Sinead slammed the front door and ran upstairs to her bedroom. Her mother raised her eyes as the bedroom door slammed too.
In her room, Sinead sat on the bed, rocking herself slowly backwards and forwards. Her long dark hair hung over her face. The dark eye makeup was smudged from the flow of tears she had been wiping hurriedly away on the run home.
Her mother tentatively knocked on the door.
She listened until she heard the footsteps disappear back down the stairs. She stood up and looked in the mirror. Her eyes stared back at her, dark and piercing like two sunken dark holes in her pale skin.
‘How the fuck could this have happened again?’
Monday morning, as she walked into school, she could hear the whispers. It wasn’t surprising, she reflected. I mean, how many seventeen or eighteen-year-old boys drop dead just like that? She stood at her locker, slowly unloading her bag. She glanced up, seeing the girls looking at her, pretending not to, ducking behind their locker doors or sneaking shy glances at her.
She closed her locker door and trudged off to the art rooms. She felt she was becoming a social pariah already. The rumour mill was working overtime. She almost laughed as two younger pupils saw her and ran into each other in their attempt to get out of her way.
The art room was almost deserted. Her fellow goth, Deirdre, was busy sketching a rabbit skull but looked up and smiled supportively as Sinead slid onto the stool beside her.
“Are you OK?” she whispered, almost apologetically. “I’ve been hearing some crazy stories all morning.”
Sinead shook her head slowly. “No,” she croaked, scared to say any more in case she broke down.
Deirdre reached over and stroked her hand.
“Shall we do a runner, find somewhere quiet and you can talk about it?”
Sinead nodded and the two girls picked up their bags and slipped away.
They sat on the stone cairn overlooking the town. The ruins of the ancestral home of the O’Donnells were visible on the hill opposite. Deirdre pulled a packet of Marlboro lights from her bag and together they inhaled the acrid cigarette smoke and lay back on the rocks, letting the sun warm their faces. There was definitely something to be said for bunking a day off school.
It was only after the cigarette butts had been discarded, flicked into the damp grass that Deirdre broached the subject again.
“So, is it true... about, you know, about Sean?”
Sinead nodded. “Yep, it’s true. I killed him.”
“Don’t talk daft. I heard it was a heart attack or drugs or something.”
“Yeah, cos people our age drop dead of heart attacks or whatever all the time.”
“Did you know he was ill?”
“No, he wasn’t sick. Everything was fine.”
Sinead felt herself going red as she recounted the events of Saturday night.
“We’d gone to the cinema, then, as he was walking me home. We’d slipped behind the old bakery and well, one thing led to another. He'd my knickers off and I was up against the wall. My legs were wrapped around his waist. He was pounding me for all I was worth and fuck it was good. I arched my back, threw my head back and screamed as I orgasmed. The next thing I know, he is lying there, dead.”
Deirdre stared at her, open-mouthed. “And then?”
“And then, I panicked. I pulled my knickers back up and phoned for an ambulance. They were asking about drugs and all sorts.”
Deirdre wrapped her arms around her friend and held her tight.
“Sean never took drugs, and neither do I.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Not that anyone believes me.”
Deirdre didn’t know what to say. She had heard the rumours. The town was full of them. The rumour mill had lurched into action almost as soon as the sirens rang out and the blue flashing lights were seen.
“I wish I’d thought to zip him up before the ambulance crew got there. Everyone knows now that we were having sex.”
She paused, staring into the far distance.
“They’re calling me the Black Widow, aren’t they?”
Deirdre laughed. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. I think that’s quite cool actually.”
Sinead smiled the faintest hint of a lip curl and lit another cigarette.
“I’m never going to get another boyfriend.”
She blew a long plume of smoke out of her lungs before continuing.
“Once might be seen as a tragic accident, but I’m afraid having two men drop down dead in front of you is more than just coincidence.”
Deirdre sat up. “What? You never told me that before?”
Sinead thought back to last summer. She was back staying with her Granny for a few weeks. She’d met one of the farm hands helping out with the hay making. He was tanned and broad shouldered, what comes from spending all day throwing hay bales onto the trailer, Sinead thought.
Well she’d managed to accidentally bump into him after hanging round the hay byre all afternoon and she’d ended up having a roll in the hay. He was the first man who had fucked her properly. The couple of times before that had been disappointing. She’d lost her virginity to a boy who’d cum almost as soon as he’d pushed it inside her. All she could remember of that was the pain and hurt and embarrassment. The second time hadn’t been much better. It was less painful but almost as short lived. This time in the hay was different.
“But anyway,” Sinead concluded. “The same thing happened as with Sean. I remember screaming as I orgasmed and the next thing I remember is him lying dead.”
Deirdre stared at her, the cigarette smouldering in her hand as she listened, unable to move.
“I ran back to the farmhouse and told my Granny. She just told me these things happen and not to worry. The next day I heard everyone saying that he had died of a heart attack.”
Deirdre couldn’t think of anything to say so took her time savouring the cigarette smoke and slowly blowing it out as she looked out over the town below.
“That’s seriously mental,” she finally decided was the most appropriate line she could come up with.
Sinead snorted. “Yeah, it is.” She looked around at the darkening sky and decided it was time to go home.
As soon as Sinead opened the front door, she could sense immediately that there was a weird atmosphere in the house. She stuck her head into the living room and saw her mum and her Auntie Mary deep in conversation on the sofa. They both looked up to greet her. Auntie Mary looked pleased to see her but her mum had a strained expression on her face.
“I hear you had a bit of a shock over the weekend, Sinead.”
Her aunt stepped closer and ran her fingers through Sinead’s dyed black hair. She guided Sinead to sit down on the sofa between her and her mum. The two older women held Sinead’s hands and her aunt smiled reassuringly at her. Sinead looked from one to the other, confused by what was going on and a little scared. She laughed nervously.
“We need to tell you a wee bit of family history, Sinead.”
Her aunt had a far away look in her eyes. Sinead sat dumbfounded as the story unfolded. She felt herself starting to tune out while her aunt wittered on about faery stock and family tradition. How there was one in every generation who had the gift. For a moment, Sinead thought she was talking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer until, suddenly Sinead sat bolt upright and shrieked “I’m a what?”
‘How the fuck can I be a banshee?’ She thought, but, suddenly, it all made sense.
“We are the banshees for the O’Donnell clan.” Her aunt told her. “When one of them is going to die, you will give a haunting mournful cry then a loud wailing scream. It’s not like a normal scream. This one comes from deep inside and when they hear it, the person will die.”
“But Sean wasn’t an O’Donnell? ” Sinead questioned, confused.
“Well there is one teensy little side effect. While an ordinary scream won’t kill anyone. The scream you get when you orgasm has the same effect.
She turned and looked at her mother.
“So are you a banshee too?”
Her mother nodded, almost imperceptibly.
“Why didn’t you tell me or warn me?”
Sinead stood up and began to pace the room. She glared at her mother who lowered her eyes.
“We didn’t want to tell you in case you weren’t one. If you’d only told us what had really happened last summer. We’d have known then. Your Granny was always one for her secrets. As it was, it was only after we heard that you had screamed at Sean and he dropped down dead that we knew.”
“Is Daddy a banshee?”
“No, of course not. A man can’t be a banshee.”
“So how come Daddy didn’t die when you and him had sex?”
“Your father never made me scream,” her mother sneered grudgingly.
There didn’t seem to be much to say to that. Sinead looked imploringly at her Aunt who just shrugged.
Sinead threw up her arms in desperation.
“I need some air.”
Grabbing her jacket, she headed off to Deirdre’s house. This would take some explaining.
Sinead sat in Deirdre’s room. Posters of Robert Smith and The Cure hung on the walls.
“You know, we should put on Siouxsie and the Banshees to celebrate.”
Deirdre ignored Sinead’s protestations and carefully lowered the needle onto the sinning back disc and soon the opening bars of ‘Spellbound’ filled the room.
“You know this isn’t very funny,” Sinead moaned at Deirdre. “It’s not helping. I’d quite like to keep a boyfriend for longer than half an hour.”
“Have you ever thought, maybe, you know, um, biting your lip and not screaming?”
Sinead’s scowl made Dierdre wish she hadn’t said anything.
The following Friday, Sinead sat in the art room, trying to concentrate on her Art History lesson. When the teacher moved the slide projector to the next painting, ‘The Scream’ by Edvard Munch, she saw Deirdre turn and grin at her. Deirdre opened her mouth and mimed a scream before pretending to drop down dead. Sinead couldn’t help but smile. The Black Widow jibes still followed her round the school but, being a goth, she secretly revelled in the notoriety.
“I’m sorry.” Deirdre apologised after the class ended. “I couldn’t help it. When he showed ‘The Scream’ and talked about the anguish of the howl, I couldn’t help wondering if you howl like that?“
“Fuck off,” Sinead grinned. “Otherwise I’ll scream at you.” She stuck her tongue out defiantly at her best friend as the two headed off to lunch.
“Oh, by the way. I’ve had a brainwave.” Deirdre announced as they sat in the canteen
Sinead looked suspiciously at her friend. ‘About what?”
“About you and your uh uh uh uhs.” Deirdre giggled as she began to pant in an exaggerated imitation of an orgasm.
“Enough of the Harry met Sallys. Explain?” Sinead was not amused but Deirdre just laughed. Despite Sinead’s protrestations, Deirdre wouldn’t say any more apart from all would be revealed at the gig that night. As Sinead trudged back home after school, she felt better than she had in a long time.
As usual, Deirdre called round to Sinead’s after dinner. Deirdre’s mum was not a fan of her teenage daughter’s going out clothes so Deirdre kept them at Sinead’s and got changed there.
Together the girl’s got dressed in their regulation band tee shirts, black leather skirts and fishnet holdups. Sinead shook her head when she saw Deirdre was wearing a top with Siouxsie Sioux on it.
“Really, I suppose you’re Siouxsie and I’m the Banshee?”
Deidre grinned. “Yep.”
After half an hour of hairspray, backcombing and hair straighteners, their hair was finished. One final application of black eyeliner, some more dark red lipstick and a final squirt of hairspray and they were ready. Once downstairs, following the obligatory ‘Ah come on now girls, you’re not going out like that are you?” from Sinead’s mother and with leather jackets on and Doc Martens laced up, it was on to the gig.
The bouncers seemed more scrupulous than ever as they slowly shuffled their way towards the door of The Stardust; the one and only concert hall / ballroom / bingo hall in the town. Every friday night, local and not so local bands performed and every vaguely alternative teenager would be there. Luckily both Deirdre and Sinead had their driving licences on them and were waved inside and they made a beeline for the bar.
With pints of cider and blackcurrant in hand, they slowly moved through the hall, saying hello and catching up with friends while waiting for the band to get going. Sinead felt strangely out of it. The worries of being a banshee were starting to weigh quite heavily on her. Then the music started and like that, her worries disappeared.
Sinead was swaying from side to side as she watched the band, occasionally moving from one foot to the other. They weren’t the greatest band in the world but they were enthusiastic and she was enjoying a punked up version of Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’. She was watching the bass player hiding behind a mop of ginger curls as he strummed along when Deirdre bounded up to her, grinning and dragging an Ian McCullogh look-alike behind her. He was cute, there was no denying that but what was the point. Either she’d be left frustrated or he’d wind up dead. Neither were the greatest outcomes at the start of any relationship.
Still, there was no denying he really was cute. Big floppy fringe, dark brooding eyes and wearing the requisite checked shirt, big baggy black cardigan and jeans with turn-ups showing off his Doc Martens boots. Definitely just her type.
The music was too loud to try and have any form of conversation. Through a series of badly mimed actions, she got the impression that he liked the music and she had the feeling he liked her too. She thought back to Deirdre’s reassurance that she’d the perfect guy in mind for her.
As she looked at him, she hoped Deirdre was right. He looked perfect.
Without even meaning to, she leant in, gazing up into his eyes. She felt his arms wrap around her, a splash of cider dribbling down her back as he wobbled his pint glass but none of that mattered as their lips met.
She felt her insides melt as she kissed him. She pressed against him. The bulge in his jeans was so noticeable. She wondered fleetingly if he could feel her nipples against his chest as his arms hugged her close to him. The urge to fuck him was overwhelming her.
She broke the kiss. As he looked at her, she raised an eyebrow and inclined her head to indicate that they could head outside. His grin showed he’d taken the hint, and holding hands, they slipped out the fire exit.
No words were spoken. None were needed. Once they moved down the back alley and out of sight, he pushed her against the wall. Their tongues swirled, tasting each other as his fingers slid inside her jacket. His thumbs traced the lace edging of her bra as she felt her nipples harden. Her hands moved down his back and up again. She slid her hands round to his front, caressing his chest as his hands dipped lower, holding her hips as he kissed her neck and nibbled her ear lobe.
He tugged up her skirt, Sinead’s fingers grappled with his belt clasp. His hands moved along her stocking tops then she felt them brush her naked flesh. She shuffled her legs a little wider apart. His fingers dipped between them, stroking her panties. She blushed a little knowing he could feel how wet and turned on she already was. His fingers gripped the waistband and tugged the pale green satin panties down her thighs.
His hand slid up the inside of her thigh and she shuffled her legs apart to grant him access. He kissed her greedily, his other hand holding her hair as his fingers caressed her labia. His finger dragged along the length of her slit, opening her, her juices oozed out onto the fingertip as he dragged it up over her and up to her throbbing clit.
“Fuckkk” she groaned, pressing down on his hand. The urge to fuck him was growing and growing. She wanted him inside her. No, she needed him inside her.
She virtually ripped his jeans down. She was relieved to see he was wearing boxer shorts. Y-fronts just didn’t do it for her. She ran her fingers along his length as it bulged through the cotton. She slipped her fingers in the waistband and slowly pulled the elastic out to allow them to slide down over his cock. She glanced up at him as he watched her. His breathing was ragged, his eyes were full of lust, reflecting her own want and desire. His cock was smooth and as she pulled the foreskin back, her thumb smeared the drop of precum over the head. Her hand dipped to cup his balls, they felt full and heavy and he squirmed as she ran her fingernails over his soft downy pubes.
She leant back against the brickwork as he kissed her again. His hands tugged up her skirt again and gripped her ass cheeks. She spread her legs wider, the head of his cock sliding along her slit.
“Oh goddd” she whimpered as he felt the heat of his cock pressed against her.
His hands gripped her ass, lifting her up. She felt the head sliding along her folds until it pointed up, directly at her entrance. Teenage hormones rampaged through her system. As he pressed his hips forward and up, he lowered her down. His cock slid inside her, filling her, stretching her wet velvet walls as he fucked her.
“Fuckkkk” she gasped. Her legs wrapped around him, pinning him to her, pulling him into her. He thrust harder, deeper, faster. She gasped, moaned and whimpered as he fucked her, taking her higher and higher. Her clit rubbed against his pubic hair as she bottomed out inside him every time he lowered her down onto his cock. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the scream she knew was building, but it was no good. She was going to cum.
She flung her head back, shut her eyes and screamed as he slammed his cock deep into her. She spasmed on it, impaled, writhing as she felt his hot cum pumped into her.
Finally, she slumped back against the wall. She opened her eyes, waiting to see him lying dead on the ground and was pleasantly shocked to be greeted by his smiling face.
She kissed him, panting “Oh thank god you’re still here.”
She broke the kiss and looked at him. He grinned and brought his hands up in front of her. He pointed at her, then gave the thumbs up and moved his thumb in a circle whilst miming the words ‘Are you ok?’
She looked confused. “What?”
More hand gestures followed and suddenly the realisation hit her.
“Oh my god, you’re deaf.”
She wrapped her arms around him as she kissed him again.
“I am so so OK,” she whispered in his ear.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.