Julie's Birthday Party


Looking down at Julie's bloody corpse, Carlos wondered how things had ever gotten so far.


One week earlier:

It was in the books. The trip was planned, the plane tickets were non refundable.

Julie's eighteenth birthday was fast approaching, only two days away, a Tuesday, and her parents were going to take her to dinner at Applebee's. The following morning, before Julie even woke for school, her parents would be taking a cab to the airport to catch a 4:30 flight to LAX, where they would spend the week with her grandparents in Los Angeles. Their return flight was scheduled to arrive at 3:15 PM the following Monday. In the meantime, Julie would have the house to herself. To a teenager, this could only mean one thing. It was not just a golden opportunity to party, it was in fact her civic minded duty as a senior of Calcutta High to host the wildest, rowdiest, most outrageous party possible. Julie would not disappoint.

Of course, for a girl of such epic beauty, it was really a cinch. There were plenty of guys falling all over themselves to do the work for her, and Julie was more than happy to let them. Juan had a fake ID and volunteered to pony up for the kegs, and Luis said he could get a great deal on about a dozen bottles from Juarez on Wednesday. Sammy and Enrique would spread the word around school. Manny agreed to watch the door and collect fees from underclassmen and anyone who was not part of the "in" crowd. She could even get a few of them to help clean up if the aftermath was too severe. All Julie had to do was open the doors.

Bubbling excitement welled up inside her as she fabricated her preconceptions of the coming weekend. Maybe Thomas would be there. And maybe he would finally make a move.

It's been said that sometimes the most beautiful people in the world are the loneliest, and for Julie this cliche had a ring of truth to it. While on the surface she was cheerful and care free, always ready with laugh or a smile, deep down she longed for a real connection with someone. Despite having an abundance of companionship, Julie had very few true friends. Most of her relationships were shallow and insignificant.

Thomas clearly liked her - she frequently caught him staring at her in class - and he was such a sweet heart. His feelings for her were at least partially reciprocated. Julie wasn't sure what she felt for him, but it was something. He was brilliant, mysterious, and handsome in a rugged, unpolished sort of way. He wasn't like the other boys in her school. He was deep, and thoughtful. The potential was there for something magical between them, but his shyness was maddening. Everytime he was around her he would clam up like a mute.

So for now, all Julie could do was hope and dream. That Sunday afternoon she did plenty of both, and if you had told her she had less than a week to live she would have crowed with laughter. How could she know the party she was planning would lead her to a grisly end?







It was Marty who found the crossbow. Carlos wondered what might have been if they never found that damned thing. What if Marty, searching in his drunken stupor for the restroom, hadn't ventured into Julie's parents' room? What if he hadn't inadvertently stumbled into their walk-in closet and seen the Titan HLX Crossbow propped up against some old boxes stacked in the back? Who the fuck hunted with a crossbow anymore, anyway? Jesus.

There were three carbon bolts, fitted with razor sharp hunting tips, bundled together on the floor beside the weapon. All three bolts were now jutting out of Julie's soft flesh. Could you even call it Julie's flesh anymore? Julie was, for all intents and purposes, gone. What lie here on the floor was just a lifeless sack of guts and slowly coagulating blood. It was still a very attractive sack at that, but the life that animated it had been cruelly snuffed out. Carlos felt a sudden urge to vomit.





Ten hours before Julie's death:

Juan arrived early, as advertised, toting three barrells of beer in the back of his pickup. It was just after 6 PM, an hour or two before any guests were expected. Jon was with him, and together they humped the kegs into Julie's kitchen, dropped them in buckets of ice, and tapped them. They each helped themselves to a cup of the brew, congratulating themselves for getting a headstart on the party.

The liquor was already stocked and ready - despite Julie's warnings Luis had made good on his offer and returned to the States with his life, as well as three bottles of Jack, a bottle of Wild Turkey, a couple bottles of Smirnov, some Hindricks, three different varieties of Jose Cuervo, and a bottle of Captain Morgan. These came with assorted mixers and sodas, from which Juan offered to pour Julie a gin and tonic, but Julie didn't join them in their suds. She didn't drink much as it is, and wanted to remain mostly sober tonight. Sure, she would have a few rounds, but it was important that she keep her senses. Rape was one thing to worry about - a girl as beautiful as Julie had to be vigilant at all times - but she also had to make sure things didn't get too far out of hand. It was her parents' house, after all, and if property was damaged it would be her ass.

There was some protesting when Julie politely declined their invitiation, but thankfully the boys didn't badger her much. They let her be and sucked down their beer together in the kitchen while Julie plopped herself down on the plush, cream Elliot sofa her parents had picked up from Macy's a few years back and clicked on the TV. The DVR was stocked with old episodes of Jersey Shore and Keeping Up With the Kardashians, and Julie managed to finish viewing an episode of each before the first of her guests began to shuffle through the door.

Manny, the doorman, was late, showing up at nine with an excuse and an apology, and by that time both the living room and dining room were thriving with kids guzzling alcohol and shaking their lithe bodies in rythm with the music. Julie had a Yamaha TSX-140 blasting out tunes from her iPod in the living room, and so far it had been a crowd pleaser. When Manny began babbling about his brother's basketball game and his sister's conundrum and some other bullshit, Julie just waived her hand non chalantly. Manny's tardiness didn't concern her. If they didn't recover enough money from the guests she wouldn't be out a dime. Juan and Luis would be the ones to complain, and they could take it up with Manny if they chose to do so.

At 10:30 Julie's heart leaped, as in through her front door walked Thomas. He was accompanied by Jaime and Barry, and he was high as a kite. Julie, who was now nursing her third beer of the night, greeted them with a hug and a smile, but casually moved on. If Thomas had any balls he would be hitting on her within the hour.





It had been Carlos' idea, he couldn't shirk his responsibility in that regard. Marty had showed him the crossbow and his mind went right to work. Of course this is not what he had envisioned. This was all wrong. Terribly wrong. He had planned on a free show and nothing more. It would have worked too, should have worked, if not for Ruben's itchy trigger finger. And Marty's bloodlust.





Three hours before Julie's death:

"You ever just look up at it and wonder?"

Mesmerized, Julie looked up at the night sky through a thin veil of smoke.

"I mean, goddam, it goes on forever, doesn't it?"

Julie almost choked, then exhaled and a plume of grayish white vanished into the chilled desert air. "I guess," she answered, feeling the THC take its hold in her.

"Life's a trip, Julie, you know. Like sometimes I just look at people, and like, I wonder what it would be like to be that person. Like what's it like to have their thoughts. What do they do when no one's around? What are they thinking right now? You ever do that?"

Julie just looked at Tom, fascinated, and shook her head. He took the joint she passed him and pressed it to his thick, lush lips. She wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips.

"For instance, right now, I'm wondering what's going through your pretty head," he told her as he sucked air and illegal toxins into his lungs. "What are your hopes and dreams? What are your fears? What do you think about late at night when you're all alone?"

Julie felt strangely calm, completely at ease with this boy with whom she had only just begun conversing. There was a connection here, something real building between them. She could feel it.

"I guess I want to feel love, you know? True love. Sometimes I fantasize about being in danger; like really scary mortal danger. People are chasing me for some reason, trying to kill me, and then the man of my dreams just swoops in and saves me and we run off together."

No one else was around. They were completely alone, lying on their backs on Julie's roof, staring up at the stars. The party seemed to exist in some other plane of existence, in some other universe. Tom looked at her and she looked back at him wistfully. "And then we live in some other country, on the beach somewhere, and we walk along the beach at sunset holding hands and just stare into each other's eyes."

"Sounds romantic," Tom said, and Julie could sense his earnestness. He was not just placating her, he was really listening. Unlike most boys, he was genuinely interested in her, not just in what was under her clothes.

"And at night, I guess I think a lot about death," she continued.

"Ah yes, that's a motherfucker. The only drawback to life, is that you have to die."

"I guess it's pretty scary." Julie would never admit this to another living soul, but with Tom it was different for some reason. "I mean, do you believe in God?"

"That might depend on how you define 'god', but I guess the short answer is no, I don't." Julie was a little surprised by this. She supposed it was because religion was so prominent, it was odd to meet someone who was openly atheist.

"Well, the way I see it, there has to be a God, because how else can you explain all this? Like the planets, how they're all perfectly round. That can't just happen. Something had to make it that way."

"That's called an argument from ingorance, Julie. You can't explain something, so you insist it must be God's doing. Physicists may have an explanation for why the planets are spherical, probably something to do with gravity and orbits and shit, or they may not, but that doesn't mean we can just choose whatever explanation we want and insist it's the truth."

"I dunno, I can't think of any other explanation that makes sense."

"Well, maybe you're right. Maybe there is some all powerful being that created everything. Personally, I don't think such a being would be sentient in the way humans are, or that it would resemble the god or gods of human religion. All that shit they teach you in church on Sunday, it's all just a bunch of bullshit people in ancient times came up with. I mean, these are people who though the Earth was the center of the universe."

"But why would they just make this stuff up? There's gotta be some truth to it."

"Shit, there's all kinds of reasons to make this shit up. There might have been pure intentions behind some of it, but all religious books are really just words written by men, men who are just as fallible or corruptible as you or me. Some people use it to gain money and power, for some it's a cop out to explain the unexplainable, and some of it's just a comfort for people who can't face the reality of death."

"So what do you think happens when you die?" Julie asked.

"You're just gone. Forever. It's just like before you were born, but you don't have life to look forward to."

"Fuck," Julie felt light headed just trying to comprehend it.

"Think about it this way - we may not know what caused the universe, or if the universe was caused, but we do know how the human brain works. Everything I am, all my thoughts, my memories, my feelings, even the way my heart rate triples when I look into your eyes, it's all just electrical impulses running through my brain. Chemical reactions, and shit. Once my brain shuts down, all that's gone."

Julie's eyes were wide, the starlight glistening in the deep, brilliant blue of her irises. Fear and passion burned feverishly in her belly. "That's pretty terrifying," she whispered.

"I hear ya. Sometimes I almost wish I'd never been born, cuz at least I wouldn't know what I'll be missing when I'm dead."

Julie giggled. "That almost makes sense."

"Yeah, I guess it's kinda stupid really. What it all boils down to, is the past is gone - we can never get it back - and the future is uncertain, so all we really got is the present. So we oughtta just do what makes us happy. Make the most of it, right?"

"If you always just do what makes you happy you'll end up regretting it, sooner or later."

"Nah, regret's for suckers. Life's too short for that shit. Just live and don't look back."

Julie giggled again, and Tom thought it was the sweetest sound in the whole world. "You're crazy, Tom."

"I'm the sanest person you know." And just then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She felt his hand on her cheek, felt the firmness of his teeth with her lips, and then his tongue was darting into her mouth. She kissed him back with every bit of passion in her soul, meeting his tongue with her own, and if a bolt of lightning had chosen that moment to shoot out of the sky and strike them both dead they would have believed it was a death of their own making.

When they finally pulled back, both of them breathless and wild eyed, Julie looked at Tom with an animalistic hunger. Taking his hand in hers she placed his palm on the swell of her firm right bosom. Tom squeezed the breast in his fingers, feeling its springiness, its pliancy, so soft and firm and young and full. He wanted to feel the bare skin against his fingers. He pinched the nipple, felt his cock throbbing in his boxers as Julie moaned softly, and then he was on her.

As their bodies pressed together and their kisses burned on each others necks and faces, he slipped his hand up her shirt. His fingers brushed along her flat, smooth, soft belly, over the flesh packed tightly against her rib cage, and met the resistance of her bra. Flustered, he pulled back, and with his eyes he told her what he wanted. Julie understood him completely, and without hesitation she lifted her shirt over her head, mussing her soft brown hair and not caring in the slightest, tossed the garment aside, and reached behind her back with both hands to fumble her bra loose. It was quick work, and in no time Thomas was gazing upon her spectacular bare chest.

"I was wrong," he told her. "There is a God." Julie smiled devilishly at him.

He cupped both breasts in his hands, kneading them, admiring their ductile flesh and the way they jiggled as she moved. Julie's breath quickened and her fingers went to her crotch. They began to pepper each other with sultry kisses, Thomas breaking away just long enough to gently bite and suck on Julie's gloriously bare bust.

When Julie began to unbutton Tom's jeans Tom put his hand over hers. "What are we doing here, Julie?"

"I think you were just about to round second. Should I stop?"

"I dunno, I'm not sure if I can stop. I'm about to explode over here." Tom helped her get his pants down, exposing his giant, pulsing organ. "Just want to know how far we're taking this."

"I don't think I wanna go all the way yet, but how about I suck it for you?"

Tom couldn't believe his ears. He nodded slowly, and did everything in his power to hold back his wad. He wanted to enjoy this as long as he possibly could. With his pants around his knees, Tom rolled onto his back and Julie went down on him. It was heavenly.





Marty had agreed with the plan immediately. Ruben took a bit more convincing.

At first Ruben had told them they were crazy. Out of their minds batshit fucking insane to try something like this. Carlos did his best to soothe Ruben's nerves, telling him it was a simple plan really. Nothing could possibly go wrong. They wouldn't lay a hand on Julie, no one would get hurt, and they would leave no evidence of any wrong-doing. It would just be Julie's word against theirs. It was perfect.

In the end Ruben grudgingly agreed. The poor bastard. If only he had stuck to his guns. Maybe Carlos and Marty wouldn't be in this mess either. Maybe they would have called it off if Ruben hadn't fell in line.




Twenty-five minutes before Julie's death:

Shortly after the final group of stragglers made their way out the front door, with Adan drunkenly blabbing about getting some breakfast at Village Inn, emphatically begging Julie to join them - a request which Julie refused, much to her own detriment - Julie sat down on her bed and sighed. She was worn out, a little buzzed, and still high from the bud she and Tom smoked. It was the first time she had ever indulged herself with the reefer - and it would be her last - and it really hit her hard. Tom said it was chronic, the best stuff around, and Julie was not one to differ.

After kicking off her shoes and stripping off her socks, jeans and blouse, Julie slipped into a pair of pink pajama bottoms speckled with white hearts, and a loose fitting, plain white halter tee shirt. She didn't bother with underwear - she had the house to herself and it was much more comfortable this way. Then she lay back on her bed, closed her eyes, and in her mind's eye she saw Tom's aberrantly handsome face grinning at her. She slid her fingers under her PJ's and gently began rubbing the warm, burning cleft between her legs. After several minutes she was working herself into quite a frenzy. That's when she heard the voice in her doorway.

The first thing Julie felt was embarrassment, having been seen fingering herself in her bed by one of her classmates. But embarrassment soon gave way to indignant anger. What the fuck was this asshole doing in her room? Why hadn't he gone home with the rest of the assholes? Anger quickly fizzled into fear, as she saw what the asshole was holding.

It was her dad's crossbow, loaded and ready to fire, and it was pointing in her direction. Ruben, a freshman from Calcutta High, wielded the weapon, and as she stared at him Marty and Carlos filed into the room, Marty holding her father's hunting knife and Carlos brandishing a butcher knife from the block on her kitchen counter.

"Huh," Julie gulped, unsure of just what was happening.

"I said, don't stop on account 'uh' me." It was Marty speaking. Marty, the short little fuck of a freshman who nobody invited. The little shit probably crashed the party and got by without paying, thanks to Manny's unreliable ass. Now he and his runt friends were holding her hostage or God knows what. What a nightmare.

"I'm calling the cops." It was a tenuous threat, lacking any real conviction. Julie just wanted to gauge their reaction. See how serious they were. Nobody moved. Nobody flinched. They were apparently pretty serious.

"Try it," Ruben told her, moving his finger from behind the trigger guard and dangerously squeezing the trigger.

Julie gulped. "Look, whatever you guys want, it's yours. I don't have much cash on me though, Manny was collecting - "

"We don't want no cash. We just wanna watch," Marty interrupted.

"Watch me... masturbate?"

Marty and the others nodded. "Come on, Julie. We're not going to hurt you." Now it was Carlos who spoke. "Nobody's even going to lay a finger on you. I promise. We just want to watch."

Julie's cheeks flushed bright red, but she took a deep breath and steadied herself. Maybe it wasn't so bad. They weren't going to rape her, rob her, or kill her. They just wanted a cheap show. If that's all they wanted, maybe she would give it to them. Things could be a lot worse, after all.

Julie slowly relaxed, closed her eyes, and just as she began to pick up where she left off Marty spoke up again.

"Take off yer shirt."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Oh, this is too much. Julie considered making a break for it, but only for a split second. Ruben and Carlos seemed timid enough, almost frightened, but Marty had an aggressive feel about him, as if he was just hoping she'd screw up, do something stupid, and give him a reason to hurt her.

There were three of them, and while she was fairly sure Ruben had no intention of pulling the trigger on that crossbow, if she made them nervous who knew what could happen. At the moment they just wanted a show, but piss them off and then what? Rape, assault, battery? Things could get ugly real quick. It was best to just cooperate.

Julie slowly pulled her shirt over her head. Her perfect breasts perked up from her chest, free and bare for her visitors to ogle. Now kneeling on her bed, topless, Julie leaned back and began stimulating herself. Her breasts bounced and jiggled beautifully as she massaged her clit.

At first she envisioned herself on the roof with Thomas, their bodies pressed together, his warm breath on her neck. She could feel his thin, hard muscles as he folded her in his arms. Then she pictured herself on her bed, Ruben aiming his crossbow at her, and saw Thomas barging into the room to save her, knocking Ruben on the floor with his shoulder. She imagined the crossbow going off, the arrow punching through her soft, tender belly, her blood spraying and her life slowly ebbing from her body. Oddly, she found the danger of the situation incredibly erotic, and electric ecstacy pulsed through her body. Forgetting herself, Julie gasped, "Oh yes!" Her audience's cumulative jaws dropped.

Putting on the theatrics, Julie moaned and cried as though she were the star of a raunchy porno. She was really getting into this, and thought if things worked out with Thomas she might want to role play some deadly scenarios with him sometime. It wasn't long before a crippling orgasm blasted through her, every nerve ending in her body lighting up with intense pleasure. Julie screamed with delight, and that's when it all went to hell.

As Julie climaxed all the boys in the room felt a powerful yearning in their groins, but Ruben actually came, semen coursing from his balls in generous spurts. The heightened sensation caused his muscles to tense, and his finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger of the Titan HLX. This minute increase in tension launched a deadly bolt into Julie's thick left thigh. It struck her up near her hip and sliced through her flesh with ease, the tip protruding from the meat of her hamstring.

The pain was immediate and intense. Julie fell back onto her butt and cautiously clutched at the muscle surrounding the puncture. "Ohhh, you fuckers," she spat. Her blood was spilling over her fingers, dripping onto her bed spread, turning the dark blue an even darker purple.

"You fuckin' shot 'er, dude," Marty said.

Ruben was dumbstruck. "Shit. I'm sorry, oh fuck, I'm sorry. My finger slipped." In the back of his mind he was still hoping the wet spot in his crotch wasn't visible. "Are you okay, Julie?" It was a stupid thing to ask a person when you had just shot them the leg with a crossbow.

"Wuddaya think, numbnuts, you just fuckin' shot 'er," Marty said, and yanked the crossbow away from Ruben. "Gimme one of dem arrows. Hold dis." Marty swapped his hunting knife for the bolts Ruben held.

"Awwww, sonofabitch, it fucking hurts," Julie squealed. "Okay. Okay," she gasped while she tried to catch her breath. She grabbed her shirt and slipped it over her head. "I need an ambulance. Show's over." Julie pulled the shirt down over her breasts and looked at her attackers with authoritative eyes. Get me an ambulance, that look said, and Carlos stepped back as if to comply with this command.

"Wuh... where's your phone?" Ruben asked.

"On the nightstand," Julie moaned, pointing at the small table a few feet from the head of her bed. Ruben started in that direction, but stopped when an arrow whizzed past him and struck Julie in the right side of her chest. The poor girl grunted and spun backwards with the force of the bolt, bracing herself on her bed with both hands. She looked at the projectile buried in her breast with wide, disbelieving eyes. How did this happen? Then she looked up at the author of her distress, Martin Vincini. Marty glared back at her with a chilly smile.

"What the fuck?!" Ruben shouted. "You shot her in the t*tty!"

"Get me 'er phone," Marty said quietly. He was already loading up the third and final bolt on the Titan.

"You really fucked her up, Marty. I think she's dying." Julie was struggling to sit up, her eyes fixed on her wounded t*t, her hands wrapped around the shaft's point of entry. Blood was bubbling over her lower lip, and Julie swiped at it absently.

I'm okay, she tried to tell them. I'm fine, don't worry, but her mind couldn't form the words. Fear clouded everything, gumming up the gears in her head. Was she dying? Was she really?

"We gotta kill 'er now, you twit. We can't let 'er go no more, not after you shot 'er." Those words turned Julie's blood cold. At the drop of a hat her chances of survival had gone from very good to almost nil. All because Ruben's finger slipped.

"Wait!" she cried. "I won't talk. I swear." Julie knew it would do little to reassure them, but she had to try. "You don't have to do this." Then, struck by sudden inspiration, she added, "I can be your girlfriend."

Marty laughed heartily. "T'anks for da offer, dollface, but we do hafta do dis. You'll go squealin' as soon as we're outta your sight, sure as shit."

It was no use. There was no talking Marty out of it. That's when something hard inside Julie spoke up, something like iron forged in the fires of hell. Fuck that, I'm not dying here like this. Not me. I'm going to get the fuck out of Dodge. To hell with them.

"Now get me dat fuckin' phone, f*cktard!" Marty swatted Ruben in the back of his head.

As Ruben stepped over to the night stand and collected Julie's cell phone, Julie bit down on her lower lip and managed to stand, placing most of her weight on her good leg. Without looking any of them in the eye, she limped toward her bedroom door, brushing shoulders with Marty as she hobbled past him.

"She's making a run for it," Ruben blabbed.

"Gimme da phone," Marty growled. Ruben handed it over. Marty smashed the phone on the floor, then continued fighting with the loading mechanism on the Titan. "Stick 'er, Carlos," Marty hissed as Julie stumbled by them.

Carlos hesitated, picturing himself rotting in some dark, dreary cell. "Do it, 'Los!" Marty bawled. Spurned by Marty's violent anger, more afraid of him than the thought of any prison sentence, Carlos lashed out, suddenly jamming eight inches of his wide, sharp butcher knife into Julie's abdomen.

Julie groaned, but didn't even look in Carlos' direction. The blade entered her soft belly at an angle, sliding into the left side of her midsection and slicing through fat, muscle, and thick coils of warm, slippery intestines. Carlos yanked the blade free and Julie just kept on hobbling, placing her left hand on the wall to steady herself, still clutching her right breast in her other hand. It was then that the boys saw the tips of the bolts protruding from Julie's backside.

"Holy shit, those things went all the way through her," Ruben said with awe.

Carlos stood back and watched her limp away, his jaw slack and his knife dripping with Julie's blood. He couldn't understand how she could still be walking away from them.

Having won the battle with the loading crank, Marty raised the crossbow and fired. The third and final bolt plunged into Julie's lower back with a thud, then Julie rounded the corner and was out of their sight.

Julie accepted the third arrow with a grunt, and looking down she could see the four-sided, razor sharp blades which comprised the arrow head poking several inches out of her midriff, above and off to the right of her navel. This left an ugly wound in her belly, and gouts of blood coursed down from the shaft, soaking into her pajama bottoms. The right side of her shirt was already a bright, gleaming, wet reddish color, and as she wondered how much blood she could afford to lose, she staggered around the corner into her living room.

Across the parlor, only forty feet from where she now stood, was the front door. Beyond it, her neighborhood. Civilized, rational-minded, sane individuals lived in that world. Individuals who did not shoot you with arrows. Individuals who might help her survive this nightmare. It was mockingly close, yet so far away.

Julie started for it, but she had only taken a few shaky steps into the parlor, away from the support of the wall, when she felt the hunting knife sliding into the small of her back. It sank into her flesh once, twice, three times, poking holes in her both to the right and left of her spine. Julie gasped and screamed as she was stabbed, and her big blue eyes rolled wildly in her head. Her back arched and her hands groped behind her, trying to stop the frenzied attacks. Beside her Carlos and Ruben shuffled by, watching with cold indifference.

Her situation seemed hopeless, and Julie felt despair wash over her, threatening to break her will, but again it was that hellacious iron inside of her she drew upon. Fight them. Don't give up, just keep fighting.

The fourth time the steel sank into her, Julie managed to collar Marty's wrist, holding the shank in place inside her flesh. Her fingers were lacerated in several places from warding off the attacks, but her grip was steel tight. Meanwhile, Carlos handed his butcher knife to Ruben and raced off to the kitchen in search of another weapon.

"Stick it in 'er, Ruben. Don't be a snatch." Good ole Marty, egging on his friends. Ruben obeyed.

Julie held fast to Marty's wrist with her right hand, but swung her left around to stave off Ruben's frontal assualt. Her fingers were splayed out in front of her as Ruben brought the butcher knife down toward her chest. The knife cut through the webbing between her third and fourth fingers, then poked a shallow hole in the meat below her left breast. The blade grinded against her rib cage, denied access to the vital organs in her chest cavity.

"It won't go in," Ruben yelped.

"Stick 'er low, where she's soft," Marty replied.

Ruben tried again, jabbing the length of the knife straight into Julie's tummy, less than an inch from her navel. She tried to grab the blade as it entered her, and only succeeded in slicing open her palm.

"I'm sorry, Julie," Ruben told her.

For one brief moment they looked deep into each other's eyes, and Julie could see Ruben for what he was. A scared, cowardly little boy in way over his head. She wondered if he really knew what he was doing. Did he fully grasp what it meant to take a life? Julie didn't think he did. Without warning, she suddenly thrust her forehead into the bridge of Ruben's nose.

She felt a satisfying crunch against her skull as the cartiledge crumbled, and Ruben stumbled back, holding his ruined beak in his hands. Blood streamed from both nostrils, and Ruben looked at Julie with accusatory eyes. Yeah, right, I'm the bad guy, Julie thought. Were her situation not so dire she might find the irony chuckle-worthy, but as it was it hurt too much to laugh. Instead she offered Ruben a grim smile, closed her fist around the knife handle jutting from her stomach, and screaming in agony she yanked the blade from her belly.

Spurts of Julie's blood hit Ruben in the crotch, concealing the moist spot of which he had been so self-conscious earlier. Julie ignored this. Now armed for the first time since her ordeal began, she swung her arm up and across her body, succeeding in doing to Ruben what none of them had been able to do to her. She sliced open his jugular, effectively killing the boy. It was not an instant death, far from it, but it was an undeniably fatal wound. A geyser of blood sprayed from Ruben's neck, painting the floor and the coffee table with shocking crimson. A wide-eyed Ruben slapped a hand against the wound and tumbled backwards over his own feet.

Marty, unmoved by his friend's mortal injury, finally succeeded in freeing his knife from Julie's back. Julie still clung to his wrist, but Marty had gained leverage over the weapon. Before he could drive the blade back home, however, Julie swung her left elbow up into his mouth, smashing his lips against his teeth. Marty took a few steps back, reeling from the blow, and Julie turned on him.

She slashed at Marty's face with the butcher knife as she spun on her heels, and Marty couldn't get out of the way in time. Cold steel slit open his cheek, from his ear to his jaw line, and the white of his teeth was visible through the torn flesh. Screaming in rage and agony, Marty grabbed Julie by the arm and jammed his blade up into her belly, just above her navel.

"Oooooooooo," Julie moaned, her lips parted in an O of surprise. Miserable, unspeakable pain raged in her ruined midsection, but, remarkably, Julie's intense desire to live still burned strong. Ignore the knife in your belly. You're winning. You're doing damage and you're winning.

Marty had a hold on her left forearm, but she maintained a slight margin of wiggle room with her wrist. Julie gritted her teeth and swiped at Marty's lower arm, severing his extensor muscles with her blade. His grip spoiled, he shoved her back, using the hunting knife in her gut for leverage. Marty clamped down on his wounded arm with his one remaining good hand and watched Julie tumble back into Carlos' awaiting arms.

Carlos had returned from the kitchen with a sixteen inch carving knife in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other, and as Julie fell backwards into him he plunged the carving knife into the center of her back. He felt some resistance as the steel cut through Julie's flesh and organs, but it slid clean through to the handle, the tip jutting from Julie's upper abdomen beneath her sternum.

Julie's mouth gaped and her brow crinkled. Her stomach was pierced, spilling digestive juices all over her insides. As the acid burned and ate away at her organs, Julie vomited a mouthful of blood.

"She got Ruben," Carlos remarked, seeing the boy lying on his back with both hands pressed to his throat.

"Yeah, bitch is a scrapper," Marty agreed.

Carlos yanked on the carving knife, pulling it part way out of Julie's body. It seemed to get hung up on something, and Julie was twisting on the blade, making it difficult to retrieve. Another rough tug freed the knife from her flesh, and he jammed it back into her, up in her right rib cage. Eight inches of steel progressed into Julie's chest, puncturing her already damaged lung, but Julie was turning around to face Carlos as he stabbed her, and in the process her ribs closed on the blade and snapped it off inside her.

Carlos dropped the now useless knife handle and backed away just in the nick of time as Julie swiped at him with her butcher knife. The blade slashed through the air mere centimeters from his face, and he had to bend backwards to avoid being cut. But Julie was fading, and her legs were unstable. The attack caused her to lose her balance, and she stumbled forward and fell to her right knee, placing her right hand on the floor to brace herself. Hoping to finish the girl off, Carlos swung his meat cleaver in a downward arc, and Julie just managed to raise her left arm in defense. Instead of her chest or neck being split open, the cleaver cut through her forearm and bit into her ulna. The blade wedged into the bone, and when Carlos yanked on it Julie's arm came with it.

Using the momentum to her advantage, Julie rose to her feet and pistoned her right arm forward. Her fist struck Carlos' adam's apple, closing his wind pipe. Had she a bit more strength, the blow might have been fatal, but instead it dropped Carlos to his ass, leaving him choking and gagging for breath while he swiped tears from his eyes.

Julie took hold of the meat cleaver now buried in her left arm and pried it loose. I don't think we've ever used this thing before. Who'd have guessed the only meat it would cut would be mine? she thought with sick amusement. She had just dropped the meat cleaver and was switching the butcher knife to her right hand when Marty slammed into her like a linebacker blitzing on a quarterback's blind side.

The pair went down, Julie twisting so she could land on her side and avoid putting pressure on any of the numerous projectiles in her body. The impact dislodged the butcher knife from her grip, and when her shoulder met with the floor she saw stars. Her awareness returned with gut wrenching agony as Marty tore the hunting knife from her midsection, where it was still imbedded. He twisted the blade viciously as he withdrew it, carving up her abdominal wall, and Julie wailed through a mouthful of blood.

Marty made to stab her again in the stomach as Julie struggled against him. "No," she gulped, placing her hand in front of the blade, but it was a thin defense. Marty mercilessly pushed the knife through her left palm, and then into the tender belly behind it. It punctured the lower right quadrant of her middle, below her navel, eliciting a low cry of despair.

God, he's killing me. Julie's desperation grew as her chances of survival dwindled. Acting on an impulse, when Marty wrenched the blade free of her guts Julie clamped her perfect teeth down on Marty's shoulder and bit down with everything she had. Soft flesh came loose in her mouth, blood spurted into the back of her throat, and Marty howled like a banshee. Julie turned her head and spat out a chunk of meat, grimacing at the thought of having any part of this vile creature inside of her, then wiped her lips with her blood soaked hands and pushed Marty away. Freed from the bastard's deadly embrace, Julie scrambled to her knees and searched for her knife.

While Marty grappled with Julie, Carlos was busy recouping from the blow to his throat. Wiping away tears and sucking in breath in ragged, harsh, gasps, he looked on in amazement as Julie took a chunk out of Marty's shoulder. God that girl was a fighter. It wasn't until Julie rose to her knees, leaving Marty a sobbing, mangled wreck, that Carlos realized he had to act, and act now. Julie was looking to arm herself, and given the opportunity she would do to Carlos what she had already done to Ruben and Marty. Carlos lunged forward and scooped up the meat cleaver, which he promptly buried in the side of Julie's right thigh.

Julie cried out and moved both her hands to the damaged leg, not quite touching the torn flesh or the instrument impaling it. Carlos didn't wait for a reaction. Instead he grabbed the fallen butcher knife and drove it into Julie's lower back, running it right through her until the point emerged from her belly an inch below her navel.

For Julie this was her breaking point. It suddenly sank in that she was dying. Her world caved in on her, everything collapsing in one massive avalanche of shit. All her mental toughness and iron clad will melted away like a dusting of snow on a warm Spring day, and she gave voice to a haunting sound. It wasn't quite a wail, it wasn't quite a scream, it wasn't quite human. It sounded foreign even to her own ears, something her vocal chords couldn't possibly have produced.

As she sat wallowing in terror, Carlos removed the butcher knife from her flesh, but before he could stick it back in her, Marty lunged forward and back handed Julie with all the force he could muster. Although he was still in the early stages of puberty, not yet fully grown, his rage fueled a walloping blow, and Julie was knocked flat on her back, driving the bolts protruding from her flesh up through her body.

"Ya cunt," he barked.

Julie didn't care. Her bowels defecated and her bladder emptied, creating a foul stench, but this didn't concern her either. They say you shit yourself right before you die, she thought. You're just gone. Forever. Tom's voice echoed in her head - It's just like before you were born, but you don't have life to look forward to. This thought consumed her, eradicating all other would be comforts, making rational thought impossible.

Marty knelt over her, staring down with sadistic hate, and Carlos knelt behind her, watching her life fade away with awestruck horror. As if her pain and suffering were not up to his liking, Marty repeatedly plunged his hunting knife into Julie's belly, stabbing her four more times. Each time he brutally rammed the blade home, pushing it in as far as it would go, Julie jerked and spasmed beneath him, her toes curling, her blue eyes wide with shock, her lips red with blood.

"Marty, stop," Carlos murmered. "She's dying. Just stop."

Marty's hard, brown eyes glared up at him, and for a moment Carlos thought Marty meant to jump on him and cut his throat, but then his shoulders slumped and resignation set in. Marty began to relax.

"The bitch," Marty breathed, and then they both just looked at Julie as her life wound down to its horrible conclusion.

When it finally ended, Julie's eyes bugged out and she grabbed hold of Carlos' shirt. "Carlos," she said clearly, then her eyes turned glassy and distant, her arm fell by her side, and she lay still.

"Holy shit, did ya see the look in 'er eyes?" Marty said excitedly.

That look, coupled with Julie's last words, would haunt Carlos for the rest of his days. Right up until he fried on the electric chair, several years later.