Tiny head could fuck right off. This was post agony ritual Kevin. Nothing could upset his metal balance. She only wanted to please Kevin. That did come as a bit of a shock, that did tilt the metal balance just a bit. Not that it should have surprised him. The ghost-bastard cunt-thing had set out to make Kevin strong enough to oversee the next bout of traumatic changes. He turned Kevin into a gross facsimile of the last pretend owner of Richmond Point.
The girl obviously needed a strong father figure in her pathetic life. She probably regretted helping Kevin to murder the last one. “I can finish this off now.” He slapped her hand when she reached to take the moaning boy's wrist. “I said, leave him.” Kevin took her hand, pushing her away when she tried to snake her other hand down the front of his trousers. When she did it again, he took one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a savage twist. “Are you going to fucking behave or do you want to spend the rest of your life in that cellar?”
While the girl folded her arms over her breasts and sulked, he picked up the body and dropped it into his wheelbarrow. He'd lost half his bodyweight already. Kevin laid him on his side, just hoping he wouldn't choke on his own blood before Kevin could get him down into the room. “Now, I want you to stay in here, where it's nice and safe. I won't be gone for more than a couple of minutes. If I see that you've tried to climb out, I'll be very upset with you.” He picked up a small teaspoon and held the object in front of his left eye. I'll use this to scoop out that eyeball, young man.”
Kevin pulled her through the kitchen, pausing to retrieve the maroon dressing gown that he'd folded up and placed on a chair earlier. “Here, put this on.” she was resistant at first. She probably thought that waking around naked would tempt him into sex. She soon changed her mind when Kevin's fingers headed towards her other nipple. She hurriedly wrapped herself up and sniffed. “That's better,” he said, stroking her dirty hair. “I don't think any of the guests will be around at this time, but it's better to be safe, you know?”
Was he being perhaps a little too cautious here? Considering that within a few short hours, these guests of his, sleeping their little dreams behind the doors he'd soon be passing, would soon find those dreams turned into living nightmares. Oh what joy it was going to be! He couldn't wait to start the cutting, he already had a few ideas on how to proceed. Of course, he'd have to try them out on the tongueless wonder first. After all, he needed to be professional about this.
No, of course he wasn't being too cautious. Not every part of tiny head had been sliced, burnt and scraped out of the new Kevin, only the weak sections, the bit he no longer needed. His caution was fused into his very being. That was going nowhere.
Kevin led the woman through the ground floor. He had to admit that it did bring joy to watch her facial expressions go through a kaleidoscope of emotions as she saw the exterior of her dark world for the first time in many years.
He suspected that the owners before them (He'd take their name but never called them his parents) must have undergone the same initiation as he did. What Kevin didn't understand was why the torture was left so late. From the evidence presented, the pair of them were perfectly capable of handing over truckloads of damaged soul for the spirits to munch down on.
Kevin stopped dead, he flailed out his arm, his fingers hooking around the edge of the reception desk. He saw cakes. His head was filled with pictures of thousands of little pink cakes, each one in the shape of a heart. He shook his head violently, managing to give the girl a grateful smile when she copied his earlier motion and ran her fingers through his hair.
He counted to five, took a couple of deep breaths and stayed still, and waited for the grotesque images to dissipate. What the fuck was that? Kevin took another deep breath, seriously hoping that this wasn't the start of a mental breakdown. He focussed on the girl's concerned face.
“I'm okay,” he said. “Just went a bit dizzy.” Kevin led her over to the foot of the stairs. “I'm going to make sure that you're sparkly clean, and then we're going to find you some pretty clothes to wear. Do you remember dressing up?”
She nodded and smiled.
“I thought you would. Come on.” Kevin took her up the stairs, still concerned over that picture invasion. It was an invasion, there's no fucking way that image had sprang from his mind. Was this how it started with the ones before them? From what he remembered, putting those two through the torture had done more harm than good.
Both him and the girl were already on their way to becoming the next hotel curators. The woman used to take the girl out of the cellar and dress her in pretty little dresses while the man began Kevin's training.
He stopped again and stared at the walls and ceilings, paying particular attention to the dark corners and the cracks in the walls. Those spirits must be out there somewhere, it made sense that they were watching the pair of them, there could even be a chance that the ghost-bastard fuckstains could even be reading the doubt and confusion in his mind.
The fact that Alistair blamed all of this on him when in fact it was all their fault for subjecting the other two to that ordeal. The fuckers.
“Are you alright?”
Kevin almost lost his grip and tumbled down the stairs! “Wait, you mean you.” He licked his lips. “You can really talk?”
She nodded happily. “Kevin, I want you to bathe me.” She shivered. “I would really like that. To touch me, to rub my body clean with hot, soapy water. Then I need you to make delicious love to me.” She pulled him tight against her body. “Then you can find me a pretty dress to wear.”
He felt as though his head had just burst open. Kevin managed to wrestle his body out of her vice-like hold, then raced up the rest of the stairs before leaning against the landing. It took effort not to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't yet another one of their fucking dream games. How the fuck could the girl talk? The other man had cut out her tongue, he'd seen it!
“Come here,” he growled. The girl kept her head lowered as she climbed the stairs. Her pace reminded him of a naughty dog afraid to approach their master. It pleased him to hear her quiet sobs.
“I assume you didn't magically grow your own fucking tongue back.” God, he was absolutely furious. This felt like he'd been the victim of the biggest and nastiest practical joke ever. If he didn't think that the cunt-bucket, fuckbastard spirits would put him back in those manacles, he'd push the bitch down those stairs and go back to his original plan of snaring that other woman.
“I was told to do it, Kevin.” She looked down at her filthy feet. “I'm so sorry.”
“By the other two? The ones who're now dead?”
She shook her head. “No, by the lights.”
“The what?”
“I was allowed to speak, just never to you. When I was alone down there, I had Mr Bone, Mr Brick and the spider families. I also talked to the lights I saw when I slept.”
She gently stroked the back of his hand. “The lights are the ones who said to fill my mouth with tomato sauce. To pretend they'd cut out my tongue. They said if I didn't then they'd kill you. I used to be such a bad girl.”
“The lights,” he repeated.
“That all changed today. They told me what would be happening, that I'd be out of that dark place forever, that I'll be your wife and that we're going to look after the two children. I'm so excited.”
Things were happening way too fast. He ground his teeth together, so trying to keep his shit together. Kevin took her wrist and pulled the girl past the guest-room doors, even in his flustered state, his caution still reigned supreme.”
“You're hurting me.”
“Shut your hole,” he hissed.
Fuck, what else did he really expect? Of course the spirits were going to involve her. To leave everything to him alone was obviously dumb, considering just how much respect the fuckers had for him. He forced himself to try to relax. Despite how he currently felt, Kevin still had a job to do.
Kevin felt some of that stress leave his
body once they were clear of the guest room doors. He even relaxed his grip on her wrist. He stopped in front of the door that led into the forbidden area, the rooms previously occupied by the two before them. Kevin fished into his pockets to retrieve the key. Strange how he felt absolutely no trepidation into going in here now. Thinking about it, perhaps it was never there in the first place? At least not from him. Like the cake image, he suspected that not everything that he saw or experienced was a product coming from him alone.
“I only did as they told me,”
“Oh, stop your blabbering. Really, it doesn't matter.” He pushed the key into the lock and turned it. “Come on, let's get you comfortable.” Kevin pushed open the door and pulled the girl into rooms that for the past few years, he'd so tried his utmost to block from his mind.
The torrent of old images, smells and thoughts rammed into his head. He fell to his knees, finding his voice desert him as he tried to scream. Through tear-blurred vision, Kevin saw the girl skip and dance through the dust-filled room, whilst singing an unfamiliar nursery rhyme.
Judging from her behaviour, either the girl hadn't noticed that he was in utter mental torment or she just didn't care. This time, Kevin really did feel that his head was about to detonate. He tried to cry out one more time, silently sobbing at the sight of the girl vanishing into the bedroom. The memories continued to pour into his head. No matter what he tried, he just couldn't halt the deluge of previously suppressed thoughts.
He stared at the room where the ones before him used to fuck, watching a figure emerge. Only it wasn't the girl, he saw the large woman. She walked up to his shivering frame then stopped. The woman bent down, grabbed the hem of her flowery dress and pulled it up over her shoulders before she slowly lowered herself onto his face.
Kevin found his voice and he shrieked at the sight of that moist hole coming closer. Before contact, black oblivion thankfully claimed him.
2
The teen now known as Kevin Morris clamped his jaw tight, feeling his built up scream whistling through the gaps in his teeth. Thankfully, the roar of the ice water biting into his shoulder blades drowned out the noise.
He was getting better at not allowing that bastard to witness his pain. Kevin assumed that was the plan, to toughen him up, to turn him into a real man, to turn him into his dad. The hosing down was a new one. This was only his second bout. The last time, Kevin had screamed, and for that, the bastard had aimed that hose at Kevin's balls.
Kevin kept the palms flat against the slimy brick wall, so trying not to flinch as the man systematically directed the jet across his naked body. The man had already done his front. He'd cleaned his neck, his shoulder blades, and now moved down his back. It would be all over in a few more minutes. Kevin knew that he'd be able to stay still and quiet. Just another couple more minutes and his dad would allow him to dress, this time, in his own clothes and not one of his mother's old dresses.
“Okay, shitbag. You're clean. Now stop shivering and cover your skinny frame. You still have work to do.”
Kevin caught the overall thrown in his direction, stifling a moan. This was something new. Kevin expected to be taken back into the cellar, and into the waiting arms of Angela. She'd been very clinging of late. Kevin didn't have a clue what was wrong with her, not that he would complain about getting a hug from her, not at this minute.
He clambered into the grey overall, noting that it stunk of cow shit. He just hoped his dad wasn't thinking of hosing him down after whatever punishment, this fat bastard had in store for him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to cope with two hosings in one day.
The man then shocked Kevin senseless by throwing something else at him. Kevin just about managed to catch it before the package smacked him in the forehead. Kevin turned the clear plastic Tupperware dish around in his fingers. All of a sudden the horrible man was being nice to him? He looked up silently questioning the unexpected gift of food, only to discover the man in front of him smiling.
“What's with the gawking, Shitbag? Anybody would think that I never feed you.” He screwed up his face. “I hope you're not thinking that?”
Kevin violently shook his head, not wanting the bastard to take this prize out of his hands.”
“No, of course you're not. Stop pulling a face then. You look like a dead fish. I expect you to eat all of that. Believe me, you're going to need your strength. The man picked up the end of the hose and rolled it up, making his way towards the open shed door.
Kevin continued to turn the box around, watching the contents tumble. Through the frosted plastic, he saw a packet of crisps, a blue packet. That meant salt and vinegar. His favourite. He looked up, watching the man's huge bulk block out the afternoon sun, wondering why he was suddenly being so nice to him. There was an apple in there too, as well as a, what he hoped, were some sandwiches, wrapping up in aluminium foil. He moved away from the soaked stone floor and sat down on his old overturned metal bucket.
Just unclipping the plastic lid brought back so many pleasant, nostalgic memories. Back when he was a lot younger, his mother always used to give him a box, just like this at lunchtime. He was even allowed to eat the contents whilst he sat on her knee. He could still remember the warm feel of her ponderous breasts on the back of his head as he tucked into his apple, or slurped on his fruit juice.
There would be no cushion of warm flesh to comfort him on this occasion. Not that he was all that bothered, just the fact that could actually eat some normal food for change gave him enough contentment. There was only so much human meat he could stomach.
His father had even put in a snack-size packet of biscuits as well! In his excitement, Kevin hadn't noticed them until now. His smile grew wider and he almost forgave his father for the wet punishment he'd just endured when Kevin found the man had packed in his favourite, a single packet of custard creams. The cautious part of him, examined the plastic, just to make sure that they hadn't been tampered with.
He carefully unwrapped the foil to reveal two sandwiches, each one sliced diagonally. The cuts were just perfect. Had his father really taken the time to prepare this? He wasn't exactly the most dainty of men. He kind of imagined his father slicing these in two with a huge axe, still coated with the wet gore from his last victim.
They looked rather splendid. His rumbling stomach agreed and told him to eat them and be quick about it. His crisps and biscuits could wait until later. He knew full well that if he didn't obey his body, there would be no serious thinking, no pondering as to why his father had been so nice to him all of a sudden.
He first poked his forefinger through the tuna mayonnaise, probing for unwanted added ingredients like ground glass or bits of metal.
It took him just seconds to demolish all four sandwich sections. He even licked a few bits of tuna trying to escape out of the foil. This was so strange, since when did his dad become the ultimate sandwich maker? It pained him to admit that the fat man's sandwiches were light years better than what she used to create for him, back before they both went through the change.
Just the right amount of mayonnaise, a pinch of salt and plenty of good quality butter on the whole-wheat bread. The only thorn in this otherwise splendid meal was when Kevin noticed the dried blood under his fingernails. It brought back the annoying reminder that despite this bonus meal, the forlorn hope that his dad had somehow regressed back to before. This food was just a flash in the pan, never to be repeated.
Kevin dug around the detritus on the floor, grinning when he found the broken end of a wooden peg. It didn't take him that long to clean out the remains of Mrs Kirkwood. He didn't want any of her to contaminate the rest of his food. The fact that his dad probably made those sandwiches still dripping with the old woman's juices had occurred to Kevin but as far as he saw it, as he hadn't been present, there was no way of knowing so he didn't let it worry him.
The biscuits stayed in the box while he pulled open the crisp packet. He couldn't help himself, Kevin just had to taste the crisps.
&
nbsp; This food gift had to be a temporary peace offering, a carrot before the fat man showed him the stick. Kevin filled his mouth with crisps, not even wishing to contemplate what form the stick could be. Could it be as bad as what his dad had done to that woman?
Mrs Kirkwood had awoken at precisely four this morning. That's when his dad used the master key to enter the room, with Kevin following his dad inside.
She had never been the most compliant of guests. On her first night, the woman had requested a different room, complaining of a strange odour that just wouldn't go away no matter what she tried. Mrs Kirkwood did look most upset and throughout the whole episode, she wouldn't stop apologising to his mum or his dad.
From his usual position behind the reception desk, he watched everything, he especially enjoyed how both his parents so tried to keep their tempers in check. Did the old woman know just how close she had come to dying right there and then? Nothing could be done though, there were other people present, also, it really wasn't the woman's fault. If there was a bad smell then that would be his parents fault for not cleaning out the room properly. He actually felt sorry for the poor woman.
That pity turned to bemusement and then soon shifted to annoyance the next morning.
His dad had allowed him to leave the cellar a full hour before breakfast. Even before Angela had awoken. This meant he could sit on his usual spot and watch all the fun and games involving the woman who wanted to change her rooms.
Depravity Page 13
