“Abby Singer” by Hillary Leftwich

Today, Lise Quintana and Frankie Metro explore “Abby Singer” by Hillary Leftwich, submitted to Kleft Jaw.

Scene 8 take 3 and I’m murdered, my throat slit open and a plastic bag over my head. The director yells CUT! and I rip the bag off. My murderer stands over me, dragging his gaze down the length of my body. The bag is my idea. I want Abby Singer’s death to be as brutal as possible.

Abby is a successful business woman. Abby wears pencil skirts with silk stockings. The film crew loves what I’ve done with my character. I never forget my lines. During the second day of filming they coin my name as a signal for the final scene: Abby Singer. Abby’s killer is played by an actor named Seth Rowe. We’ve worked together before but never in opposite roles. The plot involves a love triangle gone bad. Her body is later found in an alley. Her legs are askew and one heel has fallen off. Her toes are painted Peruvian Pink. There is a halo of blood pooling around her head. Jed, the head makeup artist, snaps a picture. For my portfolio, he says.

After the scene ends, Seth reaches out his hands and helps me up from the cracked concrete. He slides his finger across my bloodied neck like he’s slitting my throat all over again and puts his finger in his mouth. The blood is Karo Syrup mixed with red food coloring. You’re so sexy when you’re dead. His teeth are stained red from the fake blood. It looks like he was kicked in the mouth. He takes me to a dark corner of the alley, his hands like spiders tickling across my body as he sucks my neck. I feel him grow hard against my stomach. He’s wearing cargo pants. His character is not only a killer but a coach for a sixth grade baseball team. The head of wardrobe, Michael, is always practical.

I meet Seth after filming ends for the day. I didn’t shower or change my clothes. The syrup has hardened where my throat is slit. The blood in my hair is birthday candle red. Seth loves it when I stay in character. He opens the door to his trailer, grabs me and pulls me inside. His lips act like a blade, cutting me over and over. And when his hands tug my hair like he’s hoisting a noose, he calls me Abby Singer.

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