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 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.

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!

———

The shed was quiet for the next several minutes.  He had nothing to say and Arnie seemed content to sit in silence, which was fine by him.  He felt weak.  He was hungry, and worse yet, he felt like he had to go to the bathroom.  There was no telling what was going to happen in that department, considering the extent of damage to his insides.

He also knew that there wasn’t much time left.  Even with the ‘other’ influencing its control over him, he was still nothing more than flesh and bone.  He was beginning to feel the pain more acutely by the minute and it was only a matter of time before he wasn’t able to go on.

He thought about the project he had been working on in the den.  Would it be enough?  More importantly, would he be strong enough to wear it?

He thought again to the secret entrance his father had built to the den.  It wasn’t anything fancy.  It was nothing more than a short tunnel one had to crouch to get through, but it was stable enough that it had lasted all these years.  While he hadn’t been through it recently, he was confident that it was still usable.

The tunnel itself was four-foot tall by three feet wide.  There were supports placed every few feet, and the blandex ceiling kept the dirt from caving in.  Two light bulbs had been strung along the middle of the ceiling, with a switch being at either end of the tunnel.  Since he had stumbled across it, he had begun to use it as a place to hide things he didn’t want his mom or sister to find, such as his porn collection, fireworks, and various other things of value.

He slowly turned and regarded the nerd in the corner, who seemed to care so much for him but hadn’t said more than a dozen sentences to him over the years.  Arnie sat exactly as he had when Scott had first come to, on an overturned bucket in the corner.  He was holding the butcher knife between his right thumb and forefinger in offering, which only added one more strange thing about him to the list.

He didn’t say anything as Scott reached out and took it from him.  He only continued to cautiously regard him as he tucked the knife between his belt and jeans, where it had been before he’d blacked out.

“Why are you so interested in me, Arnold?  I’m just curious.  I don’t think you’ve said more than two words to me since…”

His words trailed off in mid-sentence as he drifted back into his thoughts.  There was something at the edge of his memory that flirted with him, teased him with some piece of truth he had long since forgotten.  Was it something about him and Arnie? He shook his head to help clear the cobwebs inside, but it was no good.  There was too much going on up there for him to focus on any one thought.

Arnie didn’t answer, he didn’t even move from where he sat on the bucket.  He only continued to watch him with the same apathetic expression that had come over his face as of late.  Something about the way he was acting scratched at the rage that was continuing to build inside of him and he turned his attention back to the crack in the door.  Now wasn’t the time for a silly argument with someone he didn’t really give two shits about in the first place.

He pressed his face against the warm fibers of wood, positioning it so that he would be able to see as much as was possible from where he was.  From outside the shed, the world was abuzz with life.  He could hear the sounds of cars driving by.  There were people talking somewhere in the distance, but they were far enough away that he couldn’t make out their words.  A dog barked.  Birds chirruped in the trees above and the occasional cricket brushed its legs together at it attempted to get the attention of another.

There didn’t seem to be anybody outside, at least as far as he could tell, and he didn’t waste another minute.  It was time to go.  He reached down with his right hand, flicked open the latch and slowly pushed open the door to the outside.

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!

———

For the first time in a long time, he slowly opened his own eyes.  His vision was out of focus, making everything around him appear only as shapeless blobs, but he could see well enough to know that someone was sitting only a few feet away.

“You should have come talked to me when you still had the chance, Scott.”

Even though the other spoke in a soft whisper, he immediately recognized that the person to save him was also the last person he saw before losing consciousness.

“Arnie…?  Where am I?”

The other expelled a long, exasperated breath before answering.

“You’re in a shed Scott.  Mr. Patterson’s to be exact.”

“Uhn,” he groaned.  “Why the hell am I in here?”

“Uh…  Oh!  I guess you don’t remember, do you,” the other asked in response.  “Right!  Well, after you passed out, I sorta dragged you in here.”

“I figured that much out.  What I want to know is, why here?”

Even as he finished speaking, his vision fully came into focus.  Arnie was only three feet away from him, sitting on an overturned bucket.  His hands were laced together between his knees as he looked down at Scott, which immediately struck him as off kilter. Arnold was the nervous type and often wrung his hands when around others.  His hands usually alternated between this and pushing his glasses back up his nose.  To see him sitting there, watching him so calmly and speaking without so much as a quiver in his voice, didn’t sit right with him at all.

He was lying on a workbench inside of a small, but functional, wooden shed.  On one wall hung a wide variety of tools, from those used in basic carpentry to the kind needed for advanced woodworking.  Some he recognized, such as hammers and screwdrivers, while others were as foreign to him as another language.  At the foot of the opposite wall was a tarp, beneath of which was the shape of what looked like a riding lawnmower.  There were several cobwebs hanging in the corners and from the ceiling where generations of spiders had made their homes.

Though it was something that immediately struck his senses as odd, he didn’t think for very long about the calm demeanor of his savior.  Try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything other than those who had hurt him the most; Misty for setting him up with that fat psycho, and Tommy for the daily beatings he had given him.  Surely Arnie would understand!

As he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, he noticed that his midsection felt stiff beneath his shirt.  With a raised eyebrow, he reached down and using his left hand, lifted it enough to see what the cause of this strange sensation was.  When it came into view, he chortled with amusement.

“Duct tape?  You fixed me up with…duct tape?!”

It hurt, the pain was very real and now, very there, but he managed to laugh for several seconds before it became too much for him to bear.

“It was the only thing I could think of.  I couldn’t exactly take you to the hospital, what with the cops looking for you and all,” Arnie answered.

“Yeah…  I guess you’re right.  Thanks.”

The other only watched him with an expression that was droll, at best.  He seemed to be studying him, as if waiting for his next move.

“You know,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard him.  “it isn’t going to be long before they piece it together.”

“What are you talking about,” he asked.  There was a small hint of fear in his voice, and rightfully so.  If Arnie knew anything about what he had done, it wasn’t very likely that he would be able to carry out his final actions.

Arnie only huffed and looked away from Scott, towards the door leading back out into the world.  It would be several long moments before he would answer, which by that time Scott was beginning to wonder if he had heard him.

“I found this,” he finally said, breaking the silence.  As Scott watched, the other reached between his feet and lifted the blood-stained knife into view.  He was busted! For all he knew, the cops were already on their way!

“What are you going to do,” he asked fearfully.  His voice shook with each word, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

“It’s not what I’m going to do, Scott, but what you are going to do next.  What I want to know is, why didn’t you just talk to me?  I gave you an open invitation back there, at the library.  We could have figured some of this out.”

The old familiar rage came back into existence inside of him.   It was only a small pilot light for the fires to come, but he could feel it warming him to the core.

“What makes you think I wanted YOUR help,” he asked between gritted teeth.  “What makes you think I ever needed it?  Besides, what the hell would you have done anyways, Mr. Captain of the Chess team?  Rook to Queen four them to death?”

He barked a cold laugh and slipped off of the makeshift bed.  His movements were slow and methodical as he was careful not to reopen his wound any further than it already was.

“You must really hate them,” Arnie observed wryly.  “There’s absolutely no reason for you to be alive right now.”

“Obviously you’re mistaken,” he answered, ignoring the other’s first remark.  “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.  Yeah you are.  Except…”

“What,” he growled, turning to face him.

“I had to drag you on your back Scott.  I had to drag you on your back because if I didn’t, your insides would have led anyone looking for you right back to us,” he answered dryly.

Scott only grunted as he walked to the door. Arnold was right.  They should have found him on the kitchen floor at Lucy’s house, dead from blood loss.

“How long have I been out?”

“About six hours.”

“Jesus,” Scott muttered as he peered through the crack of the door.  It was a miracle that he hadn’t been found at all.  As he squinted against the bright light of the sun, he could see the grooves his feet had made when he was brought here.

“It’s not too late you know.”

“For what,” Scott grunted.

“To talk.”

“Damn you’re persistent,” he said.  “but I don’t think we’re going to be doing any talking.  I need to get home.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.  That’s the first place they’re expecting you to go.”

“Yeah?  Well, I know something they don’t,” he said with renewed determination.

“Oh?”

But he didn’t answer.  Already, his thoughts were focusing on the secret entrance to his father’s den, one that his patriarch had installed after the murders at General Mercy.  His father had become paranoid, worried that if their home were to be invaded, there would be no way for them to get out.  It would be the perfect way for him to get in without being noticed.