Sybil's Son by Wendy Parker

“Excellent work. Your stories get better and better. Watch the tense in the first paragraph, it’s a little confusing. I hope you win the challenge this week.”

She shut the laptop and smiled. She was secretly hoping to win the challenge too. She had been posting her work on the site for about six months and was just starting to make friends and get some solid critiques. Her work had improved and expanded, and she was proud of most of it. She flipped the laptop back open and scrolled to the comments beneath her story. She quickly posted.

“Thanks Lacy….your ideas really helped…..fingers crossed!”

Lacy was one of the few people from the writing site that she had actually interacted with. They had sent e-mails to back and forth and kind of gotten to know each other. She was wary of the faceless freaks that lurked on the internet, so she was very careful in choosing who she gave any personal information to. Lacy seemed pretty cool, and had really been helpful with several of her stories. A little red envelope popped up, signaling that she had e-mail. It was from Lacy.

“Hey – I know you’re real careful and all, but I was wondering if we could meet for drinks. We’re less than a hundred miles from each other - maybe we could meet in the middle. I don’t know, I kind of feel like we’re kindred spirits. I won’t be mad if you say no, I’ll understand. Let me know, OK?”

She had expected this. People always wanted more, no matter how much you gave them. Normally, she would have never agreed to meet anyone she met on the internet, but she felt the same ‘kindred spirit’ feeling that Lacy did. She quickly replied.

“I think Athens is half-way. Let’s meet at The Kettle on Friday. I’ll be there around eight.”

She didn’t wait for the reply; she knew Lacy would eagerly accept her invitation.Friday night at the Kettle was crowded. Safer to meet people in a crowded spot, right? She sat at the bar waiting, drinking and watching. She switched from tequila to water at about nine-thirty and ordered some potato skins to help soak up the alcohol before her thirty minute drive home. Lacy never showed. She kind of expected that, too. People always want more, then refuse to take what’s given to them.

She was walking through the parking lot when he grabbed her hair from the back and snapped it so hard she bit her tongue. He pushed his pock-marked face down close and sneered at her.“Lacy couldn’t make it. She sent me instead. Now just walk over to the car like nothing’s wrong and I won’t hurt you too bad.”

Adrenaline pumped through her and for once in her miserable life, she was happy to be what she was. She did as he said, and walked over to the car quietly. He continued to hold on to the back of her neck, keeping himself behind her. She could feel the sharp point of something against her back. He forced her into the back seat and slid in behind her and shut the door. The lot was almost empty and he had her to himself.

“Keep your fucking face turned towards the door. I don’t want to see your fucking face, bitch. Now take off those sweet little panties and show me something. I’ve been waiting, you know. I’ve been watching you since you posted your first story, waiting and watching. I’ve been patient, but my patience has run out. Take off the fucking panties.”

She reached down like she was going to slip the panties off and grabbed the wrist of the hand he held the knife in. He wasn’t expecting her strength, he was expecting a weak little woman, but oh boy, was he going to be surprised. She loved surprises. The natural levels of testosterone mixed with the huge doses of self-administered estrogen gave her an uncanny physical strength as well as a murderous rage. She held his wrist with one hand and quickly punched him in the face with the other. He howled and dropped the knife as his nose exploded into a blood fountain. She head-butted him in his wrecked nose as she was scooping the knife up off the car floor and he passed out from the pain. Pussy.

She woke him by driving the knife into his thigh. He screamed and she laughed.

“You stupid, miserable fuck. Expecting something a little different, weren’t you?”

She twisted the knife and he screamed again. She punched him in what used to be his nose and he passed out again. She made quick work of tying his hands and feet with the zip ties she kept in her glove box before he came to again. He struggled to talk and breathe through the bloody bubbling lump that used to be his nose.

“Please. I wasn’t going to hurt you. Please. Just let me go.”

She pulled the knife out and plunged it into his other thigh. He tried to scream, but got choked on the blood pouring freely from his nose. He coughed and sputtered and she punched him again, just to make him shut up. His pain threshold had increased, because he didn’t pass out this time. She was glad, because he wouldn’t be any fun at all if he was passed out. She ripped open her shirt and flashed a set of perfect, lovely, very expensive breasts.

“See these friend? I just got em'. Just paid the last twenty-five thousand off and got my beautiful tits as the cherry on top. I’m complete now. I’m finished. And I am not what you think I am. I started life as Sybil’s only son, and now I’m her dickless daughter. You’re not the only one who can play alter ego. I’m the queen of alter ego, buddy. I got that game down.”

She watched his face as the realization of what she was telling him finally dawned on him. He was unable to speak; his nostrils were completely inside out from the repeated bludgeoning. She pulled the knife out of his leg and slid out of the back seat.

“You get comfortable, now. We’ve got a long ride. I’ve got a little party planned back at the house. Sit tight friend, cause' tonight I'm going to learn some things about you.”