"That's not what I came here for," You say, "Besides, I'm not into foot stuff,"

She taps you with her foot several times, nearly knocking you down, "Best get into it really fast, or I'll make you suffer,"

You smile, "What are you going to do? We're in a public place,"

"What's that?" She asks, leaning in, "I can't hear you. The music's too loud," A sly grin creeps across her face, "You know, I bet nobody else can hear you either," She picks you up and palms your tiny body. You can't see what is going on after that. You are encased in the warm flesh of her hand as she walks through the club. She is not gentle. Her hyper actions lurch your stomach and threaten to black you out. She stops and talks to one of the waitresses, smoothly moving her hand behind her back and dropping you.

You freefall to the ground. The pain is jarring, but you survive. You try to rise up to your feet, but everything hurts. You can't put pressure on your legs. The right one might actually be broken. You cry out to the waitress as she passes by, but she doesn't hear you. Her Platform shoes land inches from you as she walks off, completely unaware of your plight. The woman that dropped you is standing nearby pretending not to notice you. She must have left her chanklas on the table because she's just standing there, barefoot, in the club. You crawl a whole foot, inch by agonizing inch, until your hand bumps a black converse shoe.

Your eyes trace up the shoe, up the black and purple striped socks, and past the black skirt and Rush t-shirt to find that they belong to another dark haired woman, who's talking to the girl that dropped you. At least she's standing still. You don't dare move too far away for fear that a dancer might accidentally smear you into the ground. While you can tell they are talking, you can't hear them over "California Girls" by Katy Perry. You can't hear much of anything. During their conversation, you pound on the shod woman's converse and hope she feels it. You think you see her look down, but she goes back to talking to her barefooted friend. She shifts casually as she talks, and, before you can react, her foot raises and comes down over you. You scream and try to crawl away, but her shoe is pressed ever so lightly on top of you. She hasn't put her full weight down, and her foot is kind of bouncing to the music sending stabs of pain through you each time it lowers.

You dig your nails into the floor and try to pull loose. The pain intensifies, but there's no way you'll die listening to Katy Perry! You have to get her attention. You didn't come here to die like this (well, you did come here to die, but not like this) As the song is nearing its end the shoe stops lifting up and slowly begins to only come down steadily adding more pressure. You can't breathe anymore. You pound on the sole and manage to worm your way forward. Her foot comes all the way down just as you get everything but your legs free. You can hear the crunch over the music but doubt she even noticed it. You scream in pain, but she doesn't look down. The waitress comes back holding two drinks and hands them to the two women. You try desperately to get her attention, but she walks away, unaware of your bleeding brokenness.

They continue to chat and the woman that is pinning you casually steps forward ever so slightly. The last thing you see is the tread with bits of your leg stuck in it dropping toward you before you pop and black out. The little splatter that remains is unrecognizable as human.

***

Epilogue

The woman in the Vault boy shirt smiles at her Rush enthusiast/murderer friend.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself," The friend says. Her cheeks are flushed and her knees are weak, "I, uh, hate to cut this short, but I've gotta get home and take care of something before the sitter brings the little one back," She gives a guilty smile, "You, uh, gonna be good without me?"

"Yeah, sure, I got this," Before your killer can say anything else, the other woman suddenly bolts back into the crowd and grabs a nearby man who is looking around.

"Nice band. You'll do. Come on, the booths are this way," She says taking off in a run with the bewildered man trailing behind her.

The one that stayed behind took one last look at the red smear on the floor and smiled.

THE END