Let's Shoot Some Heroin and *** With the Stars
Four
The way Oliver slid his knife perfectly, and ever so deeply, down my father's stomach was simply mesmerizing. I watched in awe, I couldn't look away. And when the blood, the dark, thick red blood slowly oozed out from the cut, it was like fireworks inside my body.
Oliver quickly withdrew the knife and backed away from my father's demented body. He looked and me with that devilish half grin of his, snapping me out of my trance. He stepped aside and beckoned with his arms that it was my turn again. I nodded and proceeded toward my suffering, tied up father. I looked into his dark eyes and he whimpered, somehow knowing I was about to get violent. I giggled, and then stabbed his chest as hard as I possibly could with my knife. His scream was the loudest, worst, most gut wrenching scream of pain I've ever heard. Oliver's eyes lit up and he pulled a stool from one of the walls and sat on it, watching me in awe now.
"I love watching you." He said, his voice sounding odd in the room that was currently only home to screams of torcher.
"Oh really? Why is that?" I asked playfully. When I shot a look at him, he winked. My stomach turned. Why did this guy make me feel so awkward?
"Because your..." He pondered for a moment, obviously trying to find a flattering word that also expressed what he was thinking- pure evil. "Because your amazingly cruel. Never have I met anyone like you." He smiled. The stupid half grin again.
I pretended I didn't see, and continued to slowly carve around my father's eye sockets. It would be a hell of a lot of fun when I pulled these bitches out. "I'm not always this cruel. It's just with this bitch, I have something to be cruel for." This time I looked at him and gave him the same confusing half grin he gave me.
Oliver stared hard at me. He shuffled a bit, then spoke, "Don't smile at me like that Anabel, I can't tell what your thinking."
I was in mid-stab when a noise came from outside. It sounded like a car. A fucking car, pulling up next to the house. I quickly withdrew the knife and Oliver grabbed a towel, tying it tightly over my dads mouth.
"Now shh, quiet down daddy, it'll all be alright. I promise."
Then a car door slammed closed. Oliver and I quickly made an attempt to clean all blood from our bodies, then with much panic, quietly sprinted up the basement stairs and shut the basement lights off. In the small kitchen I saw a figure slowly walk by the window. Shit! Did it see us just come up from downstairs? Oliver grabbed my arm and we ran into the living room. There was a loud creak on the porch. We shot each other looks of panic. Who was here? Had this person heard the screams of my father like Oliver had?
There was another loud, drawn out creak as the thing was getting closer to the door. The sound of nails, scratching and digging into the wood, was also present. Was this thing crawling?
Oliver grabbed a fire poker, and crept over behind where the door would swing open. He waved at me to go hide somewhere. I obeyed, and went and hid behind one of our big sofas. Crouched down, head rested on my knees I couldn't see anything. All I heard was the scratching and creaking sound. Then it finally came to a sudden halt, and something bumped the front door. It was a eerie and quiet little bump. Like whoever it was didn’t have the strength to fully knock.
"Anabel? I'm home.." and the door slowly opened.
I froze. My eyes widened. My heart stopped. That voice, was my mother's. I could tell, I could always tell her voice anywhere- even though it wasn't exactly her voice, it was a more demented version of her once sweet voice. I shot up from my hiding place, only to see the most gruesome figure ever, on the floor in the door way. My mother's decaying and bent body, shuffling into the house.
I stared. Her limbs were all bent in the most impossible ways, bones jutting out from everywhere. Her head was bent to the side, and her matted, bloody hair was hanging in her face. Her back was arched inwards, almost to a perfect side of a circle. I stood there unable to move and I watched her struggle to drag herself across the floor. Oliver emerged and made motion to stab the thing he didn't know as my mother.
"No, stop!" I yelled. Oliver appeared totally dumbfounded when he looked at me, but listened anyway. He lowered the fire poker.
Silence. Only my mother's heavy breathing filled the room. She had finally crawled a good portion into the house. Then with a crack of many bones she half lifted her head. One eye was missing and dried blood was all over her face. She tried to speak to me again, but had trouble, considering her tongue was half gone.
"Fis is wat you did shto me, Anabel!" My mother yelled with a confusing lisp.
I couldn't take seeing her like this, I did this to her. She was ruined- all because of me. All my fault... all my fault. stupid little me. Stupid fucking me!
I screamed as her cold, wrinkly, wet hands grabbed my ankles. She dug her disgusting nails into them. I yelled, and with my right leg I managed to break free of her grip and stomped on her head. Her head, already half broken, collapsed under my foot. There was a horrific sound of bones, brains, and blood smashing together on the hardwood floor. When I moved my foot, there was nothing but a flattened pile of red, pink, white, and what was her once brown hair. I then fell to the floor. I giggled.
Everything faded fast. What I saw last was Oliver bend down over my mom's flattened head, grab a piece of brain, eat it, then gently kiss my forehead.
Sleep well, Anabel. You'll be back soon, trust us.
Oliver quickly withdrew the knife and backed away from my father's demented body. He looked and me with that devilish half grin of his, snapping me out of my trance. He stepped aside and beckoned with his arms that it was my turn again. I nodded and proceeded toward my suffering, tied up father. I looked into his dark eyes and he whimpered, somehow knowing I was about to get violent. I giggled, and then stabbed his chest as hard as I possibly could with my knife. His scream was the loudest, worst, most gut wrenching scream of pain I've ever heard. Oliver's eyes lit up and he pulled a stool from one of the walls and sat on it, watching me in awe now.
"I love watching you." He said, his voice sounding odd in the room that was currently only home to screams of torcher.
"Oh really? Why is that?" I asked playfully. When I shot a look at him, he winked. My stomach turned. Why did this guy make me feel so awkward?
"Because your..." He pondered for a moment, obviously trying to find a flattering word that also expressed what he was thinking- pure evil. "Because your amazingly cruel. Never have I met anyone like you." He smiled. The stupid half grin again.
I pretended I didn't see, and continued to slowly carve around my father's eye sockets. It would be a hell of a lot of fun when I pulled these bitches out. "I'm not always this cruel. It's just with this bitch, I have something to be cruel for." This time I looked at him and gave him the same confusing half grin he gave me.
Oliver stared hard at me. He shuffled a bit, then spoke, "Don't smile at me like that Anabel, I can't tell what your thinking."
I was in mid-stab when a noise came from outside. It sounded like a car. A fucking car, pulling up next to the house. I quickly withdrew the knife and Oliver grabbed a towel, tying it tightly over my dads mouth.
"Now shh, quiet down daddy, it'll all be alright. I promise."
Then a car door slammed closed. Oliver and I quickly made an attempt to clean all blood from our bodies, then with much panic, quietly sprinted up the basement stairs and shut the basement lights off. In the small kitchen I saw a figure slowly walk by the window. Shit! Did it see us just come up from downstairs? Oliver grabbed my arm and we ran into the living room. There was a loud creak on the porch. We shot each other looks of panic. Who was here? Had this person heard the screams of my father like Oliver had?
There was another loud, drawn out creak as the thing was getting closer to the door. The sound of nails, scratching and digging into the wood, was also present. Was this thing crawling?
Oliver grabbed a fire poker, and crept over behind where the door would swing open. He waved at me to go hide somewhere. I obeyed, and went and hid behind one of our big sofas. Crouched down, head rested on my knees I couldn't see anything. All I heard was the scratching and creaking sound. Then it finally came to a sudden halt, and something bumped the front door. It was a eerie and quiet little bump. Like whoever it was didn’t have the strength to fully knock.
"Anabel? I'm home.." and the door slowly opened.
I froze. My eyes widened. My heart stopped. That voice, was my mother's. I could tell, I could always tell her voice anywhere- even though it wasn't exactly her voice, it was a more demented version of her once sweet voice. I shot up from my hiding place, only to see the most gruesome figure ever, on the floor in the door way. My mother's decaying and bent body, shuffling into the house.
I stared. Her limbs were all bent in the most impossible ways, bones jutting out from everywhere. Her head was bent to the side, and her matted, bloody hair was hanging in her face. Her back was arched inwards, almost to a perfect side of a circle. I stood there unable to move and I watched her struggle to drag herself across the floor. Oliver emerged and made motion to stab the thing he didn't know as my mother.
"No, stop!" I yelled. Oliver appeared totally dumbfounded when he looked at me, but listened anyway. He lowered the fire poker.
Silence. Only my mother's heavy breathing filled the room. She had finally crawled a good portion into the house. Then with a crack of many bones she half lifted her head. One eye was missing and dried blood was all over her face. She tried to speak to me again, but had trouble, considering her tongue was half gone.
"Fis is wat you did shto me, Anabel!" My mother yelled with a confusing lisp.
I couldn't take seeing her like this, I did this to her. She was ruined- all because of me. All my fault... all my fault. stupid little me. Stupid fucking me!
I screamed as her cold, wrinkly, wet hands grabbed my ankles. She dug her disgusting nails into them. I yelled, and with my right leg I managed to break free of her grip and stomped on her head. Her head, already half broken, collapsed under my foot. There was a horrific sound of bones, brains, and blood smashing together on the hardwood floor. When I moved my foot, there was nothing but a flattened pile of red, pink, white, and what was her once brown hair. I then fell to the floor. I giggled.
Everything faded fast. What I saw last was Oliver bend down over my mom's flattened head, grab a piece of brain, eat it, then gently kiss my forehead.
Sleep well, Anabel. You'll be back soon, trust us.
♠ ♠ ♠
:)