The Devil's Confession

by Simon King

  I jumped down from the cart, dropped the butt to the ground and stomped it out.

  “What do you want?” I asked, slowly stepping away from the cart. He just stared at me, continuing to slowly advance towards me. “I think my dad is coming soon. To check on my work.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be coming along soon. Just as soon as I finish my morning poke around. You know, Harry, I’m a good cop. I need a very good poke around. To make sure everything’s all good.” He smiled, as if he’d just told himself a funny line. My heart was pounding, fully aware of this prick’s intention.

  “I don’t want to,” I tried, but again his smile gave his intentions away.

  “Put your hands on the back of that cart, you hear me?” He unlatched the buckle of his pistol and I did as he ordered, his eyes never leaving mine. “If I see them move, Rabbit.” He nodded, as if to clarify his point.

  He finally came up behind me, grabbed a handful of my hair and ripped my face into his. “Oh, you are getting big, aint ya?” he said, his breath stinking of stale beer. He reached around the front, undid the button of my pants and let them drop around my ankles. I felt his hand wet my arse with his spit and prepared for the pain that always followed; that tearing scream of agony that he would always force into me.

  But instead of pain, I only heard a loud thud beside me, a groan as his hands slid heavily from my shoulders. I looked beside me and saw Royce crumpling to the ground, an open cut above his right eye.

  For a moment I was completely surprised, unsure of what had happened. I thought he must have lost his balance and fallen. Or maybe the cunt had finally had a heart attack and was in the final stages of life. The expression on his face was one I would have given my left testicle to see again. It was a mixture of shock, pain and arrogance, as if he was ready to kill who ever dared to strike him.

  Something suddenly whistled past my ear and when I looked down at Royce, saw half of his bottom lip hanging down, fresh blood oozing from where it had once been attached. There were also holes where a couple of teeth had lived only seconds before. The sound of whatever had hit him was gratifyingly solid.

  I turned to see my father standing almost beside me, a freshly-sawn piece of 4x2 in his hands. He wielded it like a bat and as I watched in horror, swung it a third time, the strain from his effort morphing his face into a grimace.

  The piece of wood smashed on top of Royce’s head; a piece of scalp torn off. It was caught on one side of his weapon, dangling as Royce let out a low moan. My father turned to me as I stood frozen in place. For a moment I swear I saw something in his eyes, like contentment. He looked as if he’d righted a wrong.

  “Here,” my father said, holding out the piece of wood to me. “Finish this cunt off then bury him.” He held the club out to me and when I didn’t grab it, thrust the end of it into my chest.

  I took it and watched as he walked away. He never turned back and once he disappeared into the trees, turned my attention to the writhing bloody coward lying at my feet. He was looking up at me, one eye drenched in blood. But he saw me with the other eye and that was all I needed.

  “Harry,” he began, holding one hand up. But that was as far as he got. I swung the piece of wood as hard as I could and brough it down onto his balls. He tried to shield them with one hand, but only managed to add a couple of broken fingers to the list.

  I felt something then, something waking up inside me. I swung the bat again, aiming it for one arm that was held up in front of his face. The corner of the wood broke his forearm, the snap sounding like a dead branch. There was a warmth somewhere deep inside me, like a hot bath, only, it felt more than that.

  I swung again, hard, aiming the piece at his face, his nose instantly crushed from the blow. Royce’s head went limp and dropped to the ground, his fingers grabbing handfuls of dirt on either side of him. I swung again, the loud thud echoing through the trees. His eyes were rolling in their sockets and I swung again, aiming for one. There was a crunch and when I pulled the bat back, saw that I had crushed the side of his eye socket, the ball now sticking out much further and staring off into the distance at some weird angle. I soaked up his moans, loving the sound of his pain and fear, then swung again. The eyeball burst, sending its gelatinous insides across his blood-stained cheek.

  “This is for every,” BANG, “time,” BANG, “you hurt me, you son of a bitch,” BANG.

  I could see brain oozing from one spot where his scalp had torn away. The bone had been crushed beneath it and I bent down, Royce continuing to slowly twist this way and that. He couldn’t see me now, both his eyes obliterated.

  “What’s wrong rabbit?” I asked, kneeling beside him. I don’t know whether he was still alive, but there was still movement. I dipped my fingers into his brain and scooped a little out. I looked at it sitting on my finger, then tasted it. James, that taste. It was so different to the ear from the kid at school.

  I dropped the piece of wood beside him, picked up an arm and pulled it towards my mouth. I could feel him resist a little and that’s when I knew there was still a little life left in him. I put my teeth against the flesh of his forearm, paused for a moment, then bit. He tried to pull away a little, but there wasn’t enough strength left in him. I bit down harder and harder, feeling the hot blood fill my mouth and run down my chin.

  I felt my teeth come together and pulled his arm away from my mouth, as if I was chewing on a drumstick. There was a deep, gurgled sound coming from Royce, from somewhere deep inside his chest. I think it was a scream, but I’m not sure. What I can tell you, and a little ashamedly, was that I became aware of my erection at that point.

  It was the taste of his blood that brought it on, and the more I chewed, the harder it got. I continued to bite chunks of flesh from his arm, feeling the throbbing in my pants grow stronger and stronger.

  I finally bent down, put my lips on his throat and felt the irregular pulsing beneath. I felt him jerk a little as my teeth sank in and then relax as a heat not only washed over my face, but also inside my pants. It was the first time that I truly realized what I was.

  3.

  If you think that I just had some kind of homosexual moment, then I’m sorry to say that you’re mistaken. Although the thought had crossed my own mind at the time, I soon realized that it was the blood that did it for me. It was the warmth of it, the taste of it. Feeling that heat in my mouth was incredible. I don’t know how or why, but as I buried that fucker in the hole I’d dug, I knew that Royce wouldn’t be the last. Not by a long shot. I needed to taste that heat again, and I didn’t care how.

  4.

  It was almost dark by the time I returned home. My father was sitting at the kitchen table, an open bottle of suds before him. I walked in through the back door and just stood there, waiting for the questions to start. But there were none; not then, not ever.

  After standing there for at least a full minute, my father suddenly looked up at me.

  “Get upstairs and wash up. Then make us some dinner. There’s some rabbit in the fridge.” I stared at him for a brief second, but his attention was back on the bottle sitting before him. He took a swig as I walked up the stairs, the confusion of that day never leaving me.

  5.

  I don’t know what the hell was wrong with him, but my father was a strange creature. More often than not, he would be this cold and callous arsehole that would hit me, throw shit at me or just yell abuse in my direction. But there were a few times where he would show a small hint of his relationship to me.

  It wasn’t often that he did nice things, but when he did, I remembered each of them. Sometimes, what would start out as a nice thing, quickly turned into a painful experience for me, my father luring me into a false sense of security.

  That’s what happened the day I met Loui. More about him in a moment. That day, my father seemed to acknowledge his wrongdoing for a beating he’d dished out to me the night before. I don’t even know what the hell I did wrong, other than to serve him his dinner. I’
d made beans, not one of my best attempts, but it was food and I was hungry.

  When I handed him the bowl, sitting in his lounge chair, he took a look at the steaming pile, looked up at me, then knocked the bowl flying from my fingers. In the brief moment before his fist smashed into my mouth, I remember thinking how he hadn’t been drinking at all that day.

  What I do know, is that the day had been a strange one, because it was the anniversary of my mother’s death. She had been dead 8 years by then, just a distant memory that began to fade from my mind with each passing day. This prick had robbed me of her, had taken her from my life and given me nothing but pain in return.

  It was also my 14th birthday and I think the combination of the 2 things had affected him. Of course, there was no acknowledgement for the birthday; there never was. It was his complete denial of everything that used to anger me the most. He was a sadistic fuck that didn’t care about anything.

  As his fist mashed my lip, he rose out of the chair as fast as a jack rabbit, followed me as I flew against the wall and hit me again. He didn’t utter a single word, just continuing to hit me. I tried to protect myself as best I could but there was not a lot I could do. I was just a skinny kid and he was a lot bigger than me.

  After he’d had his fill of abuse, he returned to the chair and just sat there, staring into the fireplace. I painfully picked myself up and stood staring at him for a moment. I wanted him dead. I wanted to smash his head open the way I did Royce Packard. I wanted to rip his fucking heart out and show it to him before he died.

  But there would be no killing that day and I painfully made my way up the stairs, closing the door behind me as I went to my room. That night was one of the few times I cried. I cried for my mum, missing her sweet smile. I cried for Eddie and me, stuck in a living hell with a cunt that cared about nothing. But most of all I cried because of the helplessness of the situation. There was no way that Eddie and I would ever escape from this place.

  6.

  I didn’t come from my room until almost one, the next afternoon. I didn’t hear my father leave, but the door slamming open on his return is what woke me. He came crashing up the stairs like a charging bull, the footfalls making my room shake. He didn’t hesitate when he reached the top, banging my door open and almost running inside.

  I sat bolt upright, shocked awake and waited for him to come at me. But he never did. Instead, my father had this strange grin on his face, one that looked almost apologetic.

  “Come on, Harry. Get dressed and come into town with me. Got something special for ya.” He gestured for me to follow and I slowly climbed out of bed. I’d slept in my clothes the previous night so just slid into my boots. My father continued to grin at me as I nervously stood and walked towards him. I could smell the alcohol on his breath and knew he’d be at his unpredictable worst.

  “Where we goin’,” I asked quietly, but he only flashed his wider grin at me, blackened teeth shiny with spittle.

  “Got a surprise for ya, kiddo. You’re a man now, you know. 15 years old and a man.” I didn’t bother correcting him. If he thought I was 15 then that would mean I could leave sooner than expected.

  He continued pushing me towards the door, then out and down the steps. He had a spring in his step, clearly excited about something. I didn’t know what, but it wouldn’t be long before I did.

  7.

  It was Rita’s he took me to, a kind of pub, but many of the whispers I’d heard about the place said it was more of a whorehouse. I’d sat across the street from it once and watched as many of the town’s men would shuffle in and out of the place, sometimes staying only half an hour or so.

  My father pushed me down the side of the building instead of through the front doors. There were a couple of old rundown shacks behind the main building and it was into one of these he ushered me. A woman greeted us, one who’d last seen prettiness in the mirror a couple of decades before.

  “This is him, my boy,” my father said as he closed the door behind us. The woman stared at me for a moment, her own mouth working something inside it.

  “Every been with a lady, Harry?” she asked and I shook my head. I was nervous, really nervous. She stank of stale piss, alcohol and tobacco smoke, all rolled into one unsightly package. I looked nervously at my father but he was focused on the woman.

  “Why don’t you go into that room there and wait for me. I won’t be long. Just have to chat to your dad for a bit.” She pointed to a door behind her and I snuck past her as she continued to eye me off, her beady eyes never leaving mine.

  8.

  The room stank as much as she did. There was a single bed in the corner and nothing else. A stained mattress sat on top of it, no bedding to speak off. The stains completely covered the mattress from top to bottom and I knew I didn’t want to lay on it. Fuck, I didn’t want to be in the same room with it.

  I was about to turn back for the door but it suddenly opened and the woman came in. She was followed by my father who was carrying a chair. Seeing him come in with her only served to inject my nerves more. I didn’t know what these two had planned but the sooner it was over with the better.

  “Time to become a man,” my father said as he set the chair down in the far corner. He sat in it and watched me with that same weird grin of anticipation.

  The woman cupped my cheek in her hand and pulled my eyes to hers. I was so caught up in the moment that I damn near jumped when Eddie spoke.

  “Just let her do her thing and get it over with,” he mumbled from somewhere in the darkness. Neither of us really knew what to expect and so simply followed the woman’s lead.

  The woman sat on the edge of the bed, grabbed my hand and slowly pulled me towards her. She took a quick peek past me, no doubt looking at the man paying her for this, then returned her attention to me.

  Her hand slowly crept up to the top of my pants and after popping the buttons, took my dick out and let it hang freely. If you’re thinking there was a highly-charged sexual energy in the room, let me burst your bubble.

  For one, the stink of stale piss and alcohol was so strong that I struggled to breathe properly. There was also the ever-increasing cloud of tobacco smoke from my father, busy chain smoking behind us. Then there was the filthy bitch sitting before me, her cracked lips and ragged hair just the beginning of her appeal.

  Her nostrils had scaly skin on them, as if she’d had a cold recently. When she took her top off, her tits hung all the way down on top of her substantial fat roll and the stink of sweat was strong enough to overpower the rest of the odours.

  She pulled my pants down to my ankles and leaned back a little, as if taking in the sight before her. Her eyes turned up towards me and I ashamedly looked away. I didn’t want her seeing my repulsion, hoping for her to be quick with me.

  I heard a noise behind me, the chair creaking loudly, but didn’t turn to look. I wasn’t sure why he was in the room anyway, the sick cunt already unpredictable. I didn’t want him pissed at me, so remained facing the shuttered window.

  Her hand reached behind me, grabbed a butt cheek and pulled me closer, her face now inches from my dick. Then, to my horror, she smiled, showing a row of blackened teeth that I could smell from above her.

  Before I had a chance to react, she made my dick disappear into her mouth, the warmth instant and horrifyingly pleasant. I didn’t want to upset her by remaining placid, so began to imagine me tasting her flesh, biting a chunk out of her breast before tearing the thing off. I imagined her blood flowing over my hard dick, then felt the throbbing begin as her lips and tongue continued to work me.

  She paused, pulled her head back and inspected my tool again. It had grown substantially, standing at attention before her, throbbing a little every few seconds. I heard the creaking again, but remained still.

  “My, my, you are a big boy, ain’t ya?” she croaked, then resumed sucking me, both her hands now reaching around and squeezing my butt. It actually began to feel nice. But just as I was sure something was
about to happen, she stopped as suddenly as she began, pulled me down onto the bed and began to rip my clothes off.

  That was the first chance I had to steal a look at my father. Although the room was quite dark, the thick curtain blocking most of the daylight out, I could make out a shape sitting in the corner. He was sitting right back in the chair, one hand inside his pants and working whatever he was packing.

  “What the fuck, Harry?” Eddie suddenly whispered. “Is that cunt wanking himself? That sick fuck is getting off on this.” I tried to remain composed as the woman suddenly took one of my hands and pulled it towards the bed. I closed my eyes to block her swaying tits from my view, but opened them again when I felt something around my wrists.

  I looked up to see her winding a piece of rope, first around one wrist and then around the other. Within seconds I was helpless, tied like a condemned animal. I tried to pull out, but she cupped my cheek again, trying to calm me.

  That was when she straddled me, grabbing my dick and pumping it a couple of times.

  “Such a big boy,” she hissed, licking her cracked lips as she rubbed the head of my dick against some wet spot between her legs. That was when I caught a sniff of something so bad, I thought I was going to vomit.

  It was like rotten fish and I swear it came from her bush. To say I was repulsed was an understatement.

  “Want me to put it inside, Harry?” she cooed at me. I could hear my father moving about and when I stole a look, saw him pulling his own dick out.

  “Man up, kid,” he panted. There was something in his voice, a kind of hope, that didn’t fit to the situation. I suddenly felt an intense heat envelop my shaft, then felt her weight drop down on me.

  “You like that?” she whispered.

  “You think I like smelling your rank sweat, bitch?” Eddie suddenly whispered and I closed my eyes to block out the scene before me.

  The woman begun to rub herself back and forth, weirdly trying to gyrate her hips this way and that. Only it wasn’t doing anything, her size not helping the cause. Her pace quickened, as did her breath, and when I was sure she was going to start screaming, she began to shudder.