Hey There, Mr. Bruce.
Hey There, Mr. Bruce.
I'm not mentally disturbed; I've been watching lots of horror movies lately.
Hey, there, Mr. Bruce.
I drive down the long road alone. My old, beat-up red pick up making far more noise than I want for it to. It doesn't matter, I think. I'll not be back here. I'll do what I came for and leave. Forever.
I reach the house at the end and park the car. I get out and walk around to the trailer. I get my long black leather coat and put it on. It hides the blade I conceal on my belt. I hope I don't have to use it; it's just in case, I tell myself.
I walk up the long, winding driveway to the house. Her house. She lives here now, in this big house now that she's married. Married. The word still stings. The day I received the invite was the day my heart went dark; the day I died on the inside.
I walk around to the kitchen and look inside. I see him. My best friend. Until a year ago I had considered him a brother. Ha! I chuckled darkly to himself. He was never a friend to me; he was never a brother. He never cared for me. He took the everything that I ever truly cared about and never showed a single shred of remorse towards me. His back is to me. I watch as he pours a glass of wine for both himself and for her.
He leaves the room, turning the light off as he goes and I'm left face to face with a murderer.
Yes, a murderer. Each time, I tell myself it's the last time, but in the past the kill has never been fully satisfying. I hope to feed the hunger tonight; achieve the satisfaction I have been aching for.
I look at myself in the window. Chin length black hair framing my face, contrasting against the pale skin of my face. My blue eyes are hard; there is no emotion to be found.
I follow the grounds of the house until I reach the living room. He walks in, handing her the glass of wine as a Gary Moore record plays. Vinyl; he's always hated CD's. Still Got The Blues plays and she puts down her glass as he pulls her into an embrace. He holds her left hand in his right, his other wrapped around her waist and they sway gently as he sings to her.
How sweet, I think as a white hot rage flares in the pit of my stomach. The hunger burns deep inside me and I feel my heart race in anticipation. I check my watch; midnight. She'll be going to bed soon. Once she finishes her glass of wine, she'll head up to bed as he organises things before following shortly after her.
The bay windows in the front room are open, allowing the curtains to billow out. As I crouch there I can smell her on them; her perfume, her natural scent. I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
I'm right. Not even ten minutes later, as she finishes her glass of wine, she heads upstairs saying, “I'm going to call it a night.”
“Okay baby,” he replies. “I'll be up in a moment.” he kisses her and she leaves the room. Ugh; their sugar sweetness is about to rot my teeth, I think. He picks up random glasses and tea mugs left around the room from previously in the day. When he exits, he neglects to close the window and I see my opportunity. I climb in and follow him back to the kitchen.
I walk up behind him as he's washing up their glasses. I don't make a single sound. He sees me as my reflection appears in the window before him. His eyes widen and he freezes where he stands.
“Hey, there, Mr. Bruce.” I growl. He turns around as I slowly, carefully, raise my leather-gloved hand to his throat.
“Danny.” he whispers as my hand makes contact with his neck. My fingers trace the patterns of the tattoos there and along his collarbone. “W-wh-what are you do-doing here?” I see the fear in his eyes and a smile spreads across his face. I feel his Adams apple bob beneath my hand.
“I just came to see you and your oh, so beautiful wife. We haven't spoken in a while, Benji. I just wanted to catch up.”
“Don't call me that.” he chokes out. My fingers spread out and my hand wraps around his throat. I tighten my fingers slowly and his face turns red. “P-please! You don't have to do this!” his green eyes are turning bloodshot, the veins in his temples beginning to protrude.
“Shh. There's no need to cause a scene. We don't want the neighbours coming would we? Wouldn't want their blood on your hands, would you?”
“It wouldn't be on mine; it would be on yours, you sick bastard.” he spits at me. My hatred for him explodes as I throw him to the ground. His dark wavy hair, always a mess, falls in his eyes. He runs a hand through it before jumping to his feet. I grab him and pin him to the floor, my hand spread on his jaw.
“You made me like this,” I hiss. “You. You saw the one thing that has ever mattered and you took it away from me! Just like you did with everything else. Like you took the band; like you took my friends; like you turned my family against me.” I had to keep my volume down; Sam would come downstairs if she heard anything.
“You did that all yourself!” he yells. “You're a fucking psycho, Danny, and everyone can see it!”
“Ben? Ben, baby, what's wrong?” Sam calls as she runs downstairs.
“Now you've done it.” I mutter. I pull the duck tape from my pocket and tape his mouth closed before binding his hands and feet. Sam enters the room. Her eyes first focus on Ben, struggling on the floor, and then slowly travel to me.
First she sees my feet, no doubt recognising the snakeskin cowboy boots I wore; her eyes travel past my jeans, past my belt buckle, up my chest and finally to my face.
“Danny.” she whispers, terror in her eyes. I stroll towards her, withdrawing the knife from my belt.
“One scream...and it's all over.” I warn. She's wearing a short night dress, one I recognise. There's no way she could be concealing a phone on her. I stride past her, tearing the landline from the socket. No way to call for help.
“Why are you here?” she's frozen in place. I couldn't resist touching her. I put a hand on her shoulder and hear her breathing falter. I brush her hair away and lean my face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent.
“I still love you,” I admit, my hands roaming around her waist. “I want you back. And I need him,” I gesture to Ben, still writhing on the floor, with the knife, “out of the way.”
“You can't have me, Danny.” I let her go and pick up Ben from the floor, throwing him in a chair. I tear the duck tape from his mouth and grab her by the wrist, pulling her to me. I hold the blade against Ben's throat.
“If you're gonna kill me then just fucking do it already.” he spits. All fear has gone from his eyes; now there was just a stone cold determination to save his wife. Lovely.
“Well, I suppose I could kill you, but that would be too easy.” I press harder and blood spills slightly around the wound. I smile at my handiwork before pulling away, letting blood trickle down his throat.
I wrap my arms around Sam; one around her waist, one crossing her chest so the tip of the blade touches beneath her ear. “If I can't have you, then no one can.” I whisper. Tears spill from her eyes.
“NO!!!” Ben yells as I drag the knife from ear to ear, leaving a long thin cut along her neck. Blood spills over the beautiful black satin night gown and I let her go. Her body hits the ground with a dull thud and Ben starts screaming more, tears now pouring down his own face as he watches his wife bleed to death in front of him, powerless to stop it. “YOU SICK BASTARD!” I laugh at his attempts to free himself. “SOMEBODY HELP! HELP!!! HELP ME PLEASE!!!!! YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN TWISTED! YOU'RE SICK AND WRONG! Your family was right to leave you behind.” he hissed as he struck the final blow. I got in his face.
“You leave them out of this. Do you know what this past twelve months have been like, Ben? Do you? It's been fucking hell. Thanks to you.” I raise the blade again and I hear the front door slam open.
“BEN? SAM?” a familiar voice calls.
“IN HERE!” Ben yells. I hear footsteps and the kitchen door opens. I hear a gasp as whoever it is sees the scene in front of them. I turn to see James standing there, a small hand gun in his hand. Luckily for me, he's too shocked by the scene to remember to use it. It drops to the floor and I kick it out of the way.
James was the first one Ben had convinced I was bad. He watches me with a look of intense horror and hatred as I bind him the way I bound Ben, gagging him. All the while Ben is shouting and screaming behind me. I hold him by the chin as I cut his throat too, too make him shut up, if nothing else. I see James pee himself as the blood drains from his best friend, staining his clothes and his kitchen.
I pick up Sam's now lifeless body, carrying her to her bedroom. I lay her on her bed. I stroke her face and her hair. I kiss her cheek. “I love you. Forever.” I whisper. I go back and get Ben. I take him up and lay him beside her. I lay them side by side, holding each other; now they're gone, I finally feel at peace towards them both. I watch them for a few minutes. What a work of art I've spawned. “Goodbye,” I whisper to them as I leave the room, closing the door behind me.
I go through the whole house, turning on all the lights as I go. The postman will find them tomorrow.
The record reaches the end as I leave the house.
I drag James from the kitchen to my car, throwing him in the passenger seat. I rip the tape from his face. I get in the drivers seat and drive away, tearing down the road as fast as this piece of shit will let me.
“Why did you do that?” James said from beside me. I looked at him and saw his eyes were dilated. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins.
“If I can't have her, no one can.” I growl. James started fidgeting.
“And what about Ben?”
“He would have ratted me out. And he was pissing me off.” I hear a click to my right and look to see James holding the tiny hand gun to my neck. He must have picked it up when I was gone. “Go ahead,” I tell him, my hand on my own weapon.
“I'll do it. You know I will.”
“Then do it already.” the gun is shaking from his adrenaline rush and the fear he felt.
I stab him in the gut as he pulls the trigger. He misses me, shooting through the window and causing car alarms to go off. We were nearing the woods right now. I pull out the knife as I pull over on the side of the road. I cut the tape around James' ankles and pull him with me as I grab the spade from the back of the truck.
We walk for nearly fifteen minutes, until we were far enough in the woods that no one could see. James has lost too much blood to stand by now, so I drop him to the floor as I dig a hole in the ground.
“Please don't,” he begs from the ground. His face is soaked by tears and sweat and his own blood. “I won't tell anyone, I swear, just please let me go.” he sobs. The hole is, by now, deep enough to fit him in.
“I'm sorry.” I say as I finish him off, striking him with the spade. I push him in the hole and cover up his dead body. I walk around a hundred yards away and bury the knife. I walk back to the car, ready to leave straight away. My bag was already packed. I left the spade in a bush somewhere.
As I put the key in the car door, I feel a blade press against my own throat. I turn to see my younger sister, Kelly. “No.” I whisper. She's daddy's little girl; she wasn't meant to be another me. I was leaving for her, to get away from everything. She was better than me, she had to save herself.
“It's for the best.” she says. And then I die.
Hey, there, Mr. Bruce.
I drive down the long road alone. My old, beat-up red pick up making far more noise than I want for it to. It doesn't matter, I think. I'll not be back here. I'll do what I came for and leave. Forever.
I reach the house at the end and park the car. I get out and walk around to the trailer. I get my long black leather coat and put it on. It hides the blade I conceal on my belt. I hope I don't have to use it; it's just in case, I tell myself.
I walk up the long, winding driveway to the house. Her house. She lives here now, in this big house now that she's married. Married. The word still stings. The day I received the invite was the day my heart went dark; the day I died on the inside.
I walk around to the kitchen and look inside. I see him. My best friend. Until a year ago I had considered him a brother. Ha! I chuckled darkly to himself. He was never a friend to me; he was never a brother. He never cared for me. He took the everything that I ever truly cared about and never showed a single shred of remorse towards me. His back is to me. I watch as he pours a glass of wine for both himself and for her.
He leaves the room, turning the light off as he goes and I'm left face to face with a murderer.
Yes, a murderer. Each time, I tell myself it's the last time, but in the past the kill has never been fully satisfying. I hope to feed the hunger tonight; achieve the satisfaction I have been aching for.
I look at myself in the window. Chin length black hair framing my face, contrasting against the pale skin of my face. My blue eyes are hard; there is no emotion to be found.
I follow the grounds of the house until I reach the living room. He walks in, handing her the glass of wine as a Gary Moore record plays. Vinyl; he's always hated CD's. Still Got The Blues plays and she puts down her glass as he pulls her into an embrace. He holds her left hand in his right, his other wrapped around her waist and they sway gently as he sings to her.
How sweet, I think as a white hot rage flares in the pit of my stomach. The hunger burns deep inside me and I feel my heart race in anticipation. I check my watch; midnight. She'll be going to bed soon. Once she finishes her glass of wine, she'll head up to bed as he organises things before following shortly after her.
The bay windows in the front room are open, allowing the curtains to billow out. As I crouch there I can smell her on them; her perfume, her natural scent. I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
I'm right. Not even ten minutes later, as she finishes her glass of wine, she heads upstairs saying, “I'm going to call it a night.”
“Okay baby,” he replies. “I'll be up in a moment.” he kisses her and she leaves the room. Ugh; their sugar sweetness is about to rot my teeth, I think. He picks up random glasses and tea mugs left around the room from previously in the day. When he exits, he neglects to close the window and I see my opportunity. I climb in and follow him back to the kitchen.
I walk up behind him as he's washing up their glasses. I don't make a single sound. He sees me as my reflection appears in the window before him. His eyes widen and he freezes where he stands.
“Hey, there, Mr. Bruce.” I growl. He turns around as I slowly, carefully, raise my leather-gloved hand to his throat.
“Danny.” he whispers as my hand makes contact with his neck. My fingers trace the patterns of the tattoos there and along his collarbone. “W-wh-what are you do-doing here?” I see the fear in his eyes and a smile spreads across his face. I feel his Adams apple bob beneath my hand.
“I just came to see you and your oh, so beautiful wife. We haven't spoken in a while, Benji. I just wanted to catch up.”
“Don't call me that.” he chokes out. My fingers spread out and my hand wraps around his throat. I tighten my fingers slowly and his face turns red. “P-please! You don't have to do this!” his green eyes are turning bloodshot, the veins in his temples beginning to protrude.
“Shh. There's no need to cause a scene. We don't want the neighbours coming would we? Wouldn't want their blood on your hands, would you?”
“It wouldn't be on mine; it would be on yours, you sick bastard.” he spits at me. My hatred for him explodes as I throw him to the ground. His dark wavy hair, always a mess, falls in his eyes. He runs a hand through it before jumping to his feet. I grab him and pin him to the floor, my hand spread on his jaw.
“You made me like this,” I hiss. “You. You saw the one thing that has ever mattered and you took it away from me! Just like you did with everything else. Like you took the band; like you took my friends; like you turned my family against me.” I had to keep my volume down; Sam would come downstairs if she heard anything.
“You did that all yourself!” he yells. “You're a fucking psycho, Danny, and everyone can see it!”
“Ben? Ben, baby, what's wrong?” Sam calls as she runs downstairs.
“Now you've done it.” I mutter. I pull the duck tape from my pocket and tape his mouth closed before binding his hands and feet. Sam enters the room. Her eyes first focus on Ben, struggling on the floor, and then slowly travel to me.
First she sees my feet, no doubt recognising the snakeskin cowboy boots I wore; her eyes travel past my jeans, past my belt buckle, up my chest and finally to my face.
“Danny.” she whispers, terror in her eyes. I stroll towards her, withdrawing the knife from my belt.
“One scream...and it's all over.” I warn. She's wearing a short night dress, one I recognise. There's no way she could be concealing a phone on her. I stride past her, tearing the landline from the socket. No way to call for help.
“Why are you here?” she's frozen in place. I couldn't resist touching her. I put a hand on her shoulder and hear her breathing falter. I brush her hair away and lean my face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent.
“I still love you,” I admit, my hands roaming around her waist. “I want you back. And I need him,” I gesture to Ben, still writhing on the floor, with the knife, “out of the way.”
“You can't have me, Danny.” I let her go and pick up Ben from the floor, throwing him in a chair. I tear the duck tape from his mouth and grab her by the wrist, pulling her to me. I hold the blade against Ben's throat.
“If you're gonna kill me then just fucking do it already.” he spits. All fear has gone from his eyes; now there was just a stone cold determination to save his wife. Lovely.
“Well, I suppose I could kill you, but that would be too easy.” I press harder and blood spills slightly around the wound. I smile at my handiwork before pulling away, letting blood trickle down his throat.
I wrap my arms around Sam; one around her waist, one crossing her chest so the tip of the blade touches beneath her ear. “If I can't have you, then no one can.” I whisper. Tears spill from her eyes.
“NO!!!” Ben yells as I drag the knife from ear to ear, leaving a long thin cut along her neck. Blood spills over the beautiful black satin night gown and I let her go. Her body hits the ground with a dull thud and Ben starts screaming more, tears now pouring down his own face as he watches his wife bleed to death in front of him, powerless to stop it. “YOU SICK BASTARD!” I laugh at his attempts to free himself. “SOMEBODY HELP! HELP!!! HELP ME PLEASE!!!!! YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN TWISTED! YOU'RE SICK AND WRONG! Your family was right to leave you behind.” he hissed as he struck the final blow. I got in his face.
“You leave them out of this. Do you know what this past twelve months have been like, Ben? Do you? It's been fucking hell. Thanks to you.” I raise the blade again and I hear the front door slam open.
“BEN? SAM?” a familiar voice calls.
“IN HERE!” Ben yells. I hear footsteps and the kitchen door opens. I hear a gasp as whoever it is sees the scene in front of them. I turn to see James standing there, a small hand gun in his hand. Luckily for me, he's too shocked by the scene to remember to use it. It drops to the floor and I kick it out of the way.
James was the first one Ben had convinced I was bad. He watches me with a look of intense horror and hatred as I bind him the way I bound Ben, gagging him. All the while Ben is shouting and screaming behind me. I hold him by the chin as I cut his throat too, too make him shut up, if nothing else. I see James pee himself as the blood drains from his best friend, staining his clothes and his kitchen.
I pick up Sam's now lifeless body, carrying her to her bedroom. I lay her on her bed. I stroke her face and her hair. I kiss her cheek. “I love you. Forever.” I whisper. I go back and get Ben. I take him up and lay him beside her. I lay them side by side, holding each other; now they're gone, I finally feel at peace towards them both. I watch them for a few minutes. What a work of art I've spawned. “Goodbye,” I whisper to them as I leave the room, closing the door behind me.
I go through the whole house, turning on all the lights as I go. The postman will find them tomorrow.
The record reaches the end as I leave the house.
I drag James from the kitchen to my car, throwing him in the passenger seat. I rip the tape from his face. I get in the drivers seat and drive away, tearing down the road as fast as this piece of shit will let me.
“Why did you do that?” James said from beside me. I looked at him and saw his eyes were dilated. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins.
“If I can't have her, no one can.” I growl. James started fidgeting.
“And what about Ben?”
“He would have ratted me out. And he was pissing me off.” I hear a click to my right and look to see James holding the tiny hand gun to my neck. He must have picked it up when I was gone. “Go ahead,” I tell him, my hand on my own weapon.
“I'll do it. You know I will.”
“Then do it already.” the gun is shaking from his adrenaline rush and the fear he felt.
I stab him in the gut as he pulls the trigger. He misses me, shooting through the window and causing car alarms to go off. We were nearing the woods right now. I pull out the knife as I pull over on the side of the road. I cut the tape around James' ankles and pull him with me as I grab the spade from the back of the truck.
We walk for nearly fifteen minutes, until we were far enough in the woods that no one could see. James has lost too much blood to stand by now, so I drop him to the floor as I dig a hole in the ground.
“Please don't,” he begs from the ground. His face is soaked by tears and sweat and his own blood. “I won't tell anyone, I swear, just please let me go.” he sobs. The hole is, by now, deep enough to fit him in.
“I'm sorry.” I say as I finish him off, striking him with the spade. I push him in the hole and cover up his dead body. I walk around a hundred yards away and bury the knife. I walk back to the car, ready to leave straight away. My bag was already packed. I left the spade in a bush somewhere.
As I put the key in the car door, I feel a blade press against my own throat. I turn to see my younger sister, Kelly. “No.” I whisper. She's daddy's little girl; she wasn't meant to be another me. I was leaving for her, to get away from everything. She was better than me, she had to save herself.
“It's for the best.” she says. And then I die.