The Nightmare Within

by Glen Krisch

  All Kevin could do was throw his arms up in front of his face before Maury whipped the tire iron down on him. The heavy bar crashed into his forearm, biting clear to the bone like a vicious animal, radiating jolts of pain throughout his body. Kevin didn't hear any bones braking; his scream drowned out all other sound. He fell to his side, cradling his arm, feeling his whole body tensing, awaiting another blow.

  A deathly silence filled the room. But then Kevin could hear his mom fighting unconsciousness, fighting the blood flooding her open mouth, choking her. The tire iron whirred, splitting the air as it descended on Kevin's skull.

  The Freak's nails scraped across the floor.

  Kevin closed his eyes, knowing this was the end, hoping he wouldn't feel his skull shattering.

  The whirring noise ended with a dull thud. And no pain. No deathblow. When he opened his eyes, Mr. Freakshow was standing over him, the tire iron caught in one of his enormous hands. He was glaring at Maury.

  "Tisk, tisk Mr. French Fry. Trying to kill the boy out from under me, huh? That's my job." He ripped the tire iron from his hand and threw it against the far wall, the point impaling the drywall.

  Maury looked at his hands, as if even he doubted what he had attempted. He fell to his knees, trembling, groveling at the feet of the beast. "Please… I was just trying… dear God, I love her."

  "You may have sprung me from the boy's head, but you're no different than all of the others." Mr. Freakshow kicked Maury in the ribs. Maury curled into a ball, cowering, making as small a target as possible. Mr. Freakshow pummeled him a few times, dispirited, not really into his assault, before picking him up by a patch of his hair. "You weren't invited to the party, so I suggest you leave before you make me angry."

  The Freak held him by his hair and the belt of his pants. He spun in a circle like a discus thrower, and then heaved Maury at the living room window. Through all the pin wheeling arms and legs, Kevin saw Maury's eyes flinch closed the instant before he went flying though the pane. There was a sudden oomph as Maury crashed against the sidewalk. Then it was quiet again. Like any other middle of the night in sleepy Warren Cove.

  "Now, on with our show!"

  Kevin wanted to go over to his mom, shake her awake, do something, anything to make sure she did not slip away like his dad did. Her eyes were half shut, and what he saw was all whites. Her blood pooled from her many wounds on the hardwood floor, just as his dad's blood painted the bus station tile. She wasn't moving.

  Mr. Freakshow sauntered over, his hands outspread, as if he was about to hug Kevin. But he knew the beast would never be kind, that he had nothing but a black pit where his heart should be.

  "Enough histrionics, my boy. Time is late. We need to move on with our lives, and I'm afraid that my moving on means the end of yours." Mr. Freakshow swiped a hand through the air, a second too slow. An extra second caused by cockiness.

  Kevin dived to the floor, his cheek burning against the wood as he crashed awkwardly. From floor level, his mom's face was partially covered by mats of blood-soaked hair. She still hadn't moved. He didn't see her breathing. She was gone. He really was on his own. His heart trundled along in his chest, and he knew he was reaching his limit. He rolled over, his right forearm, most likely broken and a throbbing mass of agony, trailing slightly behind the rest of his body.

  "You cocksucker, get over here," Mr. Freakshow growled, for the first time a tinge of anger to his voice. "Get over here and die."

  Kevin braced himself with his left arm and pushed up to his feet. The Freak cut off his escape to the front door. Kevin faked as if he would make a run to the back of the house, but then made a break for the basement again. The welds would pop free with one more swift push. If he could only get downstairs with enough time…

  Why bother? he thought. Just slow down, let Mr. Freakshow catch you. What's the point anymore?

  He grappled with his thoughts, not sure why he was fighting anymore, not sure what he could look forward to if he lived through this. There was nothing left. His family was gone, all murdered. The one thing that was stopping him from giving up was the possibility of pain. Sure, his arm hurt, and even if it wasn't broken, it hurt like hell. But that pain wouldn't amount to much compared to what the Freak had in store for him. That's what subconsciously kept him going, not the fear of dying, but the fear of pain. Immense pain. Unending pain. If the Freak would only agree to kill him without brutalizing him, Kevin would hand himself over. Willingly and without regret hand himself over.

  But I'm a chicken. And what do chickens do? Chickens run.

  He stopped his momentum by grabbing hold of the basement doorknob with his left hand. His body kept moving on its own, his inertia throwing him down the hall. His arm pulled tight, a rubber band with no more stretch to give. The muscles in his arms strained, feeling like a dozen exploding beestings, but he was able to right himself and swing the door open. He hastily threw the lock after slamming the door shut behind him.

  As he jumped down the steps, Mr. Freakshow battered the door, noticeably bending the steel-reinforced structure inward.

  "YOU PATHETIC FUCK YOU COWARD YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" the Freak railed, pounding the door with his fists.

  Kevin didn't glance back. He charged through the dark basement and climbed into the window well. Most of the grate was loose. Only one weld remained. He pushed up with his good arm and could feel the grate bending. The weld held firm, but if he could only bend the grate a little more…

  And once outside, then what? Would Mr. Freakshow relent? Could he just leave the yard, walk down main street Warren Cove? Once outside, he was as surely dead as if he stood here and waited for the end to come to him.

  The grate continued to bend, and there was now enough room for him to skinny his way out. The basement door held, but the doorframe was giving way, the Freak rending it from its moorings.

  No, he wasn't going to run. He couldn't do it. He hadn't the will to take another step from the house where he grew up, or to endanger his neighbors or anyone else kind enough to help him. His thoughts turned to Sophie and Andrew, and he hoped they were unharmed after giving him aid in his time of need. But what the Freak did to his grandma… he didn't want to think anymore about his nightmare hurting the people he loved and trusted. Hopping down from the window well, he was overcome by a strange sense of relief. He was going to meet his tormentor face to face, stare him down until the end. Perhaps his lack of fear would make it go swiftly.

  His legs were shaky and could barely hold his weight. As the Freak continued to destroy the door, an occasional shank of wood flew from the disintegrating doorframe. Kevin went over to the washer and dryer set in the corner. They had left the appliances, all of them, when they had moved away. His mom didn't want anything carrying over to their new life. She didn't know at the time that so much of Kevin's life now would hinge on those things from the past. The memories of his dad, being in the family's old house… He sat on the washer, leaning back against the control panel. He faced the door and waited.

  "Cocksucker… when I get my hands… you're going to regret…" the pounding eased as Mr. Freakshow caught his breath. The straining of his lungs sounded foreign coming from the beast. It reminded Kevin of the first time he had to run the mile in gym class last year. A whole mile. Before that it was a half mile, and that had always been a chore. But a mile? He remembered wheezing on the side of the school's dirt track after he finished, feeling like he was going to die. He supposed that's how Mr. Freakshow felt right now. He was running a mile for the first time, and not really liking it.

  As Kevin waited, he looked at the ceiling, with its unfinished rafters looking like a network of parallel ribs. He wasn't focusing on anything, finding a certain serenity that he could never remember experiencing. His eyes came to rest on the square blocked-off end of the laundry chute. It had a hinged door, shutting off a tunnel leading to the two floors above him. Like a sealed mineshaft, the wooden tunnel lined the foundation wall and disappeared into the unknown
. The serenity and calm shirked his limbs. He once again tensed, and as if sensing this, Mr. Freakshow attacked the basement door with renewed vigor. The terrible cry of bending wooden beams filled the basement. Snatches of the comparably brighter upstairs light were visible as the Freak worked the door in its frame. It was only a matter of seconds now. The Freak would be on him in seconds, doubly angry for having to go through the door.

  Kevin stood on top of the dryer and reached up to the laundry chute door. He had never opened it before, since his family never used the chute when they lived here. His mom had been afraid that their clothes would travel through a tunnel of spider webs and end up even dirtier than before.

  In the darkness, he fumbled his hand around the edges of the chute. He came across a latch, and opened it. The door fell open on its hinge toward him. The open mouth of the chute sat at armpit level, making Kevin wonder if it was a fool's dream to even try climbing in there with his bad arm. But he had to. He had to try.

  He reached inside the chute and felt a wooden frame jutting out. He dug in with his fingers, stabbing them at the framing as if intent on driving them into the wood. Tiptoeing on the top of the dryer's control panel, he did a little hop. He pushed up with his good arm, throwing his broken limb in front of him. The arm was still good from the elbow in, and he was able to use the joint against the framing like a lever. He was waist-high in the dark tunnel. It was just a matter of pulling his legs up behind him, grabbing hold of the door, and holding it in place.

  The basement door came crashing in, a cumbersome and deadly bulwark skidding down the stairs. His dad's paranoia of some punk kids breaking into their house had bought Kevin enough time to hide. Maybe enough to get away somehow. He held the laundry chute door closed, listening.

  The Freak took the steps two at a time. His ragged breaths hissed through the basement, sending shivers down Kevin's spine. What am I doing? I'm a trapped rat. All the Freak had to do was find him holed up in there, and lash out with one fist, and…

  The Freak ran across the concrete floor, immediately coming to the window well with the bent metal grate.

  "Fuckingshit-human!"

  Kevin listened for any sign the Freak would fall for it, if he would go through the window well and outside, into the wide, opening night. All he could hear was his ragged breaths. And he was inhaling deeply, filling his lungs, sniffing the air.

  He's tracking me like a bloodhound.

  Panic surged through Kevin. Regardless of the noise he was making, he started shimmying up the chute. He braced his feet against the sides, clamoring above with his hands, searching for handholds.

  "Found you, little boy. I thought you had gotten away. But here you stay, a holed up larva, waiting to be set free," the Freak said, backtracking to the washer dryer set.

  His mom was right--the chute was full of cobwebs. They covered his face, ripping apart near his ears with the sound of tearing cotton candy. Something crawled across his naked arm. Straining to climb up the chute, he couldn't spare any energy to shoo away whatever it was. A small opening branched off to his right, and from the size of the door, he knew it was the chute door leading to the kitchen. Too small to escape through. He continued on, sweat drenching his skin, crawling higher into the darkness. The pain in his arm eased a bit. Either his arm was unbroken, or his adrenaline dulled the pain. He no longer cared. He reached above, grabbed a handhold, and pulled.

  The trap door leading to the laundry room flew open, and a cool blue light illuminated the tunnel. Kevin glanced over his shoulder, and looked into the beast's red flame eyes. As Mr. Freakshow held onto the lip of the chute, his body appeared to shrink. His nightmare broke his own bones--clavicles, ribs, scapulas--audibly snapping like twigs. He dislocated his joints, tore and refitted sinews and cartilage. Shrinking to fit inside the cramped chute.

  But the light. Emanating from his skin. Like a hidden light. Mr. Freakshow's hidden color.

  The Freak's hidden color illuminated the shaft enough that Kevin had an easier go of it. He reached ahead, grabbing hold, climbing higher. But the Freak was in the chute, writhing, digging into the wooden walls, propelling himself higher. Gaining on him.

  "Why Kevin? Why must you torment me like this? I should be done with you and on to better things. Collecting skulls, eviscerating humans, destroying petulant dreams."

  "Your color…" Kevin watched his own arm reaching over his head, watched the skin of his arm glowing with the same cool blue glow as Mr. Freakshow. "You're just like me."

  "You're right, I am just like you. You want to live. Just like I want to live. You fight to get away to extend your life, while I will do anything in my power to end your life to extend mine. Forever."

  Kevin reached the summit of the chute, and reached out for the door to the linen closet in the second floor hallway. So it was hopeless. Mr. Freakshow would never stop chasing him. He would never get away.

  Mr. Freakshow slashed with his fist, ripping through Kevin's calf. The beast chuckled. Blood gushed from the wound, and Kevin heard Mr. Freakshow lapping up the hot droplets of blood as they fell.

  Kevin opened the chute door and saw clean moonlight shining though his old bedroom window. He kicked back with the heel of his foot, caught the Freak in the bridge of his nose, and used him for leverage as he kicked clear of the chute. He flopped from the opening like some kind of animal borne of the wild, gaining his feet and running within seconds of hitting the ground.

  Mr. Freakshow's face appeared in the narrow opening as Kevin backed into his old bedroom. "Ah, how you tease me, Kevin. You give me a taste of your blood, and I think your will is broken. But then you continue your fight."

  The angles of the room looked sharper, the length and width elongated with its emptiness. The Freak extricated himself from the chute, a smashed version of himself. He bowed his head, clenched his fists, and forced his body to his full form. Sinews and muscles became taut under his deadman skin. His bones reformed, snapping back into place. The wood slivers piercing his nipples rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing as his chest expanded to full size.

  Kevin raced to the window and threw it open. He peered down and his eyes boggled at the height. Had he climbed that entire shaft from the basement?

  "Kevin. Be careful. You don't want to misstep out there. The ground can be even less forgiving than I."

  To the far left, over a two foot chasm of emptiness to the ground, was the upward slant of the roof. When he lived in Warren Cove and looked out the window, Kevin had never imagined trying to reach for it, but now he had no other choice. As the Freak easily closed the distance behind him, he leaned out with his stomach braced against the windowsill, measuring the distance with his arm. At the far reach of his fingertips, he was able to brush the lip of the overhanging gutter. Too far away, just too far…

  Kevin looked down, and his stomach flipped. He could sense Mr. Freakshow waiting behind him, waiting to see what move he would make. Waiting nervously. It dawned on Kevin. The Freak had said the ground was unforgiving. He wondered what would happen if he let himself fall to the ground, let the ground take his life instead of handing it over to his nightmare. They shared the same color. They were one in the same.

  "Kevin… you don't want to do that. It's dangerous."

  Dangerous for you, Kevin thought. "Just leave me alone."

  "I'm afraid I can't do that."

  Kevin took this as his cue. Bringing his right knee up to the windowsill, he pushed off, lunging for the overhang. In his adrenaline-drunk mind, he thought he would land feet first on the roof. Instead, his palms slapped against the shingles, taking a precarious hold, his legs kicking out beneath him into nothingness. Pain shot through his right arm, and his hand quickly fell away. The fingers of his left hand began to slip, and Kevin felt the sudden fullness of his bladder, the pulse in his temples, felt the grit of the shingles grating his skin. He was too weak, too injured. He held fast to the edge of the canting roof, but couldn't kick his legs high enough to take hold
of the gutter. His grip was slipping away, the sweat of his palms slicking the surface of the shingles.

  The moment his hand broke contact with the roof, the Freak reached out with blurring speed, digging his claws bone-deep into the meat of his shoulder, holding him dangling in midair. His tormentor, this nightmare created from his own mind, had for the second time tonight saved his life. Mr. Freakshow whipped Kevin up onto the roof, well away from the edge and a certain death from falling.

  Kevin's shoulder felt like a mound of raw hamburger. He was tired, so incredibly tired. He was also mad, not realizing just how mad until he rose from his haunches to see Mr. Freakshow immerging from his bedroom window. With agile ease Mr. Freakshow leaped from the window sill to the edge of the gutter.

  "I can't do this." Blood flowed from his wounds to the shingles at his feet.

  "I was hoping you would come to that conclusion. My only hope was that it wouldn't take you this long." Mr. Freakshow spread his wings behind him, flapping them gently. The blue glow of his skin, his hidden color, glimmered with his wings' movement.

  "I can't let you kill me. I can't go on, but I can't let you kill me."

  Mr. Freakshow's expression drained as he noted the strength of both Kevin's intentions and his resolve to follow through.

  Kevin took a deep breath and then ran, picking up speed on the downward slant of the roof, kicking up grit from the shingles as he sprinted toward the edge and the open sky. Gravity took him in its welcoming arms and pulled him in. The freefall blew the sweat from his brow, and the ground approached with maddening speed.

  "No!" Mr. Freakshow cried, taking flight, following the trajectory of Kevin's death spiral.

  Kevin closed his eyes, but could feel the closeness of the ground, could feel its ascending finality.

  His body raced Mr. Freakshow to the waiting earth, and finally, his mind cherishing this moment like a hard fought victory, he impacted the ground, crushing the soil beneath him with nothing more than his bones and blood.

  It didn't hurt. He didn't know what position his body had taken as he landed, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any longer. Kevin could feel his life draining away. When his eyes fluttered open, all he saw were the twin embers of Mr. Freakshow's eyes hovering over him in a flagging blue background. Such torment in those eyes; projecting fear, hatred, and nothing resembling remorse. The embers cooled, turned to soot, and then they disappeared, taken away from this place. Forever. Kevin was dead.