A Twisted Game

I watched in horror as Amy's bloody, lifeless body was covered by police investigators. The dark tarp did nothing to highlight her wonderful shapes, her pristine figure. But the blackness was better than seeing all that red.

I shivered, looking around over my shoulders, trying to find the cop who had gone off to bring me a blanket.

"Mr. Martin," the lead investigator said impatiently. He pulled out a small notebook and a pair of delicate reading glasses which he slipped on.

"Please, just James." I continued glancing around while doing my best to cover my nakedness.

"Fine, James," he said irritably. "I'd sure love to hear your version of the story, because I've got witnesses here who..."

"Sir," I insisted, "I'd be a lot more comfortable if I could have that blanket." I raised my eyebrows and gave a weak grin.

"I'm sure they'll have one for you soon. Now please, take it from the top." He pulled a pen out from inside his suit coat.

The way he said it... I peered into his eyes. He almost reminded me of someone... Nah, I thought. Bill was thick and heavyset and he never wore glasses. This man was half skeleton, his sharp cheekbones giving way to cheeks that caved in on his narrow mouth and thin lips. He was a sickly kind of pale, with dark rings around his empty eyes. This couldn't be Bill, who was always so full of life. This man looked as though he'd never smiled a day in his life.

"Alright," I said, "I guess it started when this new elderly care facility opened up near my house and I decided to spend a day volunteering."

"What kind of volunteering?" he asked.

"Just playing board games, chatting, keeping them company. They're old, and many of them don't have any family coming regularly to spend time with them. I enjoy volunteering with them, hearing their stories."

"Alright," he said, making a note on the little pad he cupped in his hand.

"So I showed up and right away they sat me down with Janice, who I guess isn't quite right in the head. I don't know. They said she likes to play random games with people. I asked what she wanted to do, and this old lady wants to play house."

"House?" He raised his eyebrows judgmentally.

"Sure, like when you're a kid on the playground. She wanted to be the daughter while I..."

He looked me up and down, disgusted. "Is that why you're naked?"

I winced. "Not exactly..."

***

"Come on," Janice urged. "You just got home from work and I want to have a tea party." The woman's face pulled into a smile traced with a thousand lines, her yellowed, crooked teeth framed by half-rotted lips.

"Well..." I began, thinking back on my time in the theater company. It would be like all those weird improv games we played. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation. "Do you have the tea ready?"

She beamed, a glint sparkling in her old, sad eyes. "I do," she said, pretending to set out saucers and teacups. She made all the motions to arrange the teapot and looked at me. "Would you mind pouring it? I don't want to spill."

I smiled at her and thought about how proud Bill would be.

***

"Wait," the investigator said, his pen frozen above the notebook while he stared at me. "Who's Bill?"

"Oh," I said. "Bill was the director of a theater troupe I belonged to for a while. We did improv and skits mostly."

"Huh," the man said looking down, scribbling on the paper. "And is that how you knew Amy?" He nodded toward the body under the dark tarp.

I looked down and sighed. "Yeah," I said morosely, "she was part of the troupe as well."

"Mm hm," he muttered, still writing. "Go on."

***

I reached for the imaginary teapot and made a show of carefully pouring tea into each cup, watching as Janice followed my every movement with glee.

Without waiting for me to set the pot down, she reached for her teacup and took a tentative sip. "Hot!" she exclaimed, pouting.

I smiled. "You have to blow on it and wait for it to cool down."

She grinned deviously. "Maybe while the tea cools down you can go say hi to mommy. She's waiting for you in the kitchen."

I recoiled a little. "Mommy?" I wasn't sure if it'd be alright to break character or if I should just go with it. I remembered the yes and mentality we were expected to have when playing these games in the troupe. Shrugging, I asked, "And where is the kitchen?"

She giggled. "Silly daddy, don't you remember? It's just over there." She pointed behind her at a broom closet.

I took a deep breath and sat up straight, preparing to get to my feet. "Alright then," I declared. "I'll say hi to mommy and I'll be right back for my tea."

Apprehensively, I climbed out of the chair and made my way to the broom closet. Janice didn't watch me go, she just continued miming blowing on her tea, cupping the imaginary vessel close to her face with both hands. I opened the closet door, and without looking inside I announced, "Hey honey, I'm home!"

Suddenly hands shot out and pulled me inside, the door slamming shut behind me. I was pulled in passionately and hot, wet kisses landed on my neck and jaw as a woman's hands began exploring my body.

***

"Wait a minute," the investigator said, shaking his head. "You expect me to believe that some woman you didn't know suddenly yanked you into a broom closet and started making out with you?"

I shrugged, looking around for the officer who said he'd bring me a blanket. "Look, you wanted a statement, I'm telling you what happened."

He sighed, almost groaning. "Alright, please continue."

"About that blanket," I started.

"Mr. Martin," he said, exasperated. "I'm sure it's on its way. Please, can we just get through your statement?"

I rolled my eyes and fought the temptation to remind him to use my first name. "Fine," I said. "But for the record, I'm very uncomfortable doing this naked. Can't I have my clothes back?"

"Sorry," he said. "They've got blood on them. They're evidence." 

I shivered, still holding myself tightly, trying to be as modest as possible. "Well, this lady made out with me, and I guess I started getting into it. I let her start removing my clothes, and in the heat of the moment, I didn't really think twice about it."

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me over the rims of his glasses while making a note. "Go on," he said.

***

This mystery woman had me rolling down a hill that was growing progressively steeper and I could tell things were getting out of hand, but feeling her body against mine, the way she set my heart pounding... I was entranced and completely under her power. I explored her body with my hands, noting that she was wearing nothing but lacy lingerie. Her body was firm and fit, but soft and sensual. The way she moved was sure and her fiery passion ignited me. Just as my pants dropped to the floor of the dark broom closet, I felt the cold steel of handcuffs close tightly around my left wrist and she quickly backed away. Lights came on and I had to shield my face for a moment.

When I could finally see again, it took me a moment to wrap my head around what I was seeing. Before me stood a devilishly beautiful woman, with jet black hair wearing red underwear and high heels. She was backing away from me still, in a room much larger than I had expected. My wrist was cuffed to a pipe that ran vertically along the wall. I pulled at it, but the pipe was stiff and didn't budge.

"Welcome, Mr. Smith," the woman said in a thick, vaguely European accent.

"Hey," I said, trembling. "That's not my name. You must have me confused with somebody else."

"We know exactly who you are, and you are going to give us the location of the safe key, or..." the woman grinned and turned to the side as a couple of men barged in through a door in the back of the room, dragging Amy behind them.

"No!" I cried, my heart pounding furiously. "Let her go!"

She had bruises on her body and her face was red and chapped from tears, but now she just stumbled in, letting the men jostle her and shove her around. She was quiet, and her head was hanging low, her face almost covered by her long, matted hair, but when she looked up at me her eyes lit up.

"James," she whispered weakly, her voice raspy and dry. Her eyes were wide with fear. "I didn't tell them anything!" she cried with a sudden burst of energy.

"Now," the woman with the accent said, "you will tell us where the safe key is hidden, or she dies."

***

"Alright," the investigator said, exasperated. "Who were these people?"

I shrugged, fighting to keep from throwing my hands up. "I have no idea, and I had no clue what they were talking about. They were calling me by the wrong name, they were going on about some safe I knew nothing about... I was extremely confused and terrified."

"You have no thoughts about who they could be? They didn't seem familiar? Nothing they said rang a bell?"

"Nothing," I said.

"But this Amy woman seemed to be part of it?"

"Well," I said, my mind racing. "I don't know. She just said she didn't tell them anything. I don't know if that meant she knew what they were talking about or..." I could feel my frustration growing. "Look, I really had no idea what they were talking about. I don't know about any safe or a key, I didn't recognize them, I was confused."

"Alright, alright," he said. "Calm down. I'm just trying to get a handle on what happened here."

"Yeah, me too," I muttered.

"What happened next?"

"After questioning me and making a lot of threats, they eventually dragged Amy over and forced a gun into my hand."

"They forced a gun into your hand?"

"Yeah, the woman pointed it at Amy and the men wrestled my arm and hand into position around the grip, holding me in place against my will."

"Uh huh," he said, nodding slowly while making notes. "Continue."

***

"Where is the key!" the woman bellowed, jerking the gun toward Amy, who was whimpering and shaking.

"I don't know!" I cried, trying to stiffen my fingers away from the grip of the gun, fighting the goons who worked to get my finger through the trigger guard.

"Tell us or she dies, and you'll be the only suspect in her murder!"

I was sobbing. I had nothing to tell them. "I don't know about a safe! Look, maybe if we go back to my house you can tear the place apart looking for the key! If it's there, I don't know about it. I don't know anything! You've got to believe me!" I begged and pleaded, trembling and horrified of what these crazy people might do.

It happened so fast. Before I could process any of it, my finger was on the trigger and there was an explosion. Blood was everywhere. Amy's eyes were wide with shock and she looked down at her bloody abdomen, clutching it as she collapsed to the ground. The goons dragged her away and the gun dropped from my hand. I stared at the woman in lingerie in shock, my mouth agape.

"I guess if you have nothing else to say, we should dispose of you as well," the woman said, bending over to pick up the gun. But she didn't take it. She stood back up and looked me in the eye. "Actually," she said. "Maybe this is better. Nobody will believe you anyway."

***

"And that's it. She walked away, leaving me there until you showed up."

The officer's eyebrows lifted dramatically again and he shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "None of it makes sense. Why weren't you cuffed to the pipe when we arrived?"

"I..." my voice trailed off. "I'm not sure. I guess they must have unlocked the handcuffs at some point and I just didn't notice."

"Uh huh," he mumbled, writing something down. "And why hadn't you bothered getting dressed before we arrived?"

"I was in shock," I said. "Plus they were in a pool of blood." I squinted at him. "And... I didn't have time. You got here quick." I stared at him and looked back at the covered body on the ground. "You got here too quick..."

The detective was putting on a pair of black latex gloves. He bent over and picked up the gun and looked up at me. "That's our job," he said flatly. "We have to arrive at a crime scene quickly, before evidence is destroyed."

My head was spinning. "No," I said, "but this was almost instant, like you were just..." I looked around for the cop who was supposed to get me a blanket. "Were you waiting outside for me? Were you here the whole time?"

He stood with the gun pinched between his fingers with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other. "That would be ridiculous," he said. He pulled a bullet from his pocket and ejected the clip from the butt of the weapon.

My heart was pounding. "What's going on?" I asked. I stared at his eyes again. "Who are you?"

"You really don't recognize me?" he said, a light smile spreading on his deathly lips. He slapped the clip back into the gun and racked the round, then he took off his glasses and smiled at me. "Look again. I've lost some weight, James."

I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. My mind reeled and my heart jumped as Amy suddenly sat up, the dark tarp falling away as she got to her feet, laughing.

The man holding the gun continued to smile and we both watched her get up. He leaned in close to me and whispered. "You know, she and I dated for a month after you left. I thought, 'oh good, now that James is gone, maybe I'll stand a chance with her.' but do you know what? She always loved you. She was never going to be mine."

Amy was on her feet running over to me, smiling. "We got you good, huh?" she was saying, opening her arms for a hug. She wrapped herself around me, holding me tight while my heart beat furiously against my ribs. Something wasn't right. The cool fake blood on her abdomen soaked into my arm. I wanted to hug her back, but somehow I knew... she was already dead. It was all a lie. There was no new care facility. Janice wasn't crazy...

The sharp crack of the gun rang out just as real police sirens began to fade in from outside. Amy's body went limp and heavy against mine and I quickly wrapped my arms under hers, trying to keep her from falling. Her eyes and mouth were open, but there was nothing there. I looked up at Bill in horror as he dropped the gun and pulled off the gloves, walking away. As he left, he called out, "nobody will believe you James," leaving through the back door.

The sirens grew louder. I looked around. It was just me and Amy's lifeless body again, only this time she really was dead and I had no idea what story I was going to tell.