THE REAPER'S CONVOY

WARNING: MATURE CONTENT FOR 18+ [ If you are below 18, please leave, because it may not be suitable for your age. Thank you J]

EL CASA CUATRO

Dimly lit luminesce. The cheers of glee audibly roared coming from the sea of men present to watched the silhouette behind closed doors. An array of light, distinct hue and coloured panels ruptured the satisfaction the moment that the music became much slower. Beat awoken bestial pleasure. The primal whistled channel their disgusting drools.

You make it look like it’s magic

‘Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you

I’m never confused

Her lips protruded. With dangling earrings, and her bareness that had never actually matter as it was set in display for prying eyes. . Earned pleasure, and unending passion. Only an evident how Adam failed to evoke the calls of temptation. She’s Eve, prior to hunger and thirst of the counterpart sex. Footsteps that awoke bedridden ecstasy they craved and seek, yet failed. All throughout, around Mexico, each men knew where to find the satisfaction they’ve been longing for. Desires after desires. Thread of patient, but all could do is to look, and praised every footfalls left behind by the woman slowly emerging from the curtains. Eve. That’s her name for this night.

Hey, hey

I’m so used to being used

So I love when you call unexpected

‘Cause I hate when the moment’s expected

“Fuck! I want her.” One men prior haven’t had any shame to hide how much it frustrate him.

He’s not alone. Who wouldn’t want Eve? The movement of her lips, plump and reddish in colour promised so many unimaginable things a man could ask for. Voluptuous hips, and thighs that fulfils every fantasy. The cravings behind buttoned mount that were hidden, yet course through to meddle and mark her. A woman who can outstretched, and dwelled each men with her body, and the expression that yearns for a mere touch. She’s no fool at those eye. For the previous years, she’s been acquainted with those looks. The innocence that has been taken had forcibly stole the naivety she no longer have and loathe.

‘Bastards’ Her mind spat out. If only she don’t need this job, she wouldn’t be up there, and be an offering for those assholes.

From the corner of the room, Chicago, the owner of the El Casa watched Eve on the stage. His eyes never betrayed him, but the admiration is more on the money and bills he could earn after this night. His stare bore towards the glass of martini.

“Excelente!” He emptied the glass.

“You really had a good eye across women, Chicago.” Antonio, his companion simply praise him. This made him felt glad, but Chicago had never show him ahead of himself. He may be boastful, but daren’t to say that he wouldn’t want to spoil the night.

“It’s just a luck, Antonio.” He chuckled.

“Nonsense!” Antonio counterfeit, and raise his glass. “But needles to say, cheers for future endeavours, and successful business, Mi Amigo!”

“Cheers!”

In spite of the loud music that rings on each side of her ears, Eve was well aware of the envious that came on loose ends. Prior that it wasn’t exclusive only for men, but for both sexes. It doesn’t bother her at some point. To worry about her being is what she’s trying to figure out and not just some highschool bimbos who’s been dumped by their boyfriend. Whining there and then. What a headache, and a relief for getting rid of them, but misfortune for whoever would be unlucky enough and caught their eye.

The music is becoming more sensual. Eve slowly circled the pole, and the platform has been owned by her. She was bare, only clad in a mask the hid whoever was behind the beauty on that stage. She lowered her upper body, earning a series of awww from the men. Her teasing drove them mad. Insanely probe as she herself boldly spread her thighs followed by how she quickly sandwiched the pole between hind legs, and do the routine she’s been used to. With passionate move take her composure, and slowly touch her body as she dance. Her hips sway sensually. The carnal pleasure is audible. Mad eye from women, yet gratification from arouse men she could see scrambling from their feet.

“Fuck it!” Somebody screamed above the music.

Eve chuckles. She really knows her way out.

We live with no lies

Hey, hey

You’re my favourite kind of night

So I love when you call unexpected

‘Cause I hate when the moment’s expected

“That’s my girl.” Chicago proudly claimed.

For the finale, Eve lunged herself to the pole, and put forth her great efforts to evoke authority. Taken leverage as for instance the stage were showered by bills tossed from the crowds. Money rain after the others. So forth, when the music is slowly coming to its end. Eve with her index finger place between her lips shushed the crowds, followed by a brief kiss that even appear so tempting. Everything she does that were admire, and crave for.

“Later, boys.” She licked her lips.

“Wait!” One man tried to reached out joined by the others, but it is futile. Long before a large heavy curtain rolled down the platform, and completely hid Eve in suppress of many failures to interfere.

Her work is done for tonight.

Enrobe, her expression changed.

“You really rock, girl!” Belaud, the women commended.

Eve only could smile, and left trail to gather her belongings. On that room, there are 20 of them, but the number doesn’t end there. There are countless of women, and she’s no fool not to assumed that a few were underage or much younger than her. It oppress her morals, but what could she do? No help would be given, when she could not even help her own self. She doesn’t know their story, and it was unlikely for her to stick her noses onto something she is not supposed to get involved.

“Leaving already?” Beatrice, the old woman who’s working for Chicago to seek for girls appeared. “But not without your earnings, honey.”

She handed her a bag bulging from all of the money tossed over earlier. Eve did not speak. No words were exchanged in between as she received what she works for. Not being acquainted with anybody on that room would mean a good thing. As far as she know of, attachment only leads to betrayal, and pain; distress and loathsome sufferings she wouldn’t want to. It would only bottled up, and ruined her solace.

As she leave, Beatrice could only watch her silhouette slowly disappearing from her eyesight.

Outside, the clouds hover. Enormous grey and black coloured encompassing the vast sky. There are no stars that night, only leaving the moon to guide Eve on her path. Her route rooted towards the same highway she’s been used to. The distinction on the identity as her clothing weren’t the same as the Eve who were fierce and full of rigor. For instance, it has been replaced by an innocent-looking woman. Clad in a casual dress that reached her knees, and sleeves to cover up her arms. It was tightly buttoned until her neck, and a pair of rubber shoes that befittingly suit her eyeglasses. No one would vent out who is she, no more evidence of the stage, and a hint of what kind of job she had gotten herself into.

Eve called a taxi.

“Buenas noches, señora.” The bearded driver greeted her after she took her seat within the cab. “Where to, señora?”

“Home.” Eve leans her back. “On Belize Puerte, señor.”

The engine roared to life, and the drive towards Belize had put her at ease. As if everything’s been alright, and there are no worries she could tangle herself into. Belize is where Eve – no, it wasn’t her anymore. Rio. Rio grew up in Belize, whereas Eve were only made to entrails entertainment allotted for every guest on El Casa. Outside, the mask hidden were no longer her. Chicago, Beatrice and a few more memories about the stage hadn’t existed. Their absence that put forth her solace, and relief that no one invaded her privacy prior to what has been dealt with. She’ll work for the club, they could have compensation, but all business would be left behind four walls, and she would be unbothered.

A sigh escape from her slightly parted lips.

It didn’t take long for the cab to parked in front of Belize Puerte.

“That would be 10€, señora.” The driver informed her.

“Gracias.” ‘stead of 10, Rio pulled a hefty amount of 20€ from her bag, and gave it to the driver. Dumbfounded, the bearded man opened his mouth presumably assuming that she may have mistaken or either misheard what he said, but Rio is already out of the door.

She look back, and smile. “Keep it as a change.”

Before she disappeared, leaving the appalled man clutching the money on hand, surprised.

When she arrived at home, she earned no responses and greeting as she had no one to share her deeds, and the misfortunes the day brought. Rio lived by herself. Her house is a two-storey building. It was simply casual, in spite of the large money she always earn. However, this is what Rio wanted. Who would live with a gigantic mansion all by herself? The silence would only bore her. Abhorred fate, and ill misfortunes that carry on luck or she wouldn’t be here alive and breathing.

While brewing a fresh cup of latte, news horrifying as it would left anybody mortified resonated towards the empty sala.

“Everyone were ask to stay indoors, as there is a new killings that has been reported again –“

On the flat screen flashed an image that made her stomach churn, but Rio couldn’t take her eyes off. Presumably a woman, who’s unfortunate enough to loitered on the street, failing to ponder death at her wake. Footfalls of doom as Rio drank her beverage.

“—It was a 19 year old student of Oxford that has just been back from London.” The anchor continue.

With paling lips, and quivering lips only maneuver how scared she was, yet all remorse and lament for her death wouldn’t be of no use. She’s dead. Outrageous, but that’s the ugly truth. However, what Rio noticed was the fact that it’s been going on for months. No leads. No traces. But what could she expect from this place? Mexico is a nest for hooligans, and smugglers, illegal deeds that the law haven’t had any power to suppress so forth the justice is a culprit himself.

Her cellphone rings.

“Hello –“ Without bothering to look at the register, she picked it up appease to the familiar person, whom she’ve had her contacts with, and whereabouts.

“It’s Malcolm.”

“I know.” Rio shortly replied.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t know.” The person on the other line laughs. His chuckles that vibrated through, where Rio could hear him composing his breathing, baritone voice of a man belonging to Malcolm, who remain at her haughty days, where she could have sworn to kick his ass multiple times for interference.

“Why did you call?” Rio emptied the glass of her latte.

“I’m just checking on you.” She heard him sigh. “I heard the news.”

“I do as well.” She seconded.

“Take care.” Malcolm seriously added.

“I always do.” Rio assured him.

And so it ended like how it always used to be. There’s no hard feelings between them, the way both treated is the common thing they have always wanted, to be in contact, but on the other hand, to never clings and demand for attention. To be in touch when needed, and were asked to is how their company works for each other. Just like her, Malcolm haven’t had anybody to relies on, yet Rio knew when to set a gap, questions that shouldn’t be ask, and business she shouldn’t stick her noses on.

After doing her nightly routines, and ensuring the safety of her house, Rio dwelled in depth of her dreams unfathomable on her nighties solely to live above her devils. The same screams in reminder that once she perish, leaving most of her memories ruined and abolish.

“Mama?” Daze, an ethereal darkness envelope my frailness–unending as if there’s no bottom nor escape. A gateway missing as I assumed Mama had forgotten to turn the lights on as it was already 6 in the evening.

Cold soles touched the icy tiled floor, shuddering across to suppress myself from moaning another complaint as my slippers deems to be missing to where I left them earlier. Perhaps, Ate uses them again. [Ate is a Filipino word, which means an older sister in English] Barefooted, it was unlikely for the house to stay quite. Hoots coming from the birds under Ate’s care is missing. Clamours, and arguments never showed up leaving a frown evoke on my forehead as it cease trajectory towards the odd ambiance of the house.

“Mama?” But I earn no response.

It was just the darkness. No bulbs has been turned on, and my assumption that it was forgotten is becoming suspicious.

Thump. Nervous, my ventures became cautious, hasty beats to keep my pace to never made any noise or I would be caught up by whatever is causing this bizarre and crook aura. The roof yearning for comfort seems outwardly queer. This continues until my footfalls left trails. In hope to see my parents, but least expecting to witness the massacre that haunted my young self to an extent that it was utterly traumatic.

“P-Papa!”

Chop! With thin lips parted embezzled alarm stupefied and glued my feet on the floor. I stood stunned, unbelieving. Bashful eyes mopped the kitchen–dyed with the thick, and the crimson coloured stain I had ever seen as it was pooling radiantly. Broken glasses were left scattered. Pieced of woods, windows discarded open, and the knives set to lay harmless, yet I knew better at this age. The lump on my throat had made it hard for me to gulp, and breathe. Tears pool at the verge of my eyes. To see the bodies on a pile spiked up fury, loathe and....frustration.

“P...pap..papa...” My knees gave way.

Although beheaded, I knew that the corpses lying in front of me is those whom I’ve been seeking for. What had happened was beyond my imagination. Mutilated limbs, and missing heads.

I was trembling. Terrified, yet I wanted to scream. Too broken to notice the silhouette of men.

“Hello, angel.”

Meanwhile, on the dark street of Mexico, victims fall beyond again in reminder of being careless, and not taking seriously the warning about the dreadful corners of the roads.

“Everybody were ask to stay indoors—”

Aggravated, Miranda, an 18 year old teenager, clicked her tongue. To stay inside the house weren’t her forte.

“Bullshit, cops wouldn’t even do anything, killer my ass.” Her father took a large chunk from his sandwich. It made a sloppy sound, and the chewing that cause her Mother’s annoyance.

Miranda let out a sigh.

She knew what was coming, and before she knew it, footfalls left behind her trail, and the slight thud echoed the moment that she closes the door. It didn’t take her another minute. Unveiled chaos, the chaotic screams and shout chiefly probe her hunch.

“What a fuck up life.” With crossed arms above her chest, Miranda venture the familiar street of Mexico. It did not scared her. She grew up here, but that doesn’t mean she’s unaware to the danger that the road carries.

Needles to say, this night is unusual.

“Weird.” But it wasn’t something that could have evoke the wantons for Miranda to run back at the safety of her room.

Snap. She jolted awake. Something seems to stepped up onto something that leads for it to get broken. Thump. Miranda stop on her tracks. Thoughts to fight or flight broaden to accentuate a presence coming towards her...at full force.

“Shit!”

Without much further ado, Miranda turns her back, and run. She never looks behind her. What a crazy psycho! Huffing, and breathing heavily, drenched in sweat Miranda pumped her legs to continue in fear to get caught by whoever might have been chasing her, because she do not know what doom awaits if the given opportunity has been offered. Blinded by fear, Miranda failed to notice the wire left by some gangster, and soon enough, her head whipped as she lost her balance, her legs knocked off the remaining cans piled up on the side. But what came much worst was when she twisted her ankles earning a scream of terror and pain from her slightly parted lips.

“N-no...c’mon!” She panicked.

To get up is a hard time she dealt only leaving hopeless attempts and cries, when the footsteps get closer to where she was.

As it stop, she trembles.

“Hey, are you okay?”

That had made her eyes opened as quickly as it does.

“W-who are you?” She was greeted by a man standing taller than her height. Shadows looms that she failed to see his entire visage. The jacket he worn cover almost his eyes. Miranda frowns. She looks behind him, but she found no one. Are her eyes both playing tricks at her? Or is she just imagining things again?

“But I know you are not, ángel.”

“Huh?”

But it was late too late. It did not take her a second to feel a bone-wrecking doom she never felt before. SLASH. Wide eyes filled with horror rolled on the sidewalk. Lifeless body falls on the ground, beheaded and bathing on its own blood. Miranda haven’t had the chance to scream, and as she does, her death becomes the delight of the devil, who took her by heart.

END.