Killing Room

by Shawn Raiford

He moved to a desk on right, positioned himself in front of the huge pot. Then he said, "Ah, the meat is coming off the bone nicely,” he said. “This skull will be a nice addition to my collection."

  Skull? Collection?

  After a few seconds, he moved over to the table and hunched over and stared at Rose. Got real close to her. Then Edward asked, "Are you ready to scream?"

  Chapter Twenty

  With the hammer

  EDWARD REMEMBERED THE NIGHT he decided to kill his father.

  He had been working the graveyard shift as a security guard for a shopping center on the westside, near the mall. He liked it, it was easy and he got paid well.

  His father had gotten sick. Flu or something. He said that one of the whores he had gave him something. After work, Edward hated going home because he didn't like his dad's complaining. In fact he had been planning on killing him for a while. Since his mother's death, Edward had slowly remembered the things his dad did to him growing up.

  Cigarette lighter burns on his shoulders and back. The punches to his face. Over the years his dad had broken his nose a dozen times. Many other things were done.

  It happened on a Tuesday morning when he got home from work.

  Already awake and bitching about something, his dad was lying on the couch under a blanket. "Eddie, why is so fucking cold in here? Don't you see that I'm sick?"

  It was April and seventy-nine degrees outside. "Dad, it's not cold. Stop complaining like a woman!"

  His father's head shot around and he stared at him. "Fuck you! I ain't no goddamn woman! You little pissant! I made you and I can end you!"

  That line actually made Edward laugh. Although his father was not a little man, he stood at six foot two, and before he got sick, he weight two-hundred twenty pounds. But now, after losing so much weight, he weighed around a hundred-ninety pounds. He barely ate; he only like having breakfast.

  "Go in there and cook me some fucking breakfast! Eggs and bacon, and toast," said his father. He started coughing violently. A trashcan sat next to the couch, which he spat mucus into. "Goddamn it, that fucking hurts my chest."

  Edward went into the kitchen to cook breakfast because he was starving and wanted bacon and eggs too. He got the food from the fridge and put everything out on the countertop, then his father entered. "I need you to take to my doctor's appointment after breakfast."

  "No, after I eat, I'm going to bed. I tired."

  His father stood up and scowled at Edward. "You son of a bitch, you better take me! I am hurting and I need some medicine or pain pills."

  "No, you didn't tell me about your appointment with the doctor yesterday. You can reschedule it, but make it after two pm. That way it gives me time to sleep after work."

  "You goddamn pussy! Men don't need any sleep. When I was your age, I came home ate dinner, then went out to a bar. And if I got lucky I got some tail. Some nights I didn't go to bed until two or three in the morning, but I always got up and made it to work. Because I'm a real man! Not like you fuc—"

  He punched his father in the nose, hard in the face. That was it. He was so tired of his father being alive. He was tired of getting his medicine, cooking his meals, being his fucking maid.

  Dragged the useless old man down to the basement and tied him up to a chair, fetching a hammer and a chisel.

  "What the hell is going on, goddamn it?" his dad demanded when he woke.

  "You used to hit me. Do you remember?" Edward asked.

  "What the fuck are you crying about?"

  "When I was a little boy, you used to hit me. You also burned me with your cigarette lighter."

  "Well, that was to toughen you up. You were such a little pussy. With your crying."

  Edward thought that's what kids do, until they get older. "Do you think I'm a pussy now, dad?"

  His eyes moved to the hammer and chisel in Edward's hands. He shook his head. "Hell no! I raised a man. A goddamn man, I tell you!"

  "And you? Are you a pussy?" Edward asked.

  His dad's face contorted. "What kind of question is that? Of course I'm not a pussy!"

  "You've been sick and complaining, worse than mom ever did."

  "That's bullshit!"

  Edward put the end of the chisel on his dad's pinky toe and hit the end with the hammer. The digit popped off easily.

  His dad yelled at him. "You better fucking stop it! I'll killing you, you ungrateful little son of a bitch!"

  He took his time removing various body parts, finally killing his father three hours later. Edward used the hammer on his face and teeth, cutting off his finger tips, then buried the body in the backyard.

  His father's screams did nothing for him; it was disappointing.

  At the moment, Edward didn’t care about Rose screaming; he would make a movie staring her soon enough.

  All he could think about was making Kathleen scream. He was excited to have her here. He didn’t know where to start cutting. Legs? Chest? Back?

  Something else came to mind besides Kathleen’s screaming. Having her skull. It will be the most beautiful one in my collection. A couple of years ago, Edward realized skulls began accumulating around his house. There was no way he was getting rid of them; they were his property. Besides the movies, he liked looking and touching them.

  Edward came up with the idea to dig a display room under the garage. Away from prying eyes. With a shovel and a few five gallon buckets he dug out a small room all by himself. He dug out approximately eight-hundred cubic feet. Even though his size and strength were a benefit for such labor-intense work, it still took him several days.

  To support the walls, he brought in numerous center blocks and lined them up against each wall. He stacked them from the floor to the top, using Liquid Nail between the blocks, and filling the holes with Quikrete. Four by fours were used to make the ceiling. Old pallets were broken down and the boards were used for flooring. Home Depot shelving was easy to install. Two of the four walls were almost filled with skulls. Next to his mother’s skull, he would put Kathleen's skull; it would be his most treasured possession.

  Before Kathleen and her sissy husband, Christopher, moved in next door, he had no problems having his killing room down in the basement; it was convenient. Mrs. Kelly was old and deaf. At night, Edward would observe the old bat through her bedroom windows when she changed into her nightgown. The least attractive woman alive, the old bat was seventy-nine years old, her wrinkles had wrinkles. He observed her through the window due to the convenience of her living a few feet from his house. Edward wondered how she would scream if he cut her old, wrinkly fingers off, one at a time. Or he was curious to know how it be to peel off all that loose skin. He never took her, because she wouldn’t have lasted at all. Just waking up on his table would have given her a heart attack.

  Ever since Mrs. Kelly sold her house to the Hendersons last year, Kathleen had been a pain in his ass. He would definitely mount her skull with his mothers. He might even add some track lighting.

  He turned to face Kathleen. She was sitting up against the wall, staring at him; her nose was bloody from all the punches. Perhaps I could just get her movie started!

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Copper and pork part II

  THIS LUNATIC PLANNED ON making me scream by flaying various parts of my body like that poor woman in Barry’s movie.

  Hope springs eternal, though. In my book, you weren't done until you were actually done. Until your heart stopped beating, you still had a chance. Life might suck, but it is the only one you get. Fight until you can't anymore.

  Since Edward knocked me out, there was no way to know exactly how long I was out. Kathleen could've called 911. Or Henry called and she told him our location. They could just be outside, ready to send in SWAT.

  In the meantime, I needed to work on freeing myself; I needed to get an arm loose. But I did not see how I could possibly get any part of my body free; he had me secured pretty good. Based off the number of heads on the shelf, and the ones he sex
ually violated in his alone time, the psycho has had a lot of practice of securing his victims.

  Then it hit me, the smell was overpowering; the deathly stench of copper and pork propelled me to a time when my foster dad, Kenneth Parnell, and I would trap animals out in the woods. At first, I hated it, but over time I became numb to the gruesome, vile things he made me do to them. He made me severe: legs, tails, ears, and even genitalia. Not to mention the countless stabbings and burning of body parts. During my time with the Parnells, he made me kill dozens and dozens of animals.

  Now I just killed monsters. But my future ability to do that was in serious doubt; this might be it for me. My life depended on Kathleen getting word to Henry or the cops—a simple call decided if I lived or not.

  Edward stood up straight, his eyes narrowing. He appeared to be in his mid forties and looked like he ate linebackers for snacks. He asked, "Why are you here?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry, I got lost, I was looking for a Bed Bath and Beyond. Can you help a girl out?"

  He held up my Ruger pistol, ejecting the magazine and emptied the bullets into his hand. "You normally go shopping with a gun?"

  "Uh, this is Texas, I don't go to the bathroom without a weapon.”

  Dumping the bullets into a small trashcan, he grabbed the magazine and bending it, making it useless. Next he took the gun apart. Everything then went into the trashcan.

  Racked my brain to remember if I had another handgun in my car, but I didn't have one. All the weapons were taken out of my car when I cleaned it yesterday.

  Something buzzed.

  Edward reached inside his pocket, pulling out a cell phone. He ran a thumb across the screen and put it up to his ear. "Hey, cousin!” He brought his eyes over to me, listening to the phone.

  "Yeah, I got her right here.“

  Who is he talking to?

  Edward listened some more. "Okay, hang on," he said. He pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at it. He stabbed the screen with a meaty finger.

  "Hello!" said a male voice over the speaker.

  Fuck! I recognized that voice.

  "Can you hear me?"

  "Yeah, we can hear you," Edward answered.

  It was Barry Olsen.

  "Rose, you there?"

  I said nothing. If I survived this, Barry would pay. I

  "She can hear you," Edward replied.

  "Hi, Rose! How are you doing, baby?" he asked. "It's me, Barry! You miss me?”

  My innards twisted. I should've put a bullet in his head. This human human shit-stain cannot be allowed to live.

  "Once you me go, I made it to a phone and called my cousin. I told him about you."

  Edward said nothing.

  "He's going to record your performance and send it to me. I'm sure you'll be great!“

  Another voice came over the line. But much lower. “Barry? Where are you?" Sounded like a woman?

  Barry replied, "Jesus fucking Christ, Mom! You're not dying! Yet!"

  Edward laughed. He leaned over, and whispered in my ear, "That's my Aunt Shelley. She lives down the street from me. She and my mom were sisters.“

  Difficult to think that men like Barry and Edward had real-life mothers and aunts, who gave birth to them and loved them. Surly, Barry was an evolutionary accident born of the sewer and Edward the product of some evil governmental lab experiment. But they indeed had mothers and those mothers had been sisters.

  "Where are you, Barry?" his mother asked, her voice much louder as if she got on another phone inside the house. "Barry, I need my pills."

  "Be quiet, Mom!" he shouted. "Get off the phone, I'm talking to Edward!"

  "Oh, hi Eddie. It's your Aunt Shelby," she said cheerfully.

  "Hello Aunt Shelby," Edward said.

  She said, "Bye bye now."

  "Bye," Edward said.

  So, Barry lived with his mommy? And she wasn't far from Edward's house. I figured that I could mess with him. At the very least, it would make me smile before I died.

  "Barry, you still live with your mommy? Are you still having sex with her? If you are, don't bother with wearing a condom."

  "What did you say bitch?" Barry asked.

  "Well, your mother is too old to get pregnant. And you know what, I'm sure most condoms will fall off such a little pecker!"

  "You bitch!" Barry said.

  Since it might be my last dig into anybody, I kept going. "I bet you liked it when your mommy made you do things to her special place with your mouth. What she did to you back then was rape, but now, willfully having sex with your mother isn't rape or illegal, it's just disgusting. You're one sick puppy, Barry!"

  "Fuck you, bitch! I don't live with her, I am visiting," Barry replied.

  It made sense if she lived near Edward and I let him go just outside his house. He was probably relaxing, eating his mother's food and watching her TV. Thinking of that just made me angrier so I kept digging. "So, you're helping your mom get dressed? Wow, you're such a nice son," I said. "Maybe you should get dressed too you fucking deviant! Are you recording this special moment with your mommy?"

  "Edward!" Barry yelled through the phone.

  He brought the phone up to his mouth. "I'm here."

  "I want you to make it hurt!"

  Staring at me, Edward's eyes glowed. "I will."

  "You remember that girl I got you awhile back? The one from Austin?" Barry asked.

  The big man's eye's got wider, then narrowed. "Oh yeah! The one with all the tattoos? Leanne?"

  "Yes! That's the one."

  He turned his head slowly, covering up the cell phone with his hand so Barry couldn't hear, and he whispered, "I bit her nipples off." He chuckled.

  "I want you to do what you did to Austin girl to Rose, for me," Barry said.

  Edward looked down at me; he grabbed my left tit, squeezing, pinching my nipple. "I can do that."

  "Send it to me as soon as possible! I can't wait to watch it!"

  "I'll send it to you as soon as I'm finished with her."

  "Good! And Edward?"

  "Yes?"

  "There's no telling who knows about us, so we need to change warehouses. I still don't know how Rose knew about the video on my laptop. But that doesn't matter right now. The cops might be on your location now."

  Shaking his head, Edward frowned. "No, I don't think they know. If the cops did know about this place, I'd be in cuffs by now."

  "But we sh—"

  "Yes, I agree with you, we still need to change warehouses," Edward said, waving his hand in the air. "I'll start after I finish."

  "As soon as you're done, you have to start removing the small equipment and tomorrow we can use my truck to move all the big stuff. We will find another warehouse in a few days."

  "Okay, cousin."

  "I have to go. Bye bye Rose, it was great knowing you, baby!"

  Then Edward ended the call. The phone went back in his pocket. The big man turned, looking at the big pot of boiling human head; this guy was not even close to being sane.

  Options were nonexistent. Death was fast approaching; first Edward would usher in an unbelievable amount of pain—unless Kathleen talked to my brother. I needed to stall as long as I could. Not sure how long I could last being tortured.

  Looked over at the hanging power tools on the wall, I swallowed and glanced back at him. He stared at me like a juicy porterhouse. Then he bent over, and continued staring at me. Immediately, I switched to mouth breathing; his breath reminded me of a porta-potty. Something came to mind. "Do you like to have sex? Would you like to fuck me? I'll give it up to you willingly."

  His hand moved along my leg and back up the other. "Who are you, Rose?" His voice was low, not rushed. "You ain't a cop. I'm big, but I live small, cops don't know about me. I think I could take my time with you."

  He gave me an idea. "Yes, I am! I'm a cop. You are under arrest, Edward Rawlings!"

  He chuckled.

  "Cops do know I'm here! I called it in before I entered this place! Yo
u better let me go, they are on their way!"

  He shook his head. "Where's your badge?"

  Great question. "I must've left it at home. I was off today, but I got the tip about Barry and followed up on it."

  "No way. Cops always have their badge. You don't have one, nice try," he said. "Even if you were a cop, you're still going to scream for me and the camera."

  "Edward, seriously, I do have a friend. She really does know I'm here. I told her to call the cops and—" I stopped.

  He pointed towards the door. He turned and said, "Stand up!"

  Movement in my peripheral vision caused me to crane my neck. Wobbling like a newborn giraffe, Kathleen had a hand against the wall. Confusion delayed my heart from sinking into the blackhole of despair.

  Kathleen's face was a bloody mess; she started crying uncontrollably—limping towards me.

  We were so fucking dead.

  He smiled at me; Edward pointed a meaty finger at her. "You mean her?" he said. “I found her wandering around in the dark downstairs."

  I wanted to cry.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bag of bones

  KATHLEEN WAS STUPID FOR entering the warehouse.

  I was stupid for entering the warehouse without having any backup or a plan. There was nothing I could do about it now, except stall. Wanting him guessing, I claimed, "I don't know who she is!"

  "I'm sorry, I should have stayed in the car!" Kathleen shouted. Snot oozed from her nose.

  Just a matter of time now, we were dead.

  Looking into her eyes, feeling my heart sink a few feet, I wanted to yell 'Why did you come in here?' But I kept quiet. Fear caused people to make bad decisions.

  "You need to let us go, Edward, the cops know that I'm here," I said. "They are on their way!"

  He hiked up his shoulders. "If they are coming, I guess I better get in as much fun as I can before they take me to prison," he said, picking up the knife from the floor.

  Intense pain came next.

  He turned and glared at Kathleen. "Starting with cutting off my neighbor's face and wearing it for the camera!" Edward began laughing uncontrollably.