Kevin growled low in his throat, momentarily forgetting the pretend Alastair had full access to his thoughts and memories. Meaning that fucker knew his last barbed comment would sting. Fuck, what had he done to deserve this mistreatment? His mother was blissfully unaware that he or the ghost thing were observing her. He so wished that it wasn't so. She'd soon sort out the ghost thing, and then she could give him a hug, just like she used to.
He remembered those hugs with great fondness. Kevin so looked forward to burrowing under her patterned dress, snuggling against the woman's soft, warm flesh and clamping his mouth on her nipples.
Even years after his father forced him onto his sister, Kevin still preferred to receive hugs from his mum. The evocative combination of Imperial Leather soap and stale sweat never failed to pull him out of the bad places.
Every session began with him saying the words – the shared joy that they'd both receive and the promise not to breathe a word to Dad. That was one promise he found very easy to keep, considering it was usually him who put Kevin into the bad place. Their secret never got out. Tell dad about the hugs? He used to shudder at the thought of him ever finding out. The shudders never lasted long though, thanks to mum.
Let that animal abuse the girl in the cellar and let him fuck the female victims. If he was pouring out all of his pent up rage and perversions on them, he left the pair of them alone, giving them more time to cuddle.
“I notice that you still haven't answered my question, Kevin. Come on, an inquisitive boy like you must have wondered about the flowers.”
His mother had almost filled her basket. He noticed that today's preference leaned towards orange and yellow. The colours matched the dress.
That wasn't his favourite dress, due to the material being a little tight across her waist. Even so, he still lost count on the amount of times he had crawled underneath it. The woman was too far away for him to see clearly, but he knew the left side would have a line of similar coloured stitching running from her thigh to her midriff. That had been a hastily undertaken repair job after little Kevin had become too excited. Thinking back, he hadn't been all that little at the time.
Now he knew that this day was either a Wednesday or a Saturday. He'd inherited his love of a strict routine from her. Her love for routine was legendary. She always used to preach that a clear mind and with a selection of pre-planned tasks ahead of you, the whole world was at your feet. Kevin was never sure what any of that meant but she seemed to believe her words so that was good enough for him.
How the good memories had come flooding back. For that brief moment in his life, Kevin was actually almost content. He'd accepted his new name, Dad left him be, mostly, and he and his mum shared something special. Of course, the contentment couldn't last, his father had made sure of that.
Kevin spun around and glared at the boy. He'd enjoy the nostalgia better if that little shit wasn't looking over his shoulder all the time. The ghost boy, promised that he was going to hurt him. Did that mean he was going to make him relive the events that preceded his mother ending up in all of their stomachs? Fuck no, Kevin didn't want to go through that again.
“Look, why can't you just fuck off and leave me alone? Go on, piss off. Go play with a chainsaw, or, even better, a bottle of acid.”
Surprisingly, the boy grinned back at him. “Talk about a breath of fresh air. I can't tell you how much it pleases me to find that you do have an 'angry voice' you almost sent a chill down my spine just then.”
“Fuck off.”
“It makes it easier now that I know you do have some spunk inside you, although, I still suspect that the spunk is just left over from when the bad man re-bored your arsehole.”
Kevin kept his glare fixed on the little shit while his fingers fumbled through the grass and over the path, looking for anything large to throw.
“In fact,” he continued, “the only reason why you are acting like the man of the house right now is because Mummy is over there. You're showing off. Believe me, my friend. If that fat bitch could actually see you, do you think she'd know who you were? As far as she's concerned, her little depraved sex toy is sleeping in her bed. You're a stranger to her.” He chuckled. “Strangers don't last long at Richmond Point. Your pretend Mum and Dad never had your caution. Those two fuckers killed whoever they wanted, and you would so fit that bill. I tell you, if your form did magically appear in front of her, she'd take one look at your shivering body and dive at you. Before you could shout out for mummy, those snips would be already buried deep in your eye socket.”
“Don't be ridiculous!” This wasn't going to work. He knew what the ghost thing was playing at. The little shit was trying to drive a wedge between them. Well, it wouldn't work. He knew Mum better than anyone. “You're talking shit. She had always been a good woman. My mum wouldn't even hurt a fly.”
“Unbelievable. You really are one fucked up individual. Do you seriously believe your own bullshit? Oh wait, scratch that, of course you do. I mean if you didn't, we wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place.”
Kevin forced himself to calm down. Let this fool spout his nonsense. This was just a dream. In a few minutes, he'd wake up in his bed and everything would be back to normal. “I'm bored of you now. Will you fuck off, if I ask you nicely?”
“Your mum's real name is Monica Crosslee. When she first came to Richmond Point, with her parents, that little nine-year-old girl had already started down the path that led her to her final state. Both her parents thought they had brought up the perfect little girl, so polite, never in trouble, an angelic face and everybody thought she was just adorable. Those poor fools didn't have a clue that they'd spawned a monster. A week before they went on holiday, that angelic nine-year-old killed the cat that lived across the street.”
Kevin slammed his hands against his ears. “I'm not listening to anymore of this, you're making it all up.”
“That little girl broke into the house. She knew full well that Mr and Mrs Stone had gone on a camping holiday. Of course she did. That old couple loved her. Little Monica took a pizza out of their freezer and casually popped in the oven. While she waited, their cat decided to jump through the open window and glide its furry body through her legs. Monica hated cats, she hated most animals but cats were right at the top of her list. That little girl took the largest knife out of the wooden block, held it by the handle then let it go. The blade missed the cat, so, in a bout of screaming, your kind mummy jumped on the cat's tail then stamped on its head.”
“I don't believe you.” Kevin jumped to his feet and backed away from the apparition. His mother had disliked cats, that much was true but she wouldn't do that, she just wouldn't.
The ghost chuckled to himself. “Oh God, you're priceless, do you know that? Like she walked around the hotel acting like mum of the year, patting babies on the heads and baking cake? Kevin, the psycho bitch was as bad as the man, if not worse.”
“But she hated violence, she wouldn't even eat meat.”
The apparition sighed loudly whilst walking across the grass. “Wrong on only one count. She didn't eat what she killed, that much is true. Instead, she buried them.” He smiled and pointed at the raised beds. “I'll give you a bag of jelly babies if you can guess where she put the corpses once she's finished mutilating them.”
Kevin felt the built up barriers in his mind collapsing one by one. He watched the woman head towards the open door, pausing to wave a greeting at one of the guests who'd come outside to enjoy the sunshine. His attention switched to those beds, remembering that they did get higher over the years.
“Who are you?” he asked, sensing that the answer should have been obvious.
“I'm the one who has to clear up this mess, to try and fix this catastrophe.” The boy's eyes grew larger. “We ensure that you are protected and in turn, we feast on the tortured souls that you were supposed to deliver on a regular basis.”
Kevin shrunk back, “but that's what I've been doing!”
�
�What, you call one body a month, if you feel like it, good enough?”
No matter what he attempted, Kevin could not tear his gaze away from the boy's eyes, yet it wasn't fear that held him there, it was the pieces of the jigsaw all slotting into place. This thing, this soul collector was effectively offering him immunity. Kevin would be able to do whatever the hell he liked, kill whomever he chose, torture all the guests. He paused. It meant all the hundreds of lovely women who signed his register were potential sex toys.
“Fine,” he replied, nodding. I can do far better now. I promise you.” Kevin started to feel a lot better about the whole situation. It looked as though everything was going to be alright, he even began to actually like this annoying ghost kid thing.
Kevin's sudden affection for the apparition didn't stick around for long, judging from the furious look on its face, Kevin's last reassuring sentence didn't do the trick. “What's wrong with you now? Didn't you hear me saying that I will fix my ways, isn't that what all this is about?”
“You fucking idiot. Don't you get it yet? The line is broken. There's nobody to take your place. When you die, there won't be anyone left to feed us, and we're not going to allow that to happen.”
The boy's hand now brushed against Kevin's thigh. He let out a quiet gasp. Just a moment ago, the apparition was on the other side of the path.
He looked up into Kevin's wide eyes. “Don't look so scared. It's time for you to man up, to grow a pair, to be just like the man who pretended to be your daddy. You're going to get that girl out of the cellar and put her where she belongs, by your side.” The boy squeezed his hand. “It's time for you to face up to your responsibilities.”
Kevin paled. His previous euphoria now seemed like a distant memory. There's no way that he dare let her out of the cellar. She was a fucking animal. He'd be dead in a week, besides, she already had her husband now, she certainty wouldn't want him anymore. “You ask the impossible,” he murmured.
“Such a predictable response. Nevertheless, it's what's going to happen.” The ghost jumped out of the way as the two guests walked past the pair of them. “You're concerned about your darling pretend sister in the cellar. Look, she'll be no trouble once the woman has the boy to look after.” he grinned. “I think you need a little more incentive.”
The boy's pressure on his hand increased. Kevin tried to pull his hand out of the solid grip with no success, he heard and felt his bones crack. Kevin opened his mouth to scream but instead of words, thick red mist left his mouth, enveloping the pair of them. He did hear screams but they weren't coming from his mouth.
5
Three feet of grime encrusted stone separated his dangling legs from the floor. Kevin let out a single long moan at the sight of his naked body hanging in the same shackles previously occupied by his younger self.
He felt no pain, for that small mercy, Kevin thanked whoever had placed him here he turned his head to the left and wept. That gratitude changed to a vicious curse. These chains weren't used to holding a person of his girth, and his captor hadn't been too observant when they clamped the shackles shut.
“None of this is real.” Kevin repeated the same words over and over. He took solace in the chant, knowing that at any second he'd wake up in his bed. No doubt, the bed sheets would need changing. After a nightmare of this magnitude, he'd have to wring out his sweat, right after he'd peeled his sodden Batman Pyjamas on his wet body.
“None of this is real.”
Kevin slammed his eyes shut, doing his best to envisage his pale green pillows, caressing the back of his head.
“Open your eyes, you fat cunt.”
“None of this is real.”
“I swear down that if you don't do as you're told and open your eyes, your scream will be bouncing off these walls. The decibel level will easily match the others that have gone before you.”
Kevin's heart sped up but he kept his eyes shut tight. It wasn't fair that his tormentor, that horrid little ghost thing, fucking, kiddie bastard should be here as well. Well, this time, he wasn't going to let him pull his strings. His eyes were staying shut. The ghost thing's voice, just like the rest of this fantasy would fade away, he just had to keep his nerve.
“You just have to keep your nerve?” enquired the voice.
The scent of minty toothpaste wafted in his face. Kevin didn't have to open his eyes to know that the boy's face was millimetres from his. “None of this is real.”
“I'm not too sure how spouting off a redundant mantra is going to help anybody, least of you, Kevin. We both know that none of this is real, you ridiculous dickbiscuit. This is a slice of the past. An instruction on how, by now, you and your cellar wife ought to be behaving. Now, no more warnings. You'll do as you're told, and open your eyes. Real or not, believe me, any more defiance, and the agony you'll feel will be more real than you can ever fucking imagine.”
His eyes ignored his screaming brain and shot open. He'd inflicted enough torture in his life to understand just how much pain his body must be experiencing right now. His companion had shifted from in front of his face to against the wall beside him. Unlike Kevin though, he was sat in Kevin's favourite armchair, wearing Kevin's favourite dressing gown and he was pretty damn sure that the cigar that the little twat had in his hand was from his own stash as well. He ignored the gravity defying fact that there was nothing between the bottom of his chair and the stone floor apart from thin air.
“Nice of you to join me,” he said.
The apparition didn't even bother to suppress the sarcasm. Kevin would have shrugged if he could. He was getting used to this creature's traits now. He turned to the front, curious to discover the reason for this rather elaborate pantomime, only to see nothing had changed. The wall in front of him was still empty. He leaned forward, aware that he was tearing his own flesh but as this was all an illusion, he guessed that it didn't really matter. The last layer of slime coating that wall looked wetter than it should, but that could be just damp. It didn't really look that different to as it did now. “You've done all of this to show me a wall?”
“The human soul is a remarkable piece of metaphysical engineering, Kevin. I dare say that the chances of another species evolving after your kind dies possessing such an exquisite device is most unlikely. The three self-aware species that preceded your lot provided us with the means to exist and multiply but until the humans turned up, we were nothing more than mindless grubs.”
The apparition stretched out and examined his fingernails. Kevin briefly wondered if this nasty little boy, with his tendency to steal his belonging would lose his balance and fall out of his chair. Kevin hoped so. Watching him crack the back of his head on the hard stone floor would make Kevin's day.
“It's like comparing having to exist on raw sewage and then suddenly tasting tender steak, washed down with a fine wine.” The boy lit the cigar. “Of course, it's not like your souls were easy to get inside. Believe me, they were built tough. Even when you fuckers die, you don't let go of your precious soul. It just lingers there, out of our reach, floating over where you die, forever. I can't tell you how frustrating it is to have all of that potential food source just out of reach.”
“Look, is this going anywhere? It's just that I really do need to pee.”
“I thought you said this wasn't real?” laughed the boy. “Either imagine that you're wrong or piss on the floor.” He looked hard at Kevin. “We'll be having company any moment, so just let me finish.” He licked his lips. “We require are souls damaged. It's like seasoning and flavour for the steak. It isn't necessary but come on, once you're used to the fine stuff, you'd do anything to ensure your palette is constantly satisfied.”
Kevin's barbed reply dried up when he found himself staring at the naked body of his own mother standing right in front of him. His father stood beside her, he too wore no clothes. The wall was no longer empty either. A teen boy hung in chains, directly opposite him. Judging from the wasted appearance, he'd be in that position for a number
of days. He tried to place the face but it was almost impossible. Kevin wasn't sure if he'd be able to recognise the lad, even if the flesh on the left side of his face wasn't hanging down in ragged strips.
“He was before your time,” said the apparition. “Back then, these two knew how to make their prize to us last longer than a couple of weeks. This really is an exquisite piece of art.”
His father had just unfastened a green leather and laid it out on a tall metal table, right in front of the boy. Unlike the one Kevin had, this one had no large instruments. Not even a scalpel. All he could see were a dozen bright silver needles of differing sizes, and what looked like a load of cotton buds. Kevin shot the apparition a curious look.
“See how the boy's eyes follow your father's progress as he runs his fingers along the pieces?”
The man's finger stopped on top of a needle, about the length of the man's index finger. He slid it out and held it up to the light. Kevin now saw that the point had been shaped to form a tiny hook. Their victim shook and howled out as his father grabbed the teen's left foot and pushed the needle under the nail of his big toe.
His dad wrapped his thick fingers around the teen's ankle then rolled the needle between his thumb and forefinger before pulling it out. Kevin had seen and participated in a huge amount of torture but listening to the teen's frantic screaming, coupled with the ribbons of bloodied shredded flesh, the hook was pulling out made him want to vomit. After a couple more insertions, his toenail slid away. His dad stuck the nail on the tip of the teen's nose. He seemed to find this hilarious.
His mother hadn't been idle during the torture. She'd lifted his penis up and had been patiently pulling out the hairs underneath the teen's scrotum. When her husband stuck the nail on his nose, she stopped her own form of torture, sunk her fingernails deep into his side then dragged them towards his hipbone, creating four deep furrows that pissed thick blood across the back of her hand. The woman then proceeded to wipe his blood over her large breasts.
Depravity Page 7
