Depravity

by Woodhead, Ian

  He reached the main doors and stopped, his head felt as though it was going to burst open when he saw the door handle was missing, in fact, he saw no sign that there ever was a door handle, the wood was seamless.

  “There must be another door.”

  Philip ran past the desk, not even bothering to check to see if that bastard phone worked. He ran through the dining area and into the entertainment room. He and Jack had only entered here once yesterday, and that had been enough. The place had the grace and décor of a nineteen seventies day-room in a mental institution.

  He looked past the two old sofas against the far wall, the rickety table with the box full of old and broken toys, and the black and white television bolted to the wall. He was more concerned about the double doors that should lead into the hotel grounds. They should be directly in front of him.

  The wall was unbroken, from one edge to the next. His mind tilted again, especially at the sight of the scuffed footprints on the lino leading straight into the wall.

  “The bloody kitchen!” he gasped. “They're bound to have some kind of goods entrance. Fuck you, wall.” Philip spun around and staggered back into the dining room. God, this place was fucking freezing! He skidded to a stop, wrapped his gown tighter around his body and so tried to calm down. This wasn't real, it couldn't be. Door handles don't just disappear, neither did badly made patio doors suddenly turn into a wall. He stuck his arm out and patted the thin air, guessing that he'd just tapped Jack on the arse. This had to be a dream, what else could it be? The white double doors that he remembered creepy, smiley, lemon-fresh man walking through earlier were right in front of him. “Dream or no dream, it's not like I have any other choice.”

  Philip pushed his way through the double doors. He looked across the walls at the back, behind the silver worktops, the microwaves and the two aluminium sinks. He stopped looking when he saw something else that didn't belong in here. There was a small boy sitting on the far counter, swinging his legs from left to right. He raised his head and smiled at Philip.

  It was the scary man's little lad. “Hell, there, sonny. Are you lost?”

  The boy shrugged his shoulders, then he started to quietly weep.”

  Philip hurried over to him. “You looking for mummy and daddy? Come on, let's see if we can find them.” He helped the child off the counter and took his hand. The fear that he felt before had all but gone now. It was still there, no doubt about that. He knew though he now had to be the responsible adult. This boy needed reuniting with his family, no way was he going to allow some optical illusion, or some freaky blonde woman stop him from completing his task. Although, deep down, he did pray that she'd gone back inside that room. Just in case though, Philip opened a drawer and picked out a metal handled knife. “I have an apple upstairs,” he said, showing the boy his most sincere smile. “I don't really like the peel, you see.”

  It didn't surprise him to notice the handle on the main doors had reappeared. What did surprise him though was that he wasn't really all that bothered if this was reality or a dream. Taking this little boy back to his parents had instilled him with a sense of courage that he never knew he had. Philip frowned. It's strange how this new found fearlessness only appeared when he took hold of the boy's hand.

  “Where did you last see you mummy and daddy?”

  The boy released a big sigh and began to weep again.

  “Hey, it's okay, they won't be far. We can try looking at your room, sonny. I bet that's where they'll be,” he said, smiling.

  This last comment had the effect he'd hoped for. For the first time since finding the lad down there, he actually smiled. Philip grinned back, so glad he'd decided to help the boy. He could always ask the boy's parents to use their phone. He wasn't too sure why he wanted to use the phone, that piece of info had momentarily eluded him. It was important though, that much he was sure of. He smiled at the boy again, what a cute kid.

  They both ran up the remaining few steps, hand in hand. The boy then stopped dead just before they reached his parent's room.

  “Sonny, are you okay?”

  He nodded then pointed to the door on the other side of the hallway. That's where the Stepfords' were staying. He'd given the woman a little wave earlier. He found this whole situation rather confusing. The door swung inwards. It wasn't Mrs Stepford who came out. Philip had seen her before, he was sure of it. For the life in him though, he couldn't place her. She smelled of old lady's perfume, something like his grandma used to wear. How strange, the woman couldn't be any older than thirty. He was sure that dressing gown didn't belong to her either. It was way too big for her. Then again, he should be the one to judge, considering he had Jack's gown on. Philip stifled a chuckle. Maybe that's what they were doing, it's a dressing gown party. He vaguely wondered why he felt so funny, he also wondered where Jack could be.

  That poor woman looked absolutely terrified. It wasn't him though, she was scared of the sweet kid, still holding Philip's hand. He so wanted to give her a hug, to calm her down. He was only a little boy, nothing to fear from a little boy.

  “You're new at this, so I won't hurt you,” said the boy.

  “But, if you fail to keep track of your herd. You're going to find yourself hung up in the room. You won't believe the shit I had to pull to keep this one from leaving. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes,” murmured the woman. She dropped her gaze to her bare feet. “I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

  The boy then let go of Philip's hand. “Your new husband preaches 'Stick to the straight line', Angela. You could do with adopting that too.” He pushed Philip into the waiting arms of the woman. “No more warnings.”

  The mental sludge that claimed him when the little boy grabbed his hand fell away, allowing his original emotions of terror and confusion to fill the vacuum. “Oh God. Please, no, let me go!” He struggled in her iron grip but no matter how hard he tried, Philip couldn't get away. His actions came to an abrupt halt when she head butted him.

  “You're such an excitable one.” The woman pulled Philip into the room.

  Philip felt blood stained tears coursing down his cheeks as this vile bitch pulled him further into the room. She growled at him.

  “I'm supposed to do you quick, gay man, just like Kevin's doing to your man friend.” She swung him hard against the wall.

  He howled in agony when he crashed into that wall, feeling something in his shoulder crack. The woman then pushed his weakened body onto the bed and straddled him.

  “That can't happen though. You made me look dumb in front of the light. So no poison in your coffee for you, nasty gay man.” She reached over him and picked up something shiny from the bedside dresser.

  He cried out one last time when the woman placed the two scissor blades up each nostril. “Please,” he begged. “Please don't do this!”

  Angela leaned closer to his face. “Snip, snip,” she said, pressing the handles together.

  4

  Clouds of distant memory, combined with bewildering dream images prevented David Westwood from reaching the light. Florescent blue spikes pierced the miasma, giving him a glimpse of the dull and vapid reality that he so desired to grasp. Images of uniformed sprites and faintly menacing made-up giant animals constructed from scratched black metal threatened to drag David back down.

  He bypassed the inorganic arms and poles that shot from the animals, he swam past the sprites, turning to find they all wore the faces of the men he’d seen die, on some forgotten sun-baked desert. David opened his mouth and roared out the name of his wife, watching the sound leave as a purple bubble.

  The bubble rose faster than his body, but it did traverse past the obstacles. From a thousand miles away, he heard himself call out her name. David tried again to call but the sprites had caught up to him. They swarmed over his body, and pushed their spindly legs deep into his flesh, their own bodies then began to disintegrate. Their bodily glues seeped into his every orifice.

  David Westwood shot up
in bed. “Fuck me!” he gasped.

  He rubbed his calloused fingers across his wet face and took a deep shaky breath, wondering exactly what had awoken him. Not that he was complaining, that was some fucked up dream. It was something about giant tanks and something slimy in uniforms. He sighed, feeling the last of the dream images fading away.

  David absolutely detested the journeys where his damaged mind took him whilst he slept. No, it wasn't the distorted realities, these places plucked from his past and altered, that he had trouble with, it was the simple fact that his dreams would not allow him to take charge, to control their path.

  He swung back the covers, allowing the air to cool his sweat-soaked body. Why now? Why, after so long had these bastard dreams suddenly decided to torment his sleep?

  “Like you don't already know the answer to that one, David?” he murmured. Oh, he knew alright, he just didn't want to say it out loud. David swung his legs off the sheet and placed his feet on the carpet.

  The source of his current worry lay just a few feet from their bed. To his left, next to the room door, was another door. This one led into another bedroom. Alistair had a room all to himself. It even had a working radio, something that even this room lacked. Then again, this weird place lacked just about anything technological. He guessed it one of the reasons why his wife chose the place.

  David knew he ought to allow Anna to try this her own way. She deserved at least that. Even so, he still believed that treating the lad with kindness, understanding and tolerance was only going to make Alistair even worse.

  “God help us if that happens,” he murmured. Still, he couldn't discount it until he'd at least gone with her crazy plan. If it doesn't do any good, then he'd just have to go back to the tried and tested method of grounding him and taking away his privileges when he misbehaved.

  After all the crying and begging, followed by promises that he'd be a good boy and never be naughty again, after a couple of weeks, his old ways would return. He'd smack other kids, break windows, steal from the house, even daub paint over neighbour's cars.

  His little boy had obviously inherited most of his genetics from him. David was just the same at Alistair's age. Even his dad's leather belt failed to reign in David's wild behaviour. A spell in a young offenders' institution followed by the army was how he managed to keep himself from ending up behind bars.

  He sighed. Perhaps his own history was the main reason as to why this plan of Anna's was doomed to failure. Oh, Alistair needed supervision alright, so in one sense, this was one good plan. He's unlikely to misbehave when he was within eyesight of one of them for the next few days. The lad still needed discipline though, and he wouldn't get that from Anna. She was such a soft touch, and Alistair knew it.

  His wife turned over, giving him the full view of her slender naked back. David licked his finger and drew it down her spine, smiling as she moaned in her sleep. Okay, so maybe she was a soft touch and right now, that suited him just fine.

  Her hand snaked around and landed on his hip. Her fingers slid down his front until they found his semi-rigid cock. David released his own man as her fingers expertly massaged his length, He pushed his body closer, moaning again when she parted her thigh and guided his hard cock inside her.

  David gripped her tight, his hand squeezing Anna's small, firm breasts while he thrust into her. She cried out in pleasure, pushing her bottom hard against his crotch, tightening her fingers over David's hand, urging him to twist her nipples.

  He gladly responded, feeling his orgasm coursing through him. David buried his scream in her hair as he came. She held him inside her, while he gently kissed between her shoulder blades.

  “Do you feeling any better now, darling?” she purred. Anna pushed him over, then climbed out of bed. She returned a moment later and snuggled up against him, her fingers once more finding his penis. “Are you going to tell me why you're still awake, David?”

  He shrugged. “I was asleep. Just woke up that's all.” He curled his fingers over her hand. “Don't stop that.”

  “So it's nothing to do about Alistair then?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Her hand slid out of David's fingers and moved up to his chest. “You really are crap at lying, honey.”

  He sighed heavily and cursed his rampant libido. Now he'd have to listen to her running off at the mouth again. David placed his bottom lip between his teeth and prepared himself for the onslaught. It wouldn't be that bad, the sound of her voice might even lull him back to sleep. He grinned, so glad that his beautiful wife couldn't read his mind.

  “I just don't want you to worry about him, darling.”

  “I'm not worried.”

  “That fact that you're not snoring away, proves that you are. It's not just that either. You've been like a caged tiger ever since we got here, David. “Just look at what you said to that poor boy at breakfast time. You know the one whose friend drives the jeep.”

  “Yeah, I'll admit, that was a bit uncalled for.”

  “Just a bit?”

  “Okay, a lot. Look, I'll apologise to him in the morning.” She wasn't wrong there. Now that he'd discovered those lads were an item, it's more likely that he was just admiring her jewellery, as opposed to checking out Anna's tits, which was his original assessment.

  Her hand moved back down to his crotch. “Good boy. Now close those gorgeous eyes of yours, honey and go back to sleep.”

  David didn't need her softly spoken command to do as her bidding. His eyes were already closed. He snuggled up tighter against her warm body, as her gentle and constant rhythm propelled his mind back into the land of nod.

  The black sails swallowed the light from the pale moon, its iridescent shimmer throwing back bands of dull red light. The harsh wind pushed the sails rigid, even though there was no wind. The ocean currents threatened to tear the ship apart, to break the deck to matchwood. It rocked and rolled, yet beyond the black horizon, calmness reigned. Waves crashed against the side, he heard muffled cries, he had to help!

  David's eyes shot open, just as the bed head smashed against the wall behind him. He stared into the terrified face of his wife, her face just inches from his. His sleep addled brain struggling to make sense of the confusing sounds and images assaulting his brain. David lifted his hand, only to find it snapping back to the side of the bed. The bed head hit the wall again.

  “What the fuck?” he gasped.

  He tried to lift his head only to find he could only move up a couple of inches, it was then when the dull light seeping through the heavy curtain revealed that Anna had been gagged with a sock stuffed into her mouth and secured with parcel tape. The bed continued to rock back and forward. Fat tears fell from her cheeks onto his chest.

  “Anna! Oh God, what is happening?” David jerked at both his hands, he swung his head to the side, finding the reason for his incapacity. Someone had cuffed his wrist to the metal bed frame, it was at this moment when his shrieking mind threw off the last of his heavy sleep. There was somebody else in the room.

  Anne's head was pushed into his stomach and a leering, sweat-covered face looked over. David found himself glaring at the hotel owner, and the vile dirty bastard was fucking his Anna! “I'll kill you!” yelled David, frantically tugging at the hand cuffs, trying to block out the wet sounds of the man's front smacking into his wife's rear.

  “Oh, so you finally woke up. Look, David, please hush a moment, I've nearly finished.” He gripped the woman's hips and thrust against Anna. The bed head hit the wall again.

  He growled in anguish, David's mind dropped into neutral as a red rage took over.

  The man above them grabbed Anna's hair and brought up her face then slammed it into his guts.

  “I told you to shut your hole, David! You'll do as you're told or fucking regret it.” Her leaned over his wife's shaking body. “Unless you want me to do your son next? Is that what you want, David? You want to gaze into the frightened eyes of tiny Alistair while I slam my very hard penis into
his arsehole?” He pushed again, a quiet grunt leaving his mouth. “Your lovely wife was already rather moist when I took her. Either she was playing with herself while you slept or you two had sex.”

  “Please, don't do this.”

  “Little Alistair won't be wet until I rip through all those delicate muscles in there. That'll be just great. Warm blood's a great lubricant.”

  David put his bottom lip between his lips again, he stared into Anna's tear filled eyes, so wishing she could read his mind now. “I love you,” he mouthed.

  After another few more thrusts, the hotel owner let out a deep groan, he dug his nails into her flesh and slammed his hips against her bottom and held it there. “Oh God, that was a good one. I never realised before how an audience makes the experience much more satisfying.” He pulled himself out, picked up David's shirt and wiped himself on the material. “This is so weird you know, David. See, the ones that own me said I should kill you first, make it quick, get it over with.” He walked around the side of the bed, his fingers trailing across Anna's flesh. “They said you were dangerous, a bad boy. A bad boy with a damaged soul. Your wife makes me wet, and you make them wet.”

  “Let me go,” whispered David. “Please let me go and I promise we'll go away, we won't tell anyone about this. Just don't hurt Anna or my son.”

  “You're my packet of custard creams, David. Something to savour until the last.”

  The hotel owner jerked his head towards the door. “What was that?” He ran around the bed and raced over to the door. “Shit,” he growled. That's just what I need. He pulled open the door and looked down both sides of the corridor before bending over. “I can't trust that woman to do anything right.”

  David watched the man leave the room. He pulled at the cuffs again, refusing to believe he would die like this. “We'll get out of here!” he hissed. “We're going to get out of this and then I'm going to destroy that cunt for doing this.” He lifted his head as far as he could and spotted the man's trousers lying on the floor, next to Anna's feet. “Listen to me, honey. I need you to move your left foot a little to the side. Push your toes under the clothes and lift your leg. Can you do that for me?”