She No Want No More

GENRE: Hard Horror, Rom-com

TRIGGERS: Blood, Sexual Undertone

She No Want No More

—Penultimate and viscosity are words that I hate.

The words adjacent don’t blend, don’t mate.

It was wonderful spending time with Milan after the conference. How adorable she was in her long jean skirt and oversized sweater. The way the late day eastern sun accented her face, the smile and confidence displayed as she spoke to the best of the representatives, executives, and others. The scheduled gathering at the Helix Soar Centre, a bio-engineering annual, is located at the Helix Soar Hotel & Suites (…); Han Burna, current CEO, not in attendance as circumstances had it, he fell ill, but is streaming the event from…, a suite.

Milan arrived at the Hotel, the night before the conference to assist in the assembly and preparation for the event. The next morning, I had arrived with breakfast from a local delicatessen, and the days leaflet; this was our ground zero, the beginning of the conference. Any jet lag washed away by the loud participation, comments, and suggestions from all who can; from oatmeal baths to cryofreezing.

Attentive to my Milans every word, groans for the befallen in one minute, cleansing boffola for the spirit the next. She’s on fire; certainly, burning up, as the corporate and nation banners begin swaying as the air conditioner cools the hall.

Milan begins her declamation on the virus as, unknown in nature or lab; description of its origin is unknown. Those not showing symptoms finally come to a hush. She continues to describe the symptoms and its known pathology. The attack begins in stage 1, a tandem attack on the sensory and periphery nerves; each scratch not only bore a lesion, but the sensation of having done so.

The murmur rises and Milan as well; as bio-engineers know, markers are key for diagnosis, as far as the data has presented across the pathology, these markers, verocay bodies are absent.

One of the executives rerouted from transport to the orbital ring leaps to his feet, “What of the bleeding?” The bio-engineers in the front row near to I giggle at the question. Milan catches her cracking smile and responds with, “Excellent question…,”

One of the attendees loses grip on a mug, crashing to the ground; a smile crested with discharging lips quakes towards Milan; apt.

Continuing with the assessment, Stage 2, the lesions becoming terminal as the virus at this point increases red-blood cell production and decimates platelets.

Milan continued a delivery on the execution the company pipelines, which ended in occluding interruption. The slight drags of her nails along her neck could have been misconstrued for flirting, or deep private thoughts unshared, or to be had standing before a dais. Unwittingly, she briefly scratches her nether region, I could almost see her forehead sprout droplets of dew. Without stumble, she switches to the next slide granting me the death stare, in turn, banking the embarrassment; I smiled and blew her a kiss.

Relaying the last of the morning messages on any liquidated late lingering logistics loitering; Milan takes a bow. Squaring to me she points; I laugh as I see she has torn through the skin of her neck; supposedly I as well.

Others join us in the elevator, some retire to call booths to speak to loved ones, but most return to the bar; discussions of the latest reports from those still airing, circle the room.

We entered the apartment, the bed lied made from the morning adorned with a basket containing wine, cheese, a temperature regulated vial storage aluminum tin, and inoculator pistol and personal call booth on either side. A return call message flashes the booth.

Milan with a tinge of concern turns to me; get the fuck out. I bow; in doing so, blood pours from nasal as I back to the door. My Love, I say as I depart to hall.

It's this part of Milan I don’t know. That call is most likely from the orbital ring or one of if not all of the generation bunkers scattered about the globe. I wait; walking over to the elevators to peer out to the atrium. I glance to the penthouses to see an angered conversation taking place between the open doors of the CEOs room. Down below are a few executives and engineers conversing, a few waning, and a few expired. Not all the attendees were forthcoming with their symptoms apparently. As I step from the banister, a hazmat team enters. They spread out; a few gather the expired in hazmat vacuum bags and haul them through dining. I laugh. The others begin speaking to those they come upon, offering what is in hand; the aluminum tin perhaps, then continuing on to the bar.

Again, I step away from the banister, this time bumping into Milan. I was about to ask how she was and/or the call, when a couple crash out of their room. The fellow, head high-bestrewing ichor shade blood before crippling himself head over butt to the wall. The lady drops the fellows drink, gives us a cheer…, to have her knees buckle, mincing a high-ball with her forehead. We sigh. I ask about the call. She looks to the penthouse…, So Burna was fired she said; in that brief moment the argument from atop had silenced, the doorway was clear.

I offer my elbow, and escort my love to the elevator; we descend. I plant a kiss upon Milans head, the puss from my chapping cracked lips pulls the hair in tow. Catching a glimpse of myself in the pane above the number board, the sclera of my left eye had turned hulk green. I look to Milan; nothing. Looking to me she is struck with “Oh yeah, I saw that on the way up. I meant to say something; I was gathering my thoughts.”

It was here I knew she had more to share, the autocracy lips. I land a jib to the ribs and tell her they are serving Helix Soar Deluxe Burgers and Tots in the lobby.

The doors to the elevator open; a low murmur rumbles from the region’s best gathered below the atriums thriving dirge of greenery and vines. Milan and I aren’t the only ones disrupted by bother, some rise and exit; others attempt to rise and exit. The CEO has made it to the lobby sans elevator; or wings.

Hazmat lies a vacuum bag beside the former CEO of Helix Soars Biotech; unzipping the bag, Hazmat is startled and slathered in the blood of a popping former CEO. “What is that like, twenty-one now?” The other Hazmat snarfs.

The attendees don’t take notice to us in the elevator. Turning to Milan and asking if she’s ready to eat, I gently touch the corporeal lane of pebbling blood on her neck, the dirty sting of her fingers on the tracks of mine, causes us both to retreat from embrace. Milan gives a puppy frown before returning to me for our penultimate kiss.