Homeless (14 page)

The woman's dirty yellow skin began turning blue from lack of oxygen. The less she fought, the more Lonnie attacked. There was a small voice he could hear in his mind telling him to stop that sounded like his mother's. He squinted, trying to listen closely, but started shaking violently when he heard several voices at one time telling him to kill. The dangerous mixture of pills he'd carelessly swallowed when he woke up had Lonnie far out of his mind.

Foam erupted from the woman's mouth, a sign that she'd been strangled to death. Her body was limp although Lonnie's was still weighted on top of it. First thrown into a rage by the scent, he was now turned on by it because he was in control. Strangely, he leaned into the dead woman's neck and inhaled as deeply as he could, in his mind, cuddling up to Megan.

“You're so much prettier when you're not talking,” he said to the dead woman. Unlike the night when they'd been in Kevin's bedroom and his dick failed to stay up, Lonnie felt strong and at a point of power with her limp and speechless body beneath him.

Megan had made him feel less of man, spread rumors about him, and like many of the women who crossed his path since his mother died—was a mean bitch. A mind-altered Lonnie didn't feel like a murderer; he felt satisfied for finally being able to have the last word.

Finally moving his hands from around her neck, he grabbed at his hardening dick, then ran a fingertip across the woman's mouth. Shaking his head trying to get the voices he heard to slow down and speak one by one, Lonnie was experiencing his first sadistic episode. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box cutter Mr. Reynolds gave him to cut all the plastic from the new mattresses, and held it like a scalpel as his professor taught him in anatomy class. The first voice he'd heard was one telling him to cut her tongue out.

Before carrying out the first voice's order, he put his headphones back onto his ears and started bobbing his head to the music. He grinned psychotically, then proceeded to mutilate his first dead body.

Uncaring of the foamlike saliva, he pried her mouth open and pulled her tongue out. Then deranged Lonnie used his box cutter to slice the vessel straight from her mouth. Following the last order of the first voice, he stuffed her tongue back into her mouth and closed it up. The final gruesome thing he did was slice her lips from left to right with the sharp blade. Lonnie's manhood was as hard as steel. He didn't want to mutilate the woman's body he saw as Megan with sex; he wanted her to be silenced permanently.

The second voice Lonnie heard told him to get rid of the woman's body. That voice sent him into a panic. Still hyper off the A-Plus pill, he quickly moved around the room, trying to figure out how he was going to do just that. When he spotted the box of trash bags he'd just set on the top shelf, Lonnie knew he'd be able to fit the woman inside of one because they were industrial-sized. Detached and unstable, a now-cutthroat Lonnie quickly snatched them off the shelf, grabbed a few from the box, and then prepped her body for disposal.

Quickly checking her pockets first, Lonnie pulled out four crumbled-up dollars and a Lifestyle condom. Knowing he could use the few bills for something, he stuffed them in his pocket but tossed the free-from-the-clinic condom to the side.

Bending the woman over, he tied her neck around her legs by wrapping and taping a few trash bags around them until they were secure. Then he doubled up two bags, then two bags more, totaling four, and put the woman inside. Only five minutes into death, the woman's bones hadn't stiffened from rigor mortis. All Lonnie did was snap her bones out of the sockets to make the woman more flexible than she'd been created to be.

Dragging the bag to the door, Lonnie took his shirt back off and started cleaning the area where the woman's body had been with the cleaning solution within the closet. He was just as hyper off the pills as he was when he first walked in after cleaning the stairs. Bouncing his head and dancing, Lonnie was completely dismissive of the dead body waiting to be carried out. Once everything was back in order, he took a quick wash-up again and was able to slide his shirt back on in peace. No one disturbed him or caught him at the scene of the heinous crime.

Flicking the light switch off, he dragged the bag out of the janitor's closet and down the hallway. Twelve paces later, he saw Mr. Reynolds coming off the elevator with an envelope similar to the one he was handed before. Fresh out of the fifty, Lonnie hoped the envelope was for him.

“Hey, Mr. Reynolds, thanks again for the phone. The music surely helps my day go faster,” Lonnie weirdly spoke—like he wasn't dragging a dead body up the hallway toward the exit.

“Yo, Lonnie, it looks like you're feeling better. You've been doing a fine job around here today. Matter of fact, go on home after you dump that trash and rest up. I'll see you around.” In a rush, he disappeared. Mr. Reynolds gave praise where it definitely wasn't due. He wasn't wise to the crime that had just gone down on his watch. Had he been, he would've killed and tossed Lonnie into the trash too. Lonnie wasn't the only one with a dark past and a secret . . . or who could lose his mind.

Lonnie felt his heart pounding as he walked away from the shelter toward the bus stop after stashing the dead woman's body behind the Dumpster. His first kill. He was relieved to have not seen Trina while doing his dirty work. Every few moments it was like he had an out-of-body experience and could see himself but wasn't in his body to control himself.

Getting blood on his hands for the first time hadn't traumatized Lonnie; instead, it satisfied his need to shut women up. As sick as it may have seemed to the normal person who's never lived through one traumatic event after the next with no help, to a troubled youth like Lonnie, the pain he inflicted on the woman helped him release the pain he'd been holding in. Walking toward the bus stop to go home as if nothing happened, Lonnie wiped his brow from the sweat that had built up from dragging the woman outside. He wasn't the least bit tired, just worked up. Not feeling remorse, only satisfaction, Lonnie knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could kill again.

“Hey, you.” Trina walked up seemingly out of nowhere.

Lonnie damn near jumped out of his skin. Pushing the thoughts of the murder to the back of his mind quickly, or at least trying to, he didn't want Trina to pick up on his edginess. “Hi,” he responded shyly, a little jittery and nervous since he knew what he'd done. “You just crossed my mind a few seconds ago.”

“Oh?” Wrapping her finger around a strand of hair making a spiral curl, she mistook Lonnie's words as flirtatious ones. “Care to share the details of those thoughts?”

“Um . . .” Lonnie hesitated, trying to come up with a quick, yet believable lie on the spot. “Nothing major, just if you were okay or if I had missed you stopping by.” He wasn't telling an absolute lie. Those weren't his thoughts a few moments ago; however, Trina had crossed his mind once or twice.

“Aww, Lonnie, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He gagged. “That's not a phrase I've ever heard my name with.” Lonnie was amused by Trina's read of him. So much so that he wanted to keep the charade going. As she stood before him doing some funny thing with her lips to make sure he saw the pink gloss on them, his mind flashed back to him jacking his meat to the porno. At that moment, he no longer had to wonder how his manhood would respond with all the mixtures floating in his bloodstream. Even Trina saw the rise in his pants.

“Okay . . . That's weird,” Trina didn't waste a second calling Lonnie out. He followed her eyes straight to his erection, then back up straight so they were looking back face-to-face.

“Shit, that ain't nothing.” He laughed uncomfortably, taking a cop. “I gotta take a leak but didn't want to interrupt our conversation. Especially since you claim I make you feel special,” Lonnie lied, trying to divert her attention from the hard-on.

She giggled. “Although I'm flattered, don't let me stop nature. I'll be here when you get back.”

Lonnie walked off with his head low and sort of feeling like he did when things went terribly wrong in Kevin's bedroom. A loser. Going on the side of what once was a laundromat, he turned his back to a watching Trina and jacked himself quickly and erratically till he came. From the experience he had last night, Lonnie knew there wasn't another way to relieve the stiffness. Shooting his load off like he was pissing, he locked his legs and fought against the urge to quiver. During the euphoric moment, a blurred image of the girl he'd killed popped into his head.

He shook his head from left to right like he was clearing the image from his mental Rolodex, then looked over his shoulder at Trina. She was looking the other way, but tapping her foot like she was growing impatient. Lonnie started to yell that he'd be one second, but was glad he didn't when he saw a squad car roll up and slow down in front of Trina. Quickly stuffing his now-squishy penis back into his pants, he darted up the alleyway while making sure to stay close up to whatever garages were left standing. Not looking over his shoulder again until popping out at the end of the block, he saw Trina looking around for him, dumbfounded. Lonnie didn't stay around to see what happened next.

Trina felt like a fool when the cops pulled up on her asking why she was holding the corner down. Knowing what they were insinuating, she dismantled their assumption and told them she was waiting on someone. The foolish part came in when she tried finding where Lonnie was so she could point him out. Of course, he was gone, and she seemed like a liar. Trina was lucky they only told her to push on.

Walking away, wondering where Lonnie had disappeared to, she was bummed for two reasons: she hadn't gotten a box of food or a small treasure to open up like a kid on Christmas Day; and two, she thought he'd be shading her from here on out. Deciding not to let the thought consume her, she opened her purse and pulled out an apple that came from the food box he'd given her. She snacked on that all the way back to the hospital. Her dad was faking having pains in his body so they'd have somewhere warm to sleep with some nibbles of food. This scam got played by them every so often and in emergencies. Every homeless person has a clever way of surviving.

Opening his eyes when his alarm clock went off on Tuesday morning, Lonnie wasn't asleep, just resting his eyes. He'd been popping pills and drinking Red Bulls all night. Although during some of that time he'd thought of Trina, he'd thought more of the murder he'd committed and what the cops wanted when they pulled up on Trina. He continuously flipped through the channels to see if a trash man, innocent bystander, or another homeless person, or even those two cops he'd laid eyes on himself, found the body he'd stashed and jumped at every noise. He kept thinking he heard knocks at his door or taps at his window, although he was three floors up. Paranoia had set in, not regret.

Climbing out of bed with his clothes still on, Lonnie was prepared because he'd gotten dressed in the middle of the night. Between pacing back and forth looking out the window, watching for a breaking news story, and washing the box cutter over and over with soap and water, he'd showered and prepared for his community service day at another shelter. This one was a women's shelter for those who had kids.

Lonnie wondered why the judge had him working all over the city for free when he'd told her he was penniless and struggling himself. He knew it was her job to punish him because he was indeed driving under the influence; yet, he felt no justice was served because he was now on the fast track to being a complete failure. Not having time to throw himself a pity party, he shoved a few pills in his pocket to help him cope throughout the day—just in case he needed them. Not only did he hear the voices he heard yesterday, but now one that sounded like the woman he'd killed as well. Lonnie's personality was splitting. He was losing his mind.

Almost out the door without the box cutter, he doubled back and slipped it into his pocket.

* * *

The women and kids' shelter was much different than the other shelter Lonnie had been working at. Whereas the homeless population of the other shelter was gone during the daytime hours, at this one, they got to stay all day. That meant Lonnie had to stay on his p's and q's, and not submit to his pill addiction for the whole community service shift. He was worried because of his track record with women. He and they seemed not to ever get along. That was evident to him since he'd now murdered one. Trying to push yesterday from his mind, the teen walked to the door of the shelter to face his woes . . . as always, not having a choice.

A woman with a little boy on her hip let Lonnie in, then a girl that appeared to be around Lonnie's age instructed him to sign in and have a seat while she called the director. This shelter seemed to have a rigid set of rules, unlike the other; so he told the young girl he needed to excuse himself for a breath of fresh air because he was nervous about his first day and would be right back.

Telling a lie because he wasn't fearful of his first day, Lonnie had really thought quickly on his toes and wanted to hide his stash of pills. He'd only brought along an extra Adderall in case the one he took wore off and a few of the Tylenols Mr. Reynolds mindlessly purchased for him. Using his finger to dig up some dirt in the flowerpot by the door, he looked around to see if anyone was watching, then put the pills in the hole, making sure they were covered. Lonnie made a mental note that his fix was directly underneath the wilting red flower, then found his way back into the shelter.

Miss Humphrey, large in stature, was standing by the table he'd signed in a few moments ago with her arms crossed and her eyes looking over the rim of her glasses. Lonnie felt the woman ripping him apart as he approached her with his hand extended to shake hers.

“You're late,” she spat, cold and unwelcoming.

Instead of backing down and apologizing, Lonnie chose to stand up to the woman. With one murder already under his belt, Lonnie felt powerful and like he'd put this woman in a permanent place if she needed him to. “No, I was here and just stepped out for a breath of fresh air. I was on time, actually,” he set the woman straight. Quickly digging in his pocket, he pulled out the assignment sheet and handed it over after looking for her name. “Miss Humphrey, I'm Lonnie McKay.”

She looked like she wanted to say so much more than “right this way.” Putting her eyes back where they needed to be, she escorted Lonnie through the shelter and told him to pay attention because this tour wasn't going to happen again. Lonnie made sure his ears were open. It wasn't that he was listening to her because of her ranking, he simply didn't want to be bothered with the woman in the future. He hoped, like the other shelter, he only had to get his task list daily and push on.

Bumping into kids and interrupting group therapy sessions, Lonnie learned his way around the shelter. He thought it was pretty neat how the place was set up like a big apartment building for homeless women. They even got daily donations from people dropping off their kids' old clothes and toys.

“Amanda, this is Lonnie McKay. He'll be helping us around here for a while.” Miss Humphrey introduced Lonnie to the woman who'd been sitting at the desk by the door. Amanda was like the manager and would oversee him.

Unlike Brenda, she wouldn't give Lonnie a list but give him his tasks and check the last one as he finished. Off rip, Lonnie could tell he wasn't going to like the controlling woman. She reminded him of someone he hated, yet he couldn't figure out exactly who. He didn't have time to with Amanda breathing down his back like a dragon.

“Let's go, Lonnie. Let me take you out back to the shed so you can get started mowing the field the kids play in. From there, you'll be going around front.” Putting on a sunhat and grabbing a book, she marched toward the door, then waited on him to catch up.

“I swear I hate a power hungry bitch,” he mumbled.

“Huh? Did you say something?” Amanda smartly questioned, knowing she couldn't have heard him curse, let alone call her a female dog.

“Nothing, but lead the way,” Lonnie said with a grin on his face, liking the way she looked from the back.

The field the kids played on was like half the size of a football field and covered with blades of grass tall as a toddler. Thinking it was cool for them to have an area designated for the kids and moms to bond and play, Lonnie couldn't understand why the chore hadn't been done sooner. Only because it wouldn't have made his work for the day backbreaking. After making sure all the sticks were stacked by the wall of the shelter, he mowed three or four rows back and forth, dumping the bag before the fifth time. Amanda was watching him with a close eye, and even Miss Humphrey had come out to check his progress. Lonnie felt like a modern-day slave.

Sweat was pour off his body. Taking off his shirt, he flung it across the fence so it could dry in the sun, then continued mowing the play area. He turned a shade darker and felt his skin sizzle in the heat, all the while never slowing up. The Adderall had him moving at the speed of a bullet. Feeling dehydrated and close to passing out, he finished the last row he planned on doing, then took a break for some water. Even his five-minute water break was monitored by Amanda.

* * *

Before going off break, Lonnie's cell vibrated in his pocket. He knew who it was without looking at the screen because since Kevin went to rehabilitation, no one had called except Trina. Digging the phone out, he nervously fumbled with it. The unknown nature of the call would torment him relentlessly if he didn't pick up. He had no choice if he wanted any sort of calmness in his already-confused mind. Lonnie didn't know if Trina was sitting in front of the cops, maybe to set him up. Nevertheless he said hello.

“Wow, after yesterday, I wasn't sure you'd answer.” Getting straight to the point, Trina was slightly salty about Lonnie pulling his shake move. Not only had she felt dumb in front of the cops, but she wasn't able to stop thinking about him through the night. She'd been checking her phone relentlessly for the free minutes to load.

Her father, which they were close as daughter and dad just as Lonnie had been as son and mom, even noticed something was wrong with his first and only. Had he not been hooked up to an IV pumping out morphine for a pain he really didn't have and antibiotics for a self-inflicted wound, he would've given her an in-depth speech about how not to get caught up with a man. Trina's dad was more concerned with her surviving; and in the meantime, helping him not fall further to the wayside. His daughter, although it was his God-given job to protect her from harm and provide for her, had stepped into the role as the protector-provider, and he didn't want to see her go.

“I broke out the other way when I saw you talking to the cops. You know black lives are at stake all over the globe, especially men,” Lonnie played it off like he wasn't a monster. He figured if Trina was so bold, he could be just as bold.

Trina responded, “Yeah, they rode up on me asking me why I was holding the corner down. They let me go with a warning after it seemed like I was lying about waiting on you,” she huffed and puffed. “But, I guess I get it. I would've called you last night, but my minutes were late reloading.”

Lonnie didn't have time to dissect her story; Amada was behind him and tapping on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mr. McKay, but your break is up. You'll get another one in a couple of hours.” She was rude, not even backing off to give Lonnie some privacy.

“Oh, my bad, I see you've got a warden over you as we speak. I'm hanging around outside if you get a minute to sneak off.” Trina held her breath hoping Lonnie would tell her he'd be right out.

“Um, I'm not at that shelter today, but I'll call you back in a few hours. There's a snitch working, so I wouldn't linger around back if I were you,” he snuck in a lie, not wanting Trina to find the dead woman he'd stashed while scrambling for food.

“Oh, snap! It's a good thing you told me because I was about to see if that wannabe uppity secretary threw out the uneaten donuts from this morning.” Trina was disappointed. Popping the seal open of the cereal she'd gotten in the food box, she grabbed a handful and threw it in her mouth. Trina was hungry and had a taste for the donuts, but wasn't getting ready to risk getting caught by a snitch. “Call me later so we can chat it up or chill. My dad is in the hospital, by the way, so I could really use that callback.”

Lonnie hung up, wanting to smack Amanda for not backing up. He had to bite his tongue to keep from telling the woman he was a grown-ass man. Lonnie's workday only got worse. He mowed the front lawn, cleaned graffiti off the walls in the alleyway, and took almost twenty boxes of trash to the curb singlehandedly. Feeling like a work mule with Amanda delegating his duties one by one, Lonnie wanted nothing more than for five o'clock to arrive. It's like they worked him as hard as they could for every single second that they could since he only came in one day a week.

With his time signed off for the day, he hurried out of the shelter and to the flowerpot he'd hidden his pills in. After working for the two less-than-pleasant women, Miss Humphrey and Amanda, he was ready to pop them before he even got home. Digging his finger in the dirt under the wilted red flower like he remembered, he didn't feel any pills underneath his fingertips.

“What in the fuck?” he said out loud in a panic, digging all around the flowerpot, even pushing soil onto the ground. “I
know
I put them in here!”

“Yeah, I know that you did too. That's why I came and got them out of there behind you,” a woman's voice startled him.

Looking over his shoulder, Lonnie shook his head, realizing he was cold busted. It was the woman who'd let him in with a baby on her hip. He hadn't paid her a lick of attention earlier, but now he was forced to. This time around, the small child was in a flimsy stroller by her side, and her stance proclaimed an attitude with her hand on her hip. Climbing off his knees, Lonnie stood up and walked over to her so their conversation could be held in private.

With all of his attention on her, the homeless woman opened her hand up to expose Lonnie's pills sitting in her palm. “These what you're looking for, right?” Sneaky in her own right, she'd watched Lonnie walk out of the shelter earlier and every move he made around the flowerpot. She'd also made herself inconspicuous when he looked up and around to see if anyone was watching him.

“It ain't much I can say. You know more than I do; so how 'bout you tell me what's up.” Lonnie didn't feel like playing games. Rationalizing the situation, he knew the woman could tell Miss Humphrey or Amanda about him hiding the pills and get him in trouble ultimately with the court. For that reason only, he was willing to hear the homeless woman out.

The homeless woman had no intention of carrying the information to Miss Humphrey, but to use it for her own gain. She wasn't interested in Lonnie sexually, or to play step-daddy to her baby, or for him to even be a friend since she didn't have a single one in the world. The homeless woman wanted more of the pills she'd found Lonnie hiding, along with some hush money. After finding the pills, then asking around about him, the homeless lady knew Lonnie would be desperate enough to pay off both of her requests without a fuss. At least she thought so.

“I don't want much. Just ten pills and twenty bucks each Monday you come. When your community service hours are up, so is our relationship.” The homeless woman couldn't hold the secret over Lonnie's head forever even if she wanted to. Once he was done with the hours at the shelter, she was sure they'd never cross paths again. Little did the sheisty homeless woman know, Lonnie was on the verge to running back in the same down-and-out circles as her.

“Naw, I ain't gonna be able to work that out for you,” Lonnie honestly replied. “I can't even guarantee myself ten pills and twenty bucks a week.” He was being honest, but the homeless woman didn't care or question why he even had to do community service.