Aisle 3 – a short story

Contains violence
A dream I had this evening
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The bunker-style apartment smelled of damp concrete and stagnant iron. It was a suffocating space, accessed only by a single, agonisingly narrow trick entrance that sloped upward into darkness. I stood near the threshold when the van’s engine cut out outside.
Headlights sliced through the gloom of the open doorway as a white van pulled up, perfectly blocking the only way out. Two men stepped down from the cab, their boots crunching heavily on the gravel. They pushed into the room, faces hardened, knuckledusters on their tattooed fists.
As the pressure of another headache pressed against my temples, the weight of the moment flattened the air. I didn’t flinch. Instead, a hollow, buzzing calm settled behind my eyes.
“You have something I don’t have,” I whispered, staring straight into the taller ones eyes.
They froze, brows furrowing in unison. “What?” one barked, clenching his fist.
“Two guns pointing at my head,” I smiled, the expression stretching too wide across my face.
For a fraction of a second, they looked at each other, hesitation flickering in their eyes as they tried to process the geometry of the threat. It was all the time I needed. My hand moved faster than thought, the heavy-bladed utility knife sinking deep into the first man’s groin.
A shriek tore out of him, high, ragged, and instantly cut short as he crumpled to the floor, clutching himself, curling into a twitching knot.
I whipped my head toward the second man, my grin manic and unblinking, eyes wide. “Can we go outside on a sexescape?” I tilted my head, letting out a sharp, breathless laugh. “Oh, sorry….I mean escapade.”
I think he thinks I’m crazy. His breath hitched, his chest heaving as he stared down at the blood soaking the concrete.
I stepped forward, waving the crimson-stained blade lazily through the air. The man on the floor had gone entirely quiet.
“Say,” I called out casually to the shadows behind the man standing before me, “do I have to keep these two here, or can they leave now?”
The surviving intruder went rigid, his eyes darting frantically around the barren walls, looking for a third person, a hidden accomplice, anything. He backed away slowly, hands raised in frantic surrender.
“Oh, good,” I murmured to the empty air, letting out a soft, delighted sigh.
Before he could register the shift in my posture, I lunged. The knife slid upward, driving cleanly under his jaw and into the soft flesh beneath. He didn’t scream….he only gurgled, a wet, bubbling sound as his hands flew to his throat to catch what was spilling out.
I giggled, a light, musical sound that bounced harshly off the concrete walls.
As his knees buckled and he collapsed into a boneless heap beside his partner, I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted into the empty room, *”Clean up in aisle 3!”* I giggled again, rocking back on my heels.
From just behind the idling van outside, a low, familiar chuckle answered. A voice cut through the heavy air, smooth and amused.
*”Have you been a naughty girl again?”*
We both laughed, the sound overlapping in the dark. Then a van started and moved away from the door.
*”I’m coming in now with the bleach, baby girl…. I’ve got your headache tablets”* he called out, footsteps beginning to crunch toward the doors.
I smiled and lay down next to one of the men, closing my eyes, waiting for daddy.