She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXXII)

Disclaimer

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 had happened as if in slow motion.  His hand desperately reaching for her.  He saw every ripple of flesh that spread from the point of impact.  He screamed for an eternity as she fell from sight.

Scott fell to his knees, landing on the hardwood floor at the exact moment that she impacted with the first floor.  He slowly crawled over to the banister, even as his mind replayed Tippy’s final moments, terrified of what he would see.

He could hear the dog’s high-pitched cries.  It had shrieked as much in terror as it had in pain and had nipped at his hands when he tried to help.  It knew that it was going to die and fought with its last dying breaths.

He couldn’t believe that it would be this easy with another person. He hadn’t even meant to do it!  He was only imagining…

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“It was YOU,” he screamed.  “YOU did it!”

The voice erupted in genuine laughter,  It was an evil sound, true, but it was so full of amusement that had it been him, he would have been doubled over and holding his sides.  It picked at his sanity, bouncing around the confines of his consciousness, and threatened to push him over the edge.  Just when he could take no more, the entity began to taper off into silence.

“Not this time kiddo.  That was all you right there.”

“…no,” he wailed softly.

“Oh yes indeed!  YOU planted your foot in her ass and YOU pushed her over the banister.  You killed her Scott and YOU are one murderous son of a…”

“…no-no-no…” he mourned soulfully as he clutched the sides of his head.  “…you made me do it…”

“I did no such thing.  I only showed you what you wanted to see. This was all you, bucko.”

From the first floor, a weak groan interrupted their internal debate.

“She’s…”

“…still alive?”

Scott grabbed onto the banister, pulling himself up so that he could look over and confirm their suspicion.  As he peered over the rail, his mouth fell open as he watched her rise to her knees and begin crawling toward the door beneath him.  As her feet disappeared beneath him, the other began to shout;

“The phone you idiot!  She’s going to the phone!”

“…so?”

“The police!  You have to stop her!”

He wasn’t totally committed to the idea, but he rose to his feet and ran to the stairs.  As he was going down, he turned and looked in the direction she had crawled in time to see the kitchen door swing shut.

“Maybe she just wants something to eat,” he asked inappropriately, but the joke was lost on the other who had begun to gibber wildly in its frightened state.  At first it annoyed him, but it didn’t take very long for the emotions to transfer to his own. Suddenly it mattered what was going to happen to him if that phone call were allowed to happen.

His heart thundered in his chest as he all but fled from the second floor,  He jumped the last four stairs and landed on the carpet with a thump.  For the second time, his mouth fell open when he saw that she had landed on one of the end tables.

The end table was a cheap piece that she had once explained having ordered from an LTD magazine.  Four brass legs decoratively wrapped around a thin piece of glass, each connected by a shelf beneath the surface, giving it the illusion of being sturdy.  When she landed upon it, all but one leg had buckled beneath her weight.  The fourth and remaining must have impaled her before snapping off.  A trail of blood, nearly a foot wide, led from the wreckage to the room where she now hid.

“Niiice.  I bet that hurts like a motherfucker,” 

From behind the door he could hear the sound of her voice as she sobbed.

“You’re crazy Scott!  You’ve lost your mind,” she yelled.

“…I’m not crazy,” he muttered, hurt.

“YOU PUSHED ME OVER THE LEDGE!”

“YOU punched me in the face,” he said with more conviction. “You don’t hurt the ones you love.  I…I HAD to do it.  Don’t you see?  I was afraid.  I didn’t want you to hit me anymore!”

She continue to sob from behind the door.

“What else was I supposed to do,” he finished.

“That’s very convincing Mr. Vali, but would you please tell the court MORE about these voices you’ve been hearing?”

“…but,” she said with confusion, “I wasn’t trying to KILL you!”

“No,” he answered slowly, “but I would have never done that to you.  You brought this on yourself, bitch.”

As he pushed the door open to enter the kitchen, she called out one final warning.  It was only a single word, but if he had heeded to it, there might have been a different outcome on the other side.

“Stop!”

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXXI)

Disclaimer

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!

———

His vision doubled from the impact.

The pain was excruciating, but for the moment the voices in his head were silenced.  Although the pain anchored him to the moment, it felt as if he were lost inside a dream.  From somewhere far away he heard the bat-like screeches of Lucy’s voice as she cursed more about the damage to the wall than to him.

A syrupy mixture of blood and tears coated his eyes, allowing him to see the world through death’s own, and he peered through the crimson veil at the monstrosity before him.  It waved its trunk-like appendages emphatically as it advanced, alternating between gesturing at him and the wall where he had just planted his head.

A steady throbbing began to spread from his temples, reaching with its hurtful tendrils until it covered the crown of his skull.

He looked upon the hellspawn before him and lost touch with reality.

The creature before him barely passed for a female of his species.  It was nearly tall as he, but consisted of mountains upon mountains of flesh which spilled over itself from its neck to its cankles.  It was naked, except for the brassiere that covered its mountainous assets.  He looked briefly downward, praying to whatever god was listening, that he wouldn’t see its gender specific bits and found that he couldn’t even if he tried.  Its large bulbous stomach hung low, covering anything that might help him to determine whether it had an inny or an outy.

He returned his eyes to its face when it suddenly shrieked his name. For a brief moment, even in his current state, he nearly forgot where he was.  Perched atop the countless globs of unwashed skin was the face he had once grown to love.  There wasn’t time for him to reflect, however, as it suddenly lunged in attack.

It led with its right arm, leading with the same fist which had already once marked his face, but this time it wouldn’t connect. He ducked to the left and stepped underneath its arm, around its body and stopped just behind the behemoth.  

It turned to face him, sputtering words over its lips faster than he could follow.  He began to smile, and when a look of confusion came over its features, he began to laugh.  His head protested from the vibrations his throat was thrusting upon it, but it felt too good for him to stop.  Only when the creature’s expression suddenly filled with rage did he become quiet.  It swung again, and once more he side-stepped and ducked behind it.  This time he planted a foot squarely over the crack between its massive pimple-covered buttocks, (it wasn’t wearing any underwear), and shoved with every bit of strength his leg could muster.

His perception suddenly cleared and he watched, horrified, as Lucy slammed into the banister.  His right hand shot out, reaching futilely toward her as she tipped over the edge and fell from sight.

“NO,” he screamed in anguish.  “It wasn’t REAL!”

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXX)

Disclaimer

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!

———

“Scott, what the hell are you doing,” Lucy shouted, awakened from the noise.

He continued to stand by the wall past the foot of the bed, where he pondered over his bleeding knuckles as if he hadn’t heard her. The injuries weren’t serious at first glance, the blood only trickled thickly down the the back of his hand, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he should be feeling some kind of pain.

“…huh,” he muttered.  “Nothing.”

“Nothing,” she screamed angrily.  Her voice began near a normal pitch and rose until it was loud enough to wake any dogs that might be sleeping nearby.  Scott winced slightly, but continued to stare at the back of his hand as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

“You punched a hole through my WALL, and you call that…nothing?!”

“I wasn’t talking to you, you fat cow,” he replied indifferently.  His eyes looked in her direction for the first time since she spoke.  “And for God’s sake, cover those things up.  You look like you’re trying out for the next GILFS GONE WILD video.”

She sputtered, pulling her sheet up over her chest, as a hurt expression crossed over her features.

“GILFS,” she repeated slowly.  Realization finally dawned over her as to what he was meaning and the hurt was instantly replaced by rage.  “How, dare, you talk to me that way?!  After everything I’ve done for YOU?”

He chuckled softly as he lowered his hand and slowly approached her from the side of the bed he had recently vacated.

“Wha-  What are you doing,” she asked quietly.

He didn’t answer, only reached down and collected something from the floor and, in one swift movement, launched it at her face. She screamed as she thought that he was attacking her, only to discover that he had only thrown her considerably sized brassiere.  By the time she removed the left cup from her face, he was opening the door from her room.

He was halfway out of the house when she caught up to him. He noted, with some satisfaction, that she had at least taken the hint he had left her with.

“You son of a bitch,” she shouted as she spun him around.  “I’ve done things for you that you wouldn’t have gotten from anyone else!”  Her right arm pumped once, quicker than he had been prepared to react to, and her fist connected solidly with the left side of his face.

He hadn’t been ready for the attack, but he didn’t lose his footing from it either.  His head followed the course of her swing as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.  This was the only reaction she got from him, and he slowly returned his terrible gaze upon her. His face was already beginning to swell where she had hit him and in a few days it would match the bruise on the other cheek. As his eyes fell upon her, she took a careful step away.

“…I said; Shut. Up…”

The other no longer spoke words he could understand.  It now chanted in another language, repeating the same few phrases over and over in his mind.  At first it was comforting.  It could have been the words of a shaman about to heal his patient, or of a priest about to deliver his prayer in Latin, but it had slowly grown in volume and fervor until it became a maddening cacophony of voices.

He shook his head back and forth so violently that from her perspective, there were blur lines in the space between each side that his face stopped.

“Scott,” she said more than asked.  Her voice had become child-like in her state of terror and the sweat over her thick frame had suddenly grown cold, sending chills down her spine and causing her to shiver ever so slightly.  “You’re scaring me.”

“Get. OUT,” he screamed.

His grabbed his head just above each ear, as if to hold it still, and leaned forward, groaning.

“…let…me…out…” he whispered softly.  This time when he spoke, it was his voice, but then it also was not.

She took another step backward as he began to struggle with himself.  He continued to clutch at the sides of his head as his body whipped violently back and forth.  It was as if he were wrestling for control over some unknown entity inside of him.

“NO,” he screamed as he slammed his head into the wall next to him.  She began to scream as his thick skull broke through the wall, and together, their voices filled a house which no other person currently inhabited.