Ozy lit a cigarette and looked at Dicky as he was sitting next to Sandy’s corpse. “Nice girlfriend ya got there, sport.”
Dicky didn’t say a word as Ozy walked away and back into his cell. Seth walked over to a wooden crate that was in the center of the chamber and sat down. “I knew Sandy didn’t have it in her to purposely drown herself, but I never turn down a bet from the old man because it makes things around here a little more exciting.”
Dicky noticed Ozy had somehow snuck up behind Seth. His heart was pounding. He knew if the old man could take him down he would have a chance to escape from this hellish place. Suddenly, Ozy wrapped a rope around Seth’s neck and pulled him to the floor. Dicky jumped to his feet and ran to the bars. He could see Ozy and Seth were struggling behind the crate. All kinds of thoughts were running through Dicky’s head. He had to help, but he was locked behind bars. He started running around his cell, looking for things he could throw to Ozy that would help him in his fight. There was nothing but his plastic dog bowl. He quickly stomped it, breaking it into pieces. He picked up one of the broken pieces, then ran back to the bars. He tossed the piece in the air towards Ozy so he could use it as a blade, but it curved as it flew through the air and fell on the floor a long way away. He started to panic, then ran back and grabbed another broken piece of plastic that had a pointed end. He ran to the cell door and started shoving the pointed end of the plastic into the keyhole. He knew if he could unlock the door, he and Ozy could take Seth down. The plastic was just too flimsy. He looked around hysterically, looking for something that could be used to unlock the door. A bone from Sandy’s finger jumped into his thoughts. He dropped the piece of plastic and ran over to her corpse. Without hesitating he snapped her finger off and started ripping the dead flesh from the bone. His heart seemed as though it was going to burst through his chest as he worked the bone in the keyhole.
Snap! The bone broke in half. There were more bones to choose from, he thought. He just needed to get a bigger one. As he was turning away from the door to head back towards Sandy’s corpse, he noticed Ozy had stood up. His eyes got big when he noticed Seth was lying on the floor motionless. He grabbed the bars and shouted. “Kill that son of a bitch! Hey! Make sure he’s dead!”
His heart was pounding as Ozy walked over towards him. “Hurry! Open the door!”
Ozy walked over and sat on Richard’s stuffed corpse.
Dicky was worried the old man had overexerted himself. He looked across the chamber and noticed Seth was still lying on the floor. “Just unlock my door before you rest. Hurry! I will go get us some help.”
Ozy thought for a moment. “I can remember like it was yesterday how Sandy was holding her eyes tightly closed as the water rose in the tub.”
“What the fuck! What are you doing?”
“Hush! I’m talking.”
Dicky looked at Ozy like he was crazy.
“Eventually she started breathing heavily and whispering to herself that she could do it as the water continued to rise. It was just below her eyes. Seth had pulled his chair close to her so he could have a front row seat to the horror. I was smoking my last cigarette as I watched with excitement from my cell. I knew that bitch was going to pull out and win me some more smokes.”
“You got to be fucking kidding me with this shit!”
Laughter broke out in the chamber. Ozy fell back on Richard’s back and started laughing as well. Dicky gritted his teeth when he noticed Seth was sitting up, laughing hysterically behind the crate. Others in the chamber were laughing, but Dicky couldn’t tell where they were.
Seth walked up grinning. Ozy headed towards his cell, and as he passed by Dicky he shook his head. “Damn son, you just don’t have a clue.”
Dicky stared at Seth. “This is just a fucking game to you!”
“Hey, laughing is better than screaming, isn’t it?”
He shook his head as he paced his cell.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would make you so upset.”
“Fuck you, you patronising son of a bitch!”
“Hey, don’t be so mad. At least you had a few minutes of hope.”
He went and sat in his dark corner. “Fuck it!”
“All righty then.” Seth sat in a chair next to the cell. “Back to the gruesome shit. As Ozy had mentioned, the water was almost to Sandy’s eyes. I leaned forward to get closer to her. “In a moment, water will reach your nose and mouth, then we’ll see how bad you want this to end.”
When the water reached her eyes, she held them tightly closed. A couple of minutes later when the water reached her nose, she breathed through her mouth. A minute later when the water reached her mouth she held her breath. I was on the edge of my chair and Ozy was smashing his face through the bars to get a better view as he watched to see if she was actually going to drown herself.
Suddenly she pulled her head out of the water and took a deep breath.
Ozy shook his fist in the air as he shouted. “I knew it! Thanks, Sandy!”
I sat back in my chair as I looked at her. “Do you realize you traded about twenty seconds of pain for years of suffering?”
She glared at me while struggling to hold her head up. “You’re a sick and twisted son of a bitch!”
I grabbed her throat. “If you think I’m sick and twisted, what would you consider a mother who kills her children for dick?”
“Fuck you!”
While she screamed profanity and insults, I grabbed an electric heating element, and after I plugged it into an extension cord I tossed it into the tub. The element heated the water quickly as she held onto the rope with her mouth. A few minutes later, the water started boiling and the rising steam was beginning to burn her back. She could barely speak as she grasped the knot with her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t do this.”
While she fought to hold a knot with her mouth, I reached over with a knife and cut the rope. “No, fuck you!”
She started screaming as the muscles in her stomach strained to hold her head out of the water. The muscles in her neck were sticking out like a body builder’s muscles as she strained with everything she had. Over the course of several minutes her head was getting closer and closer to the boiling water as her muscles were starting to give out. When the back of her head finally touched the water, the intense pain of her scalp being scalded in conjunction with the reality of the horrific position she was in caused her adrenaline to kick in full force, which allowed her to pull her head back up in the crunch position. A short moment later, she screamed out as her body gave completely out and her head splashed into the boiling water.
I will never forget the violent reaction of Sandy’s head bobbing in and out of the boiling water. I could hear her screams even when her head was completely submerged. Her body was jerking around so violently that her head was splashing water all over the floor. Seconds later, she passed out from the combination of the intense pain of being boiled and asphyxiation. While she hung limp, I pulled on the end of the rope and hoisted her from the tub. I was able to revive her, but it took months of special medical treatment for her to recover from the severe burns to her head and neck. She would never be the same after that day. The boiling water had permanently scarred her entire head, neck and face. She lost both of her ears due to infection, and she was blind in both eyes. The massive scarring on her head prevented her from growing hair, so her scalp was mostly bald with just a few thinned-out patches of hair.
Over the next ten years I would drown Sandy on her kid’s birthdays, all holidays and whenever she was strong enough to handle the stress to her body. I came up with a thousand different ways to drown that bitch, and I would make her choose by tossing a dart at a spinning wheel that had them listed. When she wasn’t playing spin the wheel of horror or participating in water sports, I would let her rest in a cell. Eventually she would stop fighting and would lie helplessly as water caused her to asphyxiate. The last part of her life she hung in the cesspool until she died from an i
nfection.”
Dicky stared at Seth with a troubled look because he had heard one horrific story after another and realized there was no boundary to suffering and torment in the new world that he was trapped in. He closed his eyes and started rocking back and forth while sitting on the floor as he tried to clear his mind of the things he had been hearing. Seth turned off the lights as he left the chamber.
Later that night, Dicky eased over to Sandy’s corpse. The main lights were out, but there was a smaller wall-mounted fixture on the adjacent wall. He knew there were cameras, so he nonchalantly put his arm around her back and started ripping through her rotted flesh to gain access to a rib. Snap! He broke one, and now he had something he could turn into a key. Snap! Now he could have a weapon. He eased back to his dark corner where he immediately started grinding one of the ribs on the stone floor. Thirty minutes later, he had made a semi-sharp blade on the end of the rib. He stuck it in his waistband and quickly started making a key with the second rib. He knew the lock was the early Colonial style, and he had seen the skeleton key that Seth used to unlock the door. It wasn’t anything special and knew he only had to get close. He was able to make the barrel by grinding it against a flat stone, and he moulded the key bit by using the edge of a stone. He wanted to see if he could unlock the door, but he held back his urge as Seth could come walking in at any moment. He now had hope, and would wait until the time was right to make his move.
Grease Monkey
The next morning Seth came into the chamber and walked up to Dicky; he was just waking up. Seth sipped his coffee. “Whom do you want to meet next, pal?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Well, I guess we can go ahead and start rearranging your limbs. I’ve been itching to see if I can actually do it.”
Out of nowhere a loud moan caused Dicky to look in the direction of a small steel door that had been installed in the adjacent stone wall.
“Curtis and Fabian. Good choice.” Seth unlocked the steel door, which was approximately four feet tall by three feet wide and it was made of heavy steel with beefed up hinges. When Seth opened the door, it squeaked as dust filled the air; it seemed that it hadn’t been opened for a long time. A putrid smell of rotted ass and feces quickly engulfed the surrounding area, causing Dicky to hold his hand over his mouth to block the foul odor. With curiosity, he leaned his head against his bars to get a better look, wondering what was on the other side. He could only see darkness inside the doorway because of all the dust floating in the air. A minute or so later as the dust started to settle, the dim lighting of the main chamber lit up the first portion of the eerie room. When most of the dust had settled, Dicky could only see the first few feet inside the room, which was covered with what appeared to be dried blood, feces and other grotesque and indescribable things.
Seth stood next to the opening. “Come out.”
Within seconds Dicky could see something moving in the dark, and as it moved towards the light it revealed itself. He gasped as two detestable looking freaks crawled out of the dark and dingy room. They appeared to be human, but were horribly disfigured. Their legs had been amputated at their knees and their arms had been amputated at their elbows. The two beings were chained together with a short chain, and the larger one was dragging the smaller one as it exited the dark room. They both had hundreds of one-inch to two-inch long scars covering their bodies. The ends of their arms and legs, or nubs, were deformed from having to crawl around like animals in the small confined room. Dicky could see they were covered from head to toe with dirt, feces, dried blood, vomit and urine, and their long hair was extremely matted and filthy. Their hair had grown so long their entire heads were hidden. Under the filth, the larger freak had dark hair and the smaller, weaker one, had blond hair. Both of the beings had a metal belt that was secured around their waist and crotch; they sort of looked like medieval chastity belts.
Seth tossed a bag of dog food in the small room. “There’s a special treat for y’all. Now get back in there.”
The larger one turned around and slowly dragged the smaller one back into the dark eerie room. When they disappeared into the darkness, Seth closed and locked the steel door. Dicky stood silently as he looked at Seth in disbelief. Seth walked over to him and leaned up against the bars. “You just met Curtis and Fabian. Curtis is the larger of the two men and Fabian is the smaller one. Both of these men are rapists who have no self-remorse. I read about Curtis in the newspaper about fifteen years ago, and I stumbled across Fabian a few months later on the Internet. Curtis, who is a serial sex offender, made headline news when the husband of his latest rape victim shot him as he was exiting a courthouse. Curtis was on trial for the aggravated rape of a middle-aged real estate agent. He had deceived the woman into thinking he was interested in a house that was for sale, and when she showed him the property, he beat, stabbed, burned, and raped her for over three hours. The prosecution team had tons of undeniable physical evidence, and without a shadow of a doubt they were proving Curtis was her attacker. During the trial the prosecution team was showing pictures of the crime scene and the lady’s injuries to indicate how violent the crime actually was. Justin, the lady’s husband, became upset as the pictures were being displayed, and when he started screaming death threats at Curtis the police removed him from the courtroom.
The next day, as Curtis was being escorted from the courthouse, Justin walked up to him and shot him point-blank in the chest with a pistol. An hour later, Justin was behind bars and Curtis was on the operating table. Curtis had to undergo hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, but miraculously he survived the shooting. For the next few months Curtis remained in the hospital, apparently going through some type of psychological rehabilitation and physical therapy. He claimed he had a loss of memory from when his brain had been deprived of oxygen. To make a long story short, Curtis was acquitted when his attorneys blamed the shooting incident on the judicial system, stating he wasn’t being protected by the police when he was in their custody, especially when they knew that his life was in danger. His attorneys also stated he had a severe mental breakdown and a loss of memory and basic motor skills from his life-threatening experience and injuries. His attorneys stated convicting him of a crime he couldn’t remember would be cruel and inhumane. Curtis didn’t go to prison, but Justin was sentenced to thirty years for premeditated attempted murder. I was aggravated when I finished reading the article, and I became infuriated after I researched Curtis’ criminal background—he had been in and out of prison for sex crimes before this. If our judicial system had done its job years ago when he had stuck his dick in his first victim, Justin and his wife would have never been subjected to this horrible event which destroyed their lives.
When I search his tax records a few years later, I found that Curtis was working at an east Texas oil field. He listed his position as a mechanical technician. That is the politically correct name for a grease monkey who is responsible for keeping moving parts lubricated. I wanted to get a better idea of what kind of person he was, and I wanted to know if he was really mentally handicapped due to the alleged brain damage, so I made the drive to see if I could locate him. After a couple of days of casing out the huge oil field and surrounding area, I learned most of the oil field workers who lived around the area would hang out at a run-down tavern during their off time. The tavern was located next to the property line of the massive oil field, which was nothing more than a dust bowl, and there wasn’t anything else around for miles. The workers were on rotating 8-hour shifts and I didn’t have a clue which shift he was working. No one I asked knew of a Curtis, and his current address was incorrect because it showed he still lived in Amarillo at an apartment complex that had been demolished two years ago. I didn’t want to leave empty-handed, so I threw on a disguise and hung out at the run-down tavern. I blended right in as I sat in the joint, wearing a jumpsuit covered with oil. People were coming and going all hours of the day as I eavesdropped on their conversations while keeping an eye
out for the rapist. The inside of the tavern was dark, which made me feel at ease because I like to keep a low profile, but it was going to make it difficult for me to recognize him if he came in. The tavern closed at two in the morning, so I left around one-thirty and slept in my car that night.
The next day as I was sitting in a booth in the rear section of the tavern, a slightly chubby guy walked in and sat at the bar. The light from the beer signs was enough for me to identify him, but the waitress was calling him Tony. I noticed he kept trying to talk to her, but she was ignoring him as best she could. A jukebox on the adjacent wall was playing some country music and it was making it difficult for me to hear their conversation. I didn’t want to move closer and give up my shadowed corner. I noticed there was an electrical outlet next to my booth. There was a chance that the jukebox was on the same circuit. I took my fork and bent the inside pieces backwards, leaving only the two outside ones. I wrapped a couple of napkins around the handle, then stuck the fork in the outlet, ensuring that one section went in the hot side of the receptacle and the other in the neutral side. I purposely left the fork in place so the breaker could not be reset. The jukebox went out, but so did a couple of beer signs and a pool table light. The guys at the pool table tossed their cue sticks on the table and went back to their seats.
A moment later, the cook walked out of the kitchen and into a closet for a short bit, then went back into the kitchen. Now I could hear everyone’s conversations. I even heard the cook tell another waitress the breaker wouldn’t reset and for her to call an electrician. She walked over and asked some men at a table if they could see what the problem was because they were electricians, but they told her they were I.B.E.W. and that kind of work was for the ratty ass non-union electricians. She shrugged her shoulders as she walked back to the bar area. Now that the drama of the power issue was over, I concentrated on Curtis. He was still sitting at the bar eye fucking the waitress. When she came closer he leaned forward. “Hey darling, come here.”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 27
