“Help m….”
The scream that had begun to erupt from Darlene’s mouth was cut short as Matt’s hand slapped over her lips again with a sharp crack. She tried to shake her head free, but he pressed his palm even more tightly against her face and braced his other hand against the back of her head.
“Now, I told you, damn it. One more chance. I told you, didn’t I?”
Darlene sank her teeth into Matt’s flesh and he winced but made no move to yank his hand away.
“Stupid fucking bitch.”
Without another word, he pushed the woman’s jaw in one direction and jerked her head in the other with a violent twist. There was a sharp snapping sound, almost like a wishbone being pulled apart at Thanksgiving, and then he allowed Darlene’s body to limply slump toward the ground. Only the nails in her hands kept her from collapsing like a discarded rag doll as her unblinking eyes stared into eternity.
For Darlene Honnicker, the agony of her torture had finally come to and end….
SCENE NINE
The added weight of the car being towed behind them made it seem as if the scenery were slowly scrolling by and the vehicles simply sitting still. This illusion was enhanced even more for Daryl, who sat in the driver’s seat of the wrecked Honda. Without the rumble of an engine, the interior of the car was eerily silent and he found himself wishing he were in the cab of the truck with his brother. Not to mention that it would be warmer up there. The motor of the car was completely shot, which meant the heater was out as well. Even with his layers of clothing, Daryl could still feel the cold upholstery of the seat seep into his back and ass and his teeth chattered between clouds of breath. Every few moments, he had to lean forward and wipe the frost from the inside of the windshield with his arm, but other than that his part in the operation was monotonous.
Basically, all he had to do was watch for the brake lights of the truck to wink at him and apply pressure to the pedal in the car as well. A few small adjustments were required with the wheel, but for the most part the chain that connected the two vehicles made this a simple task. Which was perfect, seeing as how Daryl had never actually learned to drive. However, this lack of participation also gave the mustachioed man ample time to think… and his mind turned, time and time again, to the book that sat on the passenger seat beside him.
He glanced at it for what must have been the hundredth time in the past five minutes. That worn leather cover, the elegant handwriting, and those three seemingly innocent words: Mona’s Secret Delights. A chill coursed along his spine that had nothing to do with the sub-zero temperatures within the car and his stomach felt as if it had turned into a writhing knot of worms. Earl had said he was just being a little baby, that the book was obviously some kind of joke; but, at the same time, Daryl’s older brother certainly hadn’t put up much of an argument against going straight home and disposing of the car later.
“Everything’s gonna be okay.” He said aloud. “It’s gonna be right as rain, you’ll see.”
The quiver in his voice, however, betrayed the fact the he was trying to talk himself into accepting what he secretly believed to be a lie.
Mona’s Secret Delights.
He looked at the book again and his thoughts immediately turned to Mama. Sometimes, he woke up in the middle of the night with the remnants of a dream still clinging to his consciousness like a tenacious rottweiler. He’d sit in the glow of his night light and listen to his own haggard breath as sweat dried cool on his drenched body.
The dream was always the same: it was Mama and Earl tied to the chairs in the upstairs room, only they were so much smaller than what they were in real life. In fact, Daryl seemed to tower over them as if he were a giant in the halls of his castle. When he walked, the floors rattled with each thudding step and showers of dust cascaded from the rafters overhead. His shadow fell over his mother and brother, engulfing them in a darkness so complete that Daryl could only see the frightened gleam in their eyes.
In this dream, his fingers were actually slender needles that clinked against one another and dripped sizzling beads of acid onto the floor. In each amber droplet, Daryl could clearly see his mother and brother reflected: their faces were gaunt and colorless, their mouths pulled back into screams that never seemed to come, and their eyes wide and glassy. Within those eyes, there was another reflection, this one of a small boy with a blood soaked tee shirt. The boy was being fed into the darkness of a closet whose doorway was lined with fang-like teeth; his feet scrambled over the floor and tears glistened on his cheeks, but still the hands urged him ever onward. For a second, the young boy locked gazes with the towering giant and his mouth formed two words: help me.
The dream always ended with Daryl’s needle-fingers thrusting through the air, their gleaming tips mere inches from Earl and Mama’s chests. A fraction of a second longer and they would both be impaled as the acid liquefied their organs and turned them into empty husks… but that moment of contact was always preempted with a jolt of consciousness and a choked sob. Sometimes, Daryl longed to see the dream through to completion, to see if his dream-self truly was capable of killing the only family he’d ever known. But then guilt would wash over him: he’d push the images to the back of his mind, would pull his own hair until the pain overpowered all thought and emotion, and rock back and forth while silently crying.
He didn’t really want to kill Mama. Sometimes, when he thought about the past for too long, images of the dream would bubble up from his subconscious like a dark and malevolent Leviathan rising from the depths… but, even then, part of him still knew that he’d brought it all upon himself. Mama simply wanted him to be a good boy, to grow up strong and brave, to be more like Earl and less like a sniveling child. Everything she’d ever done was due to love and he had no right to question the methods of her guidance. He just had to try harder, that was all.
Mona’s Secret Delights.
In this situation, maybe Daryl would be able to prove to her once and for all that he was a man worthy of his mother’s respect. Once Mama saw the book, once she knew how Daryl had pieced it all together and insisted that they rush back to her as soon as possible… once she had all this evidence in front of her, she’d have no choice but to heap praises upon her youngest son. He’d bask in her adoration and maybe even get one of the “secret gifts” that Earl was always being taken away for. He had no clue exactly what the gift was but understood that it was the highest form of approval Mama could give; and he wanted that more than anything else in the world.
A loud boom shuddered the car and jarred Daryl out of his thoughts as his body pitched forward. His head banged against the steering wheel and, for a moment, he simply sat there and blinked his eyes as he tried to understand what had happened.
He’d been so lost in thought that he’d forgotten to wipe the frost off the windshield for quite some time and every inch of glass was now covered with an icy film. The morning sun filtered through it, but everything beyond was nothing more than indistinct blobs of color. The car, however, was no longer moving forward…. Earl must have stopped for some reason and Daryl had been so engrossed in daydreaming that he’d never seen the flash of the taillights. Luckily, they hadn’t been going very fast; if they had, then the crash would have been a lot worse and there was a chance he could have damaged the old truck. If that had happened, Earl’s wrath would have been of biblical proportions; and, more importantly, they would never have been able to make it home in time.