Some Kind of Cu*t: A novella of extreme horror

by Matt Shaw

  Tom woke with a start despite having only just drifted off. He sat up and backed up against the headboard, knees pulled close to chest, at the sight of the uniformed man standing in front of him; a half-smile on his face. Although Tom didn’t recognise the man, he did recognise the uniform; the man was one of the staff of the care home.

  “How are you settling in?” the man asked. His voice was low so as not to disturb the other children sleeping in their own beds a few feet away from the new boy. Even if they had been woken by the man, though, they wouldn’t have spoken up - either now or the following morning. They would have continued to lie there, in their beds, pretending to sleep in the hope that their beds wouldn’t be visited next. Tom didn’t answer him. He just lay there; a scared little boy. “Come with me,” the man continued, “we need to go through some things.”

  He held his hand out to help Tom from his bed. Tom got out without taking the offer of help. The man used a small flashlight to guide their way from the dormitory and out into the lit corridor. Tom had been placed in this home after his uncle was arrested and sent back to his still-warm cell. They’d not been able to contact Tom’s mother and so they had no option but to put him here whilst they looked for other relatives; of which Tom knew none although he did mention he had a cousin called James who lived out in the country. When the nice female officer pressed him for more details - such as a surname - Tom went quiet. Eventually he told the lady that - in the winter - they went sledding down the hilly fields near their home. Information that was - of course - no use to them. The stop in this home was supposed to be temporary with the threat of being more permanent if no one was able to be reached. Tom did not get a say in the matter. He was merely brought by and dropped off for the waiting staff to process his paperwork.

  The man now - leading him down the corridor walking side by side - had no official business taking him from his bed at this late hour. He were merely there to watch over them in case there were any problems.

  “Do you like it here?” the man asked.

  Tom didn’t say anything.

  “I know it must be pretty scary but everyone here is real nice. And - if you do have any problems - don’t be scared to bring them to me and I’ll help you out. I promised to keep an extra special eye on you, just as I do with my other boys, so you really do have nothing to worry about. Even if you don’t think I am there, you can trust me, I’ll be close by watching you. Okay?”

  He looked at Tom. Tom looked at him. The man smiled to the boy. The boy didn’t smile back.

  He lead Tom through to what appeared to be a nurse’s station. There was a bed in the corner of the room with a paper sheet over it. To the side of that there was a curtain hanging on rails that looked as though they were capable of enclosing the whole bed if privacy was ever needed. There was a side board attached to two walls in a long L-Shape. It was clear of clutter on the surface but Tom could see many drawers - each with their own label - which suggested the side board had multiple uses. In one corner of the room, there was a skeleton hanging by a small hook on a display stand. Tom stopped and stared at it.

  “Don’t mind Fred,” the man said. “He used to work here - back when he was alive - but he hurt one of my boys so… Well now he’s our residential skeleton,” the man continued with a smile on his face. He knew boys preferred the more ghoulish things in life with their darker imaginations than the majority of the girls he’d encounters; not that he often made a bee-line for the female wing. “Right - if you want to take your clothes off and hop up onto the bed we can get started.”

  Tom turned to the man with a worried expression.

  The man laughed, “It’s okay. Didn’t they tell you earlier? We need to do a medical for you. We need to make sure everything is okay.”

  Tom didn’t say anything.

  “It’s fine. I promise. Doesn’t hurt.”

  The boy looked back to the skeleton and back to the man.

  “Are you embarrassed about getting undressed in front of me?” the man asked.

  Again, Tom didn’t say anything.

  “That’s what the curtain is for. You go on the other side and I’ll close it. You can get undressed in privacy. Okay?” He ushered Tom across the room next to the bed. “Here you go,” he pulled the curtain across separating him from Tom. “Now you go ahead and just get undressed and then jump on up to the bed, okay? You can feel free to slide your clothes under the curtain.”

  Tom was wearing a blue jumper and a pair of black trousers which were a couple of inches too short for him; items dug out for him from the pile of clothes people had donated to the home. His old clothes had been taken away to be washed and he had been told he would get them back, with some other clothes, within a couple of days. He hadn’t argued with the woman who took them from him.

  Tom hesitated a moment and then - reluctantly - started to strip off. He took his trousers off and his jumper before sliding them under the curtain. The man picked them up and set them on the side.

  “And your socks and pants,” he said as he went back across to the curtain. He paused a moment before the socks slid across the cold-tiled floor, followed by the boy’s pants a few seconds later. The man bent down, collected them from where they lay and carried them across the room to where the trousers and top were. He turned back to the curtain. “How are you doing behind there? Are you on the bed yet?”

  “Yes. There’s no cover.”

  The man moved the curtain back round destroying the boy’s hiding place. Tom lay on the bed with his hands cupped over his privates. He looked embarrassed. The man walked next to the bed, close to where the boy laid.

  “Don’t be shy,” he said. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen a million times before. It’s just a little medical examination to make sure you’re clean from lice and rashes. That sort of thing. Just put your hands by your side and look at the ceiling.”

  The boy didn’t move and nor did he take his eyes from the man; a look of distrust evident on his young, scared face. The man made a ‘tut’ noise in the back of his throat.

  “The sooner you do as I ask the sooner you get to put your clothes back on again,” he said.

  Tom hesitated a moment before nervously placing his hands down by the side of his body. He stopped looking at the man and - instead - turned his attention to staring at the patterns on the dirty looking ceiling. The man reached into a drawer, close to the bed, and pulled out a stethoscope. He put it on and breathed heavily on the cold metal disk that was to go against the boys chest in order for the man to hear his heartbeat.

  “This might be a little cold,” he warned Tom. He placed the small circular plate against his chest and smiled as Tom flinched. “Warned you,” he laughed. He went silent for a moment as he listened to the boy’s elevated heartbeat. He smiled at him again, “Strong as an ox.” He removed the stethoscope and asked Tom to get up and stand next to the bed. Tom did as he was asked and jumped down from the bed. The man reached down and cupped his testicles. Again, the boy flinched.

  “Sorry - my hands aren’t cold, are they?” he asked.

  The boy didn’t say anything. He turned his head away from the man in the hope he’d just hurry up and get it all over and done with.

  “Can you cough, please?” the man asked.

  Tom coughed.

  “Okay. Again?”

  Tom coughed for a second time.

  “That’s good. Well done. See - not too scary is it?” he said.

  “Can I get dressed yet?”

  “We’re almost done. I just need you to turn around. There’s one more thing we need to check.”

  Tom reluctantly turned his naked back on the man. The man moved closer and bent down slightly until he was close to the boy’s own height. His eyes started at the back of the boy’s head and moved down his bare back and rested upon his naked behind. He smiled. He licked his lips quietly as he reached down with two hands. He placed one on himself and one on the boy’s bum. Tom closed his eyes as he stood there shakin
g from nerves and the temperature.

  “Nearly done,” the man sighed close to his ear. He squeezed himself a little harder as he moved the hand - touching the boy - over his arse until a finger slipped between his cheeks. “Are you clenching?” the man asked, slightly annoyed. “I’m going to need you to relax so we can get this over and done with quickly. It’s for your benefit,” the man said. His voice was low and intimidating - so close to Tom’s ear that it made him feel even more uncomfortable than if the man had been yelling at him. He struggled not to cry as the man slowly pushed into his rectum with a digit - right up to the knuckle. “Okay. That’s good,” the man sighed heavily. He released the grip he had on his own body and reached around, cupping the boy’s testicles once more. “I’m going to need you to cough,” he said as he started to slowly stroke the boy.

  #

  Tom lay in bed. He was lying on his side. His eyes wide with fear at the prospect of the man coming back into the dormitory room to see him once more. The experience hadn’t gone on for too much longer after he’d started touching him and asking him to cough; all finished when a funny sensation ran through the boy’s body. At the same time as the funny feeling, Tom felt embarrassed as he thought he was going to wee into the man’s hand. To his relief, other than the funny feeling, nothing happened. The man didn’t say anything. He certainly hadn’t been angry, as Tom worried. He simply said he had done well. He released both grip on his willy and also pulled his finger from his rectum before telling him to get dressed once more. Tom wasted no time in getting dressed; his back to the man.

  As soon as he was dressed the man explained that everything had gone very well and that Tom was a picture of health. He walked him back down the corridor to where his bed was and explained that - from time to time - he’d need to take him, or one of the other boys, away at night just to ensure nothing had changed. After all, he was very concerned for their well-being. Tom didn’t say anything. He listened to what he was told, all the time longing for the safety - and warmth - of his waiting bed.

  Lying there - in the dark - Tom was unaware that another boy, in the bed opposite, was also staring into the darkness; too afraid to go to sleep for fear of it being his turn next.

  Present Day:

  Truth

  James sat bolt-upright in his bed - almost scared to see me standing there. I’ll have to admit to being a little shocked by his reaction. Even his brother - from across the room in his own bunk - had to stifle a laugh at the overreaction.

  “Easy. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to talk,” I said. I lifted my hands - palms facing him - as though to prove to him I had come in peace. He seemed to relax a little.

  “Made me jump. I was dreaming.”

  “Like I said, I just needed a conversation with you.”

  “And this couldn’t have waited until the morning?” he asked. I didn’t like the tone in his voice; a certain amount of insolence there. I had come to expect that from the youngest members of the house but - from someone his age - he should have known better.

  “No. No, it couldn’t.” I spoke in a very matter of fact tone; one which I hoped would stamp him in his place. “If you would like to come with me,” I told him.

  He nodded as he threw his duvet back and climbed from the bed.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  Usually if I said something to a son or daughter, they would just do what was asked without any questions being raised. That was the way things worked. If I said something - they did it. If I told them something - they believed it. If I wanted something - they obtained it. In return, I kept a roof over their heads and let them be a part of this wonderful family. If things were going to work out between James and the rest of the family then he would need to get in line. He would need to learn his place. And he would need to learn it fast or else I feared an example would need to be made before others started thinking his behaviour was acceptable.

  We walked around the upstairs of the house in silence - side by side - as I lead him through to my bedroom. It was off-limits to others, unless invited, and closer than the study so it was the perfect place to have a private one to one with my new son.

  It was important to have the conversation between just myself and James. It was all about respect. What I have to say could cause him some embarrassment. It could even undermine him in front of the rest of the household and I certainly don’t want that. I know how hard it is fitting in somewhere new for the first time and I wanted the whole transition process to be smooth and easy for everyone; even if they were potentially thinking of taking lead of the house.

  We reached my bedroom. I unlocked the door with a key pulled from my pocket and let James in. Once inside, I closed the door and slid the bolt across - locking us in. No one is to interrupt us until we’ve both said what is on our mind.

  My room was different to the others. The bed - a large double where I’d laid so many of my sons and daughters before - took centre stage of the room but, to the side, there were two leather couches facing each other. These were here for moments such as this; times where I wanted somewhere other than the study to converse in private with people of my choosing. In this room many conversations had been had, along with many plans as to how to run initiation events without getting caught by the police who had been desperately hunting us since the second initiation took place.

  “Please take a seat,” I walked across the room and took one myself. James sat opposite me.

  “What’s this about?” he asked.

  I didn’t say anything for a moment. I just sat there and tried to weigh him up in my mind, wondering if I had brought him into the family for all the wrong reasons; a little bit of company my own age would have been nice. I half-expected him to demand an answer from me again but he didn’t say anything. He sat there patiently waiting for me to speak. Maybe I’ve been paranoid and maybe he’s just a naturally quiet person?

  “Charles told me you seem troubled.”

  “Troubled?”

  “Since your garden duties.”

  James shifted in his seat and turned his gaze away from me. Clearly hiding something.

  “I wanted to know if everything was okay,” I told him. “I just want to make sure you’re still happy to be a part of this family. The happiness of my children is very important to me.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about being called your child. I mean I understand what you’re doing and I appreciate it, without a shadow of a doubt but… What… There’s a couple of years between us, if that? It feels…”

  “I’m sorry. Force of habit, James. You understand the sentiment behind what I say though. I want everyone to be happy.”

  He nodded, “I understand. Like I said I appreciate all you’re doing for everyone here - myself include - but…”

  “Ah, there is it. The but. What is it?” I pushed him.

  “It’s Fred. I understand he was in a bad way. I mean you could see that just by looking at him but you said he was getting better and, next thing, he’s dead.”

  “It was an unfortunate turn of events.”

  “His injuries didn’t look to be life-threatening and…”

  “I killed him.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “My daughter gave him an overdose. He needed more medical attention than we were able to offer. He needed a hospital.”

  “Then why didn’t you take him to a fucking hospital?!”

  I didn’t answer immediately. I was both taken aback by the sudden outburst and also a little annoyed by it. He had no right to come to my house and question my rules and judgments. I was in charge. Not him. I composed myself.

  “He was wanted by the police in connection with a recent initiation party. His being the only image caught on CCTV. If we had taken him to a hospital then he could have led the police right to our front door and pointed the finger at all of us in order to cut himself a nice little deal.”

  James didn’t say anything. He sat there a moment, taking
in what I’d told him. He seemed to take a deep breath as his eyes fixed upon mine, “You had him beaten, didn’t you?”

  I didn't answer him.

  “You said he went out and when he came home he had been beaten. You said you didn’t know what had happened to him. But you did it.”

  “I didn’t do it but it was done on my word, yes. Unfortunately my sons got a little carried away with their task and things got out of hand. It was supposed to be a warning not to cross me again. You see we knew the camera was there and I told him not to go that way when he left but, being a fool who thought he knew better, he went against what I said and got himself identified in the process. Lessons needed to be learned. Like I said, it went a little too far and those responsible have been spoken to but I couldn’t just leave it and nor could I send him to a hospital where he’d immediately be picked up by the police. Have you seen the news? They show his face nearly every day.” I paused a moment, letting it all sink in for James.

  “What happens if someone else is identified or steps out of line?”

  “There will always be rules and regulations in any family you belong to. That’s the way it works, that is how order is kept. Without certain rules being in place - it would just lead to chaos. Most of the time we have a good thing going here. Each person doing their own thing and getting on with it; occasionally with a little initiation party to enjoy, or even an anniversary party to enjoy should the family member wish for one. This was a blip and I am sorry you had to witness it. It must have shaken your confidence and I can but only presume that is why you didn’t have much to say at dinner.”

  “Why did you let me into your family?” James asked. “I’m not like the others. For one, I’m much older.”

  “I saw you walking the streets. You looked lost. I had someone reach out to you.”

  “I know but why…”

  “Because we’re one and the same. I thought you needed help. I thought you’d want to be a part of this family. I thought it would be good for you.” I paused a moment. “And,” I hesitated, “I thought it would be good for me. Someone my own age to talk to and - I guess - someone I actually happen to like.”