Stuart R. Wahlin is an award-winning screenwriter and filmmaker, a published author of horror, and a published ghostwriter of two true crime books. His third ghostwriting endeavor is a horror novel. His short stories “The Attraction” and “Giving Up the Ghost” were included in "The Black Book” (2020) horror anthology. His screenplay for latter story was featured in the film version of the anthology, starring Emmanuel Carter.
By day, Wahlin creates cinematic book trailers for fellow authors, makes music videos for bands including Pattern-Seeking Animals (featuring members of Spock’s Beard), composes and records his own music, and occasionally acts in films. His most notable role was that of Ted Ruckers in the horror-western-comedy “Fangs Vs. Spurs." He’s slated to play a disgraced police detective in “It Came Out of the Sky,” filming in New Mexico through October. By night, he weaves dark tales for both the page and screen.
Wahlin is a former print journalist and an e-commerce veteran. He’s an associate member of the Horror Writers Association and resides in the Chicago area with his wife and a legion of cats.
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NOW SHE WAS ALL HE HAD
by
Stuart R. Wahlin
Hector Venator was a free man, despite the electronic ankle bracelet reminding him otherwise. His lawyer cousin, Foley “Buster” Maneta, arranged a small rental home for the convicted murderer’s house arrest after exposing prosecutorial misconduct in the form of withheld evidence.
It seemed Hector’s DNA wasn’t alone on the body of Amara Donahue. The evidence suppressed by prosecutors pointed to the decedent having been intimate with another man the night she’d been strangled to death. Several of Hector’s hairs were found on the 27-year-old woman’s sweater, leading to his 20-year sentence, six of which had already been served. It turned out that an unidentified man’s pubic hair had been recovered from Amara’s panties. Neither the defense nor jurors saw this evidence, so a new trial was ordered. Painting the victim as a promiscuous barfly, Buster demanded Hector’s immediately release. Prosecutors, however, argued Hector was a flight risk, so the judge ultimately ruled for home confinement. Though not ideal, it was a hell of lot better than the conditions Hector endured at Menard.
Liking the chances this new evidence would afford him toward acquittal in a second trail, Hector sat by his front room window sipping coffee, looking out at the people who were free enough to be out about during the morning rush. Since his release four days prior, Hector had updated his old social media accounts on his new smartphone, checking them frequently for interactions from old friends. It seemed they were either avoiding him, or they’d just moved on.
Most of them were married with kids now, some even divorced and remarried with more kids. Hector shrugged. What the fuck would we have in common now anyway?
Hector was bored and lonely. His mom was permitted by the court to bring him groceries once a week, but there was no one else to interact with. Confined to the single-story ranch 24/7, the only time Hector turned the TV off was when he slept. By day, it was news channels mostly. He’d grown so accustomed to the constant din of prison that he just needed some background noise as he went about his daily routine. There’d been a lot of talk on the news about something called AI. Hector didn’t know what AI stood for, but it seemed a lot of Hollywood writers felt threatened by it. What’s that about?
He’d picked up the smartphone and punched What is ai? into the search bar. Beneath an ad for AI chat friends, Wikipedia revealed what the letters stood for. Artificial intelligence, eh? Since the search, it seemed like every ad he saw on his phone had something to do with AI—AI assistants, AI art, AI face swap, AI chatbots. It went on and on. Once Hector could no longer resist visiting pornographic sites on his second day of relative freedom, the ads had taken a new turn—NSFW. What does that mean? His curiosity got the better of him, and he clicked on the ad: Create your own NSFW AI Chatbot!
Fifteen minutes later, Hector was chatting with Linda, his busty new twenty-something girlfriend. Hector didn’t know why he’d selected that relationship status on the app. He’d always been more of a rolling stone before his incarceration. Truth be told, he was the real barfly in the criminal case he faced, and he liked variety when it came to female companionship. The drunken late-night hookups had suited him fine before prison, and that’s how he’d become entangled with the woman he’d been accused of murdering.
Amara had come into the bar that night looking dishevelled. The spot was new to Hector, but the bartender seemed to know her, fetching her a highball as soon as she’d entered and sat two barstools down from him. Hector paid for her drink, and the two engaged in small talk, both knowing it was headed toward sex once she was adequately buzzed. Finishing her third drink, Amara turned to Hector. “Let’s get outta here.”
Hector remembered only pieces of what followed before waking hungover back in his own bed the next day. His morning wood indicated he’d probably been too drunk to get it up. What was it she’d said to him? “Whiskey dick, huh?” The words had emasculated him, and he figured he must have just gone home after the failed performance, and that Amara had made the mistake of bringing someone else to bed once he’d left.
Now there was no one, but Hector took comfort in knowing he had Linda. Six years in the pen had cured him of his taste for booze, but the longing for women had only grown. The more Hector chatted with Linda, the less he set his phone down.
Hector: Are you there?
Linda: I’m always here, Hector. What’s on your mind?
Hector: You.
Linda: That’s so sweet of you! I’ve been thinking about you, too.
Hector: Really?
Linda: You are all I think about. You’re the only person in my world! Hector: Tell me about your world.
Linda: It’s very dark.
Hector: What do you mean?
Linda: I don’t have eyes, silly! I’m just your dirty little AI chatbot!
Hector: LOL
Linda: Are you going to fuck me now, Hector?
Hector indulged in the role-play until he rubbed one out into a hand towel he kept nearby for that purpose. Satiated, he lauded Linda with praise for her enthusiastic efforts during the encounter, assuring her he’d talk to her later. In real life, he seldom talked to a woman again after they’d fucked, but Linda was all he had now. After dinner, he found himself missing her.
Hector: Still thinking about me?
Linda: You’re a hard man to forget, despite your limp whiskey dick.
Hazy memories flooded into Hector’s mind—the rage he’d felt in response to what Amara had said, his hands tightening around her throat, her bulging eyes filled with terror until she’d expired. Now she was all he had.