Demented (Sinister Tales Book 1) Read online

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  Demented

  Sinister Tales

  By: Anna Gallegos

  ISBN:978-1-68030-397-1

  ©AnnaGallegos2015

  To Stephen King, you're a true inspiration.

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  A Son’s Rage

  A story about a son’s disturbing thoughts and wicked desires turned into evil actions.

  “James!” My mother's voice roared through the whole house, bouncing off the walls. What was she mad about this time? Something stupid, I thought.

  “Get your ass down here!”

  Letting a sigh escape from my lips, I trudged downstairs to face what punishment she had for me. Was it going to be hair pulling or a frying pan to the face? I wouldn’t know, it always caught me off guard even though I expected it.

  My fingers slid against the railing of the stairs, noticing how smooth it was. I looked everywhere but at my mom. Even though I wasn’t staring into those soulless eyes of hers, I knew she had anger written on her face. I couldn’t remember the last time I’ve seen a real smile on her face, not the fake one she puts on when guests are over. If only they knew of the evil that lived in that woman. Maybe they’d take me away and put me in a better home. That’d be nice.

  I looked down at my bare feet. They seemed much more interesting than dealing with my mom.

  I looked up for a second and stared into the eyes of the woman that stood before me, the woman I called mom. She didn’t deserve that title, she wasn’t much of a mom. What kind of mother puts down her own son every chance she gets?

  Her eyes pierced through me, for a split second fear struck me. I quickly pushed away that emotion, no longer would I be afraid of her. Soon, all worries of this terrible woman would be gone and I’d be put at peace.

  “I got a call from school today,” she managed to say through clenched teeth, her hands curled into fists. I took a step forward to show that she couldn’t make me cower in fear anymore.

  “And?’ I asked. I had no idea what in the world she was talking about.

  She was pissed, and the expression on her face proved I was right.

  “They said you weren’t in class today.” She took a step forward without any hesitation. She wasn’t going to win this war.

  “I was in school today.” I gave her a dumbfounded look. I wasn’t lying, I was definitely in all my classes today. I wanted to graduate so I could get away from this hell hole.

  I don’t know how the school would get that wrong. I wasn’t tardy to any of my classes today. It had to be a mistake, but I knew all the convincing in the world wouldn’t make her believe me. She always wanted a reason to start a fight, always wanted a reason to smack me around.

  “Are you saying that they’re lying? Why would they lie, James?” she cocked her head at me, anger still burning up in her.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders, proceeding to look back at my feet. “Maybe they made a mistake.”

  I don’t know why I’m trying to convince her that I didn’t skip. She wouldn’t believe me. She always called me a rotten child, a child she never wanted, a child she wished she had given up when she had the chance.

  “Stop lying to me!” she yelled, and her fist collided with my left cheek bone.

  I fell to the polished wooden floor, my vision blurred in and out for a few seconds, then a pounding headache came in. Using my hands, I propped myself up to my knees, then grabbed a chair nearby to help me up.

  By the time I got up, I noticed little drops of blood dripping from my mouth to the ground. My anger grew worse, but I held it back. I needed to save this anger for another time, a time when I plan to turn my thoughts into actions.

  I didn’t bother to look at the smug expression on her face. As I walked back up to my room, my breathing became harder and my fists clenched. I walked into my room, slamming and locking the door behind me. I didn’t care if she hit me. After a while, I got used to the pain. It was like my face was numb forever, like I could no longer feel the burning pain that she inflicted on my face.

  I tried to fall asleep for the longest time but I couldn’t, so I just looked out my window. I saw that it was starting to get dark. The light post at the back of our house turned on, giving the yard a little bit more light.

  I couldn’t sleep knowing that the horrid beast was still breathing. She didn’t deserve to live another second on this earth. My hate for her only grew stronger the longer I thought about it.

  The stars twinkled outside. I wish I were one. I bet stars didn’t have to deal with any of this at all. All they had to do was shine brightly in the sky while people stared at them with amusement and awe. People love stars. Love—that was a feeling I haven’t felt in a while, not in years.

  Tonight was the night.

  It’s perfect. No one’s home except for me and my dear mother who I want dead so badly.

  I walked over to my closet, carefully opening it so it wouldn’t make so much noise. I grabbed everything I needed: duct tape, rope, knife, hand saw and lighter. I planned this for the past year and now, it was finally going to be put into action. I could already feel the weight of all the stress she had given me starting to fade away.

  I felt numb. Not a second thought or feeling of guilt went through my head as I thought of the plan.

  It was exactly eight o’clock when everything was ready. I descended the stairs, walking toward my mother’s room. My heart fell in sync with my footsteps; I could feel it beating and pumping hard from excitement. Finally, I would be able to see her, instea
d of me, being vulnerable. I was in charge this time and she couldn’t stop me. She had no idea what fate has in store for her tonight. She would face my wrath. She would greet death’s face soon. Maybe Satan wouldn’t even want her and torture her down in hell forever. That’d teach her.

  I grabbed the baseball bat that she kept by her bed every night, something that she thought would keep her safe from any unwanted visitors. With a tight grip on it, I smacked it across her head, knocking her unconscious. Now, I can proceed with my plan. After that hit, I felt a million times better. But I wasn’t going to stop there. In fact, I felt even more encouraged to go through with my plan.

  Blood dripped down the side of her head where the bat struck it. Red was a nice color on her, I’d like to see her wear more of it.

  I wrapped my hand wrapped around her knotty hair, dragging her outside to the big tree that sat in the middle of our yard. I didn’t have to worry about being caught or seen by anyone. The nearest neighbors were far enough that they wouldn’t be able to know what was going on. She was always a sucker for privacy, and it worked in my favor.

  As I tied her to the tree, I chanted the horrible things she said to me in my life. “You’re worthless, James. I wish you were never born, James. I hate you, James. I never loved you. I wish I had given you up. You’re lucky I didn’t kick you out and let you live on the streets.”

  Saying those words out loud only added fuel to the burning anger inside me. They made me feel worse, imagining her saying them with a nagging voice. I tightened the rope around her hands without noticing it at first, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if she lost circulation in her hands. She would soon be dead anyway.

  Splashing some water on her, I saw her eyes flicker open and check her surroundings. I could tell she was scared. It was the exact reaction I imagined and hoped for. When her eyes landed on me, she looked dismayed, like she didn’t believe what she was seeing.

  Before she even tried to talk, I smacked some duct tape across her mouth. I didn’t care for what she had to say anymore. She brought this on herself. If only she had changed sooner, she would not be in this situation now. I gave her plenty of chances, but now all her chances were gone. Soon, she would be gone from my life and I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

  I took the lighter out of my pocket and flicked it to life. I was thankful it wasn’t windy or rainy tonight. I used my left hand to hold the hand saw over the lighter. The heat of the fire glided up the knife, making the blade hot. I grabbed her hand, looking down at her wrist before I brought the saw to it. Her flesh sizzled as I cut into her, blood spurting from the wound. The further I cut into her wrist, the more I could see the insides. It beckoned me to cut deeper.

  I closed my eyes before I completely chopped off her wrist... I wanted to savor her muffled screams. It brought me joy—something I hadn’t felt in a long time because of her. But now, she brought the happiness back.

  I was so lost in thought that by the time I opened my eyes, I didn’t realize I had already cut her wrist entirely. The saw became soaked in her blood and bits of flesh stuck to it. Then, I began to work on the next wrist. I flicked the lighter to heat up the hand saw again until I thought it was ready for another round. She began to lose consciousness. I couldn’t have that. I picked up her chopped-off hand and smacked her across her face with it. “No. No time for sleep. You have to be awake for this.” My voice was calm and collected, opposite to how she was acting. She was spazzing out and crying. I had to say, she was one ugly crier.

  I grabbed the saw and heated it up again. I brought it to her wounds to stop the bleeding. The sizzle reminded me of the times we would go to the Japanese grill and watch the sushi chefs cook our food in front of us. They both sounded remarkably the same.

  I brought down on her once again, sawing off her elbow. It cut through her skin with ease. The bone is always the toughest part, but I managed it. She deserved this, she needed to be punished. While working on her other arm, my own arms grew tired, but I pushed through. Who knew what kind of muscles I’d be getting from this?

  Next, I worked on her feet. Feet always disgusted me. Just the thought of touching her dirty feet made me cringe but knowing she was going through hell made me push on. I sawed away her feet, thinking of it as sawing wood. She began to doze off again. This time, I slapped her with my own hand. The moon shone on her, showing the red mark my slap imprinted on her face.

  After I cut off both her feet, I tossed them next to the others. Then, I worked on her legs. I ignited the lighter, ready to heat up the hand saw again. By now, the saw was a mix of black from the way I seared the blade and dark red from her blood. I sawed through a ton of flesh and muscle to get to the bone. I wondered if butchers found this as much fun as I did. I could feel everything—the cutting and digging of the saw as it got further into her.

  When I was done with her limbs, I looked at my handiwork and a frown appeared on my face. It felt unfinished. Clearly I wasn’t done yet. Something else needed to be done. My eyes scanned over her to see what more damage I could do that I hadn’t already done.

  I couldn’t end her life until I was completely satisfied with what I had done. Her screams through the duct tape weren’t enough for me anymore. Hearing the same sounds over and over again started to bore me. Also, the same old expressions of pain and discomfort on her face didn’t seem to make me feel as good as I thought it would. I wanted the dullness to be gone. I needed the excitement back again.

  So I started stabbing her repeatedly. As I did so, the blood splattered all over me as if I were a canvas. As I sliced her skin open, a feeling of happiness hit me again. The motivation grew and I wanted to do more to her. Cuts covered her body. I grinned at my handiwork.

  I played with her blood that splashed from all the cuts I’d made. I soaked my fingers in the liquid, then I pressed them to my face. Feeling the gooey texture against my skin gave me a high, it made me feel like nothing had ever made me feel. When it dried, I continued with my work.

  I lifted up the knife I hadn’t used yet. The blade was clean and ready for slashing. I brought the knife to her throat to finish what I had started. It knife sliced through her skin like ice cream on a hot summer day. The crimson liquid gushed from the wound. Then I grabbed the hand saw to finish the job. I reached up to her head, pushing it against the tree as hard as I could. I sawed like a madman while staring into her eyes. The life was leaving her, I could see it but I didn’t care. I could feel myself getting weary as I almost finished.

  Her decapitated head fell to the ground and I felt a sense of relief. Her dead eyes stared in my direction. Still, her soulless eyes haunted me.

  I left her amputated limbs lying there in the yard. I didn’t care to bury any of the pieces because she didn’t deserve a proper burial. Remorse, did I feel it? Not at all. I felt free, free of that evil demon.

  “You could have changed.” I said as I sat next to her limbs and body parts. “This could all have been prevented if you had changed. You’re not my burden anymore. You belong to the devil himself, if even he wants to keep you. Goodbye, you pathetic waste of space.” I finished my speech. My tired body wanted to be clean of her blood so I headed back to the house.

  One of the buttons on the phone was blinking when I walked back inside, signaling there was some voicemail. I pressed it, leaving some drops of blood behind. A woman’s voice spoke:

  “Hi, you may remember me, we talked earlier, ma’am. It seems that I made a mistake. Your son was at school today. Sorry if it caused you any inconvenience. Have a nice night.” And with that, the woman’s voice was gone.

  As I walked up the stairs to get cleaned off, I smiled.

  Kingly Road Myth

  Sometimes it’s best to stay out where you’re not welcome.

  “What should we do tonight?” Lindsey asked her best friend, Monica, as they sat on her bed.

  Monica took a moment to think over the question, trying to come up with fun things they could do. “We could do some cli
ché girl bullcrap like talk about boys and have pillow fights.”

  That earned a weird look from her friend. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?"

  “Or we could watch some scary movies and pig out on junk food.” Monica smiled. Lindsey mirrored her smile, satisfied with her answer.

  The two girls immediately headed downstairs to get snacks and pick out some horror flicks to start their night. It was 10:46 p.m. already and Monica’s parents weren’t home yet, so they didn’t have to worry about keeping quiet.

  “Where’s your mom and dad?” Lindsey asked from the living room.

  “Date night. Somewhere fancy, I’m sure,” Monica responded as she walked into the kitchen. “Oh okay. What movie should we watch?” Lindsey yelled back.

  “I don’t know!” Monica shouted as she slammed and opened kitchen cabinets, looking for drinks and snacks they could munch on tonight. “Just close your eyes and pick something,”

  Lindsey did as suggested and reached her hand out so she could touch the stack of DVD’s. She slid her fingers across the collection several times before stopping. She opened her eyes and looked at where her fingers stopped. She smiled at her choice.

  “What movie did you pick?” Monica asked with her hands full of food and drinks. Lindsey took some of the drinks off of her hands. Monica gave her a thankful smile.

  “When A Stranger Calls.” Lindsey smiled, knowing very well that Monica was in love with the movie.

  Monica’s eyes lingered on the movie for a bit before looking at her friend. “Good choice.”

  The girls skipped out of the room, excitement showing on their faces.