She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XLIII)


The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!


It hadn’t taken him long to get to the secret entrance.  After leaving the shed, he followed the alley to the end of the block and cut across the back yards of two houses before coming to where the door was buried.  With a groan, he bent down and swept away the leaves covering it.  He hoped that the grease in the hinges was still active, or getting in through here wasn’t going to be an option.

With a quick look around, he began to pull.  At first, nothing happened.  An unintentional “oof” slipped past his lip.  The tape on his midsection crackled, and fresh waves of pain lit up every nerve on the way to his brain.

The muscles in his arms shook.  A tendon stood out on his neck, and just when he was about to give up, it gave.  It gave with a ‘crack!’, sending him stumbling backwards when the door suddenly flew up in front of him.  His eyes bugged out in surprise, half expecting his mom to jump out of the hole screaming, but the only sound was that of the birds overhead.

A full minute passed before he pulled himself to his rebellious feet.  Somewhere deep inside, an internal struggle was wavering.  The strength of the other faltered for one brief second and he nearly fell head first into the darkness below.

“Perhaps for the better,” he thought to himself.  At least then this terrible nightmare would be over.

But once again, it was his feet that took control of matters.  Even as he pondered the events of the last twenty-four hours, he descended into the darkness below, pausing only to pull the rope on the underside of the trapdoor.  Once it had settled into place above him, only then did he flip on the light switch.

An electrical buzz filled the silence of the tunnel, chasing away the ripe bits of imagination that were forming in his mind.  The bulbs weren’t very bright, shining only forty watts into the darkness, but it was enough for him to see his destination.

As his began to close the distance between him and his den, his thoughts traveled back to the last minutes in the shed.


“All I ever wanted was to be your friend, Scott.  Was that too much to ask?”

“Fuck you Arnie.  I never wanted your friendship.  I just wanted to be left alone.  Don’t you get it?  We never hung out.  We didn’t have any classes together.  For fuck’s sake Arnie, why the hell do you even care?”

He continued to stand at the exit to the shed, head lowered with his open hand against its wood frame.  He didn’t dare turn around.  The old rage was returning.  He could sense the ‘other’ tensing up inside of him and already, there were dark thoughts manifesting about the various ways he could use some of the tools around him.

“I…  I lost my father once, too, Scott.  Like you, I was alone.  Everyone had turned against me, even the ones who professed to being my friends.  I couldn’t understand why he would bring me into a world like this, teach me to be the way that I was and then seemingly abandon me.”

Arnie’s voice was soft, but full of passion.  He could feel the tenderness coming from it, spreading over him as if a blanket had been wrapped around his shoulders and for just a moment he began to doubt his actions.

“I could have easily gone the same route as you.”

“Why didn’t you,” he had asked, near resignation.

“Just as I was about to give up, I found someone to confide in, and he reassured me that it wasn’t too late.”

Scott laughed bitterly, a dark sound completely devoid of humanity.

“And what about me?  Is it too late for me,” he asked with a voice full of sarcasm.

“It’s never too late to ask for forgiveness Scott.”


As he approached the entrance to the den, he shook the thoughts from his head.  A small frown appeared on his features as he tried to remember the last thing that happened before stepping back out into the world, but either he had blocked it from memory or the ‘other’ wasn’t allowing him to recall it.  Either way, it didn’t matter.  Slowly, he flicked the latch that would allow him to push open the hidden wall.

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