Depravity

by Woodhead, Ian

  “You fucking bastard!” That’s why he’d used so much tape. His dad must have tied a compress around her arm, sliced open her wrists before securing the wound with the tape. She was bleeding out and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He sat there, crying and cursing the fat man, still trying to stop her warm blood from streaming through his fingers. He didn’t even notice his dad had moved from the window until he found himself crashing into the wall yet again.

  Kevin looked up, shrieking when he saw that the man had a garden spade in his hands. He lifted the tool high then slammed in down, the edge biting through the top of his mum’s head before the metal stuck in the wooden floorboards.

  “Right, that’s done.” He dropped a clean set of clothes on the bed. “You are allowed to use the shower, Kevin. Once you’re clean, get dressed then come and help me prepare the food for the guests. Just don’t take all day with it.”

  His eyes followed the bastard as he crossed from the window over to the door. Kevin couldn’t hold it in any longer. His mouth stretched open and he howled. He didn’t even notice him leaving the room.

  Kevin shut his eyes, still hearing the torment of his own voice battering his ears. He only opened them when he felt something crack him on the shoulders. He slammed his mouth shut and whimpered, fearing the fat man had come back.

  “It’s over, Kevin. Come on, you need to wake up!”

  He opened one eye and saw the girl from the cellar standing over him, but she had grown up now. The body was nowhere to be seen. Kevin slowly sat up. He saw what was left of his mum’s brush in the corner, next to the chair, but the bristles were missing. Kevin ran the tips of his fingers over the floorboards, until they dipped into a long straight grove in the wood.

  The event that he’d just witnessed happened years ago. “What just happened?”

  “The lights showed you a piece of your past. I saw it too.” She sat on the edge of their pretend parents’ rotting bed, still wearing the dressing gown. “I’m going to go shower now, Kevin.”

  She stood up walked over where he lay, knelt over him and kissed the top of his head. “Hush, Kevin. There was nothing you could have done, even the first time around. What has happened in the past will happen again, it’s how this is played out.”

  He lifted his head. “Wait, what do you mean?”

  “Do you think that the ones before us were treated any different when they were younger? That pathetic large lady who used to put me in pretty dresses, the one who ended her life in this very spot, wasn’t allowed out of that cellar until she was in her twenties. She had only just figured out how to fit into the role designated for her by the time you and I came onto the scene.”

  Kevin got to his feet, looking at this woman in a new light. “How come you know so much about all of this?”

  The girl entwined her fingers into his then leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He tried not to flinch, remembering what happened to the last male who got too close to those teeth. She stunk of wood rot and dried blood.

  “Don’t bother answering that,” he said. “We still have our jobs to do.” He paused. “How long was I out of it?”

  She shrugged. “Not sure, a couple of minutes maybe?”

  Kevin ran to the door. “Clean yourself up!” He raced out of the room, running past the guest-room doors, not caring about who saw him now. He took the steps two at a time, desperate to get to his kitchen. Kevin moaned quietly when his worst fears had been realised.

  The wheelbarrow was on its side and there was no sign of the mutilated boy.

  3

  Philip Johnson had no intention of going to sleep in this bloody horrible bed. His boyfriend had obviously had no problems at all. Jack hadn’t stopped snoring for the last two bloody hours. If he hadn’t been so tender in their lovemaking before Jack had nodded off, Philip would have placed his size nines against the small of his back and pushed the noisy monster out of the bed.

  Not even he was that mean though. Christ, what in blazes was going through Jack Johnson’s mind when he checked in for three nights in this creepy hotel? It even looked this shitty in the brochure that landed on their doormat. Thinking back, Philip should have popped it in the pedal bin as soon as he picked it up.

  He pumped up the hard pillow for the ninth time, wondering if that creepy dude who appeared to be in charge of this place smelled as though he took baths in lemon scented disinfectant. It wasn’t just the creep’s rather suspect bodily hygiene that sent warning bells ringing in his head. This whole place reeked of wrongness. It wasn’t just Mr Lemon Smell, the freak with the charming smile and eyes that froze the blood in your veins. Everything about this place felt wrong. He’d already explained to Jack how uncomfortable he felt here, and Jack had almost managed to allay his fears. He sighed. It probably also explained why the lovely man had gone to such lengths in pleasing him in this bed. Jack was nothing if not predictable.

  Right now though, sitting up in the most uncomfortable bed on the planet, at just past midnight, those earlier uncomfortable feelings were turning to cold fear. It didn’t help with the odd sounds he’d been hearing for the past few minutes or the faint smell of spoilt pork that kept tickling his nostril hairs.

  “Jack, are you awake?” He shook the man’s shoulder. “You awake, buddy?” He was so tempted to give the man a light slap on the cheek. Philip received a couple of grunts and some unintelligible murmur before Jack wrapped himself tighter in the quilt and curled up into the foetal position. “Thanks for nothing.” He slid out of the bed and pushed his bare feet into his pink slippers.

  “Bugger it. I’ll make myself a hot chocolate.” The sound of his voice did help to push some of that fear back to where it had sprung from. Philip walked over to the coffee making facilities, sighing again when he saw no sachets of chocolate. “Oh, just fantastic. Now what am I going to do?”

  Jack moaned again. This time he turned over and hugged Philip’s pillow.

  “Thanks, a fat lot of good you are.”

  The pair of them were on their way to meet up with a couple of Jack's mates on the other side of the county. The idea was to celebrate Jack walking out of university with a BA in Geology. After sinking half a dozen pints each, as well as God knows how many shots, the idea of sleeping rough in the mountains sounded like the most profound idea on the planet. Perhaps Jack's leaving party might not have been the best place to plan out a short holiday? Considering the last time Philip had slept under the stars was when he was a kid, on some camping site with his parents and younger sister.

  After a few of those yummy Yeager bombs that Jack had forced down his neck, any reservations about sleeping in some old tent went right out of the window. Heck, he'd have agreed to sleeping on the other side of Mars as long as both Keith and Adam were going to be there too.

  Philip crossed over to the window and used his forefinger to push the curtain back an inch. He was doing it again. First it was the cat's fault that they were in this horrid and itchy place, now he was blaming Jack's friends because their Jeep down there was full of camping gear.

  “Perhaps you should be blaming yourself?” Yeah why not? After all, if he hadn't been that drunk in the first place as well as fancying both of Jacks friends, there's a good chance that both of them would now in their own comfortable bed, with their pet doggy, Candyfloss, sleeping at the foot of the bed.

  Curse his rampant libido. He looked back at his sleeping partner, still wondering if he'd misinterpreted the signals he had received from both Keith and Adam. Both men were gorgeous, they spent their life in the great outdoors, consequently, their bodies (the bits he'd seen) were superb, and they knew it too. Jack had already told him that before he fell in love with Philip, he'd slept with both of the boys, at the same time.

  This line of thinking was so not making him sleepy. He let go of the curtain and walked over to the dresser. In any other hotel, this would be where the TV would be. That's another thing about this place, the distinct lack of technology. It was like t
hey'd time travelled back fifty years. Neither of their phones would pick up a signal either.

  He sat on the side of the bed, so wishing he could go to sleep. He wished Jack was awake. Philip also wished Candyfloss was here. At least the dog would stay awake long enough for Philip to give him a hug.

  “I wish I wasn't here.”

  That weird smell was back. He gazed over at the locked door. Whatever it was, that's where it came from. Philip ran his fingers up Jack's arm, stopping when he reached the man's shoulders. That smell was getting worse. Bloody hell, why had his snoring monster's nose not already fallen off? “Jack!” he hissed. “Come on, wake up.”

  Philip's heart slammed into his mouth when something on the other side of that dark wooden panelled door knocked three times.

  “Jack!” he grabbed the man's shoulder and pushed him. “Come on, you. Will you please wake up!”

  Something knocked again.

  Jack opened his eyes. “Dude, it's still dark.”

  Philip pushed his boyfriend's face towards the door. “There's something on the other side. It keeps knocking!”

  Jack slid out of Philip's hold tuned on his back and pulled the other man down. “Right,” he smiled. “God, you'd do anything to make me have you.” He snorted. “You're such a bitch.”

  Philip pulled the man's hands off his neck and jumped out of the bed. “For crying out loud, Jack. I'm serious, there's somebody out there.”

  The other man's smile slipped from his face when something slammed into the door.

  “What the fuck?” Jack climbed out of bed, pulled on his dressing gown and sneaked over to the door. “Pass me that clock,” he whispered.

  Philip grabbed the bright red alarm clock from Jack's side and ran over. “What do you think it is?”

  Jack shrugged. “No idea.” he paused. “Wait, what the fuck is that vile smell?” He pressed his hand flat against the door. “Get ready,” he hissed. The man grabbed the door handle, slammed it down and jumped back, yelping when another figure fell into the room.

  Philip ran past Jack and dropped to his knees. “Oh my God!” He looked up at Jack. “Call the police, call for an ambulance. Don't just stand there, do something!”

  Who on earth could have done this to the poor boy? “It's okay, you're going to be just fine now, I promise.” Philip ran back to the bed and retrieved his pillow. “Anything?”

  Jack shook his head. “There's nothing, no signal from either phones! I'll use the one on the desk downstairs, that'll work.”

  Philip grabbed the man's arm and pulled him away from the door. “Don't you dare.”

  “What?”

  “How do you think he got into this state? For crying out loud, man. It must be that creepy guy who smells of lemons. It'll be him who done this to him. Go knock on the other doors, Jack. One of them is bound to have a phone that works.” He crouched beside the boy, gently lifted his head and placed the pillow under there.

  The poor boy was obviously the source of the foul smell. Philip dare not think about where he'd been put for him to get into such a state. He ran his eyes down the boy's naked body, looking for any other signs of injury. The thick crust of dried blood, covering the backs of his ankles hinted to why he'd fallen into the room. He jumped up and ran over to the door. There was a trail of blood all the way up the stairs. He spun around. “Jack, don't just stand there, gawking. Please will you go get help!”

  “And you're sure it's the hotel owner who did this?”

  The boy let out a heart-rending howl and began to shake.

  Philip ran back to him. “There's your answer, Jack. Now go!”

  He gently stroked the boy's arm. “You rest easy now, lad. Everything is going to be okay now. We'll have you in a hospital bed in no time.”

  Jack joined him beside the boy. “You go. I'll keep him company. Besides, I'm the one with first aid training.”

  Philip stood up and scowled. There were times when he found Jack really annoying. “Are you going to put the alarm clock back now?” He grabbed Jack's dressing gown and slipped it on before he walked over to the open door. “Are you sure you'll be okay?”

  “Just go, Philip.”

  He wasn't too sure how Jack had managed to turn the tables, right now, he guessed it didn't matter. Philip reached the first door, pulled his dressing gown belt tighter and smashed his fist against the wood.

  Was there anyone even in the room next to them? Philip banged again. Still no sound from the other room. “You're wasting time here.” He crossed the corridor, knowing for a fact that the nice couple they met earlier was staying in this room. Philip and Angela Steadford got on like a house on fire at breakfast. Especially when the woman explained the pair of them were going to visit some cave system, a few miles past the next town. He told her that Jack loved going caving and in a few months' time his boyfriend was going to take him potholing.

  The woman's hubby had looked on with a silent scowl just visible above his fake smile. Philip figured the man wasn't too keen on handsome strangers chatting to his lovely wife. His icy composure only melted away when the silly fool realised that Philip and Jack were an item and Philip had no plans to elope with Angela Steadford after all.

  He knocked on the door, his ears filled with the sound of that poor boy trying to speak. How could anyone do that to another human being? It defied all reasoning. “Come on, you two,” he hissed. “Wake up!” Philip dispensed with the polite knock and brayed on the door with both hand, just hoping they hadn't gone for a walk.

  “Because going for a stroll is a perfectly acceptable thing to do at three in fucking morning, Philip.”

  He grabbed the door handle and turned it, expecting it to be locked. Philip was already making up a speech to give to the remaining guests. The one's with the little boy, and the scary man who'd already threatened to give Jack a slapping for looking at his wife funny.

  The door swung inwards, and Philip stood there, looking into a room identical to theirs, not sure what to do now. “Is there anybody in there?” The room was empty, in fact their double bed looked as though it hadn't even been slept in. That couldn't be right. Only a few hours ago, he'd given the woman a friendly wave, just before she'd gone into this room. Their car hadn't moved either. He noticed their dark green hatchback parked next to his jeep when he looked out of the window earlier.

  “Hello?” Philip took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. It wasn't just the made up bed that threw him. This room really was all ready for the next guest. There was nothing out of place in here. This didn't make any sense. Philip paused when he did notice something out of place. There were a small pair of scissors left of the bedside dresser. He stepped over to the door that opened into the bathroom and knocked twice, seriously beginning to doubt his memory. “Hello, is there anybody in there?”

  After waiting a couple more seconds, he looked back towards the door, deciding that he was either in the wrong room or the Steadfords really had left. What was to stop them from ringing a taxi?

  “They rang for a taxi using the phone that you wanted to borrow?”

  Philip didn't move away from the door. His stubborn mind refusing to accept that unlikely scenario. He put his hand on the handle, knowing deep down that his refusal to believe they had gone was more to do with not wanting to knock on the other guests' door.

  “Right, that's it. I'm coming in,” he whispered. “You do know you're walking into an empty room, you bloody coward.” He pushed against the door and stepped inside.

  Directly in front of him, Philip saw their luggage. Two matching red suitcases, all packed up, stacked against the white tiles. His mind and gut tilted when his bulging eyes flickered past the luggage and settled on the naked body, curled around the shower base, he looked like he was sleeping with his thumb pushed into his mouth. He looked like road-kill. Mr Steadford was dead.

  A slight shift in the shadows dancing on the wall to his right made him pulled his terrified gaze away from Philip's first ever body. He tur
ned his head to discover Mrs Steadford sitting on the toilet, only the woman wasn't alone.

  A young blonde-haired woman moved her head to the left. She pushed Mrs Steadford's body off her lap and pressed her forefinger against her lips. Philip stumbled back, staring at Angela's bloodied mouth, he then heard a giggle.

  The blonde woman opened her mouth and leaned forward, then pushed her fingers inside her mouth and pulled out a lump of red meat. Philip groaned aloud, this insane bitch had bitten out Angela's tongue.

  His instinct for survival finally kicked in. He spun around and fled the bathroom, wiping the tears from his cheeks, still not believing what he'd just witnessed. He stumbled over his feet and crashed onto the carpet. Philip had to believe it, for that crazy, tongue eating woman wasn't content with staying inside that slaughterhouse, she was right behind him now, watching him crawl out of the room.

  Philip managed to get to his feet and raced from the safety of his room and his Jack. The door slammed shut as soon as he reached his room.

  “Let me in, Jack! For crying out loud, man,” he screamed, slamming his fists against the wood. “Will you please open this fucking door!” Philip felt his bladder let go when he saw the blonde woman standing in the middle of the corridor, thick blood dripped down her chin. She paused to lick the bottom of her lip before she pushed one of her shapely legs through the gap in her dressing gown and dragged a fingernail up her thigh.

  “Oh fuck, no,” he blabbered. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Philip had to get out of here! He raced down the stairs, suppressing the hysterical laughter that threatened to burst from him when he saw the phone sat on the reception desk. The door to freedom and his jeep lay just metres away now. Philip risked a look behind him. She wasn't there, the crazy woman must have gone back inside that room. “Oh Jack, why didn't you open that door?”