Page 25

It’s the first morning where it’s warm enough at daybreak to not see my breath as I walk through my gardens towards the dogs’ house in the back of the property. The pack is lazily patrolling the fence line, but when they see me enter their cabin, they come trotting over, wagging their little tails, waiting with little feet taps as I fill their automatic feeder with one of the hundred-pound bags of food from their pantry.

“Sorry guys. I didn’t realize you were getting low on grub.” I say as they file in and wait their turn to eat. “Someone has kept me pretty busy lately. So busy you haven’t had any fresh meat this week.”

The dogs never eat as fast as they are now, their mouths scooping up huge bites. They need a feast too, only breakfast won’t do for them. They need what they are used to getting, warm, freshly cut parts. Human parts.

“I’ll get you something later okay?” I say to them as I leave them to their food. “I have something I need to do first.”

Saying to them the exact thing I thought to myself when I left Lily sleeping in the library, I head down the path from the backyard to the other side of the garden, towards my gazebo. The pit has been calling me for hours since I awoke from that nightmare. The one ghost that lives under the hatch of the wooden structure, that won’t shut up in my head, needs to go.

The stench of rotting flesh, with the sound of the maggots and grubs feasting is intense as I open the wooden door and jump down in the pit.My boots squish in the mess, making horrible squelching sounds that normally wouldn’t bother me, but this morning they do, and I curl up my lip in disgust.

With the warmer weather coming, the insect activity is increasing. It’s good for decomposing the bodies faster, but it’s downright nasty hearing them feast on the remains. Like crispy rice cereal in milk, crackling and popping they devour what I’ve left hidden after the dogs have had their fill.

“Where are you, you motherfucker?” I grunt as I dig through the gooey, dismembered parts.

Kicking piles of bugs away with my foot and feeling them crawling between my fingers as I move the fresher kills out of the way is foul, but a necessity. The one I’m looking for is at the very bottom. The first set of remains have been down here for many years and are long buried under over a decade of my kills.

“Come on you fucker, where is your goddamned fucking skull.” I curse, tossing limbs and heads out of the way, my hands getting coated in the slime and waste, with chunks splattering on my clothes.

Never before have I gotten as messy as I am now, frantically searching through the pit of corpses. I need to find him. I can still hear him in my head, telling me how useless I am, saying the same things to mother as he raped her and took her from me forever. The amount of decomp on me, making me stink, covering me in death is a small price to pay to find him and shut him up for good.

It's his fault I struck my Lily, my princess, my precious flower. It’s his fault I murder and destroy, all of it beginning with the name he bestowed upon me. I dig more, becoming enraged by the panic from the memories of him.

“Hedeon.” I can hear him laugh in my head as I dig. “Destroyer.” He cackles. “Like father like son, my boy.”

“No! No! No!” I scream into the pit, grabbing my head, covering my ears like I did as a child to block out his maniacal laughter as he ruined my life.

“What? You sad that the little useless boy turned into a God?” He continues, his evil hiss sliding through my head like the snakes that guard this garden. “I made you what you are.”

“You fucking did.” I cry out, pulling my hair, shaking my head violently, trying to knock him out of me, but he continues to laugh in that demonic sound that makes my blood cold.

“You’ve finally made me proud, son.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you right to hell!” I scream, dropping to my knees, feeling the fluids ooze through my sweatpants. “Where the fuck are you?”

Maggots and worms crawl up my hands and arms as I dig faster and faster, looking at the faces of the ones who still have skin, tossing them aside. He’s down here deep, but I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I do. He needs to stop, to get out of my head, to leave me alone. Three decades of him making me as evil as he was, ten of those years being after his death at my own hands. I thought doing to him what he did to mother would rid me of him, but all it did was turn the physical monster into a haunting ghost.

Goo drips off my hair, splashing in my face, and without a care in my haste, I wipe it away, smearing more of the nastiness on my skin. The odor is intense as I disturb the pile, gagging me, making me want to vomit for the second time today. Hedeon, the destroyer, who kills with no remorse is sick at his collection and that can’t be.

“No. I will not puke over my own work.” I grunt, throwing a half-eaten torso out of the way, finally exposing the bare bones underneath.

The ones down here the longest have nothing left but the grey and green bones that have long been picked clean. They clatter against each other, rolling around as I swish through them, going deeper.

I’ll know the one I’m looking for, it’s the only one where the facial structure is half missing. The most violent of my kills was him, my first, the one that made me who I am when I enjoyed the sounds of his bones breaking and him finally giving in and crying in pain at the hands of the “useless” boy whose soul he murdered.

When my hands find the sharp edges of him, my fingers slipping through the missing sinuses of his fucking face, I lift him up from the ooze. I hold his skull in my cupped hands like an offering to the gods and scream.

All the hate and the pain comes back as I look at him. He’s nothing more than bone that has had a decade to rot but he still has a face to me. I can still see his evil eyes that match mine. I can still smell his cologne even through the stench of decomposition. I can still see his lips curled up in a snarl as he abused us both.

“Fuck you!” I scream, squeezing the skull in my hands with all my might.

I can hear the bones weakened by time crack and pop as I put my rage into them. I want them shattered, pulverized into dust that will blow away with the wind.

“Out of the pit for you. You don’t deserve to be in here. You deserve worse. You don’t get the honor of existing at all, even with the dead. You are nothing more than waste to be disposed of.”

Still on my knees, covered in the utter filth, I stare into the empty holes where those eyes used to be. It’s like a flash back scene on a movie screen as I fall into them, the image of the skull disappearing, being replaced with him alive and cackling until I pummeled him. I’m dreaming it in my consciousness, lost to the night that made me what I am.

~~~

“Father stop!” I scream at him.

I’m no longer that little boy, afraid of the monster. I’m a man of twenty now. Twenty long fucking years. Eleven of them alone with him, in this house, hiding from his abuse. But no longer will I suffer at his hands. His fists and feet will never again do to me what they have done for so long. His filthy cock will never defile another human.

Those hands that took my mother from me, the ones that have made me bleed more times than I can count don’t deserve to touch anything ever again. He’s losing them tonight.

He’s picked on the wrong boy in the wrong place, backing me into the corner of the kitchen where mother used to sing to me. I can hear her spirit, so soft and sweet, with the love for me pouring out of her.

“Aww little boy wanna play big?” He sneers, spitting in my face, holding the front of my shirt in his fist, shaking me, or at least trying to.

I’ve glowed up. I’m no longer the scrawny thing he tossed around. I’m bigger now. I have muscles that I’ve been training for years, just waiting for the day I can use them for what I developed them for. My eyes are no longer soft, and the hate in them mirrors his. I can do this; I can finally put him in his place.

“I am big. Or haven’t you noticed I’m bigger than you now.”

“You’re still a pathetic piece of shit, just like your mother was.”

The roar that escapes my mouth could shake down the house. It bellows out of me with so much force his eyes draw in and for a single moment I see something other than disgust in them. I see pride, and it makes me sick. I would rather he hate me, than be proud of me for becoming him.

As I look into those eyes, I can see the night he took mother from me. She was bent over backwards on the counter right behind where he stands now. He was grunting and panting so grossly as he fucked her against her will. The rape and the hurt he caused her killed her way before he grabbed the knife off the cutting board and drug it across her throat while shouting at her to shut up. I can smell her blood all thick and red pouring down her front as he came inside her, defiling her even in death. I was hiding in the pantry, after she screamed at me to run.

“Run H! Run baby!” She had cried out in pain as he drug her to the kitchen.

I couldn’t go though, I couldn’t leave her, but I was too little, too scared to go against him, and like a pussy I hid, watching him do the vilest things to her, then killing her and tossing her corpse to dismember onto the very place where she cooked my meals with all her love.

“Fuck you!” I scream in his face. “Fuck you right to hell!”

I grab his wrist and squeeze as tightly as I can, hearing the bones crunch in my grasp. His eyes widen and he takes a step back, which only gives me the room I need. I swing my forearm up, releasing his grip from my shirt, twisting his arm, and I push him backwards.

His ass hits the cabinets, his back arching over the counter. He’s right where he did her dirty, and now, fucking now, I’m going to do the same thing to him.

“You like beating and raping women? Turning something pure into a whore just for you? You like seeing them cry and beg? Well, now you’re gonna beg me motherfucker.”

He grabs at me, his hands flailing and grasping but I’m too strong, and too fast as I grab his legs, lifting him, throwing him onto his back on the butcher block counter top.

“You wanna be butchered where you butchered her? Where you cut her throat, where you cut her up into tiny pieces to be thrown away with the trash?” I scream in his face, leaning over him, pinning him down with my body weight.

My hands dig through his hair, grabbing his head, slamming it to the counter over and over again as he bucks and fights under me. He’s strong, but I’m stronger now. I’m a man. A fucking angry man on a mission to finally take back what he took from me.

“I fucking hate you! You evil piece of shit!”

His scalp breaks first, the blood pouring out over the wooden surface where her blood spilt. It’s not enough, I need more, more destruction, more…everything. His face shatters, with his nose flattening as I headbutt him, cracking my forehead so hard I see stars. Still, it’s not enough, and my fists pummel him over and over again, his cheeks sinking in, his face being obliterated.

The sound of my pants hitting the floor, and his following is the pinnacle, the point of no return.

He screams out loudly as I lay on his body, his head swimming, keeping him down enough from the concussion and fractures that he can’t stop me from taking my dick and shoving it in his ass.

I’m a virgin, never having touched a woman yet, and the first thing besides my fist that I’ve driven my cock into now, is him. It’s fitting. He took my youth and now this. Although he’s not taking it, I’m giving it willingly so he can truly see what it feels like to be violated by the one who’s supposed to love you but really despises you.

I fuck him hard and raw. He’s dry, and I can feel the skin splitting as I ram up inside him. His screams are as loud as mine as he bellows out in physical pain, and I roar in emotional anguish. It’s filthy, it’s wrong, and it hurts me too, but I need it, I need to fuck him the way he fucked her. I just wasn’t expecting to enjoy the pain. I didn’t think it would make me hard or bring me to a climax, but the sheer terror and hurt in his twisted face makes me cum violently in his asshole that bleeds so beautifully all over me.

It's as euphoric as the wave of pleasure that sweeps over me as I grab a knife form the chopping block and drag it across his throat, opening him up like he opened her. He slides down, his feet trying to touch the floor, to escape, but it’s futile. The reaper is reaching out his bony hand for him.

He gurgles and spits red saliva all over my face as he dies, his body finally falling slack, being held up by nothing more than my still pulsing cock. It’s not over, but for now as I growl in appreciation of the vacant look in his eyes, I already feel the change in myself.

“Fuck.”

~~~

I’m crying like that little boy, and like that young man as I climb out of the pit like a zombie coming from their grave. Covered in filth, blood, decomp, and insects, I pull myself up onto the deck of the gazebo with the skull in my disgusting hand.

“H?”