Kelly was a little nervous the night she decided to cook for Charlie.  She was so nervous, she had forgotten to turn on the oven to bake the chicken.  She had prepared everything else.  The table was impeccably set with her finest silver and china.  She even put out two of her coveted wine glasses from the expensive collection she had received at her first wedding.  The salads were tightly sealed in plastic wrap, waiting in the refrigerator for just the right moment.  The artichokes had already been steamed and just needed to be nuked for a few minutes.  She had chosen an expensive Chardonnay, but only one bottle.  She wasn’t taking any chances with Charlie this time.

“Jesus, Babe.  What’s the occasion?” Charlie asked apprehensively as he walked in.  The setting was very impressive.  There was even a floral centerpiece, with roses, irises, and baby’s breath.  Two white tapers stood on either side.

Kelly plopped on the couch to touch up her make-up.  Her hands were shaking terribly.  “I just wanted to do something special for the two of us,” she said, as she looked into her compact mirror, trying not to make a mess with her lipstick.  “You’ve been here for a month and I’ve never fixed a real dinner.”

“What’s the main course?  I don’t smell anything,” Charlie said bluntly.

“You don’t?  It’s baked chicken.  Take a look.”

A minute later Charlie yelled from the kitchen, “when do you want to start it?”

“Oh shit!”  Kelly realized she’d forgotten to turn on the oven.  She jumped up and ran to the kitchen.  “Oh shit!  I should have turned that thing on an hour ago,” she shook her hands and started to cry.

“No problem,” Charlie humored her.  “See?  It’s on.  It’ll only take an hour.  No big deal.  I’m not really hungry right now anyway.”  He’d been drinking, and had a line of crank on his way home.

“You’re never hungry at the right time,” she bitched, still crying.  “I don’t know why I even bother.”

“Hey, Babe.  It’s OK.  Just calm down and we can watch TV while dinner’s cooking.  The A’s are playing the White Sox; it should be a great game.”

“You go ‘head and watch,” she sniveled.  “I’ve gotta work on my paper for American Civilization.  Can I get you a beer or something?”

“No, Babe.  I’ll get my own.  You go work on your paper.  I’ll be fine.”

It was the third game against Chicago this month and Charlie was sure the A’s were going to win it.  Kelly tried to keep her mind on her reading while the chicken baked.  Charlie was working on his sixth beer, hooting and hollering the A’s on to victory.  Kelly didn’t mind the noise.  She was glad he was in a good mood.  It would help soften the blow.

“God damn it!” he yelled.  “That fucker should’a hit it!”  He was pissed at Jose Canseco for striking out.  Later she heard him yell, “yeah, Markie!  Do it, baby!”  It was easy to tell which batter he preferred.

The kitchen buzzer went off with a slow, groaning buzz.  Kelly got up to take the chicken out of the oven.  She burned her hand on the oven rack and almost dropped the pan.  Charlie heard the noise, but decided to keep out of her way.  She’d call him when she was ready.  He was feeling too good right now to deal with her bitching and moaning.

She lit the candles and called him to the table after a few minutes.  They both sat down to a feast.  Charlie opened the wine and poured.  “So.  What’s the occasion?” he asked again, holding up his glass.  Kelly held hers up and said, “to life.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he replied and guzzled his first glass.  Kelly rolled her eyes, but didn’t say a word.  What she was going to tell him was difficult enough.  Maybe he could deal with it better drunk. She picked at her food while Charlie wolfed his down.  Charlie poured himself another glass of wine and downed that one too.

Kelly’s blonde hair hung lavishly over her shoulders.  Her head was bent forward as she took a tiny bite of chicken from her fork.  The delicate white, lace blouse she wore just revealed the surge of her nipples.  Charlie was getting horny.  She glanced up at him and smiled shyly.  She could see that he was starting to rub his crotch.  She hated to spoil the moment, but she thought it was unfair to wait any longer.

“I’m pregnant,” she said plainly.

Charlie’s eyes opened wide.  “What?” he asked dumbly.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated calmly.

“How did it happen?” he asked with a stupefied look on his face.

“You fucked me, and I’m pregnant,” she screamed, tossing down her fork and getting up from the table.  “What a stupid ass question,” she turned on him with an angry scowl.  “I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant!  You want me to spell it out for you?”  She started to cry again.

“Does that mean we can’t fuck anymore?”  That was the only thing Charlie wanted to know.

“You fucking got me pregnant and all you can think about is fucking!” she screamed.  “What kind of an asshole are you?”

“I’m a horny asshole, bitch!” he yelled back.  He got up from the table and started walking toward her angrily.  “I feel like fucking you now!” he threatened, tearing open his jeans.

“No!” Kelly shrieked and ran to the bedroom to lock herself in.  But Charlie was right behind her.  She struggled to close the door, but Charlie had jammed his foot in the doorway.  “Get away from me, you freak!  What’s the matter with you, are you crazy!”

He forced his way into their bedroom and she tried to fend him off with the backs of her fists.  He grabbed her arms and tossed her onto the bed.  “I’m pregnant!  I’m pregnant!”

He leapt on top of her and forced her legs apart, causing her pink, wool skirt to rise to her waist.  “Stop it, you fucker!  I mean it!”  His brute behavior infuriated her.  She just wanted to break his nose or scratch his eyes out.  She wasn’t in the mood for his ridiculous antics.  Once she asserted herself, she was sure he’d get the message and lay off.  “I’ll call the cops, you stupid fucker,” she screamed, and managed to punch him in the mouth.  He started to bleed, but instead of stopping, he held her down with one hand and tore her pink panties off with a long slow pull.  The elastic bands left burns on both her thighs.  She spat in his face and watched his expression change.  He stared back at her, then he drew back and slapped her as hard as he could across the right side of her face.  Blood poured from her right nostril.  With the back of his hand he smeared her blood and lipstick across her mouth and up the side of her face.

She was out cold.  He was glad he didn’t have to put up with her screeching anymore.  He pulled down his jeans and his jock shorts and hooked his arms under her knees.  He reached up behind her and grabbed onto her shoulders.  He liked it this way.  Knocked unconscious, she was nice and loose, a much better fit.  He went for that “long ride home,” fucking her for five minutes non-stop.  Then he smeared more of her blood on his middle fingers.  He got off her and pulled up his pants.

He stood at the foot of the bed waiting for her to come to.  She lay there spread eagle, soaking the pillows with blood.  He hadn’t even bothered to put her legs together.  She started to move her head slowly and cough a little as he looked on.

Charlie was starting to feel the effect of the alcohol.  He was seeing double.  He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.  The room spun around slowly.  He stumbled to the bathroom to prop himself against the sink.  There was blood and lipstick on his hand as he stood before the medicine cabinet mirror straining to focus on his own reflection.  The alcohol had blurred his vision.  He raised his hand to the mirror limply and hung his head over the sink.  Something grabbed hold of his wrist and scrawled a message on the glass with Kelly’s lipstick and blood.  His hand flopped down to the sink with a thud.  The alcohol numbed the pain.  As he turned to close the door, he felt a violent jolt to the side of his head.

Kelly had gotten up and smashed a large clay ewer in his face.  She stepped back and stumbled onto the bed, waiting for Charlie to fall.  Instead, he opened his eyes wide with a look of surprise.  She had planned to run out of the apartment as soon as he hit the floor, but he remained standing; staring through her.

When he smiled, Kelly froze.  A chill ran up her spine.  He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.  She wanted him to take her again by force.  Charlie bent his head down and carefully held one of the buttons on his fly between his fingers.  He was insane, she thought.  She didn’t understand the power he held over her.  She didn’t really know him.  Yet, he was the father of her child.

She had met Charlie last month in a bar.  The truth was, she had bought him enough kamikazes to get him slavering drunk so she could take him back to her place and screw him.  What was she doing?  She hadn’t even told her best friend that Charlie was living with her for free; that he had stolen money from her to buy drugs and had abused her regularly.  She had been too embarrassed to tell anyone that she had a penchant for large, indigent men with gorgeous bodies and violent tempers.  She knew she would continue to lie about it.  No one should ever know about her sordid fascination with big, dangerous men.  No one should ever know that he was living in her apartment.  Somehow she had to get rid of him, like she’d done with the rest.

His smile became sardonic.  There was blood on his face and blood on his hands.  Kelly was still frozen with a mix of fear and fascination as she watched his head shrink down into his shoulders.  His right hand held the button on his fly; he seemed to be pulling himself toward her by his crotch.  He started to chuckle in a peculiarly deep voice.  She prepared for the worst.  She wouldn’t resist; she couldn’t resist.  He wanted sex.

“The baby is mine,” he whispered in a throaty voice as he slipped his hand between her legs slowly.  Kelly closed her eyes and opened her legs.  It would be over soon.  She wanted him.  His voice grew deeper.  Something was happening to him.  He began snarling and growling like a dog.  He was sticking his fingers into her vagina and repeating, “I want it, bitch; I want it now.”  He was hurting her.  She was no match against his physical strength.  He forced his entire fist inside her and clamped his other hand over her mouth when she tried to scream.  She could feel his long nails scratch her vaginal wall.  The pain was unbearable.  He reached deeper inside her and opened his hand.  “Where is it?”

The pain from his open hand was too great.  She managed to free her mouth and let out a scream.  This wasn’t exactly the kind of sex she had in mind.  Charlie grabbed her blouse to force her back, ripping it open and revealing the small wooden crucifix she wore around her neck.  He suddenly disengaged his hand and let her go.  She pulled away from him instantly without taking her eyes off him.  “Stop!  No more.  Stop!  Stop!” she pleaded.

The look on his face had changed.  He seemed confused.  He broke into tears, sobbing loudly and covering his bloody face.  The sudden change in his expression scared her so much, she bolted from the bed and ran out of the apartment as fast as she could.  Charlie was completely stunned.  He took off his clothes slowly and walked into a cold shower, scrubbing himself hard; trying to wash away a vague feeling of sickness and remorse.  He just wanted to get out of there and get drunk.  When he finished his shower, he walked out of the bathroom soaking wet and put on some fresh clothes.  He trembled from the cold as he tied up his steel-toed boots.  Then he walked out the door and headed to a bar on Winchester Blvd.  After a few shots of tequila, he went to a phone and called Mark Chappell.  Mark never heard the phone ring.

Kelly ran down the block clutching her torn blouse.  She was running to find a phone.  A carload of teenage boys honked and whistled at her, “hey baby, how ‘bout a blow job?”  They startled her so badly she stumbled and fell.  When she looked up, she saw the face of one of the passengers.  There was surprise and terror in his young eyes as he stared back at her.  They drove away laying a patch of rubber on the street.  Kelly looked around frantically to see if Charlie might be following her, but there was no one else in sight.  She found a phone and picked up the receiver.  She had no money with her.  Instead of calling the police, she called Stephanie collect.

“Steph,” she whimpered.  “I need your help….No, I think I’m all right….I need to come over….Right now….Some guy just tried to kill me….No, I’m at a pay phone…in San Jose….I don’t think so….Please….I really have to come over….No….No….He’s gone….I’ll tell you when I get there….No, I just have to go back and get some clothes….No….My car is there too….What…?  No, I can’t….He’s dangerous, he’ll kill me if I call….No….I think so….Uh huh….Uh huh….Yeah, tonight, just now…at my apartment….Yeah, I’m all right….I’m just scared to death….No….I’ll be careful….He won’t be there, I’m sure….I know….No I don’t wanna stay there for even a few minutes longer than I have to….No….Yeah….I’ll call you from another phone as soon as I get out of there….OK….I will….Thank you….I will….OK…Bye.”

She hung up the receiver and finished crying.  She was so mixed up by the events of the evening she couldn’t move from the spot.  She was in pain.  She had to slow down and think.  Everything was going too fast, “I’m trying to tell you to slow down,” she said to herself and broke down again.

After a few minutes Kelly looked at her feet.  She was barefoot.  There was drying blood on the face reflected in the telephone booth glass.  The reflection startled her.  She licked her hand and removed as much of the blood as she could, wiping it with the end of her beautiful lace blouse.  It was ruined.  She tried to straighten her hair as best she could and decided to start back to the apartment.  Her heart was beating fast.  Somehow she knew Charlie would be gone when she got there.

She walked back slowly, looking around her the entire time.  When she arrived at her front door it was ajar.  She cautiously rang the doorbell and waited.  No one answered.  Charlie wasn’t the type to lie in waiting.  If he were there, he would have come forward and confronted her.  She opened the door and walked in, leaving it open in case she had to run out again.

The apartment was deadly silent.  Kelly tiptoed through each room, turning on lights as she went.  She picked up the knife they had used to cut the chicken.  The lights in the bedroom were still on.  She peeked in.  Charlie’s clothes were on the floor.  Maybe he was in the bathroom waiting.  A rush of terror seized her and she yelled, “Charlie!”  There was no answer.  She raised the knife and walked to the bathroom.  It was dark.  She reached in and turned on the light.  One of the bulbs above the medicine cabinet flashed and extinguished.  She jumped and raised the knife.  She stared back at herself in the mirror holding the knife.  Then she saw the red message scrawled on the mirror.  As she read it she dropped the knife and began to tremble.

“No, no, no!” she screamed as she grabbed a wet washcloth and scrubbed the message off as hard as she could.  The lipstick smeared and left a red patina behind, but the terrifying words had been wiped away.  She was still hysterical as she raced through her bedroom for a few clothes and shoes, frantically looking for her purse and keys.  When she found them, she fled through the front door, slamming it shut behind her.  The words on the mirror shocked her into forgetting them.  It was a kind of selective amnesia.  They had disappeared from her conscious mind in a flash.  She couldn’t remember anything they said.  But the slightest recollection of mirror and lipstick sickened her with a recurring image of blood.  She fumbled with the keys to get into her red Volkswagen and out of San Jose as fast as she could.  But the deeply disturbing feelings the words had evoked hammered so hard into her awareness that she knew she could never escape their terrifying legacy.  The message she couldn’t remember read:

Disease grows inside you now – you’re dead, bitch!

As she sped down the street, Kelly was sure she had seen Charlie lurking around her building.  She forgot about calling Stephanie.  She was too busy praying out loud and begging God to save her from this monster.  She headed down Highway 17 to Santa Cruz knowing she was going to die.  When she reached Scotts Valley, she thought there was something wrong with her car’s steering.  It was an earthquake that registered 5.3 on the Richter scale.