486 lines
29 KiB
Plaintext
486 lines
29 KiB
Plaintext
Archive-name: Violent/darkroom.txt
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Archive-author: J. Verhagen
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Archive-title: Dark Room
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Warning! - The following story contains
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violence and non-consensual sex.
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Prologue
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I was 17 - in my 4th year of high school - when it happened.
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I was never very popular there. This was mostly because I
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was a new kid from East London (the poorer side of the city)
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and no one accepted me on this side of the city.
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To a certain extent, I didn't even try to fit in. I didn't
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feel that it mattered if they liked me. I didn't expect them
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to react the way they did. I didn't expect fights, and I
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didn't expect to be continually harassed in class every time
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the teacher turned his back. Unfortunately, that is what be-
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gan to happen. Even the teachers contributed to the situa-
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tion by turning a blind eye to my situation as often as pos-
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sible.
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I once thought of bringing a gun to class and killing every
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one of them, including the teachers, but decided that it
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would be more "mature" to put up with it. I figured that
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this situation would die out when I reached high school. For
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the most part I was right. But a certain animousity remained
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and left me confused and uncertain. Girls liked popular guys
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and they also liked guys who displayed confidence. Needless
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to say, I never scored at all in high school till that
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wonderful night when I got an unfair advantage.
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Spring
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It was spring, and I was getting behind on my photography
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project. It was very close to year's end and I figured that
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if I came in one night and really worked hard at getting the
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job done, I would have a mark-wise advantage over my peers.
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I felt it would also help boost an average that was starting
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to sag because of some other courses I was taking at the
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time.
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I chose a Friday because there was also a dance on that
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night and I figured it would be better to work on my project
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at school than to stay at home, listening to music and
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thinking about how every one else is out having fun (like I
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usually did) The teacher gave me the keys to the building
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and warned me that I would be held responsible if any damage
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was incurred in that section of the building. He knew I was
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a good kid, but probably just couldn't forget the time I de-
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tonated a firecracker during his class (which caused no dam-
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age - aside from a total disruption of the "quiet study
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period")
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The Big Night
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It was a bit chilly out that night so I had to wear my
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maroon jacket. It was a strange looking thing, a hand-me
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down from my grandpa. The stars twinkled with leering mad-
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ness as I roamed the streets on my way to school. I felt
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like a spectre crossing into another place, a place of
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deserted streets and empty houses. I was a bit shaken by the
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chill wind and overall quiet, and alternately scanned the
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streets and sky as I walked. I heard some voices off to one
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side. jackalish leering noises, women screaming, shit-faced
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laughter. Ahhh!, I thought, with recognition. The joys of
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living in a neighborhood infested with student vermin! Actu-
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ally, something happened after I passed the student's party.
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A shiver ran up my spine. It was like I accidentally inter-
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sected an invisible boundary. To this day I can't account
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for it. I just had a feeling that I was suddenly in new ter-
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ritory - a place where normal laws no longer apply.
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I was approaching the school and noticed a noisy line out-
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side the building. I was a bit surprised that they hadn't
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gone in yet, as it was after eight o'clock, and decided to
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wait off to one side in the field until the lineup was gone.
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I was wearing a black shirt with dark jeans under my open
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jacket and was practically invisible as I stood waiting in
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the shadow of some pine trees. I scanned the waiting teens
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with some amusement.
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Up against the school wall I could see chubby, blonde-
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haired, big titted Cathy necking with her thirty year old
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boyfriend. He was a big monster in tatterred jeans, with
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tattoos up his arms. I heard he made a "good" living pump-
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ing gas. I watched as he palmed her floppy breasts, pressed
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her against the wall. Cathy liked to be watched. She knew
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that screwing an older man would improve her social status
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quite a bit at school, and this was her proof of conquest.
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She conveniently snubbed her friends (huddled together, off
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to one side) to be with her "man"
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I could see Cindy and two other girls I couldn't recognize
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rolling in the grass beside the school wall. They were ap-
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parently pissed, or at least thought they were. A few guys I
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didn't recognise wearing baseball caps came over and slipped
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them a joint, which they passed around. Then they began to
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act sillier than ever. When the guys started to paw them,
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the girls told them to fuck off. One of the guys came up
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behind Cindy, reached around her neck and held a switchblade
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to her throat. He pulled her up and faced her away from the
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lineup so no-one else could see. It happened too suddenly,
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and her friends were too shitfaced to notice. The guys led
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her off, alone and frightened to a secluded corner behind
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the big blue garbage bin. We never saw her again.
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I saw Jane standing by the doorway with a bunch of her
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friends. They were talking excitedly about something, gum-
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popping, staring at boys, all dressed in those idiotic ber-
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muda shorts - showing off their abnormally thin legs. I
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remember my sister telling me about how she caught one of
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them throwing up in the bathroom at school - purging her
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lunch, keeping skinny. Actually, watching them made ME feel
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like tossing my cookies. "Cover those legs!", I felt like
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shouting. Their figures looked like the figures of little
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boys. It was bad enough that a lot of faggy guys were wear-
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ing pony-tails and long hair, but this only added extra con-
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fusion to the situation.
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I heard some rustling, whispering, and giggles off to my
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left. There was something white moving on the grass about 15
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feet away. I cautiously approached. To my surprise the white
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"sheet" resolved itself into two interlocked partially-
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dressed human forms. They were wildly rutting, lost in their
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own little world. They didn't notice me at all as I stood
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watching less than SIX feet away. I recognized them both.
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The guy was Rob - a popular pretty-boy senior jerk who
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treated women like shit but who nevertheless always had a
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girlfriend.
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"If you want me, you'll get down on fours!", he yelled to
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Tula in a crowded hallway once. She was a cute junior who
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gave herself to him at a party one night, thinking that he'd
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respect the sacrifice. Tula was sobbing. We were horrified.
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She dropped to her knees, crying, falling forward onto her
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hands - to the correct position. He picked her up gently,
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after calling her a "good doggie" and walked her out of the
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hall. He dumped her the next week. Now he was with another.
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This girl's name was Mira and she was a cute fifteen year
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old cheerleader. I left them to their fucking when a loud
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disturbance by the school doors diverted my attention.
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Two guys were fighting over some girl - hunched forward,
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switchblades drawn, circling - looking for openings. The
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girl was standing disinterested in the background, popping
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gum, with a vacant stare in her eyes. Every now and then I
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would see a flash of light off of one of the blades as a
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thrust was made. It vaguely reminded me of a fist-fight I
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had seen a year ago - two older guys reducing eachother's
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faces to unrecognizable bloody masks. But this was dif-
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ferent. The other fight took hours. This one could take only
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a few minutes. A cop car pulled into the yard - probably for
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some other reason, and both guys disappeared into the line-
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up. The doors opened and people began filing in. When the
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line was gone a lone figure lay where the crowd had been. It
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was one of the boys - stabbed in the back. The cop car just
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missed seeing him on its way out of the yard but I had to go
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by him on my way into the building.
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Inside the Building
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As I passed by the gym, I had to wade through a noisy sea of
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teenage "excreta", smoking and giving me condescending
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glances outside the dance area. It was like those first few
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sunny days of spring on campus. The arts and business stu-
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dents would suddenly appear out of nowhere - sunning their
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pale bodies, smoking, listening to ghetto-blasters on the
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patio outside the ___ building. There were hundreds of them.
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They wore 60's style clothes - jeans with multiple patches,
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John Lennon glasses - all that crap. They gave me the same
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look. "Did you see all those girls outside?", a friend
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asked. Girls? I was confused. I thought the sewer had backed
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up.
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The voices and music faded in the distance as I walked up
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the ramp and entered through the fire-doors that led into
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the North wing of the building. This was where all the
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technical courses were taught - graphic arts, auto-body,
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shop, electronics, etc. There was also a room that doubled
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as a photography classroom. Up ahead I could hear the jani-
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tors laughing, exchanging dirty jokes. They had a room off
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on a wing to one side. Their loud talk reverberated around
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the dark halls.
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"A bit tight - but what do you expect from a twelve year
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old!", one of them said. Raucous laughter followed. I remem-
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bered the day I discovered that the boilder room was above
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the girl's washroom. I couldn't believe it! Now I understood
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why the washrooms on the second floor where reversed from
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the ones on the first. I could just imagine them up there,
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peeping through holes at girls squatting on toilets, jacking
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off into dirty clenched fists. Laughter. Maybe once in a
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while, they would come down and scoop a girl from below -
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drag her screaming and kicking into the darkness above, nev-
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er to be heard from again. I still wonder what happened to
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Lynda. She disappeared like that: without a trace.
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I was surprised to find the door of the photography class-
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room unlocked. There was a puddle of vomit on the floor in
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the darkened hall, which I saw only after I turned on the
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classroom light. I felt uneasy because of it and nervously
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looked around the room for some sign of occupation. There
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was none, so I went in, locking the door behind me.
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Developing the Negatives
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I had my camera with me as it contained some exposed film. I
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partly brought it because it was safer to take the film out
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in the complete darkness of the lab and partly because it
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would make it easier to explain my presence in this part of
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the building (should someone stop me on my way to the room)
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I also had my bag with some other exposed rolls, and some
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photographic paper that my dad had got from somewhere at a
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discount price. After setting up the necessary chemicals on
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one of the benches and getting out the plastic developing
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tanks, I turned out the light and groped my way back to the
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bench. About half an hour later - after fumbling in the dark
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to get the negatives in, and finding the light switch, I
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turned on the light. Everything was perfect. I now began to
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measure out the chemicals into graduated cylinders. I wanted
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to do all three spools at once. I hit the timer after pour-
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ing the first one, distributing it more or less evenly among
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the three tanks. I repeated the process for the other stages
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of developing negatives. Later, I opened the containers and
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hung the negatives up to dry.
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Rick's Sister
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I used a hand blower to dry the negatives, occasionally
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looking closely at some of the more memorable shots. One
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roll fascinated me to no end. This was the one that con-
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tained pictures of Rick's sister.
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Rick was a pretty good guy and his sister was really attrac-
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tive. She was a wispy blonde-haired junior. We managed to
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get her to pose naked for us, although Rick was reluctant to
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persuade her. I still remember those moments in the room
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with her. She was all nervous, her face flushed and red.
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Rick excused himself from the whole thing "Do you want me to
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do this?",she said, laying on the bed in some kind of imita-
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tion of a pose she may have seen in a men's magazine once.
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She looked really unnatural doing that. "Sure", I said from
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behind the camera, madly clicking away at anything she did.
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I was so nervous that I could hardly stop my hands from
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shaking. My heart was pounding wildly, and I clutched the
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camera - afraid that I would drop it and make an ass out of
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myself. Less than five minutes later I had exhausted all 36
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exposures - winding up with 36 pictures that more or less
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looked the same. I bolted from the room in wild confusion
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with my prize, running, frightened by my lack of control,
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all the way home. Of course, I had to make up a story about
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suddenly feeling sick to explain my odd behaviour. I am
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still haunted by the thought that I may have hurt her by
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leaving like that. "Such a sweet kid", I thought sadly to
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myself as I perused the pictures. The last one seemed dif-
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ferent, and it bothered my conscience. She seemed to have an
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odd expression on her face - an expression of stark terror -
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as if in that instant she realized what I was about to do.
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The Dark Room
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I sat there for a moment, my head in my hands, before going
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into the darkroom to make some prints. I didn't want to
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print any of the ones of Rick's sister. Something really
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bothered me about them. I decided to concentrate on the ones
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related to my projects. A glance at the clock showed that I
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had already been there several hours. I cut the rolls into
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proper-sized strips and headed into the darkroom.
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The darkroom was a small office-like enclosure off to one
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side of the classroom with black paper covering all of the
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glass windows on it's front face. To further reduce light,
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the interior had been painted a flat black colour. It had
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all the equiptment required for printing negatives - an en-
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larger, timer, developing trays, and chemicals. I quickly
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set up the negatives by the enlarger and closed the door. It
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was pitch black inside, and I flicked on the red light. I
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placed one of the strips into the enlarger and began perus-
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ing my pictures, trying to decide which ones would be print-
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ed.
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I had just set up the photographic paper and was in the pro-
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cess of making a test strip in the dim red light when some-
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thing happened. A chill passed through me, causing me to
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shudder and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. A
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sense of horror riveted me to the spot, my mind telling me
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in no uncertain terms that something was terribly wrong
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here. I was horrified. Even before I realised what had set
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me off, I knew that I was NOT ALONE IN THIS ROOM. It took me
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hours before I could force myself to turn around - to stare
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into the recesses of the far corner from which the faint
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sound of breathing emanated.
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The Doll
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It looked like a doll, a mere charicature of a human, but
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closer inspection showed that it was the genuine article.
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Her name was Lisa, she was also in my photography class. She
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looked sinister in the red light - dressed in a black frilly
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party dress, with black stockings and dark shirt. Her eye
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makeup was smeared down her cheeks and her dark hair was in
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complete disarray. She smelled of puke and at first I
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thought she was asleep, but I was wrong. Her eyes were open
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and dilated. She was staring sightless up at the ceiling,
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irregularly breathing, her forehead beaded with a cold
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sweat. I didn't really notice it before, but the room must
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have gotten cold. It was cold enough that I could see her
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breath rising from her parted lips, even under the dim red
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light. I kept expecting her to move or something, but she
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didn't. She looked like a living corpse or a rag doll,
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propped up spread-eagled in the corner. All she did was
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breathe. It was like I wasn't there at all. I stepped back,
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noticing a puddle on the floor. She must have pissed her-
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self.
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Lisa was a real "popular" girl in our school. I fell madly
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in love with her the first day I saw her. Back then, I used
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to believe that women should be placed on pedestals and ad-
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mired. Her snobbish ways and interesting attire only helped
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re-enforce my delusion that women were somehow special and
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remote. I remember that day at Rick's house. I was nervously
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pushing the buttons to call her up. Rick was on the exten-
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sion. I kept hanging up while dialling, afraid that I had
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gotten the number wrong. Rick was getting pissed off. I
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wanted this call to be perfect. "Hello?", she answered. IT
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WAS HER! My voice was suddenly hoarse and I could barely
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force the words out. I really didn't have anything planned
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and said the first thing that came to mind "Uh.... You don't
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know me but I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me
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tomorrow" My mind was reeling. I didn't realize how idiotic
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that must have sounded on the other end. Only one thought
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kept repeating itself in my mind: SAY YES, SAY YES, SAY
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YES.... She said something about how she had to wash her
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hair tomorrow night, and wasn't able to go out at all. My
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own inexperience must account for the fact that I believed
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her. Rick told me that he saw her at the dance the next
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night. I felt like a complete fool.
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I knew another guy that did go out with her (Rodney). He was
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one of my best friends that year. They went to the dance to-
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gether, but she didn't dance with him. Instead, she began
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hanging around with some tall guy from another school, kiss-
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ing up to him something fierce. My friend recognized him as
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a major drug dealer he'd seen doing business here before.
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She left with him. They fucked in a van right outside the
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school doors. My friend was heartbroken, crying, contemplat-
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ing suicide. He'd introduced her to his parents and every-
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thing. It was his first attempt at dating. Now he was humi-
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liated. Not just in front of the school, but in front of his
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parents as well.
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Taking Pictures
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Now here she was, dressed like a slut and mired in her own
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filth. It was a truly disgraceful sight and I didn't feel
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sorry for her. I turned on the lights and got my camera -
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loading up another roll of film. I wasn't going to use the
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pics to blackmail her. Instead, I was going to print them
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out, photocopy them, and distribute them to any interested
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guy in the entire school. Not just pictures of her with her
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clothes on either. These were going to feature full frontal
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nudity; anything I could get away with.
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I had to use my flash as the flourescent lighting in the
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room was insufficient and took awhile hooking it onto my
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camera. I almost freaked out when I discovered that I didn't
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have any batteries in the thing. The whole situation had me
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tense enough as it was. Luckily, I managed to find some in a
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shelf in another part of the room. I was testing the flash
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attachment when a funny thing happened. I heard a soft groan
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from the corner. I watched in horror as her body began to
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shake, almost as if she was being electrocuted. It was
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violent and surprisingly regular. Her eyes rolled into her
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head as she jerked slowly downwards against the wall until
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she was sponging up the piss on the floor. She lay there,
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eyelids fluttering, her back arching a number of times be-
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fore the strange vibrations subsided. With a start, I real-
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ised that the whole thing could have been initiated by the
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flashes.
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I decided to get this over with as soon as possible and took
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a few preliminary pictures of her with her clothes on, ad-
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justing the focus and angle. She didn't move at all as I
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snapped away. I began removing her soiled clothes, undress-
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ing her. I put her into various poses, took pictures, then
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undressed her more. Soon she was completely naked and I had
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exhausted the whole roll. I got another one from a drawer
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and filled it up as well. I began to relax and took more
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time with the final pictures. The last roll had some of
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best.
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Towards the end, I began to get horny. "Why not?", I fig-
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ured, rolling her over onto her stomach, and spreading her
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legs. I pulled down my pants and began humping away at her
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inert form. It was hard at first, because she didn't provide
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any lubrication but it got much better. I was impressed by
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how hot she was. I never imagined a woman could generate
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such an intense heat. It was like sticking my cock into an
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oven. I was so excited that I didn't notice her piss soaking
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through my pants at the knees. I just pumped away, grunting
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like a pig, my exhalation visible in the red light. I
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couldn't believe that anything could feel this good. It felt
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so good, that even after I climaxed, my body kept pumping
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away on its own volition for several minutes, even though I
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wanted it to stop.
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Afterwards, I sat there panting and shivering in the cold
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red darkness. A trillion thoughts passing through my mind as
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I lay there on my side. It was like my whole world had been
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turned upside down. On the one hand I actually felt (believe
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it or not) that I loved her or something like that, but on
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the other I just wanted to get the hell out of here - as far
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away from her as possible. I stood up, noticing the piss on
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my knees and began picking up my stuff, nervously shoving it
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into my bag. I turned on the regular light, exposing most of
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my developing paper. I didn't care. I just wanted to be able
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to see what I was doing. In a few minutes, I had cleared up
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most of my stuff from the darkroom.
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Cleaning Up
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I put her clothes back on, paying attention to small de-
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tails. I was getting really worried because she seemed to be
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stirring, tossing and turning, eyes squinting, coming back
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to life. After the last article of clothing was tossed on
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her, I dragged her out of the room by her feet. I deposited
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her just outside the door, probably right into the puddle of
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vomit (although I was too distracted to notice it at the
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time). I ducked back in and shut and locked the door behind
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me. I also turned out the main classroom lights and shoved
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my jacket under the door, as I didn't want her to see them
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if she woke up out there.
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Working by the light coming out of the darkroom, I cleaned
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up the chemicals and stuff from the bench. I also used paper
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towels to clean up all the piss she had left around the
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place. I was very careful in erasing traces of my presence
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from this room, even though I wasn't sure whether I intended
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to say I came here tonight or not. Everything was still unc-
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ertain. I did this so that all my options would be open when
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the moment of "truth" came.
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About an hour later, I had all my stuff and was ready to go.
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I checked the classroom and darkroom for about the hundredth
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time before walking out the door. Lisa was gone.
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Epilogue
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Obviously, I didn't get much work done that night. But I did
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develope the negatives for my projects and it didn't take
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much longer to print them up, so it was to some benefit.
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|
There was no ruckus about a rape the next day (Monday). But
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|
then again, maybe the ruckus about the stabbing death out-
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|
side the dance overshadowed this "minor" incident. Lisa
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|
showed up to home form just like she did any day, and didn't
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look funny at me or anything.
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I developed the negatives at another after-school session
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and was impressed by the results. I carefully cropped out
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|
any portions of the picture that contained any suggestion of
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|
where they were taken; for example, the corner of the dark-
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room cupboard that protruded into the upper left of most of
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the views. I also had to do a bit of matting with a piece of
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|
cardboard to eliminate the floor tile pattern that was
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|
characteristic of our school. I began experimenting with
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composites. For example, cutting out a print of her and
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|
placing it onto a picture of *my* bed. It was hilarious! The
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|
resulting pictures were fantastic.
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One morning, bright and early, I tacked them up to bulleten
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|
boards around the school, after having copied them on the
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school office photocopier. I also shoved them under empty
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classroom doors, placed them in male (and female) washroom
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stalls, you name it. I was going to send some to her
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parents, but figured this would be enough. I was right.
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After about three weeks of continual harrassment, she disap-
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peared - storming red-faced out of math class in a flurry of
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tears. We never saw her again. Many of us were grateful.
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------
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DarkRoom: An Original Story by J. Verhagen,
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(C)1992 All Rights Reserved. Contact me at
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jv@irus.rri.uwo.ca for publication conditions.
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