by Jon Athan
Shawn asked, “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
Aiden shrugged and responded, “I'm washing the dishes. What do...”
Shawn's anger was uncontrollable. He bolted to Aiden's side, then pulled the devious trickster from the sink. He tightly gripped Aiden's shirt from the chest, pinning his back to the counter. Aiden grinned and giggled. Shawn huffed and puffed, then grabbed a serrated steak knife from the sink.
As he held the sharp knife to Aiden's neck, Shawn yelled, “I'll kill you! I'll rip your fucking throat open!”
With an arrogant smile plastered on his face, Aiden shook his head and said, “I wouldn't do that, Shawn. Let's be smart about this. I'm giving you my word. I'll go out and die in front of the police. But, if you kill me, you'd be ruining your own life. I wiped the phone. Your wife saw us on good terms. You get crazy when you drink. It'll look like murder, Shawn. You would have gone through all of this for nothing.”
Shawn's hand trembled as he scowled and pondered the situation. The knife pierced into Aiden's skin, a droplet of blood dribbled down his neck. The prick did not hurt him. The slice was minuscule, like giving an elephant a paper cut. Shawn reluctantly lowered the knife. Aiden's analysis was logical.
Shawn said, “Get out of my damn house before I change my mind.”
Aiden smirked and responded, “Okay, let me just finish these dishes.”
Shawn sternly said, “Stop washing those damn dishes and leave. Get out.” As Aiden hesitated, Shawn barked, “Get out! If you don't leave my house, I'll rip you into little pieces and cook you for dinner! I'll swallow every inch of your body and we'll see if the police can find you in my shit! Get you!”
Aiden's face glowed with joy as he relished in Shawn's forbidding words. He savored Shawn's minatory glare. Shawn's change in character was amusing – from an obedient pup to a savage wolf within minutes. Aiden simpered as he dried his hands with a white towel and watched Shawn with inquisitive eyes.
Aiden said, “You see, that's what I'm talking about. I can see it in your eyes, Shawn. You already have a lust for vengeance. It's the same look I had in my eyes when you left that bathroom all those years ago. I am a product of your bullying. I'm... I'm like your son.”
Shawn said, “This is your last warning. Get out.”
Aiden glanced down at his clothing and responded, “Well, do you want me to return your clothes? I mean, this shirt and these pants are pretty nice. I don't want to get blood all over them. Then again, I don't want to die in rags on the news. I want a classy death, you know? I've had enough...”
“I don't care. Keep the clothes and get out.”
Aiden smiled and said, “Thanks, dad.”
Aiden rolled up the sleeves on his white button-up shirt as he strolled past Shawn. Shawn stood in unwavering solidarity, glaring at the stove. His thoughts bounced between Aiden's sly actions and the final challenge – the dreadful meal.
As he stood near the open front door, Aiden said, “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”
Shawn marched towards the front door, then said, “Listen to me, Aiden. I'm sorry for everything I did. I know you did this to teach me a lesson, to get your vengeance. I understand that. But, I want you to understand something, too. You played dirty tonight. You played very dirty. If you don't die by the time I wake up in the morning, I'm going to come after you. I'll come after everyone you love.”
“Everyone I love?” Aiden repeated in a dubious tone. He huffed, then said, “Well, you wouldn't really have anyone to kill, would you? It was nice seeing you again, Shawn. Enjoy your night. And, don't forget about that note. See you in Hell, friend.”
Shawn stood at the doorway as he watched Aiden depart. Aiden tramped through the moist lawn, his feet sinking deeper into the damp ground with each step. He stomped towards the wailing sirens reverberating from over the horizon, trekking towards his inevitable death.
***
Shawn shambled up the creaky stairs, loosening his tie and unfastening the buttons on his shirt. He yawned and stretched as he reached the top of the stairs. His eyelids were leaden with exhaustion and his body ached from the grueling night. Pain was scarred across his body, humiliation was marked on his self-importance.
As he rubbed his eyes, Shawn whispered, “What a night... What a fucking night...”
He strolled down the hall bouncing with each swaggering step. He kicked his shoes off by the bathroom door. His belt clicked and clanked as his pants fell to his ankles. He slipped out of his trousers, then tossed his shirt aside. The shirt and tie swayed across the air, majestically floating towards the ground. Shawn had stripped himself down to his gray boxer briefs and black socks – a striking combination.
Shawn smirked and murmured, “Freedom at last...”
Shawn stopped and leaned on the nursery room door. He gazed at the master bedroom across the hall, contemplating his explanation and conjuring a set of excuses. He couldn't help but chuckle as he found himself trying to justify his grisly wounds.
Translating his thoughts into words, Shawn jokingly said, “You know how I get when I drink too much... I stuck my hand in the compactor, I fell down the stairs, you know how I always wanted to try anal... You know how I get...”
The door squealed as he slowly shoved it open. Shawn quietly chuckled as he staggered into the bedroom. The sleeping chamber was simple. On the same wall as the door, there was a sleek black entertainment center with a 40-inch flat-screen television on top. Across from the entertainment center, there was a queen-sized bed with crimson satin bed sheets. Moonlight poured through the rectangular window on the opposite side of the room.
Shawn leaned on the wall by the doorway and whispered, “Maribel? Maribel, are you awake?”
Maribel did not respond. Only a head of wild bed hair protruded from under the covers. Shawn glanced to his left. The same sitcom was playing on the television – endless reruns of the same tired show. Shawn shambled forward, then tumbled onto the bed. The elegant bed sheets swallowed his body, surrounding him with comfort.
With his face planted on the bed, Shawn said in a muffled tone, “Maribel.... Maribel, wake up. I have to tell you something. Wake up, sleepy head, you still owe me a favor.”
Shawn's beloved wife did not respond. Shawn lifted his head from the bed and furrowed his brow as he gazed at Maribel's slumbering body. He nervously smiled, then poked her buttocks. He prodded at her haunches with his index finger, trying to conjure some laughs.
Shawn asked, “Sweetie, are you okay? Did you take something? Maribel?”
Shawn crawled up, slowly inching his head over Maribel's torso. He squinted as he gazed at her still face. Her grace and elegance were wondrous – a sleeping beauty. Yet, her stiff body was alarming. She did not react to Shawn's gentle touch.
As fear sprinted through his mind, Shawn stumbled over Maribel's body, then turned the knob on the bedside lamp. The bright light illuminated the bed, whisking away the funereal shadows. Shawn gently shoved Maribel, flipping her from her side to her back.
As his eyelids flickered erratically, Shawn asked, “Wha–What's wrong with you, baby? What are you... What did he do? Christ, what did he do?!”
Shawn placed his ear above Maribel's mouth and nose. His wife was not breathing. He straddled her, sitting on top of her thighs. Over her protruding belly, he planted his palms on her chest and pushed with all of his might. He tilted her head, gently pulled her jaw down, then performed mouth-to-mouth. Every hopeful breath was fruitless. He bit his bottom lip as he sobbed.
Shawn shouted, “I don't know what I'm doing! I don't know what to do! Please! Help me! Somebody help me!” He glanced around the room, then yelled, “Where the fuck is my phone?!”
Hopeless, Shawn planted his forehead on Maribel's chest and hysterically bawled. His attempts were futile. He did not have the knowledge or skill to save her. He could not resuscitate his wife. He sniffled and shook his head, struggling to admit defeat.
Shawn's eyes widened as he gazed down at
his wife. He staggered off the bed, then pulled the lamp from the nightstand. He gazed into Maribel's sealed eyelids as he tightly gripped the bed sheets. Like a magician revealing his trick, Shawn pulled the sheets from the bed.
Shawn gasped, then stuttered, “N–No... Wha–What happened... Why...”
Shawn wheezed, hopelessly trying to catch his breath from the shocking revelation. Maribel's white nightgown was doused in blood from her pelvis to her shins. The blood stained the white sheets beneath her body and her unclad legs.
Shawn ran his fingers through his hair, tightly pulling on the slimy strands. His protuberant eyes bulged from his skull and sweat spurted from every gland on his body. Every thought in his mind was muddled and distorted.
Shawn whispered, “The... The note...”
A bloodied, folded piece of paper rested atop Maribel's bloody garment. Shawn gagged as he shambled towards Maribel's groin. The agony and disgust swelled in his throat, clogging his airway with sorrow. He grabbed the note, then quickly staggered in reverse until his back hit the wall. Slowly, he unfolded the paper.
As his eyes swelled with tears, Shawn read the note aloud, “Hello, Shawn. Thank... Thank you for participating in our little game. You–you are probably very angry with me now that you're reading this note. Knowing you, you'll take this game to the next level if I survive. So, I've planned my death accordingly. It'll break the cycle. We're even. Now, you're probably wondering what you consumed tonight. You're looking at... You're looking at Maribel and thinking deeply.”
Shawn stopped as he scrunched his face and stared at his deceased wife. Saliva spurted from his mouth and tears dripped from his eyes as he wildly wept. He grunted and moaned as anger and pain swelled in every limb.
In a cracking voice, Shawn continued to read the note aloud, “I... I can tell you now: You didn't eat her. You didn't eat her stomach or her leg. You ate something else. You ate the–the burden of your life. You...” Shawn's head swayed from the sudden dizziness. He sniffled, then continued, “You... You ate the only girl you could ever love more than Maribel. You ate your da–daughter... daughter... daughter...”
The room spun as the giddiness hit him like a speeding bus. His eyelids flickered and his head whirled. His legs wobbled and his stomach turned. He retched and wheezed. The words were like venom. The poison spread through every limb and enfeebled him.
Shawn stared at Maribel's belly and said, “No, no, no... Please, no...” He frowned and shouted, “No! No! Damn it! Why?! Why?!”
The note glided through the air, mockingly swaying left-and-right. Shawn reluctantly trudged towards the bed. As his bottom lip quivered, he stared at the ceiling and gently tugged on Maribel's nightgown.
As his eyes swelled with tears, Shawn whispered, “Please, don't... don't let it be true. I'm sorry...”
Shawn inhaled deeply, then glanced down at Maribel's unveiled pelvis. His breath was immediately taken, vacuumed from his tender lungs. Maribel's thighs were drenched in blood. Her crotch was savagely mutilated. A piece of the bloodied umbilical cord laid in a pool of blood.
Shawn gagged as he fell to his knees. The sinister message ran through his mind. The depraved meal knocked him to the ground, taking his breath away with one foul punch. The final challenge tormented his psyche. The final meal clung to his taste buds. The torturous crunching sound continued grinding in his ears.
Shawn stuck his fingers down his throat and induced vomiting. The projectile fluid and chunks splashed on the floor. He did not stop. Shawn jabbed his fingers into his mouth, helplessly trying to cleanse his body. He hysterically wept and wheezed. The melancholy cries echoed through the desolate home, booming over the pouring rain.
Over the frenzied weeping, the note gently settled on a dusty floorboard. The final line read: Bon appétit.
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Dear Reader,
First and foremost, thank you for reading! This was a product of genuine passion. Your readership is invaluable and I can't thank you enough for sticking with it until the end. This book was not intended to offend or appall. Considering the intense ride and horrifying finale, I can certainly understand those who were offended. If you belong to said group, please accept my sincerest apologies.
When I set out to write this book, I wanted to write an intense revenge-thriller, like Oldboy or I Saw The Devil. (The Korean versions, of course.) In order to write something of that magnitude, I needed to delve deeply into some very dark places. As I thought about bullying and researched some severe cases, I became very frustrated. The bullying I found was heinous and appalling. It had actually amplified since I was a child.
On that point, I also used my own history with bullying to craft some of the scenes in this book. I have experienced the verbal abuse and I even had a condom thrown on my shoulder in elementary school. (It wasn't used, fortunately.) Although I wouldn't consider my bullying as severe as certain cases or this book, it did have a deep impact – an impact I wanted to convey through this story. Bullying leaves scars on the body and the psyche; bullying is completely unacceptable and should not be tolerated. It must stop.
I believe my own frustrating history and my research on bullying birthed this dark and disturbing story. It is not based on real events, but it is inspired by a disturbing issue – and a disturbing issue deserves a disturbing story to get the point across. However, please understand, violence is not the answer; vengeance is not the answer. The ending depicted in this book shows a lose-lose situation. I can't offer the best advice considering I waited until my bully moved, but I can offer a few words. If you're an adult, don't downplay bullying; if you're a child or adolescent, ask for help – don't try to bury the problem. (If you're part of the latter, you probably shouldn't have read this book.)
Anyway, if you enjoyed this book, please leave an honest review on Amazon.com. Your review is incredibly significant. My career depends on your review. Your review will help me improve on future books and it will help other readers find this book. It will also allow me gauge interest for certain genres and themes. Would you like to see a similar revenge-thriller? Were you unsatisfied with the ending? Your words have the power to influence my writing – please use them wisely.
Also, feel free to share this book with your friends and family. Tweet it to your followers on Twitter, share it with your friends and family on Facebook, lend it to them, or even read it to them over the phone or video chat. Birthday, holiday, or special event coming up? Buy them a copy as a gift. Word-of-mouth is a superb method in supporting independent authors – and it's mostly free. My diet consists of cheap noodles and tap water. I need your support to sustain this thrifty lifestyle.
Finally, if you enjoy scary stories, feel free to visit my Amazon's Author page. I've published over a dozen horror anthologies. Was this book too intense? Need something lighter? If you love zombies, I highly recommend reading my interconnected anthology, 10 Days: Undead Uprising. If you love aliens, I recommend reading my other interconnected anthology, Shattering Skies: The 10-Day Invasion. Furthermore, many of my books are available on Kindle Unlimited! I publish books frequently, so please keep your eyes peeled for the next release. I'm currently working on a possession-horror book. Once again, thank you for reading. Your readership has kept me going through my darkest times and I am forever grateful.
Until our next venture into the dark and disturbing,
Jon Athan
P.S. If you have questions (or insults), you'll receive the quickest and most efficient response via Twitter @Jonny_Athan. If you're an aspiring author, I'm always happy to lend a helping hand. I know how difficult it can be to ge
t started, so feel free to ask. Thanks again!
