Author: Kat Hutchson

She looked at him with her huge blue eyes.
“You have a Dollar, Mister?”
With a quick glance at her, he noticed the delicate machinery shining through three straight cuts in her cheek, the plastic flesh hanging loosely over the left side of her face.
“What do you need it for?”
“I’m hungry, Mister.”
“Oh, fuck off. Get your program checked. Fucking piece of scrap metal,“ he shouted as he walked away.
At first, he didn’t hear a single sound. Whoever designed them was a fucking creep. No breathing, moving without sound. They weirded him out with their perfect skin and their perfect form, imitating humans so much to perfection that he had often enough found himself in the arms of these stupid things after a night of drinking, demanding the same attention a real woman should get. Squeaking and screaming when he threw them out. Pretending to feel pain, pretending to have any emotions that were real and not mere code. They should all be disassembled, go back to the things they were before.
But instead of leaving him alone, she followed. Her feet stomping against the asphalt.
Oh, you want to be noticed… He grinned. In his mind he imagined how he would grab her by her neck, how she would squeak and turn and toss, unable to do anything against the programming she was set to—unable to harm anyone or anything. He would enjoy the look of terror in her eyes when he ripped her skin at the nape of her neck. Oh, how he hated those things.
Like a good lover, he would take his time, caress her skin softly, play with her hair and then unplug the cables of her power supply one by one until her body would collapse in his arms. Let them know what really makes someone human and what they are missing out on.
With her steps approaching closer, he felt the excitement rise in his body.
“Mister,” she cooed as she grabbed his hand, squeezing it harder than she should be able to. Irritated he turned around, ready to smack her but stopped at the sight of her face. She grinned at him, her left eye twitching and flickering.
“You have a Dollar, Mister? If not for me at least for them,” she repeated.
“Leave me the fuck alone, freak,” he hissed.
“You’re not very nice, Mister!” She frowned and squeezed her fingers even tighter around his hand until his bones cracked under the pressure. He screamed and kicked, hurting himself against the metal of her carcass.
“Don’t you hear how hungry they are, Mister?”
Confused he looked in the direction she pointed with her free arm but could not make out any sound.
“You’re fucking broken! Let me go!”, he screamed.
“No need to make a scene, Mister. We are all friends here. I just need a Dollar or anything else you have. Please?” Her lips twitched into an ugly smile while her hand tightened around his broken fingers.
“Let go of me!”
Instead of an answer she shrugged and put her free hand into her pocket. He saw something shiny move before his face leaving him with a stinging pain in his throat. His fingers ran to check the spot, touching a warm sticky liquid. He fell to his knees, painting the ground a red puddle.
She dragged him into the darkness of the alleyway, where she hacked and slashed at the limp body until the meowing grew louder and louder in her ears.
“It’s time then,” she muttered, letting out the beasts for their evening meal.