“We got this one from the micowaver,” said the younger of the two boys. His childish wording belied his horrific intention as he waddled into the room. Water spilled over the side and the boy swiftly moved his barefoot to keep the water from burning him. Both of the boys had muddy feet that left tracks across the linoleum as they approached.
“Don’t you dare,” said Mark. He backed into the corner of the tub and knocked over a bottle of shampoo as he did. “You get away from me with that.”
The two boys stopped and looked back at Jeremy as if to ask what they should do. Jeremy looked at his father, disappointed. “Don’t fight this, Dad. You need to sit down and let them pour the water on you.”
“Fuck that,” said Mark. He tried his best to avoid cursing in front of his son, but the current situation absolved that concern.
“You want to watch me die?” asked Jeremy.
“No, of course not,” said Mark. “But I’m not going to sit here and let your little friends pour boiling water on me either. This is crazy.” He stared at the bowl instead of looking at Jeremy. The water wasn’t bubbling, but he had no doubt it was searing hot. He was familiar with how water heated in a microwave doesn’t bubble, but can still get hotter than water boiled on a stove.
“What happens if you die?” asked one of the boys of Jeremy. Then he looked at Mark and added, “What if he tries to fight back?”
“Then the Skeleton Man will slaughter all of us and start over.” Jeremy spoke with utter certainty, as if this was a possibility he’d known for years and had come to accept. “My Daddy will have killed us all.”
“Fuck this, Jeremy,” said Mark. “You’ve gone insane. This is crazy!”
“Just throw it on him.” Jeremy spoke like a callous war criminal instructing his soldiers to execute a prisoner.
“Okay,” said one of the boys. They stepped forward and tipped the bowl on its side as they threw it into the tub. The glass bowl slammed into Mark and the water seared his skin. He staggered back as the wave hit him. He fell against the cold tile wall where he slid down as the water stung his skin. He swiped away the wetness as he screamed and writhed.
“The water’s going down the drain,” said Jeremy, disappointed. “Someone plug the drain or else we won’t be able to cook him!”
One of the boys stepped forward to do as Jeremy instructed, but Mark slapped the child on the side of the head, sending him smashing into the wall. The child crumpled on the bathroom floor and cried out in pain.
“Hey!” Jeremy screamed at his father. “Do you like watching me die?” He swiped the razor across his cheeks and cried out in pain before pressing the blade against his throat again. “Is this what you want? Don’t hurt my friends or I’m going to keep cutting myself up.”
Mark looked at the skin on his arms where he’d tried to block the wave of scalding water. His arms were brilliant red and the thick black hair seemed to be melting off him. He growled in pain and anger and then slammed his hand down on the tub’s plunger. He seethed as he glowered at his son. “Fine. Bring it on. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Jeremy, not even yourself. If this is how I have to prove it, then so be it. Do your worst.”
Two more children appeared at the door with another bowl of water. The steam swirled in the bathroom and mixed with the fog that had started to fill the house. As the torture continued, and Mark suffered wave after wave of boiling water, he thought he saw a man lean in from the hallway, peering through the thickening steam to watch Mark’s agony.
The Skeleton Man laughed.
16 Years Later
March 9th, 2012
“I love these kids,” said Alma Harper. “I’ve had some great groups this year.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” said Principal White. She walked with Alma through Trenton Elementary. Class was in session, so the halls were empty except for the hum of teachers and children speaking behind closed doors. The walls were papered with drawings of mythical creatures that the third grade class had done for a recent project. Half of the pictures were of smiling unicorns and the other half were demonic monstrosities, probably drawn exclusively by boys.
Alma had her guitar strapped over her shoulder and adjusted it as they walked. She towered over Principal White, who was a short, pudgy woman in her fifties. Alma’s tall, lanky figure was accentuated when standing next to her boss.
“Alma, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”
Alma was aware of recent budget cuts, but she’d been assured that her music class was safe. Of course, employees on the brink are rarely warned before the axe comes down, and government jobs suffer more from callous cuts than any other industry.
Alma unconsciously slowed her pace and her dread must’ve been revealed by her pallor because Principal White was quick to console her. “It’s not that bad,” said Mrs. White. “You’re not losing your job. We still need a music program.”
Alma put her hand over her heart and was surprised by how fast it was beating. “Thank goodness. You scared me.”
“We love you around here, Alma. And more importantly, the kids love you.”
“Thanks,” said Alma as she started to walk at a regular pace again. “But you said you had bad news.”
“I do,” said Mrs. White. “I know you’ve been in your room for a couple years now, but we’re having a lot of trouble with the recent budget cuts. We’re doing everything we can to deal with them, and I’m afraid we had to give your space to the new remedial math program.”
“Okay,” said Alma, a mix of concern and sorrow in her tone. “So where am I being moved to? The old room was already too small for us. I can’t imagine trying to cram all of the kids and their instruments into a smaller space.”
“I know, Alma. Trust me, I’ve been trying to figure this out for a long time. I had to come to a decision because Mr. Franks wants to start building his new math room over spring break.”
Mrs. White guided Alma down one of the school’s hallways that led to the lab rooms, auditorium, and cafeteria.
“You’re kidding,” said Alma. “Spring break starts tomorrow. I thought you were talking about this happening at the beginning of the next school year. Are you saying I only have a week to get a new room set up?”
“I know this is last minute,” said Mrs. White.
“Yeah, you’re not kidding.” Alma had always been told that she was too nice for her own good, but this situation tried her patience. She ran her hand through her long, dark hair and scratched at the top of her head as she sighed. “I guess I didn’t have any spring break plans anyhow. Looks like I’m going to be busy.”
Mrs. White put her hand on Alma’s back and smiled up at her. “As soon as I heard about this, I knew we had to come up with a good solution for you. I got together with a few of the other teachers, and some of your students, and we came up with a plan.”
They came to a stop in front of a lab room door and Mrs. White had an odd grin, as if she was desperately trying to hide something from Alma.
“How long have you known this was going to happen?” Alma was suspicious of the principal’s giddy demeanor. “What are you up to?”
Mrs. White shook her head and giggled. Her face was turning red and she refused to look directly at Alma as she swung the door open. She pushed Alma into the room and suddenly the deception was revealed.
“Surprise, Miss Harper!”
A chorus of voices greeted Alma as she was pushed into the room. Her knees buckled at the sight of over a hundred kids lined up on stadium style seats along the far wall. Music notes had been painted on the walls, and a piano was situated to the left of the entrance, its black lacquer reflecting the sparkling lights high above. The cherry wood floor vibrated from the applause of the teachers, children, and parents that had gathered to surprise her.