there… I’ll do anything… anyt-thing…” he moaned with desperate passion. Carly listened for a moment and smiled. It was almost too easy. He had given in so, so quickly that it was almost disappointing. She had hoped to have the insane pleasure of slowly breaking him down to this point of base willingness over at least a half hour, if not longer.
After a moment, though, Carly shrugged to herself. She had always prided herself on finding new creative ways to ensure the games with her brother went on unendingly, even when he had tried to disqualify himself from them. No such luck, thought Carly, running her tongue along her powerful molars in thought. No such luck.
Without a second thought or a shred of remorse, Carly flicked her middle finger out from her thumb, landing a ball-rending crack across her brother’s exposed genitals that caused him to gasp so painfully hard it sounded like his Lilliputian lungs had collapsed into themselves.
“Take that, Nathan, you little son of a bitch,” thought Carly with infinite glee and satisfaction in her heart.