“Hey! Everything okay up there?” a muffled voice echoed into the room. It was one of the masked intruders downstairs, but Aiden wasn't sure which.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. He’s just taking forever,” Skull-face lied. He cocked his head and put his hand out for the knife. More quietly, he spoke to Aiden. “Come on, put it down and step away from it.”
The knife shook in his grasp but he held tightly, refusing to give in but unsure what to do next.
“Man, just put it down. I swear I won’t touch you... I'm done, I swear.” Even though the voice seemed calm, Aiden could imagine the wicked grin behind that ugly mask. “If you don’t hurry up and put it down, I can’t even begin to explain what they’re going to do to your sister and dad. Do you really want them to end up like your mom?”
“Shut up!” Aiden growled back. Skull-face was on the defense now. His words almost sounded like he was pleading.
“I’m telling you, Aiden, if I don’t show up down there with you in a few minutes and they come up here and find me dead, they’re just going to put a bullet through your head and then kill the rest of your family.” The words sounded more scared as Skull-face kept speaking. “Put down the knife and we’ll go downstairs, but I have to be in control or it won’t be good for them.”
Thoughts shot through Aiden’s mind. What do I do? If I give him the knife that means I lost, that I can’t do anything to protect Mara or Dad. But if I don’t maybe they will just kill us all anyway. Oh hell!
“You don’t have much time, come on, Aiden,” Skull-face pled with him. “Put it down.”
Aiden stared at the cold red mask. In his hand he held the blade, he gripped it tightly, not wanting to ever let it go. A minute passed in silence. Just the two boys, staring each other down, hoping the other would make a move. He had to. Now he knew it. He didn't know why but something told Aiden that his only way out of this was at the tip of Skull-face's blade. He grimaced at the thought and then, without uttering a word, he dropped the knife on the mattress and stepped back. Skull-face jumped forward and grabbed up the knife and took a few steps back, holding the blade down at his side.
“All right, let’s go.” The confidence in the boy’s voice had returned. He no longer pled or begged.
Aiden dropped his head, looking down at the carpet in defeat. What else was he to do? How could he condemn his sister, his dad? He moved forward and Skull-face matched his step, the knife hanging somewhere behind him.
Shaking less now, Aiden continued forward. He curled his lips angrily. His face burned as he beat himself up mentally. He was doing the right thing. Somehow he knew it, somehow it would work out.
Then a sharp pain spiked through Aiden's back. It shot through his chest. Suddenly it became hard to breathe and each labored breath stung like hell. Shaking, Aiden lowered his eyes. The blade was painted in thick crimson, jutting out below his stomach. He wrapped his fingers around it and stared in horror. His breaths came in short gasps, then he felt moist hot breath on his ear.
“You didn’t think I’d really make it that easy, did you?” Skull-face whispered in his ear, lips brushing against the soft flesh. “I mean you denied me what I wanted. That was a bad boy.”
The blade twisted in his stomach, pain searing through his body, but Skull-face’s words seemed to haunt him more than anything. Abruptly, Skull-face wrenched the blade back with a churning squishing sound. Aiden opened his hands, staring at the bloodied cuts along his fingers where he had held tightly to it a second earlier. His body jarred back against Skull-face as the blade tore out from his back, lacing every fragment of his body in tendrils of pain. Then Skull-face spun Aiden around to face him, but before his eyes could meet the crimson skull mask, he felt the knife slice through him again.
He gasped for air, but found it hard to swallow it down into his lungs. His chest was on fire.
“Plea… Please,” Aiden stuttered between breaths.
The monster tugged Aiden’s body back toward the bed, using the blade still stuck in his chest like the ring in a bull’s nose. The sharp edge nicked and sliced through Aiden's insides. Aiden gulped and groaned as the pain become unbearable.
The bed at Aiden's back, Skull-face jerked the knife out of his chest with a wry smile. Blood splattered across Skull-face's shirt and something thick and grisly fell from the bloodstained blade. He lifted his thin leg and kicked Aiden in the chest where he had just impaled him. Aiden yelped in pain as his body was flung backward onto the bed.
Pain surged up and down every inch of his body, the edges of his vision beginning to go in and out of focus. He blinked. His eyes became heavy, trying both to see and stay awake.
“Now I’ll get what I wanted,” the monster fumed as he climbed over Aiden’s body. Aiden felt suddenly claustrophobic, but he did not have the energy to move or to fight back. It felt like the blade had stolen the fight from his bones as it had been ripped from his chest. He could barely muster the strength to put his hand up, which was quickly swatted away.
“No…” Aiden tried, but the word seemed to fade into nothingness just like his vision. It blurred then cleared and then blurred again.
“Now, since you’re about to die, I want you to know who did this to you,” Skull-face said defiantly. He spoke the words like they meant nothing at all, like death was just another day. “It’s going to be a shock for sure. But you’re such a bitchy prep, so rich with your nice clothes, car and popularity. Your perfect little pathetic family.”
Aiden wrinkled his brow, trying to understand what the boy was saying. Who was he? Aiden struggled to keep his eyes open. The horrid red skull hovered over his face, staring down into his fading brown eyes.
“Ready?” the boy teased. Aiden could barely make out the fingers reaching behind the mask and then a blur as it lifted.
“Wha…” Aiden stuttered.
A flurry of pale red shoulder-length hair fell down and brushed Aiden’s sweaty cheek. The skin was pale, not unhealthy, but white. Familiar forest green eyes shone down on him in a hateful and lustful glee.
“Olly?” Aiden finally managed to get the name out as his vision blurred again, but failed to clear. The pain around his chest lightened just slightly as his breathing became harder. He gasped. Blood choked him and gurgled over his lips. “Oll...”
“Yes, Aiden. It’s me.”
The faint sensation of a hand moving lightly down his chest made him shudder as his vision darkened. He felt a distant tug on his jeans and then the world around him went black and the pain stopped.
CHAPTER 18
It all felt like the world was bearing down on him. The crushing weight of guilt, regret piled atop the loss. Dalton was lost in Lenore’s cold empty eyes. The beautiful sea green circles seemed paler than just moments ago, their vibrancy sinking below the milky depths.
He diverted his gaze to Mara. She looked lost as she looked down into her lap. She rocked gently back and forth with her hands clasping and unclasping, fidgeting. Finally she looked up at him, the fear in her eyes stung in Dalton’s chest.
What have I done?
Dalton didn't bother to give her a doleful grin. He refused to lie to her with some false sense of hope. It sure as hell felt like there would be none of that tonight. Instead he let the frown on his lips, the tears and his sodden cheeks tell her he was sorry. He was sorry for not being home tonight sooner, for not keeping these monsters out of their house. He was sorry for letting it get this far, no matter how little control he had. He was sorry for not being strong enough to stop them, for letting them hurt her. And, he was sorry for not loving her mother, his love, like he should have. The guilt he felt in his heart sent a chill up his spine, one of the many tonight and one he was sure he would relieve daily.
But still he didn't know why it was all happening. And now Aiden was here and in danger like the rest of them. How Dalton wished he would have stayed at Mason’s tonight, avoided all of this. He didn't want to think about what the boy behind the bullet mask had in stor
e for him, or Mara.
I’ve got to do something. But what?
He looked back up just in time for Bullet’s slim figure to pass between him and Lenore’s body. The boy was pacing the floor anxiously. His posture had become stiff and rigid, his words angrier, and Dalton was sure it had something to do with Aiden. That single thought worried him.
“If you came here to hurt us, to hurt me, you’ve succeeded. Why stay?” Dalton begged, his voice coming out pathetic and weak.
The boy continued to pace. Freddie stood stoically just two foot from the sofa arm by Mara. Their demeanors could not be more different.
“Why don’t you just leave?” Dalton asked again.
Freddie took a single step forward, “We’ll leave when we’re ready to leave.”
“But why? What more do…” Dalton started before Bullet cut him off, the rough quality of his voice pushed to the brink by the anger that spat out.
“Shut up!” he yelled. “Shut the fuck up!”
Dalton sat back, more alert, scared by the boy’s outburst.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Bullet paused. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, sorting out what he would say. “We’re here to have a little fun and then leave with a bunch of money. But, you’re beginning to make this no fun at all since you can’t seem to keep your damn mouth closed. It’s a simple request really, shut up!”
“No! You’ve had enough fun. Take whatever you want and leave us alone!” Dalton bellowed back. He was surprised at the strength behind his voice. He felt anything but strong, horrified even of his own words.
Bullet’s black eyes widened behind the lonely holes of his white, and now red-splotched, mask. His lips curled hatefully as he began to shake. Dalton felt the anger building behind that mask. Bullet lurched forward, his curved blade leading the way. Dalton flinched backward, twisting his head to look away.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed tight. He felt the boy’s clammy breath on his ear, the blood-coated blade coming to rest on the side of his neck. Dalton refused to turn, to meet his gaze.
“You know, Dalton,” his voice was quieter, the anger more subtle, but it still lingered under the slow and deliberate warning. “I don’t think you’re in any place to be making any fucking demands.”
Dalton let out a breath he was unaware he had been holding, and it came out in a stutter.
Who is this monster?
Satisfied, Bullet stood up and let the knife rest at his side before stepping back. This time he did not pace. The confidence that had defined him just hours before seemed to have returned.
A thumping noise distracted Dalton from his stupor. He looked upward as did everyone else in the room. Aiden!
Bullet tilted his head to listen just as another thud echoed from upstairs.
“Hey! Everything okay up there?” Bullet yelled, pushing his voice to reach through the walls and ceiling to the next level. A second later the reply came.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. He’s just taking forever.” Skull-face's treble voice came muffled through ceiling. Dalton imagined the thin-framed kid, the freak that had squealed with joy as he water-boarded Lenore. He imagined breaking the boy, cracking his back, letting him writhe on the floor in pain. No. Dalton shook his head. He tried to wipe the image from his mind, hating himself for the desire that had crept up in him. Yet, he could not help but revisit the image. Who could blame him, these kids deserved it.
The alpha male cocked his head sideways. Dalton could see the irritation in his eyes. The boy huffed before speaking under his breath, “He better hurry up.”
An excruciating five minutes passed before the sound of footsteps reached them from the upstairs hallway. Dalton let out a reserved sigh. At least Aiden would be with them again, instead of alone with some stranger.
What took so long, dammit? What had that noise been?
Bullet’s attention shot toward the kitchen where his comrade and Dalton’s son would soon appear. His brow lifted in anticipation. Dalton could not help but wonder about the boy’s interest in his son. Why did Aiden’s entrance seem to cause him such apprehension?
The footsteps quickened as they came to the stairs. Dalton and Mara mimicked Bullet’s gaze. Waiting, worried about the same person as their masked captor.
The sound of the footsteps changed from the tap of shoes on wood to the lighter clinking of shoes on the rough textured tile floor. They were in the kitchen. The footsteps continued and then Dalton saw a boy come around the corner, but it was not Aiden and he wore no mask.
Dalton’s stomach dropped as his eyes were magnetized to a broad sanguine smear that ran across the right side of the boy’s thin face, framed by shoulder-length red hair. It contrasted with his pale complexion. His eyes followed the crimson trail down in stuttered streaks and smears along his neck that changed into nothing more than a dark black stain that covered most of the boy’s black t-shirt. Dalton’s body shook before he could pull his eyes from the stains. He looked back to the boy's face, the same face that had been covered by a demonic red skull just minutes ago, the face that had reveled in torturing his wife and now stood at the precipice of the living room with a wicked grin across his small blood-speckled face. But there was no sight of Aiden.
“Where’s Aiden?” Dalton screamed at the unmasked Skull-face. “What have you done to him?” His body shook in horror and rage as he began to come off of the seat.
“What did you do, Olly?” Bullet yelled, for the first time that night using the boy’s name. He took a step forward and then moved quicker with each step as he bound toward the smiling boy. The smile quickly died to a frown, a nervous glare.
Mara broke down into tears, knowing exactly what the blood meant, who it belonged to. She knew just like everyone else in the room did, even though they refused to come to terms with it. Freddy stepped forward and poked his knife carefully at Dalton’s chest to make him sit back down. He obeyed, but his eyes never left the blood stains.
Bullet reached Olly in a matter of seconds. He gripped his hands tightly around the boy’s small arms and wrenched him off the kitchen platform and up against the beige wall. He smashed Olly's head into a picture frame. Glass cracked and fell to the floor in sharp pieces while the frame and picture of the Summers family from two years back at the beach remained pinned between the wall and Olly’s shoulder.
“What the hell did you do, Olly?” Bullet bellowed at the boy.
As Bullet railed on Olly, on Skull-face, Dalton found himself wishing that Bullet would ram his knife through the boy. He imagined Aiden’s body crumpled on the floor in blood, but quickly pushed the image aside.
“Calm down, calm down, man,” Olly pled, his feet dangling several inches above the ground. “I just did what we were here to do. Have a little fun and kill them all, right?”
Kill them all, right? The words ran through Dalton’s mind. It shot back and forth, blinked on and off like some neon sign affixed to a building out in Vegas. Aiden! He had known from the moment the boy had turned the corner and his eyes had caught sight of the blood, his son’s blood. He had known, but was unwilling to accept its finality, until now. His son was dead, Aiden was dead. He slumped back into his chair, helpless. His body felt heavy, like a leaden weight, useless and doomed to nothing but torment and loss.
“You killed Aiden?” Bullet’s voice shook with rage.
“Yeah,” Olly shrugged. “Right after I had a little fun with him, you know.”
“I told you not to hurt him!” Bullet let his grip on Olly’s arms go and the boy dropped to his feet. The picture frame crashed to the floor, more glass shards sprinkling the tile as the wooden frame cracked and broke into several pieces. Pieces scattered the floor. Bullet punched the wall just an inch beside Olly’s head with a scream. He punched again, and again. Olly jerked and squinted his eyes shut with each blow next to his head.
“Calm down, man, that’s what we came here to do. I can’t help you had a soft spot for the kid. I mean, yeah, he
was a good looking boy, but he was nothing special,” Olly tried again.
Bullet punched out one more time, but this time his fist connected with the side of Olly’s face. The boy stumbled back against the wall. He groaned and cradled his cheek.
“What the—” Olly began before Bullet raised the business end of the pistol in line with Olly’s temple.
“Don’t tempt me right now,” Bullet bored his black eyes into Olly’s, his voice quieter but the rage evident. There was more he wanted to say, Dalton could tell it from the sound of his voice, but he stopped.
Lowering the weapon, fully expecting Olly to keep his mouth shut, Bullet spun around. He eyed Joe first and then faced his remaining two captives. His eyes burnt with rage, his lips quivered.
“What…” Dalton began to ask, his voice quieter than he’d expected, straining to hold back the tears.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Bullet screamed, swinging his hands back and forth furiously. He pressed the thin digits against the sides of his temple and closed his eyes. “Agh!”
Between the holes in the white mask, Dalton watched Bullet’s eyes dart back and forth between him and his daughter. Dalton looked over to Mara, frowning. “I love you, darling. I’m so sorry.”
She simply nodded. It was enough.
Biting his lip angrily, Bullet groaned. “You should be sorry, this is all your fucking fault. All of it.”
The gruff voiced boy started to pace the room, repeating a small path about two yards in length in front of Dalton and Mara. He kept his eyes on Dalton, beaming with rage.
“This is all your fault,” he repeated. He stopped and looked down to the ground, then up to Dalton. “I never wanted to hurt Aiden, I promise you that. Aiden was one of the few good people I knew. He cared. He wasn’t selfish and pompous. He wasn’t just some piece of meat, either.” Bullet’s gaze shot angrily at Olly. The boy shrank back and eyed the floor. Then he retrained his attention onto Dalton.
“He was what's right in this world.” Bullet paused, and then spoke his next few words slowly. “You’re what's wrong with it.”
To Watch You Bleed Page 19
