BROKEN DOLLS

An Extreme Horror Novella

By Mique Watson

Copyright © 2023 Mique Watson

All rights reserved.
Except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews, no part of this book
may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form
by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

ISBN: 9798853315235
Imprint: Independently Published
Cover art: Christy Aldridge, Grim Poppy Design
Edited by: Danielle Yeager, Hack & Slash Editing

The events, characters, and locations in this book are all fictional. Any
resemblance to reality is unintended
and coincidental.

WARNING: This is an extreme horror novella. It

features graphic, disturbing, and offensive content. It is not recommended
for sensitive readers, or readers
under the age of 18.

“What do you think? You think they stand a chance?”

Funny Games, 2007
Director, Michael Haneke
OceanofPDF.com
 For anyone who finds comfort and catharsis in darkness because
happy stories are unrelatable.
 CHAPTER 1

Lauren Baker didn’t expect her husband to leave her. Who does? She’d
gotten married at the ripe age of twenty-four, and she’d never felt the touch
of a man before that due to her strict Christian upbringing. She saved
herself for her husband, she did everything right: go to college, get a job,
get married, and have kids.
So, how did everything go so dreadfully wrong?
The only bright spot in her life was her daughter, Tallulah. She’d had her
the same year she was wed, and the two had been inseparable ever since.
It’s as if she had spent her whole life waiting for her best friend, only to find
one in her daughter. Despite her dreadful marriage, she was grateful for
what it had brought her.
“Easy now, don’t go too fast!”
“Mom, I’ve been doing this for years!”
“I know, honey. I’m just looking out for you.”
Tully was right. She had been horseback riding for years now. They lived
in the mountains of Montana, far away from the rat race of the city. Lauren
had grown up in a wealthy family in the Upper East Side of New York,
studied at the preppiest of schools, and attended the finest of social events
with her parents. Despite this, she knew that the hoity-toity lifestyle just
wasn’t for her. Ever since she’d been a little girl, she had always dreamed of
living a simple life with horses, chickens, and cows on wide-open plains.
She mostly had this now, courtesy of all the money she’d inherited when
her mother passed.
Lauren broke away from her daydream and saw that Tully was still on
her horse. The elegant steed’s mane fluttered in the wind, mirroring her
gorgeous daughter’s hair. Behind her was a lurid mural of red and faded
lavender. The clouds billowed over faded orange hues like an old painting
in oil, the color of a fading masterpiece. The sun gently set amidst the
backdrop of mountains and the air grew cold. Amber glints caught her eyes
from the sunset far at the end of the mountain like a wedge of broken glass.
She
exhaled, eliciting a plume of mist. It was going to be a cold night.
“Come on, Tully! I need to get started on dinner.”
“Just five more minutes, Mom!”
“You said that five minutes ago, young lady.”
“For real, this time!”
It never failed to surprise her how similar her daughter was to her when
she was that age. Tallulah was twelve now; in just a couple of months, she
would be a teenager. Where had all the time gone? Lauren asked hersekr.
It was as if it was only yesterday when she began taking her first steps.
This attitude and spunk, however, was where their similarities ended. While
Lauren had straw-blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a round face, Tallulah had a
sharp chin, dark brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. When she smiled, she
was the spitting image of her father.
It hurt Lauren to be reminded of him so often, but she bore the pain for
the sake of her love for her daughter.
Unlike most cases—where the woman initiates the divorce—it was her
husband, Milo, who divorced her. She was initially smitten by his
conservative upbringing and Christian background. She, too, had been
raised in the Church and struggled to find a decent man. She finally found
that in Milo, or so she thought. He talked the talk—which is why she
instantly agreed to marry him—yet he failed to walk the walk.
Immediately after the two rushed into marriage, he insisted that she
uproot her entire life and move back with him to Canada. Given the threat
of divorce looming over her head, she hesitantly agreed. Life in such a
foreign place was more challenging than she expected. Lauren did
everything she could to make it work: she got a job, she presented herself as
the best possible wife to his parents, and she worked from home most days
to be the subservient wife she knew he wanted.
None of it was enough.
As time went by, she resented that she was isolated from all her friends
and family and lived in a country where she barely knew anyone. Lauren
initially suspected that she and Milo had nothing in common beyond their
conservative convictions. Now, she was starting to doubt even that. When
her mother was diagnosed with stage-four colon cancer, she knew she had
to fly back. So she and Tallulah crossed the border. Milo said not to bother
coming home. This was a very low point in Lauren’s life. She felt jaded and
disgusted by the emptiness of existence. She tried her best to keep her
marriage and home life afloat, yet none of her prayers were answered.
Later that month, the two divorced.
The divorce was embarrassing because this went against everything she
preached. She remembered being on the school paper in college and writing
column after column about how fatherless homes birthed criminals, and
how divorce was a sin tantamount to murder and homosexuality. Her
current circumstances in life, however, humbled her. Gone were the hubris
and expectations. It turned out that regurgitating Fox News talking points
and reading Ann Coulter books like they were an instruction manual for life
didn’t give her all the answers she needed. She shuddered with shame
whenever she thought about her former self.
Her preacher got one thing right, though: the world was filled with lost
and broken people. She agreed with that sentiment—she wasn’t so sure she
agreed with his solutions anymore, however.
“Okay, I’m all done now,” Tully said.
“Finally. It’s freezing out here! If we stay any longer we’re going to get
frostbite.”
“I just couldn’t help it, I was having way too much fun,” she said,
prolonging the too.
“All right, put Goldy back in the stable and get showered. I was thinking
pasta with meatballs and garlic bread.”
“Mom, you read my mind. I’ve been craving that all week!”
“All right. I’ll get started on the noodles—when you’re done, I’m going
to need help deep-frying the meatballs.”
“Aye, aye!”
“Oh, and it’s Friday today! We can stay up a bit later. Shall we start a
new show?”
“Actually. There was one on Netflix that I’ve been curious about . . . like
a live-action Teen Titans?”
“Oh? Like that superhero cartoon you used to watch when you were
younger?”
“Yeah. I think this one’s just called Titans. It looks really good.”
“All right, sounds like a plan!”
Before heading into the house, she scanned the view ahead. It stretched
out for miles; a tapestry of deep purple skies served as a backdrop to
beautifully uneven granite peaks off in the distance. Despite the
encroaching midnight blue, there was a faint red glow that reminded her of
the reflection of a dying fire.
This was the routine they had every Friday night: cook and eat a meal
together, then start a new show that they would binge-watch for the rest of
the weekend. Tully had always been a fan of superheroes. Lauren
remembered how, on Tully’s tenth birthday, the two made an Iron Man
cake. They followed a YouTube tutorial. It was a group effort, yes, but the
result was a disaster. Still, the two had a grand old time being creative—the
cake itself didn’t taste half bad. Tully had loved superhero movies for as
long as Lauren could remember. They saw eye to eye on almost every film;
the one disagreement was Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice; Tully
thought it was a schlocktastic spectacle, and Lauren, however, thought it
was a misunderstood masterpiece.
It was Lauren’s dream to take Tully to San Diego Comic-Con one day.
She’d book the plane tickets in secret and give them to her as a surprise for
her birthday. The young lady would be so overjoyed! She hadn’t found the
right time, though. The only time she wanted to spend in the city was time
with her father—outside of that, she was allergic to skyscrapers and smog.
What did I do to get blessed with such a good kid? Lauren thought to
herself.
She figured she was so lucky to have the relationship she did with her
daughter. So very few parents shared the close bond with their child that
Lauren did with Tully. When she lived with her parents, her relationship
with them was like that which one would have with a distant relative.
Knock. Knock.
Someone rapped on the door.
Lauren scratched her head as she contemplated who this could be. The
options were sparse as there weren’t that many houses in the close vicinity.
She was in the middle of washing her hands and hurriedly went to grab a
washcloth to dry herself off, but couldn’t find it. Dammit, Tully. She shook
her hands in the air, raining droplets of water on the marble countertop. She
ambled toward the door as she wiped the remaining dampness on her apron.
“Who is it?”
“Hey, Bacall, it’s me, James.”
Lauren cringed upon hearing that nickname.
“Oh, James! One second.”
James was one of her neighbors. He told her she looked like actress
Lauren Bacall; it was an innocent compliment, but Lauren was never good
at taking compliments.
James was a much older man—old enough to be her father. He was a
kind, avuncular soul who she called now and then to help her out with
repairs. Occasionally, he would come by for a warm meal since he lived by
himself. She wondered why he didn’t have a lady friend, but she wasn’t
brazen enough to pry. All she knew was that she found him to be very
handsome. His face was wind-browned and cut by lines of age and
misanthropic resignation. He was the antithesis of Milo; he wasn’t young
and idealistic, and he shouldered his burdens in bashful silence.
Lauren unlatched the top lock and then unlocked the door. Most people
would tell her that having multiple locks was overdoing it, seeing as she
lived in a place with no crime, but paranoia still lurked in the recesses of
her mind due to life the city she was raised.
“You can never be too safe,” her late mother always told her.
“Hey, James. What’s up?”
“I just made some dinner. Chicken Parmesan. Made a bit too much, so I
thought I’d come by and offer you some.”
“Oh, well, thank you. Here, come in.”
 “Much obliged.”
“Sorry, the house is such a dang mess. We normally tidy up over the
weekend when things are less busy. Tully and I live like roommates pretty
much.”
“Mess? What mess? You should see my place.”
This made Lauren chuckle.
“Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? Wine? Bud Light?”
“No, no. I don’t want to impose on your evening.”
“Nonsense! We love having you here. Also, you really didn’t have to go
out of your way to share this food with us.”
“It was too much for me. You know what a mood-eater I am. I would’ve
been hungry for something else by tomorrow, and this would’ve rotted at
the back of the fridge.”
“Thanks all the same.”
Lauren frowned. She always found it hard to accept the kindness of
strangers. After Milo left her, she felt unlovable and worthless. She was
jaded and felt that all those fairy tales she grew up with were full of shit.
Whenever someone—especially a man, showed a modicum of kindness to
her, she instantly assumed he had some sort of ulterior motive. Especially
an older one like James. She chided herself for having such rigid judgment
about him without a just examination of who he was. He hadn’t given her a
single sign that he was anything but a good man. Admittedly, she did find
him to be quite handsome.
“Well, I best get out of your hair now,” James said.
“No, wait. How about waiting for Tully to get done with her shower? I’m
sure she’d love to see you.”
“I’ve got to feed Rambo, you see . . .” he trailed off, embarrassed as he
scratched the back of his head.
 “Will you come back for dessert?”
“I really shouldn’t . . . isn’t tonight your movie night with Tuls?”
Tuls. She loved the nickname he assigned to her. She’d actually thought
of adopting it herself.
“Sure is. Maybe just have a quick drink, say “Hi,” then leave?”
“I guess so. Thanks, Bacall.” James said, punctuating the last word with
a wink.
“Perfect!”
Lauren reached into the cupboard and picked an unopen bottle of red.
“Pass the opener?”
James had been a frequent guest—he knew their kitchen like it was the
back of his hand. He opened the drawer with the cooking utensils and
picked up the corkscrew.
“Here ya go,” he said, handing it to her.
Lauren’s finger brushed against his knuckle as she took it from him. The
slight touch sent a shockwave of electricity from her forearm up to her
nape. She bit her lip in delight at the split second of contact she had with
him. It was pathetic, she thought, how exciting this all was to her. She
hadn’t been intimate with a man since Milo; she hated to admit it to herself,
but she missed that human warmth.
The cool Montana air was bitingly cold. She had to wear a puffer jacket
every day, plus a blanket just to keep warm. At night, she wished she had a
strong man to cuddle with—to share her warmth with. She clung to a
couple of pillows, just to feel like she was hugging someone, but it wasn’t
the same.
Because of her upbringing, and today’s society, she sometimes felt like
an alien in a human body. She had been raised in a household of traditional
values; she didn’t fit in with what she saw as today’s hedonistic culture.
Despite this, she strived to never judge people for the decisions they made
in life. To her, people could do as they pleased so long as they were
consenting adults who followed the law. She just wanted to raise her child
as she knew best, in a way that made sense to her, so Tully wouldn’t make
the same mistakes she did.
She uncorked the bottle with a pop, poured herself a glass, then poured
one for James. He took it and sat next to her at the kitchen island.
“So, how have you been?” he asked.
She never knew how to answer that question, but she was glad he asked
it.
“I’ve been all right, but . . .”
“But?”
“Well—”
“Sorry, you don’t need to elaborate if you don’t want to. Just thought I’d
check in,” James interjected with a smile.
“No, it’s all right. I’ve been okay. I just feel like I’m holding Tully back,
you know? I feel like a runaway, and I like how I live now, but Tully never
chose this life. She never chose to be homeschooled. I just . . .”
“Hey,” he patted her on the back and gently caressed her shoulder,
“you’re doing what you think is best for your child. She loves you.”
“I know, I know . . . I just think that I need to let her start making her
own mistakes. I can’t let her spend her entire life with my helicopter ass
protecting her from herself.”
“Has she said anything to make you feel like this?”
“N-no . . . but she’s reminding me a lot of myself, and I see her on the
horses every day. She’s got this look in her eyes that tells me that she just
wants to ride off into the sunset and start her own adventure.”
 Lauren was taken aback by how open she was at that moment. She was
usually very guarded with her emotions; she wasn’t the type to be so
forthcoming with her inner world. Was it the wine? She barely drank, so
these few sips were enough to make her tipsy. Or was it James himself? In
the dim golden light of the kitchen, she was astonished by how handsome
he was. Usually, she didn’t think much of him—raising a child didn’t give
her much time to dwell on such trivial things. But now, in the quiet and
intimate moment, she found herself enraptured by his masculine allure. A
salt and pepper beard framed his angular jawline, his smile accentuated the
gentle line of creases under his eyes, and his eyes . . . his gorgeous
mahogany eyes. He had a deep and gravelly voice and spoke like a man
who had a wealth of life experience.
Stop, Lauren! Listen to yourself, you sound like a teenager. It’s just
James. It’s just the wine. Relax! She chided herself.
And just then, he looked at her with a bright smile.
Have my eyes been lingering on him too long? Can he read my thoughts?
Is he flirting?
“Thanks for the wine, Bacall. But I best be heading off now.”
“Nonsense. Would you like a refill?”
Fuck. Am I sounding too desperate? I’m just trying to be a gracious host
. . . Right?
“Hmm . . . why not? Just a little bit, though. I don’t want to impose any
more on your evening.”
“No, it’s all right. Tully seems to be taking her time, and I do appreciate
your company.”
“I like yours too, Bacall.”
Heat built up in her cheeks. She had never felt that her company was
appreciated by Milo, so little comments like these—ones that validated that
she was worth spending time with—made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.
“So, how’ve you been spending your time these days?” Lauren asked.”
“Interesting that you asked. I’ve been doing some work on my shed.
Turning it into my personal man cave. Was thinking of getting a pool table.
You play?”
“No, but I’m sure you could teach me. I’m a fast learner,” Lauren
winked.
James smiled coyly, as if registering that her wink was something
sexually suggestive. She didn’t intend for it to come off this way, but she bit
her lower lip and giggled to play along.
“I’m sure you would make a fantastic student,” he said, returning her
wink with his own.
What was happening right now? Am I flirting with James? she thought to
herself. A little voice at the back of her head told her that she was into this
idea. It told her that she wanted him to think of her not just as a friend or
neighbor, but as a sexual object.
An imaginary image of him naked suddenly flashed in her brain. Lauren
imagined what it would feel like sitting on him, what it would feel like for
her body to go soft as he went hard. Fuck, this wine was starting to get to
her head. It was utterly sinful how brazen she’d allowed her thoughts to be.
She needed to change this uninhibited thought pattern pronto.
“So, when’s this man cave going to be done?”
“It would be done sooner if I didn’t have to leave for the week.”
“Oh, where are you going?”
“I’m heading to Burbank in a couple of days. It’s Dad, he’s been . . .
Well, I’d like to spend as much time with him as I can.”
The smile on his face vanished; his gaze dropped. She knew exactly what
he meant. It tugged at her heart to think that he was dealing with this. She,
more than anyone else, knew what it was like to deal with the loss of a
parent. It wasn’t something you merely recovered from. Yes, dealing with it
did get easier, but it left a hole in your heart that would never be filled.
“Oh, James . . .”
“Yeah. None of us know how much longer he has.”
This reminded Lauren, “You see that flower vase over there by the
door?”
He craned his neck, “Yeah, it’s gorgeous. Celadon?”
“Sure is. My mom got it while on vacation in China. She gave it to me
before she died. It’s . . . it’s what I remember her by.”
James’s gaze fell, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do when he leaves.
None of us expected him to live this long. My brothers and I are grateful for
all the time with him we were lucky enough to have . . . We’d joke about
how he’d outlive us all. I don’t know what I’m going to do when he’s
gone.”
Instinctually, she pulled him in for a hug. He reciprocated the embrace.
She was enthralled by the hardness of his body. He had a wide, brawny
chest flanked by a pair of thick and bulky arms. He folded his arms over her
back and pulled her in close. She was shocked when she felt her breasts on
his chest. She wanted to maintain her adherence to the code of morals she
was raised with, but she couldn’t deny the obvious attraction she felt.
“Thank you, Bacall. I needed that,” he said, holding on to her.
She leaned in, pressing her cheek to his. He didn’t pull back. If she just
tilted her face slightly to the right, their lips would no doubt touch. And
why shouldn’t they? She had been such a prude all her life. Surely a little
bit of sinful behavior wouldn’t be such a big deal, right? She lingered on his
face, reveling in the feel of his beard against her. As she soaked in his
masculine energy, she realized that she desperately wanted to be touched
just as much as she wanted to be heard.
“James, I . . .”
James set his glasses down. Before she could make
any sudden movements, he cupped her chin and brought her lips to his. At
that moment, she was lost in time. She wished that she had the whole house
to herself. She sank deeper into his embrace, pressing her breasts against his
chest. She parted her lips and allowed his tongue to brush gently against
hers. Just as their kiss was about to deepen further, footsteps thudded on the
stairs.
James jerked back.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he whispered.
“D–don’t worry about it.”
Of course, she didn’t intend to flirt, but she liked the rapport she was
cultivating. Perhaps she would go with her gut and send Tully off to school
to make new friends. She would be lonely here, but James would be able to
help her out with that. She hated herself for entertaining the thought, but she
couldn’t deny just how good the idea made her feel.
“Oh hey, James!” Tully said with a grin.
“Hey Tuls, how are you?”
“I’m great. Are you staying for dinner? We’re gonna start a new show
tonight and—”
“Oh, no, I was just about to head out. Just stopped by to drop off some
extra grub.”
“Aww. We’d love for you to stay. We were just about to make some
spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Some other time, Tuls. Gotta get home and feed the dog.”
 Tully frowned, but she understood, “All right, but you must promise to
stay next time.”
He smiled and drew an X over his heart, “I cross my heart.”
And just as soon as he came, he had to leave. Lauren didn’t want to make
it obvious, but she would’ve given anything to have him stay the night with
them.
 CHAPTER 2

There was a dearth of conversation at the dinner table. Tully aimlessly

scrolled through her phone between bites as Lauren nursed another glass of
red wine. As she set the glass down and passively forked at her noodles, her
thoughts drifted to James.
The kiss.
Was I still a good kisser? Was I ever a good kisser? Was it obvious that I
haven’t kissed a man in years? That the last time my lips touched that of
another man was when I still lived with Milo?
She thought about the effect she might have had on James. If she reached
between his legs, would his cock have been hard? Did his cock bend, or
was it straight? How big was the tip? Did it curve upward when it was
erect? Did he still have a foreskin? She wondered what kind of sexual
activity he enjoyed in the bedroom. Yes, he did have the tender kissing
skills of a gentleman, but it would probably be wise to sleep with him first
to see what he was into.
Being intimate with someone before marriage went against her beliefs,
yes, but not doing so with Milo was a mistake. He presented as though he
was a shy, demure man . . . but the second they got behind closed doors, his
entire being changed. He demanded that she suck his cock; to him, this was
part of being a good wife. He was also into spit and humiliation; he would
wrap his hand around her neck as he pumped into her—sometimes it would
be so hard that she would have bruises the next day. Sex with him felt more
like a chore than an intimate moment shared by two loving partners.
 One day, when he was at work, she looked through his laptop’s search
history. What she saw made her cry. It wasn’t what she expected for the
godly man he purported to be. There was an endless list of bookmarked tabs
for pornographic videos. The pornography he viewed was anything but
vanilla—there was a distinctly degrading quality to it. Women were bound,
gagged, and blindfolded. In one video, a woman was bleeding by the nose
as a group of men urinated on her face and breasts. Another video depicted
a woman in some kind of sex swing; a brawny man in a leather mask had
his entire fist hidden in her vagina. She felt sick to her stomach as she
happened upon a video of full-on BDSM orgies in a decrepit basement. She
tried to look away; to instead focus on the sparse brick wall and the
threadbare net of wires around the porn actors. Were these even paid
actors? The terror in the eyes of the battered women, however, were
inescapable.
This was too much.
When did he even find the time to watch this? Is this what he thought
women were into? Or did he just use her to fulfill his sick fantasies without
taking any of her feelings into account?
She never confronted him about this, of course. Their relationship just
naturally died out.
She looked up at Tully and frowned. Her heart felt sore at the thought
that a man could treat her daughter the way Milo had treated her. To her,
Tully deserved the world. She deserved nothing less than Prince Charming.
Her heart was torn between two possibilities: should she keep her princess
here and protect her from the rest of the world, or should she take the risk
and let her princess go? The thought that they lived in such a fallen world
that would corrupt such an innocent soul made her chest heavy.
“Hey, Tuls. I was thinking . . .”
 She glanced up from her phone, “Yeah, Mom?”
“How does the thought of going to an actual school next year sound?”
Her face took on a surprised expression.
“What do you mean? Like, away from here?”
“Only for the school year, dear. I was thinking you might want to be
around other kids your age. Make some friends, be away for a while?”
“Do . . . do you want me out of here?”
“No, of course not.” Her heart ached at the thought that her daughter
could think this. “I was just thinking that maybe you’d find it interesting.
Do you feel like I want you out of here?”
“No?”
The uncertainty in Tully’s voice made her frown, “Honey. Don’t ever
think I don’t cherish the time we have together. There’s a reason I leave my
phone upstairs when we sit for dinner, I’ll have you know.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I want to be focused and present. The dinners I had with my
parents were dead silent—that’s not what I want things to be in this house. I
need you to know that I’m all ears and that I’ll always be here when you
need me, if you just want to talk.”
This made Tully smile.
“What school did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps we can look into it together if you like?”
“Wow . . . I-I’ll miss Goldy.”
“She’ll always be here, dear,” Lauren smiled, “and so will I. The horses
and I will be here waiting for you. Yes, we will.”
“You better.”
Lauren chuckled, “So, how does it sound?”
“It’s . . . interesting.”
 “I think interesting’s good.”
“Yeah, let’s look up some schools then. And you promise I can come
back for the holidays?”
“Of course, my dear. You can try it out, and if you decide it isn’t
working, I’ll always be here to catch you.”
“I love you, Mom.”
Her heart swelled at this. All she’d ever wanted was for her favorite
person in the entire world to feel loved and appreciated.
“I love you too, my darl—”
Knock knock.
The sudden rap startled Lauren. Who could it be at this hour? Could it be
James? Did he leave something? Did he decide to take her up on her offer
and join them for dinner, perhaps?
Knock knock.
The knocking was fast and angry.
“Mom, are you expecting anyone?”
“No—are you?”
“Nope.”
Knock knock.
Lauren pushed her chair back and ambled toward the front door. Of
course, it was James. Who else would it be? She twisted the knob and
tugged the door open.
The man standing in front of her wasn’t James.
 CHAPTER 3

No stranger had ever knocked on her door. The first thing that registered
was the man’s smell; his cologne had a cloying, musky aroma to it. She
couldn’t process this, so she just stared at him, mouth agape.
The young man standing in front of her was unbelievably handsome.
He had a five o’clock shadow, tanned skin, deep blue eyes, and a head of
wavy chestnut hair. His faded jeans were ripped at the knees. Under his
leather jacket, he wore a black wifebeater. It was impossible not to gawk at
the way the thin fabric hugged his toned chest. Next to him stood a boy who
looked to be around the same age as Tully. Lauren suspected that this could
be the young man’s brother, yet the two looked nothing alike.
Unlike the man, the boy’s hair was straight and black. His lips were thin,
and he had an aquiline nose. The boy refused to meet her gaze—he didn’t
seem to be looking at anything in particular, his eyes just seemed hollow.
“Hi there, ma’am, how are you?”
She snapped out of it instantly, feeling that she looked like an idiot.
“H-hi, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone tonight.”
 “Yes, my apologies. I just wanted to know if you had a phone I could
borrow. Mine died, you see,” he said, offering a coy smile.
“Why? Is something the matter?”
He cocked his head to the side and bit his lower lip, “Yeah. I was just
driving my cousin back to see his parents, you see, and I got a flat tire. My
truck is parked down by the road, and I was just hoping to call someone to
help me out.”
Lauren was taken aback by his presence. She had gotten used to
spending her time alone with Tully, but today she’d gotten not one, but
three visitors. Where are your manners, Lauren Allison? Her mother's voice
suddenly said in her head. Lauren opened the door wider and stepped aside.
“Sorry, please, come in.”
“Thank you so much, ma’am. I promise I’ll be in and out of your hair.”
She moved to the side, letting the two in.
“My name is Bret, by the way. This little guy here is my cousin, Cody.”
Cody said nothing.
“Come on, cuz. Say hello to the kind lady; she’s being nice and helping
us out big time.”
Cody looked up and waved.
“Sorry,” Bret said, embarrassed. “He’s just shy around new people. He’s
not much of a talker.”
Cody’s gaze was pointed at her, but he wasn’t making any eye contact. It
was as if he wasn’t looking at her; rather, he was looking through her.
“That’s quite all right. I’m Lauren, and that over there is my daughter,
Tallulah.”
“I go by Tully,” she said, waving with a smile.
“Well, hello there, little Miss Tully. It sure is a pleasure to meetcha,” Bret
said.
 “We just finished dinner. You boys must be exhausted. Why don’t the
three of you go have a seat, and I’ll fix us all some tea while we figure out
what can be done about your car,” Lauren said, proud of the charity she was
bestowing upon these unfortunate souls.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary, ma’am. Trust me, we just mean to call
someone. I didn’t expect my car to break down, and I think my dad took the
jack with him in his Land Rover. Say, do you happen to have a jack I could
borrow? If I could just get the spare on, I’d be good to go. Then I’ll drive
the truck back here, give you back your jack, and be on my merry way.”
Lauren did have a jack. Ever since the divorce, she had to take on the
role of both mom and dad to Tully. The hefty sum of money that was left to
her certainly helped, but she decided to make herself as useful as possible
so she wouldn’t need a man. This was another thing that humbled her since
she sounded like one of those feminists she used to spend her college years
ridiculing.
“Yes, I’ll go get the jack now. But please, go have a seat, boys. I insist.
You’ve had a rough night and I’d be happy to let you take a few moments to
warm up before having to go back out in the cold to fix a tire.”
Bret blushed at this and flashed an ear-to-ear grin, “Thank you so much,
Lauren. Jeez, I don’t know what I would’ve done if Cody didn’t spot your
place.”
Lauren smiled and walked around the side of the kitchen, making her
way to the garage.
“All right, Tully, show these gentlemen where they can sit. I’ll be right
back with the jack.”
“Yes, Mom,” she said with a big smile and a salute.
While she perused the racks of supplies in the garage, she felt her bladder
go quite heavy. She’d had more than her fair share of wine. She decided to
stop by the bathroom before rejoining them.
After relieving herself, she flushed and took inventory of her appearance
in the mirror. Despite not wearing any makeup, she looked great for
someone her age. Her blonde hair was thick and healthy, her skin so
blemish-free it looked as if she had a light coat of foundation on. A
perpetual rouge tinted her cheeks with a natural blush, a consequence of
spending ample time outdoors. Her body was toned from all the manual
labor she assumed after the divorce. Lifting heavy objects and going on
runs had certainly paid dividends. She took in her natural curves: the way
her bum was tight and firm, the swell of her perky breasts against her
camisole.
I wonder if that young man finds me beautiful.
She grinned back at herself in the mirror. Her face went red with shyness.
She figured she’d let these happy thoughts stay. She’d spent an entire
lifetime trying to be humble, so it was finally time to indulge a bit and not
be so coy.
Yeah, I think I look damn good. Why wouldn’t a handsome
twentysomething find me attractive?
When she returned, she figured she’d check Bret out to see if his gaze
lingered on her. She had never thought of herself as a cougar; she’d always
preferred older men. But something about the forbidden nature of an age
gap; a younger man being preyed upon by an older woman made a wolfish
grin creep up her face.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a sudden crash! Lauren nearly
leaped out of her skin.
What on earth?
She gave herself one last look, gathered the jack, and pushed past the
door. She raced out of the bathroom, past the hall, and turned into the
neighboring foyer.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips.
Scattered on the floor was her mother’s celadon vase. It was in utter
smithereens. She could try to glue the pieces back together, but it would
never be the same.
It was ruined.
The vase mirrored how she felt: cracked. It was the one thing she owned
that reminded her most of her mother. Despite them not being particularly
close. She was reminded of the few joyful memories they shared: Christmas
at The Plaza, ice skating while it snowed, buying her first pair of shoes
when she started at her new school . . . An ache built in her chest at the
thought that it would never be the same again.
When she finally managed to tear her gaze away from it, her heart caught
in her chest.
The front door stood ajar.
Had someone tried to leave? Were they in such a rush that they knocked
over this vase?
A shudder rose up her back when her eye caught the edge of the
doorframe. There were light gash marks that looked as if they were made
by fingernails. The temperature dropped significantly.
“Tully?”
There was no response.
“Tully?!”
She ran toward the living room to check on her daughter and see if
everything was okay. The seconds-long journey felt like hours. This had to
be all in her head; this had to be one huge misunderstanding. Surely Bret
and Cody managed to find a solution to their situation and were merely in a
rush to leave. The broken vase was obviously an accident.
 But what about the fingernail marks?
Why isn’t Tully responding to me? She always answers when I call out to
her. What is going on?
Lauren finally reached the living room.
Gooseflesh pebbled her skin as she took in the sight in front of her.

CHAPTER 4

Gone was her daughter’s smile. It was replaced by a fear-stricken stare.

Tears welled up in Tully’s eyes. Her face was crumpled in a look of fear.
Her lower lip trembled as her entire body shuddered under the weight of the
sobs. Her nails were dug into the flesh of her knees. A large hunting knife
was held to her throat. Next to her, Cody’s hands were tied behind his back.
His ankles were bound together with zip ties.
The serrated area of the blade was pressed against the soft center of
Tully’s neck, just below her chin.
“What’s going on here?” Lauren whispered.
“M-Mommy . . .” Tully sniffled.
Lauren’s knuckles whitened as her hand gripped the jack for dear life.
She stood still as if any sudden movement would result in an explosion.
“Oh hey, Lauren. Since you decided to take your sweet time in the
shitter, we three decided to play a few games. It’s Tully’s turn now,
actually.”
“A w-what? What kind of game?”
“It’s a guessing game. If you guess right, you win. If you guess wrong,
you lose. Sadly, these two haven’t been doing too well.”
“Listen, Bret. . . I don’t find this amusing. I think you two should just
take the jack and lea—”
“Ah ah! It’s not your turn. It’s Tully’s turn,” Bret paused to grin, “so,
Tully, what am I holding under your chin?”
Tully choked out a sob. Her face was red and drenched with tears.
“Don’t make me count to three again. I told you what would happen if
you didn’t play.”
“A . . . a knife.”
“Correct! It’s a knife. Now, let’s see if your dumb mommy is as good at
this game as you are.”
Lauren started to speak with panic, “H-hey, Bret, put that knife down,
okay? I don’t know what we did to—”
“Actually, why don’t you shut your bitch mouth?”
 “Excuse me? How dare you!”
“Hey!” Bret snapped, “if you don’t shut that fucking hole in your face,
I’ll gut your fuck-ugly little kid right now.”
Lauren scowled. She had been raised not to swear. Her vision blurred
with tears. Her mouth went as dry as a handful of sand. She wanted to
scream, but she was too stunned to do anything beyond stand there frozen.
How could this be real? How could her good deed go so punished? What
had she done to deserve this?
She had half a mind to charge at him and bash him over the head with the
jack. But what if she wasn’t quick enough? Bret would no doubt be faster
than her—all he’d have to do is jerk his elbow back and the knife would
slice clean through Tully’s neck. The nearest hospital was miles away—her
poor daughter would no doubt bleed to death. Her hand turned sweaty as it
grasped the jack for dear fucking life.
“Drop the jack, Lauren.”
What else could she do? Lauren, as if she was a puppet being
commanded by strings, let the jack fall to her feet.
“Good. It’s nice to see you’re not a complete fucking retard.”
“Could you please watch your language in front of my daughter? I—”
“Ah ah! Before you say another fucking word, kick it to the side.”
And so she did.
“Fantastic! Now, it’s your turn to play. Lauren, what do I have in my
pocket?”
“How should I know?”
“Look, I’ll make this fair. Since this is your first time playing, and since
you seem pretty slow in the head, I won’t penalize you for being wrong.
Now,” he significantly slowed down his speech as if he were speaking to an
imbecile, “what do I have in my pocket?”
 Lauren’s heart rate began to race as she looked up at the ceiling in an
effort to stop her tears. She threw her hands in the air, “I don’t know, your
wallet?”
“Good guess, but no.”
“Okay, what?”
He reached into his pocket and brought out a small flip phone. It was an
old model that could only make calls and texts.
“Is that my phone?” Lauren asked, puzzled.
“Indeed, it is! Well done.”
“H-how? Where did you get that?”
“Tully told me where it was when it was my turn to guess. She was
pretty stubborn at first, but the knife definitely helped.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s cheating.”
“First, I never said you couldn’t ask for help. Second, since it took you
two guesses, I think I’m going to have to penalize you anyway.”
“Wait, what are you—”
Before Lauren could finish speaking, Bret flung the phone to the floor
with all his might. The screen shattered as the device split in half.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t penalize me?”
Bret responded with a nonchalant shrug.
Lauren folded her arms over her chest. She did this when she was
nervous—it was like she was hugging herself, giving herself a sense of
comfort when there was none to be found. She thought about whether she
should plead or beg, but mostly she was just too confused to do anything.
She was willing to do and give anything—anything to keep her daughter
safe. Her beautiful, kind, innocent, precious daughter . . . a child who had
her entire life ahead of her. A child who—because of her—never got to see
much of the world beyond the life she curated for her here.
 “Please, tell me what you want. Is it money? Name your price. Just . . .
please, let us go.”
“Why did I know you were about to ask that?”
The sinister lilt in his voice sent a shiver down Lauren’s spine.
Tully shuddered as she tried to rein in her sobs. Despite her best efforts,
Lauren saw nothing but fear in her daughter’s eyes. This terrified her more
than anything. She dedicated her whole life to making sure Tully would
never have to know what fear and pain were. Now here was this man; his
mere presence had rendered all her efforts null and void.
“Please, Bret. Just tell me what it is you want.”
“I want the four of us to play a game.”
A wolfish grin was scrawled across his face.
What did he mean he wanted them to play a game? A million questions
raced through Lauren’s mind at that moment. What kind of game entailed
holding a knife to a child’s throat? She didn’t know if this guy was mentally
insane, or if this was all some kind of sick joke. She wondered if he was
sent here by someone—but as far as she knew, no one held a vendetta this
grave against her.
“Hey, so I was wondering,” he faced Tully, “how old are you?”
“Twelve . . .” she whispered, with a tremble in her voice.
Bret laughed as she said this.
He’d shaken so hard as he laughed that the serrated edge of the knife
punctured her neck.
Tully let out an ear-piercing scream.
“Stop it! You’re hurting her!”
“Oh fuck, sorry. I lost it there for a second,” Bret giggled.
Lauren stepped forward to assess the damage caused.
“Hey! Stay right the fuck there.”
 “You son of a bitch, she’s fucking bleeding!”
She never used curse words, but in this situation, it came naturally. She
took another step forward. Just then, Bret’s other hand pulled something out
of the inside of his jacket and pointed it at her.
A gun.
“No, please . . . I beg you,” Lauren said, lifting both her hands in
surrender.
“Beg all you want, it isn’t going to do shit.”
Lauren wondered how damaged someone had to be to find human
suffering to be this amusing. Did something in his life happen to make him
like this? Or was he perhaps just born this way?
“If you so much as lay another finger on her, Bret, I swear I’ll—"
“You’ll what, bitch? The way I see it: I’m the one with the gun. I’m the
one with the knife. And you’re the cunt who—if she does one more thing to
piss me off—is going to end up with a dead fucking kid. Got that?”
“I . . . please . . .”
“Are you fucking deaf, cunt? I asked you a simple fucking question. I
said, ‘Got that?’” He yipped as spittle flew past his lips.
“Y-yes. Yes.”
“Aww, this sweet little cunt seems to have had an accident,” he chuckled.
Lauren followed his gaze and saw that a dark wet patch formed beneath
Tully’s thighs. Her knees were squeezed together and shaking. Lauren
wished this wasn’t happening. She wished this was all a dream. She shut
her eyes tight and opened them, but he was still there.
“Please, sir . . . Don’t hurt us,” Tully mewled.
“Did I say you could talk, you little shit?”
Bret drew his hand forward, then swung it back. The blunt handle of the
knife landed with a meaty smack! The sound of cartilage snapping sent
alarm bells blaring in Lauren’s head. Tully yelped as she brought her hand
to her jaw.
“You sick fucking bastard! She’s just a kid!” Lauren screamed as hot
tears burned the corners of her eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry your fucking retard of a daughter decided to get testy
with me.”
Tully spat out a gout of blood. It landed on the floor. Lauren was so
shocked that all she could do was stare at the splat. As the blood spread, she
saw a couple of tooth fragments materialize.
“M-Mommy . . . help.”
Lauren’s heart sank to the base of her spine when she saw what had
become of her daughter. Her entire face was red with anxiety. Tears
streamed down her face, mixing with the endless stream of blood cascading
down her maw. Her front tooth and a couple of her bottom teeth were
chipped. A string of ichor oozed from her lips like dark, crimson honey. It
stained the top of her blue shirt, turning it a sickly shade of purple.
“Please . . .” was all she could say.
“Please, what?”
“She’s just a child, for heaven’s sake!”
“Believe me, lady, if you don’t play along, things are going to get much,
much worse.”
Tully’s sobs intensified at this suggestion. All her efforts to hold back her
pain were for naught. She was sobbing uncontrollably. The louder her cries,
the wider Bret’s grin grew. Cody remained silent through all of this.
“I’ve gotta say, this is getting me all excited.”
Lauren saw what he was talking about. Below his belt, a bulge had
formed. It took everything in her to hold her tongue when she saw him
adjust the fabric that shielded his crotch. He had just made a child cry and
bleed, and now he was fucking hard.
“You’re a sick man.”
“Ya think, lady?”
All Lauren could do was glare at him. As a child, she was taught that
wrath was one of the seven deadly sins. She made it a point to forgive those
who wronged her since doing so kept her mind at peace. Throughout her
life, she’d made a habit out of being charitable to those who had trespassed
against her. She knew that people who hurt others were, without a doubt,
hurting deeply inside. She pitied them and kept them in her prayers. This
time, she felt no sympathy. All she felt now was boiling rage, convictions
be damned. It took a spectacular lack of empathy and humanity to be this
unspeakably cruel. All of this anger, no doubt, registered on her face. Yet
Bret ate it all up–he didn’t shrink in the presence of her rage, he reveled in
it. Lauren’s heart kicked at her chest and thudded in between her ears.
There’s no time to be angry. I need to focus. I must find a way to keep my
daughter safe, even if it kills me.
Bret sat back and rubbed at his crotch.
“What do you want?”
Bret turned his gaze to Lauren, locking his jubilant eyes on her.
“What do you mean, what do I want?”
“You can’t just be doing this for fun. I mean—”
“That’s exactly why I’m doing this.”
“I don’t understand. What do you seek to gain from this? Is it money you
want? Are you going to point that gun at me and fucking rape me? Look, do
whatever you want, just leave my daughter out of this!”
“Bitch, I wouldn’t fuck your old ass even if my dick was held at
gunpoint.”
 Lauren hated to admit it, but that comment cut her to the core. He was a
psycho, yes, but she’d always been insecure about how she was perceived
by the opposite sex. She’d worked hard to be in top physical shape for
Milo, yet despite her best efforts, he was still never sated by her.
Now here I am, hurt that a psychopathic freak doesn’t want to fuck me.
Fucking pathetic.
“You know what I want?”
“What? Name it. Please.”
“I want to know how tight your retarded daughter’s pussy is.”
Lauren’s breath caught in her throat. She’d never heard anyone speak
like this. She never watched R-rated movies because of their lewd content,
but she suspected not even those had people speaking with such vulgarity.
“Awww. Did I upset mama bear?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I wasn’t even done telling you what I want to know. I want to know
what Tully’s face would look like if I made her choke on my cock. I bet this
little slut would love to know what cum tastes like. I wonder if she’d cry if I
bent her over, spat on her ass, and shoved my cock in that little pucker
where she shits. Would you like that, Tully? Would you like to test this
theory and see if you’d shit all over my cock?”
Tully didn’t respond. She just maintained her downcast gaze and cried.
“Hey, Tully,” Bret continued, “do you know what masturbation is?”
Lauren gasped at the revolting question.
“Let’s see. I wonder if your little girl has ever gone ahead and
experimented with herself. You know, when I was twelve I jerked off at
least five times a day.”
“Don’t you dare—”
 “Or what? What are you going to do? Give me a thorough spanking?
Huh, bitch?”
“You’re a monster.”
“Let’s play a quick betting game. I bet that if you say something—just
one thing—in the next five minutes, I’ll stick this knife so far into Tully’s
eye it’ll hit the back of her skull.”
Lauren balled her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. She felt her nails
digging into the beds of her palms. She dug them in so tight, the skin began
to tear, giving way to warm blood.
“Come on, say something.”
She stayed silent. Her feet trembled against the floor.”
“Talk!”
Lauren maintained her pained silence.
“Well, I guess you’re not a betting woman. Fair enough. So, Tully, as I
was saying before I was rudely interrupted by your bitch mom. Have you
ever done the magic trick? You know, the one where you make one of your
fingers disappear in your nice, tight pussy?”
All Tully could do was shake her head.
“Oh hey, has your pussy started growing middle hair?”
She stood still.
“I asked you a fucking question, you bitch!” Bret barked, making Lauren
shake.
Tully nodded aggressively.
“Mmmmm. If you’re old enough to have hair on your cunt, you’re old
enough to touch yourself. Come on, let’s not be prudes here. Everyone does
it. I don’t see a man in this house, so I can guarantee that your mommy
loves to think about sex. Say, have you ever touched a boy’s cock before?”
 Tully glanced up at her mother—her eyes stricken with fear. Lauren
knew that Tully’s mind could hardly comprehend any of this. She cursed
this vile demon for violating her daughter’s precious innocence. Heck, she
was so innocent, Lauren had yet to even explain the birds and the bees to
her.
“So, as I was saying, do you know what masturbation is?”
She didn’t say anything—all she did was sit there, shaking.
“Allow me to teach you. You’ll thank me one day! It’s when you rub on
that little nub between the folds of your pussy. Do you know what that nub
is called, baby? It’s called a clit.”
Tully’s cheeks turned red in embarrassment. Lauren didn’t know how
much more of this she could take. The look in her daughter’s eyes told her
that she was humiliated. Tully was so sheltered—she wasn’t even allowed
on the internet until she was ten, and even then, Lauren had installed a
battalion of child locks to make sure she wouldn’t be exposed to anything
unclean. Now this man was undoing all of that.
“Ever done that before, Tully?”
She said nothing.
He gripped a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back—she
responded with a pained yelp.
“Answer the fucking question!”
“N-no.”
“See, was that so hard? So you’ve never gotten curious and fingered your
cunt before. Interesting.”
“If I did anything to make you mad, sir . . . I’m sorry . . . please.”
Oh, Tully, she wasn't neglecting her good manners even in a dreadful
situation like this.
 “Sir, eh? I like the sound of that,” he belched out a boyish giggle, “so,
tell me, do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not? Pretty girl like you . . . I bet all the boys would love to get to
know ya. I bet they wonder what you look like when you’re naked in the
gym shower.”
“I don’t go to that kind of school,” she said, her voice shaking with fear.
Trauma laced the inflection of her voice; every word she spoke came from
the little courage she was able to muster up.
“Oh? What kind of school do you go to?”
“Here. I’m homeschooled.”
“Shit, well, that explains it. You’re twelve and you dress like a fucking
baby. Say, mama bear, what kind of sick Gypsy Blanchard shit is this?”
“No, Mom said she’d let me go to public school next year.”
“I see. Plan on getting a boyfriend when you go to public school?” He
snickered, nudging her.
“I-I don’t know . . .”
Bret leaned in a mere inch away from Tully’s ear and snarled.
“Well, of course, you do. Look, it may not look like it now, but I am a
friend. And friends help each other out. So, lemme tell you what boys are
going to want to do to you. They’re going to want to see what you look like
without a bra. They’re going to want to see what your pussy looks like
spread apart. They’re going to want to make you wet and stick their hard
cocks into ya. I bet you can’t wait to lose your virginity . . .”
Tully cried even harder at the vile sewage he was spewing in her ear.
“ . . . And you know what’s gonna happen when a cock gets shoved in
your tight hairy pussy? Your nice little cherry is gonna pop! Your untouched
cunt isn’t gonna be as clean anymore. You’re going to be a fucking used-up
slut, just like your dumb fucking mama. Say, do you even know how babies
are made? Did you know your dad fucked your mom right in her cunt?
Yeah, he took his hard dick and shoved it right in her! And she fucking
liked it!”
Tully screamed. She couldn’t take it anymore—all of this was too much.
She looked up to her mother. Lauren was her perfect superhero, and hearing
all this vile stuff said about her made Tully feel filthy. She felt like
something was being stolen from her, usurped with great force without her
consent. Just this man’s words alone were violating enough to make her feel
like her life was now stained.
Lauren watched as her daughter wailed and howled.
“P-please . . .” Lauren whispered, lifting her hands as if in surrender to
placate this beast.
“Please, what, bitch? Also, do you remember what I said would fucking
happen if I heard you talk again?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry . . .” Because what else could she say? “Look, I’ll
do anything. You don’t need to hurt her. Please. Just tell me what to do and
I’ll do it.”
“Anything, huh?”
Lauren swallowed her fear down. She couldn’t afford to antagonize him
any more than she already had. She needed to keep a level head before it
was too late.
“All right,” Bret said, holding the gun up to her, “get on your knees and
crawl to my bag over there. Reach into the front pockets and look for the
zip ties.”
Humiliated, Lauren did what was commanded of her. She sank to her
knees and leaned forward onto her palms. She looked down at the floor;
dark puddles formed from the tears that fell from her cheeks. She sucked in
some snot to stave off the incoming congestion and lurched forward.
“Wait!”
Now what? I am doing exactly what was asked of me!
“I wanna see you bark like the dog you are. Come on, bitch. Woof
woof.”
“What?” she asked, utterly perplexed. She didn’t think she could be
degraded anymore, but this was just vile!
“Did I fucking stutter, you dumb cunt? Say. Woof.
Woof.”
“W-woof.”
“Louder, bitch! Say woof woof!”
She sucked in a breath and yipped, “Woof woof!”
“There ya go! Very good. Now was that so hard?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, sir.”
“Excellent. Now get those zip ties, or I swear this bitch is gonna get it.”
When Lauren reached the backpack, she unzipped the front zipper and
dug in. Sure enough, there were the black zip ties. She held them up to
show Bret that she had found them.
“Great. Now, tie Tully up. Put her hands behind her back and link her
wrists together. Then do the same with her ankles. Quick! Quick! Double
time.”
Lauren couldn’t believe what was being asked of her. Was she seriously
being held at gunpoint and made to restrain her daughter? Bret was going to
have his way with them, whatever his way was. She couldn’t process what
was being asked of her. She commanded herself to move forward, but her
body refused to budge.
At that instant, Bret stood up and raised the gun to her forehead. Fractals
of ice coated her entire body. She needed to act now and quickly. If her
actions put Tully’s life in jeopardy—if she cost her her life—she wouldn’t
be able to live with herself. Tully wouldn’t be able to have a life. She
wouldn’t get to go to prom, wouldn’t get to find her calling, wouldn’t be
able to attend college and find her Prince Charming. Lauren wanted to
protect her for as long as she could, but deep down, she knew she would
have to push her out of the nest sooner or later.
Now, however, she had to act.
She ambled toward Tully, zip ties in hand, and did as she was told. She
secured her wrists behind her back and then her ankles.
“Very good. Don’t worry, your little slut is going to grow to enjoy being
tied up. I can tell she’s going to be a little kinky freak, given how sheltered
she’s been. It’s only a matter of time before the hormones kick in, and then
she’ll be letting her boyfriends piss all over her tits. Heck, she’ll love
golden showers so much she’ll be drinking the piss straight from their
cocks.”
Lauren imagined wrenching the gun from Bret’s hands and shooting him
dead. One bullet wouldn’t be good enough. She’d empty the entire
magazine into his smug face. She’d render him inhuman. She wouldn’t stop
until a meaty stew of bone and brain matter was all that remained atop his
neck. She hated to admit it, but this vile thought came with a fleeting spark
of pleasure.
Blood boiled in her loins.
Lauren had never been a violent person; she hated anger and
confrontation. She couldn’t even watch action movies; the mere sight of
blood made her go faint. Now, however, bloodshed was all she craved. She
was brought up to have faith in the notion of charity and forgiveness, yet
her heart had no sympathy for this abomination. Bret didn’t deserve to get
help; he didn’t deserve to have any sort of redemption. Those virtues she
grew up with turned into mere words. They were rendered meaningless
platitudes in the face of what was transpiring.
“All right, she’s tied up. Now tell me what you want me to do.”
“First, I want to see how serious you are. Are you willing to do anything
to keep your daughter alive?”
Lauren wished she could free herself of these dire straits through prayer
alone. She closed her eyes and prayed, yet nothing changed.
“I’m waiting.”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Bret seethed lasciviously.
“All right, let’s start with something easy. Tell me, Lauren, are you on
your period?”
Lauren frowned. She felt as though she had been violated by that
question alone. It was a simple question; all she had to do was answer. Her
stomach lurched at the vile crudeness of his inquest. She exhaled, wiped her
tears away, and faced her captor.
“Yes,” she said under her breath.
“And do you use tampons or pads?”
“Pads.”
“Perfect. Show me.”
Lauren had a visceral reaction to this demand. Her heart plummeted to
her stomach. She couldn’t believe what she was being asked to do. Not
even in Milo’s internet search history was a woman asked to do something
this disgusting. Her lips drew back and her eyes pinched shut.
 “Don’t fucking make me repeat myself. Panties off.”
“All right.”
She buried her hand beneath her skirt and looped her finger underneath
her underwear. Her shoulders shuddered as she wept. She pulled the front of
her underwear down, then slipped them below her knees. She unfurled the
white cotton, revealing the pad. Much to her shame, it looked like a crime
scene: dark jellied clumps of blood resembled the blood clots of a pig’s
heart. She held it up to him, keeping her gaze downcast. She flung it at the
ground, dropped to her knees, and buried her face in her hands.
“Now what?”
“Pick it up and lick it.”
A muffled groan rose from her chest. She put her hand against her mouth
and took in a sharp inhale. It felt like a snake coiled around in her gut. Just
the thought of what she had to do was enough to make her feel sick.
“I’d hurry up if I were you. Tully’s right prepubescent tit depends on it.”
Lauren crawled toward the underwear in a daze. She couldn’t even begin
to process how any of this was real. This was a dream—it had to be. Yet
even her most horrifying nightmares never yielded anything this horrific.
This was the sort of night terror one would wake up from in a cold sweat.
But this was so much worse.
This was actually happening.
Lauren gripped her underwear and rifled through the tufts and folds. She
held them up to her chin with shaky fingers and shuddered. The smell was
vile; it reminded her of rotten meat.
“Good, now lick it up.”
She took a deep breath, as if she was considering the easiest possible
way of going about this task.
“Come on, prove to Tully you love her. Lick it up.”
 She stuck out her tongue and licked the stained gauzy pad. Lauren’s
tongue skimmed through the blood in one swift motion. It was horrendous;
it had the texture of gelatin and the taste of bitter iron and meaty leftovers.
She retched and keeled over. Despite her best efforts to keep it down, her
body expelled a massive payload of upchuck. It splashed all over the
wooden floorboard, flying at her feet.
“Good girl!” Bret roared with delight.
“What’s next?” she rasped. “I said, what’s next, you sick fuck?!”
 CHAPTER 5

Sweat crawled down Lauren’s back and into the crooks of her armpits.
Her heart was a marching band in her chest. She had no clue what fate was
in store for her, but it would certainly put a permanent stain on her life she
would never recover from. She was already completely emotionally
exhausted and worn out. It was as if the entire world around her had begun
to decay. The air turned fetid and musky; her skin felt as though it was
caked in noxious grime.
“All right, shall we begin?”
“Yes. What else do I need to do?”
Bret took something out of his backpack and tossed it at her. Lauren
didn’t even need to ask what it was. It was a large, black dildo. It was
smeared with dried blood and crusted feces. Lauren shuddered with
revulsion.
“What’s the matter, never seen one of those before? Don’t tell me a
single gal like you has never self-pleasured.”
“Just tell me what I need to do.”
“I must say, I am impressed with your enthusiasm. The last guy I paid a
visit to wasn’t quite as eager as you are now. He didn’t even make it to the
second round. Spoiler alert: he’s dead.”
“So you are a killer . . .”
Bret walked up to her and gave her several heavy taps on the head with
his finger, “Decent deduction skills. Good to know you’re not as fucking
braindead as I thought.”
“So what, you want me to use this thing? Are you going to make me fuck
myself with this unwashed toy, huh? And if I don’t, are you going to kill
me?”
“Woah, woah. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Cut the shit and let me be
crystal clear: yes, I very well may kill you. But that’s only if you lose our
little game. If you play your cards right, you will get to live and you’ll
never see me again.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“That’s the funny thing, isn’t it? You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
Lauren clutched her chest as a tidal wave of nausea crested over her.
“Y-you’re not human,” Lauren said, pinching her lips together to stifle
her sobs.
The effort was futile, however, because her distress was written all over
her face. Her cheeks were flushed with shame, her eyes were wet and red
with strain, and a strand of snot dripped from her nose to her upper lip. But
playing along was all she could do now, so she swallowed her hope and
awaited his debauched instructions.
“Pick up that dildo.”
Lauren did as she was instructed.
“I want you to use it.”
“Wait—”
“On him.”
Bret tilted his head, gesturing toward Cody. He might as well have
punted her square in the chest and crushed her heart. Boiling bile sloshed up
her throat as the reality of what he was insinuating dawned on her.
“Y-you . . . you want me to . . .”
 “I want you to spread that kid’s cheeks apart and fuck him with that
filthy used dildo. Yes.”
“What? You can’t be serious. He’s just a child!”
“You don’t have to do it. I’m giving you a choice, of course. Call it my
Christian charity.”
“All right . . . what’s the choice?”
“Either you ass-rape that little shit, or I put a bullet through your empty
skull and fist-rape your little slut. Whatever you refuse to do to him, I do to
her,” as he said this, he held the barrel of the gun up to Tully’s temple.
Lauren tried to substitute her fear and disgust with reason. Would her
parents have done the same if they were in her situation? She couldn’t
picture it, but she had to. She grew up being taught that no sin was
unforgivable. But to her, to harm a child violated all moral boundaries. How
could she even begin to ask for mercy and compassion if she did this? She
knew, deep in her heart, that merely going to confession and admitting to
this would never be enough to absolve her guilt and the trauma she would
have inflicted. But if she didn’t, then Tully . . .
“Okay.”
“Fantastic! I knew you would eventually come around. I’ll even go so far
as to tell you what I specifically want you to do with him.”
“And that is?”
“You can start by rolling him onto his stomach and hiking his ass up.
Don’t worry, he won’t tell you to stop. Will ya, Cody?”
“Why’s that?” Lauren asked.
“Cody, say ahh.”
Cody parted his lips, revealing a toothless maw and a sewn stump where
a tongue used to be.
 Lauren looked around, hoping to spot anything she could use to get out
of this. Yet nothing came to sight, and only one thought rushed to mind. She
imagined running to the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife, and jamming
the blade right into Bret’s mouth. That fantasy, however, was short-lived.
She grasped the disgusting toy in her hands, opened her eyes, and started
toward Cody. The look in his eyes was one of betrayal and anguish. She had
to ignore it if she was to carry out the task. She violently shoved him
forward. As expected, he was resistant, but she wrestled him onto his
stomach. He refused to arch his back, so she shoved a couple of throw
pillows under him to gain better access.
“Good. You’ve probably never raped a kid before,
so let me guide you. Yank that fucker’s pants down.”
Lauren gritted her teeth and glared at Bret with revulsion. Bret responded
by thrusting the barrel of the gun at Tully’s temple, forcing her to thrash her
head to the side.
“You can look at me like a mad cow all you want, but I wouldn’t waste
any more time if I was you,” he said, placing his finger on the trigger.
Lauren looked down and saw that Bret was fully erect. The swell in his
jeans protruded so far up that it reminded her of a soccer cleat. He rubbed
his cock with his hand, squeezing it every few seconds as he rubbed.
She looked back down at Cody and pinched the waistband of his
sweatpants.
“Come on bitch, get his ass out. Don’t make me count to three!” he
barked.
The maniacal viciousness in his voice made Lauren jump. She yanked
down the boy’s sweatpants, baring his pale ass to the room. Her face burned
red at the humiliating sight in front of her.
 “Mmmm . . . that’s fucking hot. Actually, why don’t you take all your
clothes off too.”
What else could she do?
“Damn you!”
She seethed with rage. Like a shy child, she hooked the bottom hem of
her white camisole and pulled it over her head. She dropped it and folded
her arms over her breasts.
“Everything.”
She unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her chest went beet-red
with embarrassment. The only other man who saw her naked was Milo.
Although she was bitter that he divorced her, she wished he was here with
her now. She wished she could ask him how to get out of this situation. She
missed the clear-eyed way he viewed the world and the feasible solutions he
was able to postulate in moments of high pressure.
Yet, now, all she had was herself.
“You’ve got a pretty nice pair of tits for an old bat. Let’s see if you’ve
got a nice bush too.”
Her heart bucked in her chest like the hasty stride of a galloping steed. It
kicked in her chest like a door being slammed. She undid the top button and
unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to her shaking ankles.
“Ah, just as I suspected. You must think we’re still in the seventies with
a fuckin’ bush like that,” he said, letting out a loud cackle.
She let her warm tears fall freely now. They crawled down her cheeks
and fell like droplets of rain. Fully naked, she glared daggers at Bret. A
tsunami of violent thoughts flooded her head. She spat on the floor in his
direction.
“You pervert. You’re going to go to Hell,” she rasped.
“Oh, sweetheart, look around. We’re already here.”
 “Fuck . . . you,” she hissed.
Bret smirked, utterly unfazed by her. He then focused his attention on
Tully, caressing her cheek with his free hand.
“Oh, and Tully. You are going to watch all of this. Or else.”

CHAPTER 6

Lauren clamped a hand over her mouth to keep the rising upchuck down
as she pressed the tip of the dildo to Cody’s ass. She moved slowly as if
doing so would make it any less painful for him. But she knew there was
nothing she could do to save him from the violation of his innocence. She
pushed forward, but the tip refused to punch through the resistant ring of
muscle.
“I-it’s not going in,” she said through her sobs, “please, can’t I have
some kind of lubricant to help?”
“You’ve got a good point. Lick it. That’s an order.”
Lauren couldn’t believe what he told her to do. She
brought the dildo to her lips and dragged her tongue alongside the ridges of
crusty gunk. The taste was both bitter and salty—like something you’d
scrape off the bottom of an overused frying pan.
“Okay, now shove it in!”
Hesitating, Lauren brought the toy back down to the boy’s ass.
“You’ll never get it in that way, you fucking idiot. Spread him apart and
force the head in first.”
Parting his ass cheeks, she cringed at the sight of Cody’s small, pink
pucker. She froze, the head of the phallus twitched a mere centimeter from
the boy’s entrance. She closed her eyes and tried to pray, but couldn’t come
up with the words in this state. Never in her life had she seen someone so
intimately exposed like this.
And he was just an innocent child.
“I’m sorry . . .” she wept, “I’m so, so sorry.”
Lauren forced the thought to the back of her head, let out a loud grunt,
and thrust the head of the dildo forward. Cody let out a pained scream
straight from the bowels of Hell. She pretended as though she was stabbing
Bret in the gut with a knife. The visual didn’t make what she was doing feel
any more right, though. To her dismay, the dildo refused to budge. She let
out a grunt, twisted the phallic tool, and wrenched it through with all her
might. The silicone pushed past his sphincter and into his rectum. His
screams grew so loud veins protruded from his neck. Sweat dotted her
forehead from the sheer effort it took.
“Keep going, bitch! Fuck him deeper!” Bret directed.
Lauren pushed with all her body weight. The dildo went further in as
Cody belted out another series of blood-curdling screams.
“Puhh-puhh . . .” he yelped from his tongueless, toothless maw. When he
realized this was futile, he began to scream again.
 “Don’t pull all the way out! Tug it backward a bit and thrust it back in.
Keep fucking him with it.”
Something tore, and blood began to seep out of the crack of his ass in
crimson ribbons. I’m doing this to protect my daughter. I’m doing this to
save the life of my child. I will spend the rest of my life repenting. She
screamed in her head as she carried out the repugnant task.
“Faster! Faster! Fuck yes!”
At this point, the dildo was completely caked in blood and raw shit
fragments. More blood had started to leak profusely from him. Squelching
sounds hissed from Cody’s gummy ligaments. His screams drowned out
Bret’s laughs. Droplets of blood oozed like pus from a boil. She ground her
teeth and kept going, twisting deeper and deeper into his anal cavity, pulling
it out and thrusting it back in.
“All right, now yank it out like you mean it.”
As if a string from above was controlling her every movement, Lauren
pulled back from her elbow. The dildo exited with a pop! The boy’s
sphincter belched before releasing a payload of wet feces and blood. Its
texture was so greasy it reminded her of oil with chunky bits of fried food
particles. Light brown sludge jetted out of him and slid down his white,
hairless thighs. The last of the avalanche of shit spurted out and fell in a
puddle that had the consistency of oatmeal.
Lauren tried to cover her mouth but wasn’t able to do so in time. She
bent over to the side and belched out a guttural snarl as she ejected a wad of
stringy upchuck. Tears continued to run down her aching eyes as she
coughed and hacked.
When she looked up, her eyes locked on Tully’s. Her daughter looked
petrified. The shine in her eyes was completely dead.
 Lauren got on her hands and knees and banged her fists on the floor. She
screamed so hard she felt as if her throat was about to bleed. She tried to
push the thoughts of what she had just done out of her head, but they kept
flooding back in.
“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real,” she chanted, shaking her
head.
She sat upright, cupped the sides of her face, and dug her nails into her
cheeks. She was already past the point of denial; she had accepted what she
had done. She scraped herself so hard the skin broke. Ribbons of blood
streamed down her neck, onto her sweaty chest. She pinched her eyes shut
and opened them—her vision was so blurry she had to blink repeatedly just
to will the world back into focus. Everything was still as it was. This wasn’t
a dream; this was real life. Bret beamed at her with a shit-eating grin. She
couldn’t comprehend how someone could take pleasure from such debased
evil.
And her poor little girl. The things she was just forced to see. If she
weren’t fighting for the life of her daughter, she would’ve killed herself.
She would’ve taken a knife and slit her own throat from ear to ear.
“Tully . . . I’m s-sorry . . . Mommy is so . . . sorry.”
Bret stood above her and clapped slowly.
“Wow, you really fucked him up. You should be proud!”
All Lauren could do was grind her teeth together. She gritted so tight that
her jaw began to cramp. She was exhausted. She slowly felt all the
determination to keep going begin to wane. What kind of life would be
worth living if she had to live with this guilt for the rest of her days? What
kind of life would her daughter have? Would she and Tully—assuming they
survived this night—be able to go back to the way things were? She had no
concrete answers to any of these questions. Before she could dwell on her
misery and regret any longer, Bret spoke. “Ready for round two?”

CHAPTER 7

Despite there being only three other people in the room, Lauren felt like
the eyes of the entire planet were on her. They gazed down at her with
wrath and scorn. She imagined taking a knife and slicing into her flesh,
wrenching the flesh from bone, and tearing every inch of her skin off. She
couldn’t bear to look at herself—couldn’t bear to live a life in a body that
had just done what she had done.
“Are you ready for round two?”
 “I don’t know if I can go on anymore.”
Bret scowled, “All right. It appears that I’ve got to spell it out for you.
It’s sad to see that you’ve got such an empty fucking skull. Think about it
this way: if you don’t play along, I’ll blow your brains out. When I do that,
there will be no one to save poor little Tallulah over here. Then, I’ll pull her
eyes out with my bare hands and shove them up her hairy cunt. After, I’ll
fuck her in the pussy with a knife while I fist-punch her ass. How does that
sound?”
Nausea roiled in Lauren’s gut. Cody’s blood and shit still stained her
hands. She wished she could wash them.
“All right! All right! Just tell me what I have to do,” Lauren sobbed.
“You’ve done something disgusting to him. Now, I think you need
something disgusting done to you. Get on your knees, open your mouth,
and stick out your tongue.”
That first game had drained her so much she didn’t think she could
withstand any more torment, much less inflict it. She knew nothing Cody
could do would trump what she had just done to him. But this was the only
form of repentance she could think of. And so she resigned herself to
whatever punishment was to be doled out. As instructed, she got on her
knees and darted her tongue out.
Bret picked Cody up by the back of his shirt and dragged him in front of
her. He yanked down Cody’s pants, exposing his tiny prick, and held it in
front of Lauren’s face.
“Keep that fucking tongue out.”
Before she could guess what was about to happen, Bret jabbed the handle
of the gun so hard into Cody’s gut that he pissed himself. A dark amber
current drained out of his penis and directly at Lauren’s face. It pooled in
her mouth and sprayed in her eyes. Her stomach churned as her tongue
absorbed the sour taste of piss. To her dismay, she could see that the yellow
liquid was laced with blood. Her stomach seemed to implode as her throat
constricted, making her belch out another hefty pile of vomit.
Before she could react any further, Bret smashed a handful of puke all
over her face. When she began to gag again, he clamped her lips shut,
making her blow chunks a second time. This time, all that came out was
acidic bile.
“You must hate him for pissing all over you,” Bret sneered, “Why don’t
you get even? Here, use this.”
She heard a thud on the ground next to her. When she opened her eyes,
she saw a claw hammer between her knees.
“I . . . I can’t . . .”
“What exactly can’t you do?”
“W-wait . . . please.”
“What?”
Lauren’s arms wobbled as she tried to keep herself propped up on all
fours. She went light-headed from the lack of food in her system and her
vision started to go milky. Shaking her head, she refocused on the weapon
in front of her flanked by both her wrists. She noticed that her flesh had
turned a pasty pale shade. She was drenched in sweat, piss, and clumps of
vomit. She looked every bit as disgusting as she felt.
“I’m doing this to save my daughter,” she whispered under her breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, I’m doing this to save my daughter,” she said stoically.
She knew that something inside her had broken.
“Great. Glad to see we’re on the same page.”
“Tell me what to do.”
 “You must hate Cody for pissing all over your face. Why don’t you get
revenge?”
“He wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t hit him.”
Bret’s smile never left his smug face. He locked his
eyes on hers. She didn’t look away; she glared at him like she was staring
down the barrel of a gun.
“Tell me something, Lauren. Do you hate me? Do you despise every
fiber of my being? Be honest. No tricks, I’m curious.”
Lauren clamped her jaw shut and seethed through her teeth, “I hate you. I
curse the day you were born. I curse the mother who shat you out.”
“Are you religious? Do you think I’m going to be punished in the
afterlife?”
“Yes, I am and yes, I do. There’s a special place in Hell for people like
you.”
A beat of silence crossed the room. Tully shuddered in her seat as Bret
pushed the barrel of the gun into her temple. His arm shook as he began to
giggle maniacally.
Then he spoke, “I’m pretty sure wrath is one of the seven deadly sins.
Weren’t you raised to not hate other people? Looks like you’re a filthy, dirty
sinner too. At least I have the balls to admit it. And I don’t believe in any of
that shit.”
“You’re not human.”
“I’m also not the one who just ass-raped a child.”
Lauren’s heart sank. She hated to admit it, but he was right. He was
holding an innocent family at gunpoint; he was threatening her daughter
with grave harm. Yet, as far as she was concerned, she was the only one
who’d outright overtly harmed someone this evening. This, she couldn’t
deny.
 “Oh, and Lauren,” he chirped, “your anger makes me fucking hard.”
“Fuck you!” she screamed.
“Oh, will you look at that? It’s time for round three,” Bret said,
completely casting her anger aside.
Despite her hatred for Bret, she knew there was no way out of this. She
knew that, no matter how awful this was, she had to keep playing. She had
to save her daughter’s life. She had to—
Knock knock.
“Who. The fuck.”
A beat of silence crossed over them. If her mother had been there, she
would’ve said, “An angel had just passed by.”
“Guess we have company.”
 CHAPTER 8

James. She thought. It had to be? Who else would it be? Surely it wasn’t
the police, and she doubted any of her other neighbors would spontaneously
pay a visit to her at this hour. Lauren’s face went white. She couldn’t afford
to put him in harm's way. Nothing she could’ve done would make this
better: if she screamed, James would come in—unarmed—and get shot. If
Bret killed him, he’d no doubt kill her and Tully too. Lauren froze in panic.
“Hey, Bacall, are you there?”
Bret stood silent.
No, James. No. No. No!!! Just turn around and leave. Just turn around!
 Her heart slammed, her breath came in shallow sips, her nape heated up .
. . At that moment, she was the purest embodiment of anxiety.
“Everything okay? I wasn’t planning on coming by, but the lights are still
on. Look, if you’re upstairs, I’ll just come in real quick. I think I might’ve
left my glasses, so—”
“James! Help!!” Tully screamed.
“Tully? What the hell is going on in there??”
Just then, James threw the door open. He reached the living room,
winded and wide-eyed. Before he could fully comprehend the horrific sight
in front of him, a bullet chewed through the plaster wall behind him. It
whooshed right past his ear. Despite his age, he was quick enough to lunge
right at Bret. James slammed into him so hard he barrelled backward,
landing on his back. The gun was flung to the side, ricocheting off the leg
of the couch.
“James! The gun!” Lauren screamed.
Wasting no time, James sprang into motion and retrieved the pistol. Bret
instantly scrabbled over to Lauren. She punched, kicked, and clawed, but it
wasn’t enough to stave him off. His hulking figure was just too strong. He
tugged her head back and angled the blade of the knife on her neck, right
where her pulse beat.
“Any sudden movements and the bitch gets it!” Bret snarled; his voice
vibrated with blistering fury.
To demonstrate how serious he was, Bret nicked a slit right beneath her
jaw. Blood pooled into the crook of her clavicle, overflowing onto her
naked breast.
“Let her go, you animal! I’m going to shoot!”
“Fuck you! We were in the middle of a game here.”
 “I mean it, son. It doesn’t need to be this way,” James said calmly. “Just
put the gun down and be on your way.”
“Fucking shoot him!” Lauren screamed.
“I can’t risk it, Bacall, I might hit you.”
“I don’t care if you kill me. He’s gonna kill Tully, just fucking shoot!
Now!!”
She knew it was a lost cause. If he pulled the trigger, Bret would just
slice a hole in her neck anyway. There was no way James could get a clear
headshot without blowing her brains out too.
“Put the gun down, James, and let’s talk,” Bret said, his words
deliberately paced.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Let me try this again. Put the gun down or I will slice a deep hole from
her left ear to her right ear. How’s that sound?”
“What does it matter if you plan on killing her, anyway?”
To demonstrate how serious he was, Bret nicked another slit.
“Put the gun down.”
“And then what?”
“And then Cody and I will leave. We’re pretty much done playing our
game anyway. Lauren here did a fantastic job.”
“What kind of game is this? Lauren?”
Sadness was etched across Lauren’s face. She couldn’t possibly recall the
vile things she’d done to Cody. James would never look at her the same
way again. Even understanding that she was coerced into doing these things
wouldn’t change the fact that she’d done them. She would forever be a
stained woman in his eyes.
“Lauren?” James said again, his voice tinged with sorrow.
 “I’ll explain everything to you in a minute. Just lower the gun,” Bret
said.
James frowned and dropped the gun.
“All right, now kick it to me.”
And so he did. He kicked the gun to Bret with the inside of his foot as if
it were a hockey puck. His aim was fair enough to allow Bret to pick it up
without having to move much. Bret shoved Lauren forward. She landed on
the floor at James’s feet.
“All right, sir,” James started, “I’ve done what you asked. Please, just
leave.”
“Get fucked, old man.”
Bret raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
The bullet chewed through the upper right side of James’s chest—just to
the right of his sternum, through his pectoral. It painted the wall behind him
with a red splash. James collapsed to his knees, squeezing the entry wound
as a stream of blood sloshed out. He coughed and emitted a wet gurgling
sound, as bright red blood pulsed out of his mouth like tomato paste.
“No!! James!!!” Lauren screamed.
All she could do was stare at the dying body across the room. She wasn’t
new to pain; she’d gone through a difficult divorce, and she’d gone through
the death of a parent. This, however, was the death of hope itself. Lauren
found herself wishing she was dead. Explaining her sins to her maker was
seemingly less arduous than continuing to go on with the events of this
evening.
Tully’s shriek jolted Lauren from her introspection.
“Mommy!”
Bret had a fistful of her hair in his hand. Gone was the smirk on his face.
Gone was the jubilation in his eyes. His forehead was flushed red with roots
of veins protruding down the middle. He wasn’t having fun anymore—he
was livid.
Tears wet Tully’s cheeks. Her lips quivered as if she was mumbling a
prayer in tongues. She looked at her mother with guilt and pain in her eyes.
Bret hoisted her up by her hair, dragging her to her feet.
“W-what are you doing to her? I played your game. Put her down,
please!”
“Shut your bitch mouth!”
Tully shrank into herself at the sudden din of his bark. Bret scoffed as he
held the barrel of the gun under her jaw.
“You think this is funny, huh? You think calling someone over was going
to help you?”
“I didn’t call him, I swear!”
“C’mon, you expect me to believe that? When did you do it, huh? Was it
when you went to go get the jack? Why did he come here?”
“James is just a friend of mine,” Lauren began to cry again; tears flowed
freely. “He was here before you came . . . I don’t know why he . . . why he
. . . Please just end this! Call an ambulance, he’s dying!” she covered her
face with her shaking hands.
“Not one single word out of you until the next task, bitch. For now, we’re
going to have a little intermission. You’ve proved that you’d do anything to
save Tully’s life, now I think Tully has to prove she’s worth saving.”
Lauren wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to protest. But she
knew doing so would set him off and cost her her daughter’s life (and her
own). He’d just shot a man in front of her. She couldn’t afford to test him.
All she could do was follow his instructions to the letter.
“So, Tully. Let’s continue our conversation from earlier this evening.
Have you ever been fucked?”
 Shocked, Tully looked to her mother for help. All Lauren could do was
shake her head and apologize to her daughter with weary eyes.
“Answer me, you little shit.”
“N-no,” she said before breaking into more sobs.
“So you’ve never done anything sexual, huh? Never had a boy show you
his hard dick at summer camp?”
Tully shook her head.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
With that, Bret undid the zipties binding her wrists and flung her to the
ground beside James.
“You know, mothers are always jealous of their daughters. They deny it,
but it kills them to see younger and prettier versions of themselves. They
hate how they no longer have the power to entice men like they once did
when they were in their youth. Let’s punish Mommy now, shall we?”
Bret might as well have dropped an anvil on Lauren’s chest. She had an
inkling where he was going with this, but she couldn’t process the fact that
he would take things this far.
“Unbutton his pants.”
Tully began to shake her head, “No.” She looked like a scared child
whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.
“Now!” Bret seethed, firing the gun at the ceiling.
Tully yipped, then scrambled to carry out his order. She made to
unbutton the top of James’s trousers. It took a few seconds on account of
her shaking fingers. She managed to get the button loose before the smoke
at the gun’s barrel completely dissipated.
“Good. You’re way better than your numbskull mommy at following
directions. Now, unzip and pull them down.”
 Lauren gasped as she saw her daughter lower James’s waistband. James’s
soft penis lay on a patch of black pubic hair.
“Lick it,” Bret commanded.
“N-no . . . please,” Tully begged.
Click.
The gun was ready to fire.
“Lick it, or the next thing you know, you’ll be trying to stop the blood
from falling out of the fucking hole I’m going to put in your neck.”
Bret pushed the gun against her tear-stained cheek and reiterated the
demand with slow precision. “Lick. It.”
James’s cock reminded Tully of a deflated balloon. Tully shivered and
then reached out to touch his member. She was shaking so hard that she
struggled to get a grip on it. She held on to his penis like she was holding
onto the joystick of an arcade machine.
“Yes, stroke his dick while it’s still warm. Go on.”
Tully looked at Bret, confused.
“Move your tiny hand up and down, idiot.”
Lauren couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her. Her innocent
daughter who rode horses and watched superhero movies; who wasn’t
allowed to date until she was in college; who hadn’t even become a
teenager, was being held at gunpoint as she stimulated the cock of a dying
man. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a crazy hallucination. This was
happening right in front of her very eyes. And then, much to Lauren’s
horror, James’s cock began to quickly inflate.
“Ho ho! Will you look at that?” Bret chortled. “Looks like James here is
liking this. And hey, looks like he’s got a pretty impressively sized cock
too. I mean, look at the schlong on this fucker!”
 “I-I don’t know what’s happening . . . why is it getting swollen?” Tully
gasped.
“What’s happening is that you’re showing him a good time. Now, lick it.
Slide your tongue up and down.”
The entire room went silent as Tully did what she was ordered to do. Her
movements were awkward, of course. She treated it like a curious artifact,
inspecting it as her tongue jutted back and forth.
“Come on, show him you mean it!” Bret yelled, forcing her head down.
Tully gagged as the tip of James’s cock punched the back of her throat.
The assault was so fast and aggressive that she was left with no time to
prepare. Her head shot up as she belched out a torrent of wet chunks.
“All right, now strip. Get naked.”
Tully slipped out of her clothes, trembling. She crossed an arm over her
chest and sheathed her private area. Her eyes were glazed over, empty.
More tears and snot drained from her.
“All right, now I want you to stick his dick in your asshole. Come on,
git!”
He grabbed Tully by the hair and manually sat her on James’s still-hard
cock. He pushed her down, but it refused to budge.
“Come on, spread those cheeks! Don’t make me tell you twice.”
Tully sobbed and bit her bottom lip as she pried her rear open for the
impending violation. Bret pushed her down without so much as a warning.
She screamed the howl of a banshee as the dying man’s cock skewered her
anal cavity. The pain was so severe she felt as if she was just violated with
broken glass.
“There we go! Bounce up and down on that dick!”
Lauren cried and moaned, watching the forced violation of her daughter.
Tully’s screams never abated. The only person who would come to respond
to these screams lay dying on the floor. She didn’t know how she’d be able
to look her daughter in the eye after this.
You will get through this, none of this was her choice.
Bret then yanked Tully up; her eyes were pink, and her chest was awash
with red anxiety hives. James’s cock was coated with clumpy filth. The
texture was unmistakable; Tully had shat and bled from the forced entry.
“Will you look at that, Lauren? A little slut in the making.
We’ve just gotta improve her deepthroating skills, and then I can start
pimping her out. I’m sure a lot of your priest friends would fork over heaps
to take her for a test run.”
Tully’s sobs were frantic and heavy. She hiked her knees up under her
chin and wrapped her arms around her shins. She buried her face into her
knees and screamed, rocking back and forth. Her upper inner thighs were
drenched with blood. Lauren heard a ringing in her ear as something inside
her shattered.
“Pick up that hammer!” Bret yelled.
Knowing that he meant business, she picked up the hammer and held it
in both her hands. She wobbled onto her feet and lurched forward, ready for
his next command. She couldn’t bear to look at her broken daughter, but she
could feel her shattered presence. Tully’s cries grew softer, yet she still
refused to emerge from the shell she’d encased herself in. Her daughter’s
trauma weighed on her like a massive freight. Lauren knew Tully would
never be the same again. Her sensitive, nurturing soul had been stained
forever.
I will get my daughter out of this. I don’t care about my soul anymore.
I’ll send myself to the deepest pits of Hell for her sake, Lauren thought.
“All right, we’ve got a problem here. I didn’t plan on killing anyone, and
now, that fucker has ruined it. He’s not dead, but he’s going to be.”
 Bret sat next to Tully. He glared at Lauren; red fury beamed from his
eyes. James lay on the living room floor, drenched in a growing puddle of
his blood. He’d lost so much that his skin had gone almost translucently
pale. The despair Lauren felt was overwhelming, but she needed to keep it
together and see things through to the end.
“This next round is going to be played by you. If you do this, I’ll know
you’re serious about your daughter’s life. Got that?”
“Yes, yes. Please just tell me what I have to do.”
“All right, then. See that thing in your hands?”
Lauren looked at the claw hammer, then at her daughter.
“That man, James, is about to die. Finish him off.”
She should’ve known this was coming. She’d just been asked to rape an
innocent child. Did she think that full-on murder was out of the question?
She weighed the morality of the situation in her head: would she be guilty
of being the one who carried out the kill, or does this count as an act of self-
defense? Either way, someone was going to die. Was it going to be a man
who was already halfway to the pearly white gates, or was it going to be her
daughter who had yet to live a full life?
Lauren knew what the answer was instantly.
She stood above James and held the hammer over his head. He didn’t
register the weapon—he was pretty much in a vegetative state, gone to the
world. She tried to ignore the fact that his chest still rose and fell, despite
everything that had happened.
“I’m sorry, James, she whispered, “I don’t have a choice. I’m sorry.
Despite this, her hands still trembled.
“I’m going to end your suffering now, James. I’m going to—”
“Just do it!” Bret yelled.
 Lauren screamed, swinging the hammer down on James’s face. It
collided with his chin, cracking his jaw out of place. The blow was so
strong some of his teeth cracked. She heaved the hammer up again, forcing
it down on the center of his face. It was as if she was taking all her anger
out on him. Every morsel of rage she’d built up throughout the evening was
now being pummelled into this man’s head. She brought the weapon down
again, this time on his upper cheekbone, rupturing his eye socket. Blood
seeped out of his eyes and nose. Before she could strike him again, his other
eye opened. Lauren swore she could tell that he was looking back at her
with pain and confusion.
She had to make it go away. She had to end his suffering quickly.
She put all her strength into this next blow, landing it squarely on the
bridge of James’s nose. Cartilage splintered as metal dug into resistant
bone.
Lauren rained down blow after blow with blind rage. Her face and
breasts were stained with blood. It looked as if someone dripped red candle
wax on her. Blood splashed and sprayed in all directions as she continued
her assault. At this point, his brains were fanned out next to him. His teeth
lay in chunky puddles on either side of his face. His nose was split down
the center, and part of it was forced up into the center of his forehead. Bone
fragments pierced his ruptured eye. Orbital fluids ran down his face in
ribbons that resembled fresh ejaculate.
James was dead.
Bret belched out a raspy laugh, slapping his knee. He reached into his
backpack again, unearthing another dildo. This time, it was attached to a
strap. He tossed it at Lauren.
“Here, slip into this.”
 Lauren stared at it before picking it up. She slipped into it as if it was one
of the harnesses she used when she had gone rock climbing. Looking down
and seeing a man’s member jutting out of her felt wrong in so many ways.
It was humiliating beyond belief. It triggered painful memories of finding
Milo’s porn stash on his computer. She may have been a prude, but she
knew exactly what a strap-on dildo was and how it was mostly meant to be
used by a woman on a submissive man.
“Now fuck him!”
“W-what do you mean?”
“Get his pants off, haul him up, and fuck him in the
ass like the faggot he is.”
“He’s already dead! What more do you want to do to him?”
“Like I care?”
Every movement, knowing what she was about to do, was agonizing.
She prayed in her head, begging James’s spirit for any semblance of
forgiveness. Even telling herself that he wouldn’t be able to suffer through
this wasn’t enough to justify these revolting actions in her head. James lay
in a stiff heap on the ground. She lugged his body upward onto his knees
and yanked his pants down. The musky, putrid smell hit her before she
could register what had happened. A brown mudslide caked his ass cheeks.
As she hoisted him up by the hips, his asshole belched out a bubbly burp as
more watery shit sputtered out of his loosened bowels.
“What the hell are you waiting for, woman? Stick it in!”
Lauren wished the ground would swallow her. She positioned herself in
front of James’s entrance and slowly angled her hips in front of his hairy,
shit-caked pucker.
“Easy does it. Slide into him like how he slid into your little slut.”
 Rage engulfed her as she slammed forward, penetrating the thick ring of
muscle. It took less effort than when she raped Cody, considering how
much stronger her hips were than her arms. She ground the false cock in
and out of him, bucking back and forth. The fresh shit from his asshole
lubricated the strap-on like creamy pus with the consistency of mashed
potato. Rancid, acidic juices filled her throat in response to the smell of shit
and death assaulting her olfactory senses. It was impossible to believe that,
earlier this same night, she had so much hope because of this very man.
James’s presence made her feel like she’d get to have a new lease on life; he
made her believe that falling in love again wouldn’t be impossible.
Every memory was now ruined. Every glimmer of hope was snuffed and
drenched in toxic grime. There was no light at the end of the tunnel.
Everything ahead was pitch-black darkness.
“Oh yeah, keep fucking that old faggot’s ass!”
“Ram it in him!”
“Impale that fucking pig!”
Lauren gulped in a breath as she bucked back and forth mechanically.
Each thrust produced a wet, farting sound which was punctuated by the
resounding clap of her hip flexors against his rear. She wondered if this was
how Milo felt, forcing himself to pump his hips into a woman that didn’t
arouse him sexually. Thinking back, she always wondered why he closed
his eyes when they had sex. He had no doubt been thinking about the
abused women on his computer. Now she’d forever associate the memory
of James with her inadequacy as a wife and a friend. What kind of friend
lets something this vile happen? She wished he’d just taken the shot, even if
it meant killing her at that moment.
“James . . . forgive me. Please forgive me,” she said ad nauseam.
 CHAPTER 9

Lauren had raped and killed a man.

 She stared down at what she had done. She wished she could take it all
back. Her hands were frozen with pins and needles. The back of her neck
was on fire. Her entire body was coated in sweat and blood. Now that she
had taken care of James, Bret’s angry expression had subsided. He was no
longer in a state of anger; he was back to his sly, smug self.
“All right then, back to regular programming. Are you ready for the next
task?”
“Just tell me what to do,” she snarled.
“I’m feeling charitable. Tully got to have so much fun a while ago with
James here, so I think I’m going to let you have some fun of your own.”
“What?”
“Tell me, Lauren. Did you lose your virginity to your husband?
“Yes,” Lauren said stoically.
“So, in the eyes of your community, you weren’t seen as a slut?”
“I don’t like that word. I was never sexually promiscuous, but I don’t see
myself in a position to judge other women who are.”
“How noble of you. So, I take it you’re not one to slut shame?”
“That isn’t the kind of person I am. How other people choose to live their
lives doesn’t concern me. As long as no one dictates to me how I raise my
daughter, they can do as they please.”
“Very level-headed.”
Lauren didn’t know how to respond.
“So, what do you think of pedophiles?”
She was slightly taken aback. They were just talking about sexual
promiscuity, so how did the topic then suddenly shift to this? To her, the
two weren’t even remotely comparable. Still, she had to play along.
“I detest them. I think they’re the lowest of the low.”
“Do you support the death penalty?”
 “I—” she stuttered.
“It’s a simple question.”
“I haven’t thought about it enough to have an answer.”
“Why not?”
Jeez, what is it with this guy? Where does he get off?
“I’m not running for office, so I don’t feel the need to have a stance on
anything and everything. Why do you ask?”
“Would you support the death penalty for a pedophile?”
She answered without hesitation, “Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Why?”
“Being forced to perform sex acts you cannot consent to is abominable.
Children can’t consent to such things and they will be traumatized for life.
It’s completely evil.”
“Well, Lauren, I happen to agree.”
Lauren had no clue where this line of questioning was going.
“Did your husband ever make you perform blowjobs on him?”
Once again, her stomach lurched into a pit of disgust. She was reminded
of how insufficient she felt in the bedroom with Milo. She was reminded of
just how debased his preferences were, and how antithetical they were to
the virtues he espoused.
“I . . . He—”
“Look,” Bret interrupted, “clearly, you’ve got the sexual appetite and
moral virtues of an asexual nun. This is going to make things interesting.”
“What do I need to do?”
Without saying anything, Bret trudged over to her, grabbed her by the
back of her neck, and hauled her toward the couch. She limped in agony at
the brute force he deployed on her frail body. He stopped right before the
couch and forced her down to her knees.
“I initially didn’t plan on having this be one of the challenges, but I am a
man of spontaneity. That, and your answers inspired me!”
What the fuck have I done? Lauren chided herself.
“For this next round, I’m going to grade you on how well you can suck
dick.”
The thought of being made to sexually satisfy a killer revolted her. There
was no denying, though, that Bret was a handsome man. If all she had to do
was pleasure him with her mouth, she’d do it.
“Lauren, do you think you can make a guy cum just with your mouth?”
“I’ll try.”
“I’d love to see you try. You can start now.”
Lauren briefly looked down and frowned. Swallowing her nerves, she
raised her head to Bret’s crotch and reached for his belt. Before she could
make contact, he blindsided her with an open handed strike. The blow was
so hard she began to hear a faint ringing sound in her right ear. A ribbon of
blood ran down the corner of her mouth.
“What? I was just doing what you told me!”
“Not on me, you dumb bitch! On him! Bret said, pointing at Cody.
“No!”
“No?” He said, pointing the gun at the back of Tully’s neck. She was still
coiled in a ball of her own making, with her head squeezed between both
her knees. Lauren knew that if she didn’t act quickly, Bret would pull the
trigger.
“All right,” she muttered.
Lauren kneeled in front of Cody and began to work his pants open and
free his cock. Of course, it was wilted and much smaller than Milo’s. She
looked up at him. He was completely spent. His eyes had the glazed-over
look of a meth addict.
“I’m sorry,” Lauren whispered, “I can’t let Tully die. I’ll do it as fast as I
can.”
She gripped the penis, unsure of what to do. Should she go right ahead
and put it in her mouth? Should she try to stimulate it to get him hard first?
She spat on her hand, doing what Milo taught her to do, and lubricated the
boy’s shaft. She hadn’t been in this position in so long that her training had
escaped her. Aside from Milo’s, she had never touched, let alone seen,
another penis. She didn’t grow up with brothers, so she was utterly taken
aback by how small and undeveloped Cody’s looked.
“Come on, get him hard. Put more effort into it!”
“I’m trying!” she screamed as endless tears slid down her face.
Cody squirmed in his seat as she hastened her strokes.
“Come on. Get creative! Getting blown by an older lady is every twelve-
year-old boy’s fantasy. Why don’t you rub your tits on his cock. Let him
grab those titties, Lauren.”
Lauren grunted in frustration. She spat on her hands again, shifting the
angle of her strokes, willing his prick to harden. Nothing she did was
working.
“Yeah, keep taking your time, Lauren. It’s not like your daughter’s life
depends on this.”
She took a deep breath, then lowered her head. She held the tip of his
prick to her lips and licked his glans. Her spit wet him, and she circled her
tongue around the pink tip. His pubic mound had a slight peach fuzz; other
than that, his body was hairless. She licked up and down his shaft slowly,
teasing it as best as she could.
To her relief, the organ slowly began to stiffen in her mouth.
 She couldn’t even begin to process what she was doing.
She gagged and lifted her mouth to catch her breath. Still, she continued
to frig the little boy’s cock with steady, measured strokes. Her mouth
worked the boy’s length, up and down, lubricating him with her tongue as
she went. She was disgusted by the taste and texture of his diminutive cock.
Getting the tip to hit the back of her throat was no effort at all. Cody
groaned at the sudden influx of stimulation. Lauren couldn’t tell whether
these were groans of pleasure or resistance.
“Fantastic work, you’re getting good at this!”
Lauren wished she could somehow, through the sheer force of her hatred,
will Bret to drop dead.
“I’ll kill you,” Lauren grunted.
“I promise you, you won’t. You can try, but I’ll put a bullet right between
your eyes before you know it. Then, I’ll saw off one of James’s arms and
fuck Tully with it while I set her tits on fire,” Bret didn’t even look
remotely troubled by his vile promise.
“You’re a demon.”
“And you’re one second away from having a dead daughter. Get back to
sucking, cunt.”
Lauren’s gaze fell as she lowered her lips to Cody’s crotch once more.
Luckily for her, he still had a semi. She began to bob her head up and down
as her heart sank deeper into the pit of her gut. The wrongness of this
wasn’t lost on her. Still, it wasn’t like she was being given a choice in the
matter.
“I bet you like that little dick, huh?” Bret taunted,
“You think it tastes good? You wanna know how it would feel inside
your hairy cunt?”
 Lauren tried her best to tune out his vile rhetoric. She instead opted to
pinch her eyes shut and pray that Cody would just ejaculate. She couldn’t
bear to do this any longer. After minutes of fellation, Cody finally released
a small dribble of sperm in her mouth. The warm fluid had the bitter taste of
pennies. She spat it to the side and buried her face in her hands.
She shook with rage, panic, and humiliation. Her face was stained with
tears and cum. She began to sob the loudest she had since the evening
began. Her shame was so immense her chest and neck broke out in hives.
Lauren knew she’d never outlive this.
Bret clapped slowly.
“Bravo! Well done! See, I knew you had it in you. I knew even the most
shriveled-up prude could whore it up given the right circumstances.”
“Fuck . . . you.” she rasped.
“But we’re not done here yet.”
Lauren’s breath caught in her mouth. Despite the pain rushing through
her bones and nerves, and despite her aching heart, she was still forced to
accept that she was completely out of choices. Bret walked over to Tully
and trailed his hand across her cheek. She winced, shrinking back in fear.
He got on his knees and caressed her knees.
“Being the loving mother you are, I’m going to need you to help Tully
out with something.”
Immediately after he finished saying this, he gripped Tully’s knees and
yanked her legs apart. She released an agonized yelp.
“Mommy! Help!”
Ravaged with anger, Lauren roared and rushed toward him. Her rage-
mangled face wore the expression of a warrior in the midst of battle, “Leave
her alone!” she screamed. Before she could get any closer, Bret whirled
around, pointing the gun at her.
 Click!
She knew that if she moved a single muscle, her brains would be fanned
out across the floor.
“Mommy is going to help you,” Bret seethed lasciviously. She’s going to
help you get all cleaned up. I mean, look at the mess you have down here.
Lauren, despite herself, looked at where Bret was motioning. Tully’s crotch
was smeared with blood, shit, and sweat.
Bret hissed, “How filthy! We can’t have this now, can we?”
“You pig! At least let me help her get cleaned up. Can’t you see she is
going to get infected?”
“And how do you suppose you’re going to do that?”
Lauren scowled in frustration, “Look, just point the gun at me and
accompany me to the bathroom. I’ll just need a couple of seconds to
dampen a washcloth. I’ll clean her up, and we can get back to the game.”
Bret stroked his chin and gazed up, as if in deep contemplation. Lauren
tried to guess what he was thinking—as far as she was concerned, his head
was a deep vortex that knew nothing but depravity and perversion.
“I agree, we do need to get her cleaned up. It’s quite alarming how this
filth from her asshole has smeared on her pussy. No, this is not good at all.”
Lauren winced at the crude way he referred to her daughter’s private
area.
“Hey,” Bret said, “I agree. I do think I should let you clean her up.”
“All right, let’s go. We need to hurry.”
“We do need to hurry.”
“Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”
“On your knees. Slowly.”
Lauren got to her knees. The wood was so uneven and dry that she felt
like she was kneeling on concrete.
 “You’re going to clean her up, all right. And I’d like you to use your
tongue.”
Lauren flinched backward as if she was shoved. This time, he didn’t put
his hands on her. It was sheer revulsion that forced this sudden shift in
movement.
“Y-you bastard. You disgusting bastard! You can’t be—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Bret swung his fist at her nose. The
sound of wet twigs being snapped reverberated across the room as she
dropped backward and collided with the wooden floor like a sack of
potatoes. She landed with a sickening thump. White noise vibrated in her
head like the tail of a rattlesnake. All she could do was turn onto her side as
a weak moan escaped her lips. Droplets of blood pooled on the ground
beneath her.
Bret grabbed the back of her head, wrenched it up, and pulled her
forward. He didn’t stop until her face was in front of her daughter’s crotch.
A cold, metal object was jammed into the side of her neck. She didn’t have
to guess; she knew what it was. The barrel of a gun.
“Bret . . . no,” Lauren said weakly.
He scoffed, “This game is about proving you love your daughter enough
to keep her alive. How am I supposed to believe you love her if you can’t
even clean her up?”
“You sick fucking bastard.”
“If I were you, I’d get licking.”
Bret pushed the barrel harder into Lauren’s neck, forcing her head down
into Tully’s crotch. Tully tried to pinch her legs together, but it was too late.
Her mother’s face was already inches away from her filthy labia. Tully shut
her eyes and whispered a prayer her grandmother taught her before she
passed away. She hadn’t realized her organ was being touched until
Lauren’s tongue slid against it.
“Tully . . . Mommy is so sorry,” Lauren said with a sniffle.
“One little lick, are you fucking kidding me?”
Bret grabbed the back of Lauren’s head and violently shoved it against
Tully’s bare crotch.
Tully whipped her head backward and screamed. Her shrill wail
reminded Lauren of that of a newborn baby. Her entire body locked up in
disgust when she realized that was who she was violating at the moment:
her baby. The life she brought into this world. The beautiful girl she raised
from infancy. All these beautiful memories were now stained: the first steps
she walked, the first word she spoke, the first birthday she celebrated. Bret
had taken a vat of hazardous chemical waste and drowned all of these
beautiful moments in them.
This rush of thoughts was quashed by Tully’s frantic screams.
“I said, lick it!” Bret growled.
Bret swirled her head around, forcing her lips against the folds of Tully’s
entrance. Lauren was forced to taste her daughter’s opening; it was so filthy
it reminded her of rotting fruit. Her daughter’s shit and blood intermingled
in a viscous stew on the tip of her tongue. The more Lauren tried to resist,
the more Bret buried her face into Tully’s crotch. Her whole body shook.
Her muscles strained and spasmed under the pressure.
At last, Bret released her.
She jolted backward, gasped for air, and fell back on her rear.
“You must really hate me now.”
I’m going to fucking kill him. He will not leave this house alive. She
thought.
 “I’m willing to bet my left nut that you don’t hate me as much as you
hate yourself. After all, I’m not a disgusting pedophile. And you’re right,
Lauren. They are the most disgusting scum on the face of the Earth. If you
ask me, I do think they should all be gassed.”

CHAPTER 10

James was dead. Tully was traumatized for life. Lauren was a rapist and
a murderer. Lauren’s entire body was iced over in shame and self-loathing.
She felt as if her chest was filled with jagged stones. If she could, she would
stab a hole in her chest and excavate all its contents just to rid herself of the
unbearable pain. Life be damned.
“Are you ready for the penultimate game, Lauren?”
 She nodded, saying nothing.
“You’ve proven to me that you’d do anything to keep your daughter
alive. It’s all very heart-warming. I wish I could say the same about my
mother, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, Tully is special. She’s what
made you a mother, to begin with. Tell me, have you always wanted to
become a mother?”
Yes, she thought, nodding slowly.
“Mothers are the backbone of our society, after all. They bring life into
this world. They sacrifice just so we can have a chance in this life, just like
what you’re doing now. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Lauren didn’t respond.
“Tonight, you’ve proven that you can save a child’s life. Now, I’m going
to need you to prove that you can take one in exchange for yours.”
At this point, nothing surprised her. She was wracked with despair,
humiliation, and pain.
“I want you to kill Cody. I want it to be long, drawn-out, and brutal. I
want you to take out all the anger you feel toward me on him. Once that’s
done, you’ll have won.”
“And then what?” she snarled through gritted teeth.
“You’ll find out in due time, and I’ll have gotten what I came for.”
“What’s that?”
“Entertainment.”
“Where did you find this kid?”
“That’s none of your business. As far as you’re concerned, you better
start now or I’ll perform amateur surgery on your little slut. I’ll tie you up
and rip out your eyelids so you have to watch me dissect her. I’ll start
cutting her open from her pussy and work my way up to her guts, then her
tits, then her—”
 “I can’t!” Lauren shrieked.
“You what?”
Bret stepped forward and kicked Lauren in the gut. Her pale flesh
instantly pinkened as the blow connected. All the air was vacuumed from
her lungs. She felt a patch of warmth build in her crotch, then smelled the
sulfuric odor. She was pissing herself. He struck her again, his closed fist
connecting with her nose. The sound reminded her of a frozen sheet of ice
cracking.
“You bitch! You worthless fucking bitch!”
He grabbed the side of her head and brought her face down against his
knee, making her vision cut out for a fraction of a second. He then brought
his arm up, poised to strike again.
“No! Wait!” Lauren rasped.
“What?”
“Just tell me what to do.”
He grabbed the back of her head and turned her toward Cody.
“Mutilate him beyond recognition. Use whatever tools I hand you from
my bag of goodies.”
Lauren knew there was no going back from this. She had accepted her
fate and acknowledged that she was destined for damnation. Looking down,
she picked up the claw hammer Bret had intended for her to use earlier on
in the evening before James interrupted them. She picked it up and made
her way to Cody. She dragged him down to the floor. His head hit the wood
with a hollow thud.
She glared back at Bret and spat, “I’ll see you in Hell.”
Lauren swung the claw hammer down on Cody’s groin. The metal
collided with flesh with a meaty thwack! This brought forth a wail from the
pits of Hell. The glans of his cock instantly reddened upon impact. She
brought the hammer down again, tearing open his scrotal sac. The inside of
his scrotum was deep red with damaged blood vessels. His ruptured
testicles were off-white with patches of black clots. She swung down on his
testicle, bursting it open. Thick mucus spewed out of it like black cherry
jam. A snarl escaped Cody’s throat as he ejected a load of gummy, soppy
bile on the floor next to him. His upchuck had the consistency of fibrous
tissue coated in a thin membrane of saliva. The fetid soup reminded Lauren
of the pungent odor of roadkill that had been left to tan under a hot summer
sun.
“Very good! Keep up that creativity. Here, use this.”
Bret tossed a pocket knife at her. She picked up the blade and dragged it
down the length of Cody’s shriveled cock. As she dug the blade in, the soft
elastic flesh unzipped, revealing a pink wall of dark veins. The skin of his
prick parted, revealing a limp, stringy mass of red tissue and yellow tendon.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck yes, you’re doing so well!”
“Put it in your mouth now!”
Lauren drew back the skin and took the degloved cock into her maw,
scraping it with her teeth. The skinned flesh reminded her of raw salmon
and melted cottage cheese. She gnawed into the base of his bloody groin,
tearing it from his pubic mound. It tore loose, leaving a stump on his
hairless pelvic cavity. Blood squirted out like a sprinkler from the stump
where his member once was. She chewed the rubbery penis, gnashing it
between her teeth before spitting it out.
“Here, get creative with this,” Bret said, chucking a cheese grater at her.
“Come on, keep going. Give him a makeover, bitch.”
Lauren picked up the cheese grater and pushed it flush against Cody’s
tear-stained face. He unleashed a flurry of wordless protests as she dragged
the grater down his left cheek. The metal chewed into the resistant flesh as
she dragged it down with all her strength. The skin flayed, reminding her of
a grilled tomato being peeled. She raised the cheese grater to the same spot
and dug into the already exposed layer of muscle, stretching it down to the
area right above his chin. His thin, youthful skin began to shed effortlessly.
Beside her, Bret unzipped his pants and freed his erection. He began
tugging at his throbbing erection, furiously pumping himself at the
repugnant sight before him.
Lauren then yanked the cheese grater up and raked the side with the
smaller holes down the center of his face. The skin connecting his forehead
to the bridge of his nose tore off like wet paper as blood flowed into his eye
socket. The metal tore off a portion of his eyebrow and his entire eyelid.
Blood pooled in his exposed eye as she repeated the same process down the
swath of his exposed muscle and fat. The metal made a dull scraping noise
as it dug into the bone. She momentarily put the cheese grater down and
picked up the pocketknife. The blade sawed into his cheek, tearing through
the flesh like a knife through latex. The split flesh exposed portions of his
mandible. Next, she dug the blade into the resistant, fatty muscle of his
upper lip. She sliced and ripped, exposing a row of gums where his front
teeth should’ve been. Once again, she raised the knife over her head.
“No!” The scream of a young girl pierced her ears.
She looked to the side and saw that Tully was now sitting up, staring at
her in complete and utter mortification.
“Tully! How much did you see? How much did you see?!” Lauren
screamed in a panic.
“Stop it, Mommy, please! Just stop! Stop!!!”
“What the hell are you waiting for? Finish him off!” Bret yowled.
“Look away, Tully!”
“Mommy, don’t!”
 Lauren wheeled around and buried the knife into Cody’s sternum,
producing a hot jet stream of crimson sludge. She yanked it back, then
punched it into his chest again, punctuating the stab with a sharp twist. The
blade scraped loudly against bone as it entered the frail boy’s body. Gore
frothed from the wound like a geyser, spurting up at Lauren. Cody’s body
shook like he was in the grips of a violent seizure. He was a broken wind-
up doll of flesh and blood.
“Fuck, just die already!” Lauren screamed.
She then punched the blade up and down his chest in frantic, successive
bursts. She began to lose patience and focus, stabbing his gut and neck.
Cody still gasped and hiccupped despite the flurry of stabs and gashes.
“Just stop fucking breathing, please!!!” Lauren shouted through her snot
and tears.
Eventually, his body stopped twitching. Everything slackened and went
silent. She looked up and saw that her captor beamed at her with a devilish
grin.
“Look at him, such a handsome boy!” Bret chirped. “Here, you could use
a little makeover, too, Lauren.”
Bret scooped up a puddle of Cody’s puke and smeared it on his female
victim’s face.
“Come on, lick it up like the sick animal you are. We’re still playing.”
Her tongue stuck out, catching remnants of acidic waste. The fresh stew
cinched between her teeth and fell down the back of her throat. She
squeezed her eyes shut and tried to hold her breath, but this gesture was
futile. Bret smeared the liquid guck on her forehead and cheeks, then down
her neck and across her breasts. He pinched her nipple between his thumb
and index finger, causing it to harden. Her gag reflex naturally kicked in,
causing her to retch and hack . . . but she had nothing left in her to expunge.
All she could do was spit out the vile taste in her mouth.
“You call that a spit?” Bret chortled, “I’ll show you how to spit.”
He leaned in an inch away from her face and hawked a loogie right at it.
His sickly green gob slithered down her nose and past her lips like it was a
wet slug.
“All right, now smile.”
Lauren opened her eyes and caught the sudden flash of brightness. In
Bret’s hand was a Polaroid camera. Out slipped the photo. As the image
processed, her petrified, ruined face materialized.
She was reminded of this true crime show she stumbled upon while
flipping channels one night. She wasn’t one to linger on dark subjects, but
this particular episode interested her. In it, they showed inconspicuous
photos of people’s faces. Some photos were digital, others were, like hers,
Polaroid. If she’d seen the photos on their own, she wouldn’t have
suspected anything of them. In the episode, however, she learned that they
were taken of people moments before death. A chill wormed its way up her
spine at the thought that she and her daughter would perhaps be the subject
of one of these shows one day.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 11

The entire living room smelled like raw sewage and gore. Lauren sat on
top of a wooden chair as Bret looped a coil of rope around her. Her wrists
were shackled with handcuffs and her ankles were taped together. She
stared down at her wobbling knees. All she could hear was white noise.
Beyond the shivering, her entire body was rendered catatonic.
“Sorry about this, I ran out of zip ties. Gotta improvise.”
The sky turned pink outside, signaling the arrival of dawn.
After she was fully restrained, she heard Bret wander somewhere else in
the room. Something snapped like a small twig, as a jumble of footsteps
teetered in front of her. A shadow was cast over her bare knees.
“Lauren.”
She didn’t look up to meet his gaze.
“Oh, Lauren,” he crooned.
This got nothing out of her.
“Lauren, you might want to look up. We’re about to start the final round
of our little game.”
Still, she didn’t react.
“Mommy?”
 Lauren straightened her back and shook her head, willing the sharpness
in her vision to return. In front of her was a silhouette of a person against
the backlight of the lavender morning sky. As the opaqueness of her vision
lessened, she saw that it was two people, one standing in front of the other.
“Tully . . . my love . . .” she whispered through her dry lips.
Tully had been freed from her restraints and now stood across from her.
She found that she could barely look her daughter in the eyes. Just the sight
of her, just the knowledge of what she had done . . . There was no way
Tully would ever unsee any of this. There was something in Tully’s hand . .
.
Something shaped like a . . .
Lauren’s heart throbbed in her head as it beat violently against her
ribcage. Bret bent down and whispered something into Tully’s ear. When he
rose, he held the knife to Tully’s throat and met Lauren’s quizzical gaze
with a shit-eating grin. Her blood froze. The air in the room dropped.
“W-what is . . .” was all Lauren could muster. “Baby, what’s going on?”
she whimpered.
“Mommy, I saw . . . I saw what you did. You killed that boy, Mommy.
You killed him!”
Lauren’s heart jumped. Her mouth went as dry as yeast, and her skin
prickled with gooseflesh. She felt both distraught and ashamed of herself, of
the things she’d done.
“Mommy, you’re a killer.”
Lauren shook her head, “No, baby. No, please listen. I was doing it to
protect you! You have to understand. Please!”
Hearing these words from Bret was one thing. Hearing them from Tully,
however, cut her to the bone. She couldn’t live with herself. Her chest felt
like it was about to implode. She felt like her naked body was displayed for
the entire world to see.
Despite it all, she knew Tully was right.
Could she ever get her daughter to forgive her?
What did Bret tell her to do?
Lauren’s eyes burned. She sniffled, but she had completely run out of
tears to cry. She had to try to get to her daughter. She had to try to explain
herself even though she knew there was no possible way she could justify
her actions.
“Look at me, baby, please. Tully, listen. I didn’t have a choice! You saw
what he did to James. You saw what he was going to do to us. You saw it! I
did all of this to save us. To protect you!”
“He was just a boy, Mommy!”
“I . . . Please forgive me. I need you to please . . . Tully, look at me!”
she pleaded.
If she wasn’t tied up to the chair, she would’ve been down on her knees
with her hands linked in prayer. She would be kowtowing at her daughter’s
feet for mercy.
“The final round is going to be played by Tully,” Bret interjected, “I’ve
already explained the rules to her. She’s a big girl now, and big girls need to
make big girl choices.”
“Tully, baby. I love you. I’ll make all of this right, I promise!”
Tully shook her head and frowned.
Lauren’s heart sank to her stomach.
Then Tully lifted her arm. The shape instantly confirmed itself. Tully
pointed the barrel of the .357 Magnum right at her. Lauren’s jaw hung open
in shock.
“Tully?” she whispered.
 “I hate you, Mommy.”
“No, Tully, wait!”
“You disgust me.”
“Tallulah, I love—”
The bullet exploded from the barrel, hurtling into the center of Lauren’s
face. The heavy shell blasted and shattered her teeth backward into her
mouth. It ripped away portions of her neck, just above her spine. Lauren’s
body fell forward as blood spurted from the exit wound and spilled all over
the wooden floor.

EPILOGUE

A warm breeze rippled through the spears of grass and crablike shells of
autumn leaves. Jacob Byrne knew he had to head inside because it was
almost time for supper. Still, his inquisitive mind betrayed him, keeping
him out later than he was allowed. He studied the trees in the front yard,
watching the squirrels as they scurried about the bare branches. His heart
stopped in his chest as they flitted from branch to branch. He was a deeply
empathetic child who worried that these furry creatures could hurt
themselves if they fell from such a height. He stood directly under the tree
because of this.
He chuckled and said, “Don’t fall, okay? If you do, I won’t be able to
catch you. I’m pretty bad at sports, and Dad doesn’t have enough time to
play ball with me because of work.”
Animals had always fascinated him. He was curious about many things.
Where did squirrels live? Where did the birds sleep at night? Where did the
bats sleep when it was daytime?
Despite the season in New Hampshire, the twilight sky was largely
cloudless. The last of the sunlight shimmered past the leaves of the trees,
magnanimously lording over the small bungalow he shared with his parents.
He cradled a book against his chest. It was a copy of Alice’s Adventures
in Wonderland that he’d received as a gift last weekend for his ninth
birthday. He hadn’t been much of a reader, but he promised his mom and
dad that he would get into books more this year because it would prove to
them that he was a big boy.
The sudden sound of feet mashing and grinding into the crisp leaves
shook Jacob out of his distraction. They grew closer, reminding him of
something heavy trudging down the road. Could it be Dad coming home
from work? His curiosity shifted to excitement, prompting him to turn
around.
It wasn’t his dad.
A man stood in front of him. His wavy swept-back hair billowed in the
wind. He wore a leather jacket. The strap of a backpack draped over his
right shoulder. Next to him stood a little girl who seemed to be a few years
older than him.
The man waved his hand, offering a friendly smile. Jacob was reluctant
to return it, however. He felt that too many bad things hid under people’s
smiles. Bullies at school would smile just before badgering him for his
lunch money. This man’s smile, though, had a warm and inviting presence
to it. Jacob couldn’t fully describe it, but he felt a friendly aura emanating
from him. The same could not be said for the little girl. Her face wore no
expression. It was just . . . blank. Her hand was linked to the man’s; her
gaze was lost far off in the distance. She reminded Jacob of a broken doll.
Before Jacob could contemplate this any further, the man spoke.
“What book do you have there, buddy?” he said with a grin.
He pronounced his words well and spoke with the confidence that
reminded Jacob of one of his favorite teachers.
“I-It’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, sir.”
“Sir? How polite of you. I apologize for not introducing myself. My
name is Bret. This is my cousin, Tully. What’s your name?”
Jacob didn’t give his name out to any stranger before running off to get
his parents first. Both his mom and dad had advised him to be wary of
strangers, particularly lone adults who approach kids. The fact that he had a
little girl with him, though, did lend him an air of trust. Jacob wasn’t one to
habitually ignore his parents’ suggestions. This time, however, he let his
guard slide.
“My name is Jacob,” he said.
“Well, hello to you, Jacob. Pleased to meet you.”
“You too.”
“Hey, listen. Tully and I have run into a bit of trouble. Do you live
nearby?”
 “Yes, that’s my house right there,” he said, pointing past the white fence.
“Beautiful house!” Bret chirped, “Are your mom and dad home?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. I’d just like to ask them if they could help me out if you don’t
mind. You see, my car broke down a few miles back and I need to get in
contact with a repair person. My phone died, you see, and I was wondering
if I could use yours.”
“Okay . . . I think my parents might be able to help.”
“Great. Is it just you and them? No siblings?”
“I have a baby sister, but she’s probably napping now.”
Jacob noticed how Bret’s eyes lit up at the mention of his infant sister.
“Lovely! I’m sure Tully would love to meet her. She’s an only child, you
see, and she’s always been dying to have a baby sister. The amount of
babysitting she does is crazy! I bet you she’d do the damn thing for free.”
Tully stood there, silent. Jacob couldn’t even tell if she so much as
blinked throughout this entire conversation.
“Oh . . . Well, I can take you to Mom and Dad and see how they can
help.”
“Perfect,” Bret said with a wide, toothy grin, “Just lead the way, young
man. We’re right behind you.”

The End

OceanofPDF.com